Chapter Text
Shouta had never particularly felt the need to choose favorites among the mortals as so many of his colleagues did. Hizashi took chosens fairly often, and Shouta usually had to comfort him after they inevitably died.
It wasn’t logical to get attached to someone with a lifespan so much shorter than your own. He had all the companionship he needed in Hizashi. (and some of the other gods, but he would never admit that)
He had no need and even less reason to become attached to a mortal.
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The first time he had been aware of Hitoshi’s existence had been when he felt the telltale tickle at the back of his mind that meant someone was in one of his shrines. He almost ignored it. He was far from the most popular god, but he was known enough that it wasn’t unusual for travelers to pay basic respects at whatever shrines they happened to pass.
He was curled with Hizashi on their bed, and nearly forgot all about it when Hizashi stuck his freezing feet into Shouta’s back. After the small tussle had died down, though, he went back to the feeling. There had to be a reason he had actually noticed it, after all. The feeling was so common that usually he didn’t even register it unless he was looking for it.
He hesitated, then, shoving Hizashi over slightly, he raised his hand to summon the connection that he had with all his shrines.
He shoved a bit of his magic through the same channel that alerted him to someone being in the shrine. (Hizashi called him paranoid, but he maintained that it was good to know when someone was in one of his holy places)
This opened a small window so he (and Hizashi, who was curiously peering over his arm) could see into the shrine. Shouta’s eyebrows raised, and he heard Hizashi coo from beside him. There was a kid sleeping on the floor of the single most decrepit shrine Shouta had ever seen. He vaguely remembered it, but it hadn’t been used in decades at least. Now, the rotting door was broken down (that would be what had alerted him) and a head of purple hair was curled in the corner with his face shoved into a backpack that looked almost as coated in mud as he was. “Poor baby.” Hizashi muttered into his ear. “He looks like he walked through a hurricane.”
Shouta hummed. “Probably taking shelter from the rain. He’s injured, too.”
There were bruises peeking out from underneath the collar of the ill-fitted shirt the boy was wearing. Shouta didn’t see blood, though. Thank All Might for small blessings.
The kid seemed exhausted, but there were no major injuries that they could see, and it felt odd to spy on a sleeping child, so Shouta closed the window.
The next morning, at Hizashi’s request, he opened it back up over breakfast. The kid was gone, and the broken down door had been wedged back into place with a branch that was about to break under the strain. Shouta appreciated the effort.
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The next time he felt the alert from that particular shrine was barely a week later. He opened it immediately, swatting Hizashi to get his attention. The purple kid was back.
It wasn’t raining this time, and Hizashi wondered out loud what he could be doing, only to nearly bust Shouta’s eardrums with excited squealing when the kid set to work to clean out the shrine. “Aw, Sho, look how cute! He even found a use for the broken door!”
Shouta wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Hizashi, but he was rather impressed. The kid was using bits and pieces of soap and rags that looked torn to bits. He wouldn’t be surprised if the kid had pulled them out of dumpsters.
However, the kid’s eyes were narrowed in determination and he was thorough and careful with the crumbling idol and the sagging awning. It looked cleaner, if still ragged, when the kid had finished.
Nothing could hide the chipped offering table and water-stained walls, but the floor was swept and there were even candles now. “Sho, look! He even left you an offering.” Hizashi pointed at the rolls that the kid had placed on a spare bit of fabric left over from whatever he had used for the awning and carefully arranged on the offering table.
Shouta watched as purple kid knelt at the altar.
“Thank you for allowing me to seek sanctuary here. I, uh, I hope you find this acceptable.”
Hizashi cooed louder. Shouta grunted. He would lay a minor healing charm on the boy, he decided. That should fix whatever was left from the injuries he’d had when he’d stayed the night in the shrine.
Shouta prided himself on paying his debts. A minor healing charm didn’t seem to quite cover the effort the kid had put into the shrine, but showing up in person would probably just freak him out. Another point in the kid’s favor. Usually, people would ask for something in return for doing this. The kid just seemed to want to help. The charm would have to do for now, regardless of what Hizashi said.
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The third and final time Shouta felt the ping of the shrine’s warning system was on a clear night just over a week later.
He was lingering over his book in their living room. Hizashi was humming as he rattled around in the kitchen. Shouta was comfortable and a little sleepy. He almost ignored the itch in the back of his mind in favor of a nap. However, Hizashi had been bugging him for an update on purple kid. It would be nice to satisfy his curiosity, if only to make him quit pestering Shouta. (and Shouta was maybe a bit curious himself)
Lazily, he waved his hand to open the window. It opened.
Shouta sat bolt upright like he’d been prodded with a needle. Purple kid was in the shrine again. He looked like he’d just been run over by a wagon. He was sweaty and red-faced, leaning on a rough staff as he staggered towards the offering table, the only piece of furniture in the shrine. Slumping half-collapsed against the table, the kid seemed to sway as if the staff was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Sho? Dinner’s ready, I called but-”
Hizashi cut himself off as he took in the scene showing through the window. Together, they watched in grim silence as the kid struggled through taking off his filthy (and oddly colorful, was that paint?) shirt, revealing a mass of cuts and welts.
There wasn’t a lot of discussion needed after that. Shouta warped himself to the shrine. Hizashi would follow after they were sure that two of them wouldn’t scare the kid more. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to just walk up to the kid. Shouta would have been jumpy too. The kid was deceptively strong, he noted, struggling to breath. That was a good sign. He couldn’t be mortally injured if he had enough strength to wind him.
Hizashi had told him not to scare the kid, so instead of chasing him though the forest, Shouta warped himself to where he could feel the faint magical signature coming from.
He then proceeded to make things worse by forgetting that mortals didn’t have the same senses as gods did. This was a bad time to stop following his usual logical methods. Of course the kid wouldn’t have sensed him coming.
He had to do better.
The kid was cowering against a tree. This was less than ideal, given that his wounds were open to the night air and slamming them into tree bark would probably make them worse. Shouta carefully did not move any closer, letting his hands hang loose and nonthreatening by his sides. The kid reminded him of a terrified kitten he had rescued from a back alley once.
A terrified kitten that still had some fight left in him, apparently. The kid had pulled himself a bit more upright.
“Who are you?” “My name is Eraserhead.” Shouta responded, pleased. If the kid didn’t feel like bolting again, they might get somewhere.
However, telling him his name was apparently the wrong thing to do. All the color had drained from the kid’s face. Shouta subtly readied himself to spring forward and catch him if he collapsed.
When the kid went down, though, he pressed his forehead against the ground in one of the sloppiest bows Shouta had ever seen. Ah. Shouta hated that his name was recognizable. The kid was mumbling broken apologies under his breath. He probably thought Shouta was mad at him for being in the shrine.
Shouta wasn’t cut out for this. He wanted Hizashi. As if in answer to his prayer, a hand landed on his back. Hizashi looked exasperated. “For All Might’s sake, Sho, I told you not to scare him!” “I only told him my name!” “Yeah, after chasing him through the forest. Really reassuring, sensei.” “Just because I’m the patron of teachers does not mean I know how to deal with kids.”
Thankfully, Hizashi ignored him after that in favor of comforting the kid, who had taken a quick peek at him and was now pressed even more tightly against the ground.
Shouta watched his husband kneel down next to the trembling figure and was again grateful that he’d married someone who was better at feelings than him.
It took even Hizashi a few minutes to get the kid to sit up fully. Shouta felt approximately zero guilt in citing the favor he owed the kid to get him to agree to letting them treat his wounds. Once they got him out of here, then they could worry about making him understand that they were doing this because they didn’t want him to die, not because they wanted something from him.
It still took entirely too long to get the kid to agree, but they weren’t just going to zap him away and undo all the effort they had already put into getting him to relax. When Hizashi pulled him up, neither of them missed the wince at the tug on his arm.
They shared a look at his denial of anything being wrong, but didn’t push. The kid was still visibly unsure, but he didn’t try to run when Hizashi wrapped his arm around him.
When they landed at the top of their staircase, Shouta gave Hizashi a side eye. He must really be worried if he’d landed their new kid (because Shouta knew better than to mess with that look on Hizashi’s face, this kid was theirs now) nearly face first into the wall. They had a quick muttered discussion about what to prioritize while the kid surveyed their house with wide eyes. He looked like he’d never seen anything like it in his life. He probably hadn’t.
Quickly, Hizashi decided that he would help clean off the kid’s back while Shouta would find clothes that would fit him and their first aid kit. Shouta was fine with this. Hizashi was better at being comforting, and the kid was probably still nervous around the god whose shrine he had slept in without permission. This would also allow Shouta time to run a small background check. Nothing too invasive, but he was getting tired of calling their kid “kid.”
This plan was promptly carried out. Shouta could hear Hizashi cooing reassurances at the kid from where he was digging through boxes in their storage room down the hall. No doubt cleaning the paint from his back hurt.
Once their kid was more comfortable with them, Shouta would be very interested to know who had poured paint over open cuts.
In the end, he had to spell some of his old clothes to be the right size. As he waited for Hizashi to be done, he mulled over what his background check had turned up. Shouta was good at background checks. Other gods often asked him to run them on their prospective chosens.
Their kid’s name was Shinsou Hitoshi. He was descended from one of Hawks’ old Lineages that had petered out sometime ago, thus explaining the minor magic use. He shared this with Hizashi when he left the bathroom to reheat the dinner that they hadn’t touched.
“Did you really have to run a background check instead of just asking the kid his name?” Hizashi sighed. Shouta shrugged, unregretful.
Once Shinsou was done in the bathroom, Shouta had him sit on the edge of the tub so he could apply disinfectant and bandages. Thankfully, none of the cuts needed stitches. Shouta didn’t know what he would have done if that had been the case, but it likely would not have turned out well for whoever had assaulted his son. (because Hizashi was not the only one who got attached easily, as it turned out. Shouta blamed it on the “protector of children” instincts.)
Hizashi cheerfully announced dinner. That was good. Shouta could see Shinsou’s ribs entirely too clearly for his liking.
He thanked All Might again for Hizashi when his husband began picking the splinters from Shinsou’s hands without prompting. Shouta hadn’t even noticed them. Then again, Hizashi had been the one to help the kid bathe. Still, he was probably more comfortable with Hizashi touching him than Shouta.
Once they were done, they bundled Shinsou downstairs. Shouta watched him out of the corner of his eye during dinner. He would eat at least two plates, if he had anything to say about it. Shinsou, once he understood that neither of them had issues with him eating whatever he wanted, didn’t seem to have any problems with that plan.
Shouta understood that completely. Hizashi was a much better cook than he was.
He did not understand why he had to stop his new problem child from trying to help wash the dishes when he still had open cuts all over his back.
Before the kid could make himself worse in an attempt to pay them back, Shouta led him into the living room and sat him down on the more comfortable couch for his best attempt at healing magic.
Shinsou practically melted into putty. That was understandable. Shouta knew the relief of suddenly having all your pain just evaporate. Or most of it, at least. He agreed with Hizashi when he commented that they’d have to make a call to Recovery Girl. Healing wasn’t his strong suit.
He reapplied the bandages and began helping Hizashi collect blankets. Their guest room was fairly well stocked, but Shinsou didn’t have a lot of body fat and it had been a bit chilly tonight.
“Shinsou? What’s the matter, kiddo?” Hizashi sounded concerned, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Shinsou looked like he was about to cry.
“Nothing, sir. If-If you don’t mind, I would like to get my bag before someone else finds it.” Shouta didn’t think that anyone was likely to find the shrine anytime soon, but it was understandable that Shinsou would be concerned. His entire life was probably in that bag. “I snagged your bag on our way here! It’s up in your room with the clothes you were wearing. We’ll have to give everything a wash, but I didn’t want to throw anything away without your say-so.”
Shouta took back all his comments on Hizashi’s aim from earlier. If it took that look off of Shinsou’s face, he would put up with any number of badly aimed warpings.
“My room?” “Well, we’re not going to make you sleep on the couch! This house is really much bigger than we need.”
The silence that followed that was significantly more concerning than anything Shinsou had said so far. Shinsou was still huddled on the couch, but his breathing was increasing in rapidity. To his credit, he did seem to be making an attempt to control his breathing, but he was still spiraling. Hizashi crouched in front of him.
Shouta stayed behind him, not wanting to crowd the kid or make him feel trapped. The tears that spilled down the kid’s face when Hizashi finally got his attention were expected, but still heartbreaking. Hizashi went to his usual reaction when someone started crying around him: hugs. The kid flinched. Hizashi froze.
“Why?” Shinsou sounded like he was forcing the words out. “Why am I here? What do you want?”
Shouta answered this time. He knew the answers to these questions. “You’re here because we’re not going to leave a good kid on the streets. We don’t want anything from you.”
“We just want you to be safe, kiddo.” Hizashi interjected before Shinsou could work himself up any further. “No ulterior motives, I swear. You are welcome here as long as you want to be. If you don’t trust us, we can find you a good home somewhere with a mortal family.”
The kid stared at his lap. “But I’m not a good kid. I-I’m a street rat, and probably descended from a villain. I can’t even read. You’re- I’m not worth it.”
Shouta wanted to strangle someone. Anyone would do, really, but preferably whoever had put that shit into his kid’s head.
He stepped around Hizashi to sit down on the couch, far enough away that the kid hopefully still felt like he had room to breathe. He waited until Shinsou looked him in the face. “Whoever told you that you weren’t “worth it” was wrong. You aren’t descended from anyone except an offshoot of an old Lineage belonging to Hawks. That’s why you can use minor physical enhancements like speed. You are a good kid, and anyone who has told you differently was also wrong.”
Thankfully, Hizashi chimed in. Shouta really wasn’t good at the whole “comforting” thing. “Who else would have put so much energy into that shrine? And Aizawa here happens to be the patron of teachers. If you want to learn how to read, there’s no one better to teach you.”
Shinsou really broke down then. Shouta couldn’t blame him. After being told whatever the hell that was presumably his whole life, it must be a lot to have actual gods telling you the opposite. No matter. They would tell him as many times as he needed to believe it.
Hizashi, predictably, swooped in to hug the kid. He proceeded to nudge Shinsou until he was mostly in Shouta’s lap, curling around the sobbing child’s back and winking at Shouta. Of course he had noticed that Shouta wasn’t sure the kid felt comfortable around him. From the way Shinsou leaned into him, Shouta was fairly sure he’d misjudged.
For a while, they simply sat there. Shouta could pinpoint the exact second Hizashi had an idea, though, and he glared at him when he had to reassure the kid that Hizashi hadn’t abandoned him.
Hizashi made up for it when he returned with a stuffed purple cat in the exact shade of Shinsou’s hair. Shouta knew for a fact that they had had no such thing in the house, but he wasn’t going to tattle. Instead, he subtly added his own comfort and protection charms to the cat when he noticed Hizashi’s magical signature on it.
When Shinsou hesitantly confessed that he’d never had a stuffed animal before, clinging to the cat as if either of them would dare try and take it away, Shouta saw Hizashi’s eyes narrow in determination.
He internally sighed as he resigned himself to the fact that they would be obtaining a significant amount of stuffed animals in the near future.
If it brought any comfort to the boy now sniffling in his arms, however, he wouldn’t say a word.
(He added several to the pile himself, even if he would never actually say so to anyone)