Chapter Text
When Izuku first opens his eyes in the hospital bed, he knows deep in his heart that his mama was dead.
Random villain attack, the news claims, showing footage of his apartment building burning down. Somehow, nobody had seemed to question how the Midoriya's, who never even burned candles, had caused a fire strong enough to kill four occupants of the building and injure nine more. Izuku's bedroom was the epicenter of the tragedy, All-Mights smiling face going up in smoke as flames licked up his walls, consuming everything.
Once he was released from the hospital, Izuku was introduced to his social worker, Taniguchi-san. He was a middle age man who was starting to go bald, anxiety and overwork showing on his gaunt face. "Izuku, this is your last chance," he said Izuku's first name like a curse. He didn't know if it was the fact that Taniguchi was being saddled with another case or the fact that Izuku was quirkless that made the man hate him so much.
Izuku had lived in four different homes in the past six months, and Taniguchi's patience was growing thin. There were only so many homes in the area that would take a kid like him in, and Izuku was burning through them like wildfire.
"Sunnyside Nursery should accept you," he sighed, "however, if you mess this one up, I don't know what else we can do for you."
Izuku tugged his at his fingers, twisting them painfully. "And stop that."
He didn't like when Izuku bounced on his toes or talked too quickly or flapped his hands. Said it was "weird." Izuku's mom never cared when he did that, sometimes joining in with him.
(Izuku remembers when she would get really happy, like after hanging out with Kacchan's mama, and would sometimes accidentally pull random items towards herself.)
Izuku settled his hands in his lap, trying to ignore the growing dread in his stomach. He didn't want to go to the orphanage. It was already hard enough in homes by himself, he didn't know how he was going to deal with other kids. His second home he had a foster brother, who liked to break things and blame it on him, to take his stuff, to push him around and cry that Izuku was the one hurting him.
He had only lasted there for three weeks, apparently a record for Taniguchi.
Izuku peaked out the window, watching the buildings pass by, clean bricks turning into closed buildings and missing paint chips. He shrunk down in his seat as they approached an oddly clean building — neatly trimmed grass and scuff-free sidewalks — greeted them.
Taniguchi turned his car key, stopping the car with a lurch. Izuku knew better than to get out of the car on his own (after the second house, Taniguchi had used his quirk on Izuku, making it so that when his fingers reached for the door handle, they would turn weak and wobbly, like noodles. It didn't hurt, the sensation being odd and slightly cold, but Izuku was just left to wonder how it worked, since Taniguchi wouldn't tell him), waiting for Taniguchi to come and open his door.
The man trudged around the car, pulling his door open with an unceremonious yank. The trunk of the car was already popped, his one bag already sitting on the manicured lawn. Izuku hated that Taniguchi didn't let him have his bag up front with him, but he claimed it was for "safety."
Izuku stepped out of the car, grabbing his bag as Taniguchi walked up to the entrance of the building. Izuku quietly followed him, nervously fiddling with the edges of his sweater. This time, Taniguchi didn't turn around to correct him, instead too focused on passing Izuku along as quickly as possible.
"Ah, welcome," a smiling woman greeted them at the door. "You must be Taniguchi-san." She looked down to Izuku, who was staring at the ground, "and you must be Midoriya-kun!"
Izuku didn't trust the cheer in her voice. It felt off to his ears, like when one of his teachers had been forced to talk to him.
"Well, go ahead," Taniguchi's hand on his back burned as it nudged him forwards a little bit, Izuku almost stumbling.
"H-hello," Izuku stuttered, flushing, "M-my name is Mi-midoriya Izuku."
"I had his paperwork faxed over earlier today," Taniguchi cuts in, "but if you need anything else, don't hesitate to contact my agency." He handed over his business card. Taniguchi always gave his card to his new guardians, with the implied knowledge that they'd call him, would want to eventually get rid of him.
After all, no other kids he knew had lived in four homes in half a year.
"Thank you, Taniguchi-san," the woman said, "we should have everything we need to help Midoriya-kun settle in."
Taniguchi placed his hand on Izuku's shoulder, grip tight. He bent down slightly, making Izuku look him in the eyes. "Now, you be good Izuku. Remember our talk in the car, okay?" He stared at Izuku, face serious.
"Y-yes," Izuku cringed, uncomfortable with how close Taniguchi was to him.
"Good," Taniguchi backed up, giving him a tight smile. He reached out and tousled Izuku's green and white curls.
(It used to be all green once, before the screaming, the sobbing over his mama's burnt body until he passed out.)
Izuku's stomach hurt, twisting in little knots as Taniguchi turned to leave. He didn't want the man to leave. As much as he knew the man disliked him, he was still familiar. Izuku didn't know what to expect at the home. What were the rules? Both the ones that were told to him and the ones he just had to figure out on his own?
Izuku followed the woman into the building. It was quiet in the entry way, but Izuku could hear distant chatter of other kids. He swallowed nervously, messing with his sleeves.
"I'll give you a tour once we get you settled in," she said. "You'll be staying in the Red hall."
They turned to a bathroom off to the side, with shower heads and sinks. "First stop, we need to make sure that you're clean."
"I—I showered, b-before we left," Izuku said, hugging his duffel bag to his front.
"This is a medical facility as well as an orphanage," she said, plastic smile still pasted to her face. "That means that we have to make sure that no outside contaminants enter the facility."
She holds out her hand, and Izuku almost whimpers as he realizes what she wants. She wants his duffel bag. He wants to protest, to grab on to it as tightly as he can, but he knows that he shouldn't. He doesn't know the rules, or the punishments for breaking them. What if she called Taniguchi?
Hesitantly, he handed over his bag. "This will be returned once it's sanitized," she explained. "If you'll step out of your clothes, we'll provide you a new set to wear for now."
Izuku stood there for a moment, waiting for her to leave. If she wanted him to take a shower, he guessed that he could. However, she wasn't leaving, instead staring at him. "U-um," he swallowed, "I n-need to change, t-then."
"Yes, if you put your clothes to the side and step into the shower, we can have you changed quickly."
Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. "P-please," he pleaded, not caring about what consequences would follow, "c-can you l-leave please?"
"Oh Midoriya-kun," she gave him a sympathetic sigh, "I know it's embarrassing, but we make sure that all new arrivals are cleaned properly." She pulls up her sleeve, revealing the edge of the prosthetic, where it fit snugly against her elbow.
"I remember my first day here. It can be a bit overwhelming, so many new things at once, but I promise you, we only have your best interest at heart. Besides, it's going to be dinner soon, and I'm sure you're hungry from the long drive." She reaches down her hand, gently patting the top of his curls. He instinctively froze, not sure if to flinch away or lean into the touch.
It reminded him of his mama, how she would run her fingers through his curls. "My sweet boy," she would gaze softly at him, "do you know how precious you are to me?"
Izuku would shake his head, smiling wide. "No mama!"
"I love you the most in the whole wide world," she leaned down, peppering his cheeks with kisses.
After showering, Izuku quickly dried off, trying to ignore the stare of the woman. He looked at the clothing that they gave him, a soft fleece pair of grey pants and a sweater, with thin but comfortable white house slippers. The hem line of the sweater rubbed against his scar, but he swallowed the discomfort as he changed into the gifted clothes.
The walk to Red hall was short, as they stepped through a set of doors. They opened outwards, slow mechanical drawl making him shiver. It was like the hospital again. He supposed it was also a medical facility. It was like he was right back at the hospital, where he had spent two months alone staring at the white walls, the wilting flowers on his bedside table, an apology from the Bakugō's.
All of the walls in the nursery were soft white, dirt free. The only thing that designated it as "Red hall" was the thin red paint stripe, about one-third of the way up the wall. There were three sets of doors on each side of the hallway, identical oak doors.
Izuku's breath hitched as the woman pulled a key off of her belt loop, sliding it into the door. The heavy lock turned with a clunk, the door sliding into the wall. Izuku froze in the doorway, staring at the room in front of him.
When he didn't go to move, the woman's face fell for just a moment, revealing something bitter underneath, she placed her hand in-between his shoulder-blades, pushing him forward slightly. "You'll be sharing a room with Sakuma-kun. He's three years older than you."
There were two beds, one pushed on each wall, with a small set of drawers. Izuku couldn't tell which bed was Sakuma's. He couldn't see any posters or toys, both sets of bed sheets being the thin hospital white ones. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he could smell the faint smell of antiseptic.
He stares at the bed until the woman huffs. "The one on the left is yours. The set of drawers is yours to use for spare clothing and belongings. You aren't allowed to display anything on the walls, since it could damage them."
That didn't explain why Sakuma's side had nothing personal.
"Now, why don't we head to cafeteria? I heard they're making udon noodles for dinner."
Izuku did perk up, his stomach growling. He was hungry.