Archive of Our Own

Aizawa Shota, contrary to popular belief, wouldn't call himself a sadist.

His friends—mostly Nemuri, liked to describe him as grumpy on the outside and a softie on the inside, which—it wasn't completely true. While—yes, he was a little harsh around the edges and most of his students would sell their souls to Satan himself if it meant being able to skip a class that involved Shota in any way, shape or form, he cared for them dearly and didn't want anything to happen to them.

He loves his students, and that's why he trains them so hard. That's why he pushes them to go beyond—literally. Obviously, he'd never push them so far that they'd hurt themselves or worse. Shota knows better than anyone not to push one to the brink.

How? Because he's been in that place. And he was pushing himself way, way too far for anyone ever should. Running off right after graduation just to fight villains wasn't his best move, he'd admit. Hizashi and Nemuri tried talking to to him, but he just ignored them, not even telling them the location of his pitiful little apartment.

It took him a while, but he eventually realized how stupid that was. Beyond all—what if there was an emergency? Something might've happened and Shota wouldn't have time to text someone his full address. It was, admittedly, illogical and stupid.

That's why Shota doesn't want his kids to turn out like him. He doesn't want them to lock themselves away from their friends and live like they're just waiting to die. He wasn't suicidal per se, but his lifestyle definitely wasn't healthy. For his mind, and his body.

Shota trained until his muscles ached. Until he couldn't feel his body and had to cancel patrol because of his own stupidity. He often took medicine, which helped, but weakened his huge ass ego of 'doing everything on my own and if you dare give a shit, I will fight you', which—okay, it was probably for the better.

He doesn't want his students to be like him. He teaches homeroom and ethics and sometimes heroics, and at the end of every lesson, he remembers to add that he's always available if one of the kids need him. Maybe one day someone will reach out. Maybe not. But still, the offer's open. He doesn't want his kids to lock themselves in their little bubbles. Even if Shota himself isn't the best person to come to for emotional advice, he'd prefer them talking to him rather than carrying it alone.

And holy fuck. They—the heroes, the commission, the people that were supposed to be trusted adults screwed up miserably. They just sent children who weren't even eighteen to a motherfucking war. Shota wouldn't be surprised if the kids would completely turn on them all after this mess and just go out as vigilantes Midoriya-Style. If it were up to him, they'd receive diplomas right after getting out of the hospitals they are gonna be kept in.

This whole shit is going to cause them so much damage. Not only physical. Shota already knows that most of them have nightmares about the USJ. What happens when you add a war on top of that? He wishes he didn't have to find out. It was the same thing with Oboro and Shota. The latter already having nightmares about his past having to slowly realize that his best friend died was—it broke him.

And—now, looking at Midoriya, he realizes something.

Shota always thought that he sees Oboro in the boy. And—maybe he did. But that wasn't the full picture. Oboro was loud and always said what's on his mind. He didn't have an ounce of care for his image, and would do the most unhinged things without any precautions. Midoriya—he wasn't quiet, but he wasn't exactly loud. He was like the line between those two words, a bridge separating peace from conflict. Midoriya would rather die than say that something didn't fit someone, while Oboro would say every insult that came into his mind the second you'd walk into the room. The two were completely different souls, but the level of self-preservation is the factor that made Shota connect the two.

Now, he realizes something else.

Shota sees himself in Midoriya.

Because right now, as he watches his student notice his best friend's limp body on the ground, he can't help but think about himself and Oboro. Suddenly, Midoriya is a sixteen year old Shota, and Bakugo is Oboro, his body covered with blood and grime.

That moment lasts for a horrible second before Shota snaps out if his thoughts.

For a good reason too. Because his kid just freaked out. Smoke and Black Whip exploded from his body, obscuring Shota's field of vision of him.

And—Shota isn't one to feel bad for villains, especially those who hurt his class, but holy shit. Shigaraki was going to die. Not that he'd really mind—but Midoriya can't fight like that. He'd exhaust himself before he could even get a good kick in. Shota knew that.

Thankfully, Mirio comes to the rescue and talks some sense into Midoriya. His kid snaps out of his turmoil, and in less than a second, his eyes lock on Shigaraki. The fight continues as normal—well, as normal as a fight in a war can be.

The next time Shota sees his kid during the war is gruesome. The kid has no arms—which. Okay. What the fuck?

He thankfully has Eri's horn—he still doesn't like what the girl did. Ectoplasm is getting a beating after this—, and bless all that is holy and above, it works. And Midoriya's arms return to normal. At least—to what they have been not long before. The scars still remain, obviously, but that doesn't matter.

Midoriya stands up with Shota's help, and the next he knows, the boy is running towards All For One—or Shigaraki. He doesn't really know. The class helps him, and Shota couldn't feel prouder. He'd raised—raised? He'd taught them right. And—oh god. He loves his class.

As he watches Midoriya pull the final punch, he feels… fulfilled, in a weird way.

Why would he feel fulfilled when Midoriya is the one clearing the sky into a soft blue? It's kind of a… parental feeling? No. Yes? Maybe. Hizashi—his beautiful husband who he's gonna cuddle with for the rest of his life—likes to tease him about how he's the dad for the class. That's, obviously, ridiculous. Shota isn't their dad. The kids have dads. Although some are shitty and some don't even send post cards…

That's not the point.

The point is, that Midoriya is falling and nobody is coming to catch him—

His feet move before he can think.

It's stupid. Really, really stupid. Every good hero—especially an underground one—should always, and Shota means always, think before they move. Not thinking can get you killed. Not thinking can get someone else killed. Not thinking is illogical and irrational.

But sometimes you just have to hope for luck and no broken skulls. So that's what Shota does. He runs up to where he estimates Midoriya is going to fall. And—the kid is so tired he can't even reposition himself in the air. Shota will personally pressure the kid to sleep for at least two days straight, although he doesn't think he'll have to force him to do that.

Midoriya falls into his arms with a grunt, his face scrunching up, immediately trying to roll out. Shota doesn't allow that and instead gently kneels to put the kid on the ground. One person claps. Then another. And then the whole crowd of heroes and hero students are cheering, happy that it's finally over. Some whistle, some just yell, but it's still appreciated.

It doesn't last long though. Not that Shota minds. Everyone is exhausted and probably wants to rest in some quiet peace. He does too. Time for the cheers will come later. After this is all over. When they're all back in the dorms, cleaned and safe.

Right now, Midoriya is sitting up—although barely, leaning against Shota's hand that's on his back. His eyes are glossy, his face dirty with rubble and blood. Hizashi walks over to the two of them, crouching next to Shota and putting his am on the man's shoulder.

"Folks out there are calling medics," he says, "People like Midoriya will take priority. We should take him closer to the stations to make access easier," he turns to the kid, "Think you'll be able to limp your way there with our help, listener?"

Midoriya nods, trying to pull himself up, "I'll be fine, Mic-sensei. Thank you," The kid tries to stand up on his own, but his knees buckle, and if not for Shota's quick reflexes, he'd face-plant straight into the ground in front of half if not more of the world—it's still being filmed.

"Let us help you, kid. You've done enough for today," Shota says. With help from Hizashi, they manage to put Midoriya into a half-standing-more-leaning-on-the-two-men position. The kid's arms—because they're here—are both slung over the teachers' shoulders.

Together, they walk towards one of the groups formed not so far away. The people immediately go to congratulate Midoriya, but after seeing Shota's touch me and you die look, they just politely nod and go back to where they were standing. Some of his class comes, hanging close but not crowding the kid. Once again, Shota feels so proud of them

Not long after, some helicopters arrive, taking Midoriya along with Shota, Bakugo, and a few others who were too exhausted to walk or too injured to wait for more medics. At the hospital, they're rushed to the emergency wing, Shota having to stay behind because he was really there just to make sure his kid would be okay.

Because he would be. Shota will make sure of it.

"—nd that's all. Do you have any questions?" the doctor asks in a cheery tone, putting the clipboard with Izuku's Information back on the foot of the bed. All Might has been taken for some healing rounds, so he isn't in the room right now.

Izuku shakes his head, wanting nothing more for the man to get out of this white, bright chamber. Don't get him wrong. The man is cool and all but Izuku is tired as hell. Doctor Yoshida—as he introduced himself— bows and slips out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts. And—

Ugh.

He turns on the bed to face the window. The whole war—it feels like it isn't over yet. Well, it really, literally, isn't. The buildings are still wrecked, UA is still in ruins, and don't even get him started on the public. Many people have died, though most of it has happened in the first war. Everything is in shambles, and it will take them—the heroes, because who else, a long, long time before they rebuild it all.

Changing the topic, Izuku still hasn't really processed the whole fight with Tenko.

No, it's—it's hard to explain. He has processed it, but he doesn't. . . Ugh. It's hard. Feelings are hard.

He's so frustrated that he hadn't been able to save the boy. Because that's who Tenko was. A boy. A little, crying boy. But now the boy is dead. The boy who never got to legally go to cinemas with friends. The boy who Izuku promised he would save. The boy who attacked people because he was forced to By All For One. It all spirals down to All For One.

Izuku hates that man.

All For One was the one who started this whole mess. Maybe it's—Maybe it's over, but—oh fucking hell. All For One was born this way. He was a psychotic, ignorant, selfish piece of shit who locked Yoichi up in a fucking chamber like he was some sort of toy. His own brother. Izuku tugs at his curls at the thought. The man was—It was real villainy. The kind of hatred you are born with and can't unlearn. Some—Some villains steal or do some.. worse actions for kind-of-excusable reasons. They went over that in ethics class. As Tom Hiddleston once said, "Every villain is a hero in their own mind.". All For One though he was protecting Yoichi —though Izuku can't really be sure—, but in reality he was destroying him. Even in the vestige plane, Izuku could see how Yoichi flinched when the others got too loud. And how Kudo would comfort him. And kiss him when he though no one was looking. That was kind of gross, but can Izuku really blame them? Afterall, he himself maypahs has a little subtle crush—

He also misses One For All.

Not the quirk itself, at least not as much. He misses the vestiges. He misses Yoichi and Kudo and Bruce and Hikage and Banjo and En and Nana and—and everything there. It was kind of a safe space for him, allowing him to escape reality and chat with the ghosts. Ghosts? Uh, whatever.

His head is so empty now. Not that he isn't used to quietness—Izuku learned his lesson in middle school, but still. Even though he could talk with the vestiges for only a couple of months, he's gotten so.. so comfortable with them. He learned to go to them for help and understanding, and now, when they were taken from him, he feels..

Izuku wishes he had Nana here. She would stroke her cold, thin fingers through his hair, not really touching, but the odd sensation would make Izuku feel safe. Banjo would probably try to joke about something serious, being reprimanded by Hikage short after. Kudo and Bruce would likely just offer their presence, standing in some corner, watching the rest. Yoichi would sit on the bed Izuku was on. He'd tell stories about the comics he read growing up, his eyes shining with excitement. En would stay quietly beside Nana, offering jokes when the timing was right. It would be a peaceful chaos of a boy and his ghosts—his family.

He buries his face in the crook of his elbow, closing his eyes.

And even if he wanted, Izuku doesn't think he can talk to anyone about it. Sure, they might offer their condolences or say that they're 'sorry for him', but that wouldn't change shit. They don't understand. They can't understand. It's not often that you talk to some ghosts in your head that are actually your quirk's previous owners. All Might didn't have the vestiges. Yes, he had the quirk and all, but not the people in it.

Maybe someone like Tokoyami would understand. Not fully. Because he never lost Dark Shadow. Izuku hopes he never does. But still. Or someone like Jirou, who can hear anything. She obviously can't hear ghosts or other paranormal things, but she can hear the heartbeats of people closest to her. Maybe she could imagine what it'd be like to not be able to hear anything and everything, although Izuku isn't sure if she wouldn't be actually relieved if that happened.

The past users have been like family to Izuku. They have been with him through the toughest moments of his life, throughout his first year. They helped him when he had nightmares, inviting him to the vestige plane and distracting his thoughts.

Without them. . . It feels like a part of him was sucked out. Ripped from his organs and splattered on the nearest sidewalk with no dignity whatsoever. There was an empty space in his soul. The embers didn't help. They were a constant reminder of what he lost. Of what he's losing. Every time he'll train, he'll lose a little bit of the quirk. Until nothing's left. And he'll be quirkless again.

You think that being quirkless for fifteen years—or ten , depending on how you see it—would get a person used to it. And—yeah. It did. It made Izuku used to being bullied and looked down on. It made Izuku used to being powerless. It made Izuku used to discrimination. He hated it. He hates it. He always will.

Izuku tucks his head out of his arm, directing his gaze back to the window. In that moment, the handle turns, a low rumble echoing in the little room. Izuku expects the doctor or maybe All Might, but when he turns his head, he sees Aizawa carrying a cup of coffee.

The man sighs as he walks over to the bed, "Mind if I sit?" he gestures to the chair next to the bed.

Izuku shrugs, his gaze returning to the window, "Sure. If you want to,"

Aizawa lowers himself onto the plastic chair, taking a sip of his coffee. They stay in a quiet peace for a moment, listening to the whistling of birds outside and the low rumble of construction workers.

"How have you been holding up?" the man finally speaks, breaking the moment.

Izuku exhales in something akin to a sigh, turning to face the wall in front of him. He knows these six words way too well. "I'm fine. I don't need your pity," he says, not making eye contact.

Aizawa sighs."I'm worried, not pitying you," a pause, "These are different things,"

"Well, I don't need you to worry. I told you I'm fine," Izuku huffs.

Aizawa shakes his head, "Fighting in a war? No one is fine after that. Fighting in a war at fifteen?" the man leaves the rest unsaid, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well—Whatever. I just—I'm tired. And.." the boy trails off, not really wanting to do this here.

"I get it. Just wanted to check up on you," he takes a sip, "I'm proud of you, kid,"

And—oh. Uh. That's—new? That's new. Well. Aizawa didn't really.. show affection. Like at all. Never. Ever. Maybe only Present Mic could touch him. On the arm. Or hair. That's all. It's not that.. Uhm. Aizawa is a good person. He's kind(?) and. . nice. . . Uh. Point is, he doesn't usually say how he feels. You can usually guess that he's proud of you based on whether he pats your head or not. Maybe it was the war? Did Aizawa get injured? Hurt his head? Someone hit him? What if he lost his memory?! No, that wouldn't happen.. Uhm.. Maybe he—

"Why are you staring at me like that."

Izuku yelped, caught off guard. Was he staring? That's so embarrassing! "Sorry, Sensei!" he squeaked out, "I was—I was just lost in though! Seriously. No—ah. Nothing much, I promise," his hands waved in front of his face like he was trying to dismiss a thought.

Aizawa looked at him with a judging eye. After a beat, he sighed and looked out the window. "I just want to say that I'm glad you survived this whole mess," he directed his gaze back to Izuku, "What? Can't the grumpy teacher give compliments?" he smirked, his lip twitching up.

Izuku felt himself heat up, his face reddening. "N-No! I mean yes! Of course you can..! I mean—Not that you're the grumpy teacher! It's just—You know. You don't. . . usually do that?" a pause, "Not that it's bad!" he hurried to add.

Damn you, Aizawa. Why are you doing this to me..

Aizawa huffed out something like a laugh. Silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. Izuku didn't know whether it was a comforting or a pressuring one. Either way, Aizawa put his coffee on the nightstand and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Izuku turned towards the window once again, taking in the light blue sky and the grey-ish clouds.

And now that Izuku thought about it, Aizawa distracted him from his thought. He helped Izuku calm down.

"Thanks.." he said after a while, his voice barely a whisper.

All he got in response was a grunt. Izuku sighed through his nose and scooted a little so that he was fully lying on the bed instead of half-sitting. He slowly closed his eyes.

He was thankful to Aizawa. Not only because of today, but because of all the times the man had saved him. Especially the USJ. Ever since then, he's been getting more and more attached to him, in a way. It's not like with All Might, who Izuku considers a mentor and an inspiration, but.. more personal? Like a. . . . no. Did Izuku consider Aizawa a father figure? Aizawa? Don't get him wrong—the man is nice and kind and a hero for goodness sake, but.. isn't that the reason? Aizawa is a hero. Eraserhead. Eraserhead is an Underground Hero. He's strict but understanding. He gets into serious situations that can threaten his life on the daily basis, doing more work than the Daylight Heroes. He can't risk having someone like family because they could get in danger. Izuku isn't. . .

Izuku isn't his son.

Izuku is just his student. And he's also delusional. He's probably getting the feelings mixed up. Maybe what he feels is like a kind of admiration? Maybe Izuku just thinks that Aizawa is so intriguing and he. . . Yeah. Besides, probably everyone in the class think of Aizawa that way. Why wouldn't they?

And, besides number two, never in a million years would Aizawa think of Izuku like a son. The man is too.. serious for that. He doesn't really.. At least it seems like he isn't into the family stuff. And Izuku? He cries all the time. He's an over-emotional, passionate, easily-excitable and sentimental person. Would they really fit together in one house?

Not that he'd want to live with him, of course! It's just a hypothetical. And they can't forget about Inko. As much as he admires Aizawa—or whatever the feeling is, Inko is one of the best parents Izuku could have wished for. He wouldn't replace her for anyone. Not even Aizawa himself.

Inko has been Izuku's biggest supporter ever since he was little. Even when there were times like. . .

"I'm sorry, Izuku!"

And sometimes. . .

"Please, why won't you choose a different career path?"

Or. . .

"I'm sure Katsuki didn't mean to hurt you. . ."

Well, yeah. But everyone has gotten through something like that, right? No parent is perfect, because they're human. Humans make mistakes. Whether they learn form them or not is their decision. Inko has learned. She's gotten more and more supportive over the years and. . . and she's not the same person she was when Izuku got the quirkless—or as some people call it, 'red shoe' diagnosis. They have both changed; Izuku mostly due to the bullying and Inko probably must've read some books about parenting.

Still though. He wouldn't necessarily mind if Aizawa was his dad.. At least he'd have one.

Ugh. What is he thinking?

Izuku let his thought sway into a different, nicer direction.

After a minute or two, Izuku was asleep in an uncomfortable hospital bed with Aizawa gently stroking his hair.

Shota sighed for the fifth time since he started grading Kaminari's essay. The boy thankfully had a dyslexia diagnosis, but that didn't make it easier to read.

Time to take a break, he thought, standing up from the couch and stretching his muscles. Hizashi was out right now and their apartment was clean, so Shota didn't really have anything to do.

It was a lazy Saturday, the 2-A kids in their dorms quietly going on about their life—quietly enough that Shota hasn't been called yet, at least. He rubs his hand over his scar in memory. The USJ was a long time ago, whole two years. His kids were now 2-A and not 1-A and he was still their teacher, which he only might've fought for. It was almost the end of the school year, so everyone has been taking it easy.

Shota thinks about going over to check on the kids, but his thoughts get interrupted when his phone screen lights up with a caller ID from the hospital. From the hospital?

He clicks the 'accept' button. "Aizawa Shota speaking. Who is this?"

Something akin to shuffling papers can be heard on the other line. "Ah, yes. I'm doctor Yosuke. Are you Izuku Midoriya's homeroom teacher?"

Huh—? For all he knows, Midoriya is safe and sound in the dorms, so why would they.. "Yes, that's me. Is everything okay?" he's starting to get a little worried, his foot softly tapping on the ground.

"This is about the boy's mother. I am informing you first because I trust you will relay the message to him," a pause, more shuffling, "Midoriya Inko has gotten into a car accident. She unfortunately didn't make it. We couldn't contact any of her family, and you're listed as Midoriya Izuku's secondary emergency contact—" Yes, he was. In fact, he was every kid's in his class second emergency contact. "—and the boy himself is a minor,"

Holy fuck. Midoriya's mom is dead. Shit. Holy. . . Okay. Deep breaths. In…1..2…3..4..5.. Okay. You got this, Shota. "I understand. You're located at Musutafu General, right?"

"We are. You're welcome to come and discuss the funeral details preferably before the next Saturday. I also understand this is unexpected, so feel free to take your time and ask to schedule an appointment for a later date. We are really sorry for the loss."

Shota sighs and thanks the doctor before ending the call. This is a mess. Midoriya is now fully a ward of UA until they can get him a proper guardian. The worst part is that Shota will have to be the one to tell him, unless he'd want to send Nedzu over, which.. may not be the best idea. After all, Shota doesn't know who the kid would be okay with telling.

Of course, the Midoriya's teachers will be informed of the situation, if only to make sure he isn't struggling too much in school, but. . . Doesn't matter. Shota was the one who was informed first, so he was gonna make sure the trust isn't broken.

Ohhh-kay. Mentally sending a prayer to whoever's listening, he gets out of his apartment and goes down the stairs until he's out of the teacher's dorms and on his way to class 2-A's dorms. He'd prefer if. . . No. Midoriya is the one who should decide where this talk is going to go down. But how would he. . .

Hypothetically, if Shota was Midoriya, where would he feel the most comfortable? First guess; near his friends. The problem; no privacy, and this meeting should probably happen in a secluded place. Second guess; the kid's room. Or; somewhere quiet on campus. Now, the problems are that if the kid was to start crying uncontrollably, which will probably happen, where would he prefer to cry?

His room might be a safe space, but—quite stupidly on the builder's part, no offense, Cementoss— the walls weren't as thick to comfortably scream into the heavens, and there's also the problem of Shoji and Jiro. From what Shota knows, Shoji is out at his mom's place, but he doesn't know much about Jiro. He'll have to ask one of the girls. Back on track, the room is just not soundproofed enough. And while he doubts Midoriya actually will scream into the heavens… You can learn a lot about a person when they're grieving. Trust him, Shota knows.

Now, the quiet space somewhere on campus. He has to wack his brain for any spots he's been hanging around with Oboro and Hizashi. There's obviously the roof, but.. Shota doesn't really think Midoriya would jump. . . Okay. Not the roof then. Uhm.. Maybe that quiet corner behind the school? Nemuri liked to go there for lunch sometimes. . . No. It's too close to the school. While it is a Saturday, some students may have some after school clubs and if the Worst Case Scenario had happened—yeah, no.

Okay, Shota. Think. Maybe. . . . Oh. Oh. Was he really about to do that? Well. Better get his Problem Child.

The rest of his walk passed with Shota thinking about how this conversation is gonna start and finish, and all the possible scenarios from Midoriya not doing anything to Midoriya attempting to burn the school down. It was fine. He was fine. Deep breaths.

Shota didn't have to knock to walk into the dorm. At the first glance he could see Ashido, Asui and Uraraka talking to each other next to one of the couches. Kaminari and Kirshima were with Bakugo, bickering about some game or whatever. Midoriya was leaning on one of the tables, pointing something out in his notebook to Todoroki. Deciding it would be better to check if Jiro didn't go for a run or something, though that wasn't really like her, Shota walked over to the small group of girls.

"Sensei!" Ashido was the first to notice him, waving her hand. The other girls smiled in greeting.

"Do you know where Jiro is?" he cut to the chase. No point in making this longer than it had to be.

"She said she'll be upstairs in her room," Uraraka responded, nodding. "She seemed kinda tired. Why? Is she in trouble?" the girl frowned, tilting her head.

Shota shook his head. "No, no. She's fine. Thank you, girls," he nodded and started walking away, ignoring the shouts of 'you're welcome, Sensei!'coming from Mina.

Midoriya was still hunched over Todoroki, giggling slightly. The other boy seemed confused, his eyes flying between Midoriya and the notebook in front of him as if it was the biggest mystery in the universe. Midoriya hid his head in Todoroki's hair, trying to stifle the laughter. Shota watched that with a reminiscing look. The boys reminded him of himself and Hizashi.

Deciding he needed to break the moment, he walked up to them and sat in one of the chairs next to Todoroki. The boy noticed him immediately. He blinked at Shota and went back to—whatever they were doing. Midoriya's face was still hidden in Todoroki's hair and his shoulders were shaking from laughter.

When the boy finally pulled his head up, his eyes were rimmed red. What the heck could be so funny? "Oh. Hi, Sensei!" they boy said, his face lighting up with a grin.

Shota raised an eyebrow. "What are you laughing about?"

The boy choked on air before taking some deep breaths trying to calm himself down. "We're—We're doing english homework. Or additional work technically," the boy paused to take a breath, his smile betraying that he was trying not to burst out laughing. "Shouto, the genius here, confused cooked with—" a wheeze, "—with cocked," The kid developed into another fit of laughter.

. . .

Sigh.

Honestly? What was Shota even expecting. While these two are among the best students in class, they're also teenage boys. He sighed, rubbing his temples. Todoroki was just innocently looking between the two, confusion written all across his face.

"Isn't that the same though?" he asked like the idiot with no grammar he is.

Midoriya coughed a little, finally starting to calm down, until. . . "No, Shouto. Your mom didn't cock your din—dinn—" he couldn't finish because of course another wave of giggling hit him. "You can—You can search the difference up, if you want to," his grin turned mischievous.

Okay. Enough bickering. Shota still needed to relay a message. "Midoriya. Would you go on a walk with me?" he asked, not really caring how out of context that was.

The kid in mention turned to him, smile still visible, but not as wide as a second ago. "Uhm, sorry, Sensei. I mean—I'd love to, but I'm kinda busy with Shouto right no—"

"Let me rephrase that," Shota interrupted, holding up a hand. "Midoriya. Go on a walk with me,"

It was the kid's turn to glance between his teacher and friend, confusion written on his face. Todoroki smiled, nodding. "Go ahead. I can ask Tsu for help if I'll need it,"

Midoriya was still unsure, but also nodded and squeezed Todoroki's hand. Shota stood up and started walking towards the door, trusting that Midoriya will follow him. They paused in the genkan only to change their shoes and then continued their little walk, Shota leading the way and Midoriya silently following like a lost duckling.

Midoriya glanced around. "Uhm. Could I ask where we—"

"Hush," Shota interrupted.

. . .

"Sense—"

"I said hush,"

. . .

The path they were going by took them to the west of campus, away from the dorms or any people whatsoever. It was filled with flowers and plants, the grass being tall enough it was visible that people don't really walk here. It looked abandoned, and the description wouldn't really be wrong.

Shota used to hang out here when he was overwhelmed. Then Hizashi and Oboro joined him. It was kind of their secret hiding spot where the world couldn't reach them. While—they technically had the rooftop, Nemuri sometimes visited them there. Don't get him wrong, he loved the woman like an annoying older cousin, but there were days where he needed quiet quiet. In the 'Park', as they titled it, they had a rule that they could only whisper. Kind of silly, looking back at it.

The 'Park' wasn't really a park. It was the size of a smaller than average park filled with some benches and a small broken fountain. When asked, Nedzu explained that it used to work as a student hang out spot back in the day, but people liked to gatekeep it and the younger generations didn't really learn about it. It was on the map of the school though, so you could go here if you were interested.

They finally arrived at the plaza. Shota led them to one of the cleaner benches. They sat in silence for a while, Midoriya twirling his fingers together and Shota revising the conversation for the last time.

"Sensei? Is—uh—Is everything alright?" The kid glanced at him from behind his bangs.

Shota sighed. This is it. "I got a call from the hospital," was that too vague? Too bare? Or too fast? Midoriya hummed a suspicious tone.

"It's about your mother,"

The kid's breathing paused, his whole frame tensing up. His eyes widened and snapped over to Shota almost immediately, worry written all over his face. "What? W-Why? Did something happen? Is she alright? Can I see her? What—What's wrong, Sensei?" his voice sounded panicked, his expression not fairing much better.

"There was a car accident," the world stilled. Shota took a deep breath. "She didn't make it. I'm so sorry, kid,"

"Oh."

Midoriya's eyes dilated. He leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, digging his nails into his scalp. His breathing quickened, coming out in shorts gasps and not fully making it into his lungs. His entire posture was rigid, ready to run at the slightest provocation. Shota recognized that as a panic attack. Quickly putting his Underground Hero mindset on, he got off the bench to crouch in front of the kid.

"Midoriya," he started. "You're having a panic attack. Can I touch your hands?" It's always better to ask. He learned that the hard way.

The kid nodded, but his eyes still didn't fully concentrate. Shota took one of his hands and put it to his own chest. "Try to follow my breathing, okay? Don't worry if you don't get it on the first try. It's okay,"

They spent at least fifteen if not more minutes like that; Midoriya just trying to calm down while Shota was doing his best to offer any sort of comfort. The kid's breathing slowly became more controlled. He eventually took his hand away from Shota's chest, rubbing slow circles on the back of his other hand.

"My—My mom. . ." Midoriya's voice broke midway and tears spilled from his eyes. His whole body shook and he covered his face with his hands. "Sensei. . . how will I ever—ever deal with. . ." he didn't finish. A hiccup broke him off.

"Can I—Do you want a hug?" Prioritize the kid's needs before your own, Shota reminded himself, but god, he really hoped Midoriya would say yes. The kid nodded. Shota let out a breath of relief and sat back on the bench to be able to embrace the kid.

Midoriya sobbed into his shoulder while Shota rubbed slow circles on his back. The man knew what the kid felt very well. Maybe he didn't experience the same kind of pain—afterall, Oboro wasn't his mom and didn't raise him, but losing any close person was hard. Really, really hard. Especially when you're a teen. A teen who's family consisted of just him mom. Who is now gone."Shhh. . . We'll figure it out, kid," Shota whispered, stroking the boys hair.

. . .

After a few good minutes, they separated. Shota decided that it would be better to let Midoriya sort out his thoughts rather than pressuring him to talk. Tears were still leaking down the boy's face, but they weren't as dramatic as before. The man was content with letting himself just look at the 'park' and think about where Midoriya would need to be placed.

For hero school kids, the system decided that it would be better not to pull them out of the school they're attending, so they—Shota and Nedzu—will need to find someone nearby. There's also the problem of safety. Many foster homes are. . . neglectful, to say the least. And Shota will not allow for Midoriya to be abused. So. They need a good case worker, first and foremost. Nedzu will probably know a few folks that could be helpful in finding one, if he already doesn't have something planned. If they have any doubts, they could contact Naomasa. The man will surely be willing to help. Then they need an actual guardian, because even if the kid lives in the dorms, there is the concern of breaks when the students return to their respective homes. Midoriya won't be able to stay in the dorms in that situation, because the campus would be completely empty, except for probably Nedzu. There might also be some emergencies—Shota hopes not—, or trips that they'd need a guardian's signature.

There is also the problem of inheritance, but that will come later. For now, Midoriya needs a person he'd be able to rely on. Someone steady and present. Someone who won't look down on him just because he is grieving. Someone understanding. And Shota will make damn sure that that someone will come.

That's for later though.

Midoriya's face is still painted with tears, his eyes rimmed a soft red an cheeks flushed. The silence between them continues for a few moments before the kid straightens. "Sensei? What will— What will happen now?" he starts, hiccuping a little, "And—And with me? How is it. . . gonna play out?" his emerald eyes bore into Shota's, and the man can't help but reach out to pat the kid's head, ruffling the unruly curls.

"We'll need to get you a foster family," Shota sighs, taking his hand away. "I'm—I'll tell you the details when I know them, 'kay?"

Midoriya nods, wiping his nose. "Can we go back, please?" he asks, looking down at his lap. "I wanna go back to my friends,"

Shota nods, standing up and offering his hand to Midoriya. The kid takes it and Shota hauls him up, steadying when the other sways a little. They turn back and head towards the 2-A dorms, Midoriya giving up on scrubbing his eyes. All in all, it went better than expected.

They're in front of the door, Midoriya just about to enter, when Shota places a hand on his shoulder. The kid turns back, looking at the teacher with a curious but exhausted expression. Shota sighs, rubbing his neck. "Listen. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here. And so are the other teachers. Keep that in mind,"

Midoriya's dull eyes widen and get a spark in them, but it's out as soon as it grew to life. The kid nods, not saying anything, and pushes open the door. He walks straight to Todoroki, and after exchanging a few words, the pair walks upstairs, disappearing from Shota's view.

The man looks around the common room from the genkan, not stepping in further. There are still some kids—namely Jiro, Shoji and Momo roaming around the couches. Sato and Uraraka are in the kitchen, the former mixing some kind of dough and the latter sitting on a bar stool talking animatedly about something that Shota is too far to hear.

Deciding his role here for today is over, he quietly makes his way out of the dorms and starts walking towards the staff apartments. The sun is beginning to set, illuminating a soft orange-y glow across the building. The atmosphere is like the aftermath of a storm. Not fully calm, but glad it's over. At least a part of it is.

When he walks in and makes his way to his apartment, Hizashi is waiting for him there, wearing some sweatpants and sitting on the couch watching some movie that he was interested in.

"Hey, babe!" He smiles up at Shota, who sat next to him, leaning his head on the blonde's shoulder. "Everything okay? You look kinda gloomy," Hizashi frowns, lowering the volume of the TV.

Shota snuggles closer. "Not really. Midoriya's mom died. Just told him," he sighs, linking their hands together.

"Ah." Hizashi frowns. "Midoriya Inko, right? Is the listener okay?" he asks, threading his long fingers through his husband's hair.

"I'm not really sure," Shota says, looking down at the carpet. "I told him about it in the 'Park'. He had a panic attack and then couldn't stop crying. When I walked him back to the dorms, he went off with Todoroki. Haven't seen him since," he admits, squeezing Hizashi's hand. "I'm worried about him, 'Zashi,"

The blonde squeezed back. "I am too," he paused to take a few deep breaths. "But Midoriya is strong," he smiled. "He's strong and has a lot of friends to help him. He'll make it out of that pit in no time,"

Shota nodded. "I hope he will," He stood up, popping his back in the process. "I'm gonna go to bed. See you in the morning," he leans down to give Hizashi a quick kiss and went to their bedroom to change into his pajamas.

Before falling asleep, he sent a quick email to Nedzu asking him to get in contact with Tsukauchi and a good caseworker. The kid deserves the best of the best, and Shota will make damn sure he gets it.

"Hey, Izuku! I just solved—Oh. Izuku?" Shouto looks up at him from the chair he's sitting on. Izuku had just walked in, making a beeline for his best friend.

"I—" he wipes his nose and eyes, "Can we talk. Please," he says shyly, not really looking up at the boy in front of him.

Shouto nods and packs up his stuff—a few books and a notebook. He takes Izuku's hand and starts walking upstairs, towards the green-head's room. The walk thankfully isn't long, and to be honest, Izuku would probably start crying if it was. They step inside and Shouto immediately locks the door, turning towards Izuku and giving the boy his full attention.

Izuku goes to sit on his bed, tears still freely streaming down his face and pats the spot next to him. Shouto immediately takes it, his gaze locking onto Izuku with a strong intensity, searching the boy for any answers he is willing to give.

"Can you—" Izuku starts but cuts himself off. "I just don't want to be alone right now. Do you.. think you could stay?" he looks to the other boy with hopeful, glassy eyes, his words a silent plea not to leave.

Shouto smiles softly, a rare, genuine thing. "Of course. Wanna watch a movie or maybe draw something? We can also just—you know. Sit. Together. I'm fine with whatever," he scoots closer to wrap an arm around Izuku.

Izuku leans into the touch. The room is quiet and the only sounds are Izuku's occasional hiccups. He hides his face in Shouto's shoulder, tears and snoot staining the boy's shirt. Shouto puts his other arm around Izuku, enveloping him in a full hug.

And—god. Izuku needed this. He needed the warm touch of a friend who understands. A hand rubbing circles on his back and gently combing through his hair. Letting Izuku cry in peace with no explanation on anything. Unconditional love, as some would call it. Because—fuck. Now, there is no one waiting for him home, baking cookies and calling to ask when his next visit will be. Fuck. Just—

Izuku can feel his mouth moving, probably explaining what has happened. He can feel his tears starting up again. He can feel himself pressing his mouth to Shouto's shoulder in an attempt to muffle his cries and shouts begging for this whole situation to just be a nightmare. He can feel his arms wrapping and tightening around Shouto's torso in a way that must be at least a little painful. He can feel how it's slowly, slowly starting to catch up to him— the reality that his Mom, his Mama, his only ever supporter is now gone. And—no. It doesn't make sense. Because..

He read a lot, as a kid. He read the Wikipedia pages and whenever something piqued his interest, he would research it more and more until he could list off at least a few fun facts about the topic. One of the topics were car crashes. There was a case a few years ago about a girl who was locked in the car by her abusive boyfriend. The guy was pure crazy and drove them both straight into a huge ass truck that weighted more than little Izuku could imagine. After he saw that, he went deeper into car crashes.

He knew they happened. Obviously. The streets were dangerous, especially with villains roaming around, but god, Izuku could've never imagined that something like that would impact his life. He obviously felt sorry for all the victims he'd read about, but he didn't know them, and he couldn't actually grieve them.

And then Izuku's Mom.. She—It couldn't possibly happen. What— How? Like— He just can't comprehend it. Midoriya Inko was such a careful driver. She always stopped at red lights, had the lights turned on, stopped in front of the crosswalks when an old couple was walking through them. She was patient and never broke the speed limit, even when they were rushing, so why had she gotten into an accident? Just why? What did she do to deserve it? What horrible thing could she have possibly done for all the gods that did or didn't exist above to sent this fate her way. Why? Izuku just— he can't understand it. It doesn't make sense. It just doesn't.

And— He just now realizes it, but he's being really fucking selfish, isn't he? Because—What about Kacchan or Auntie Mitsuki? Do they know that.. that happened? He himself would sure be pissed— and sad— if no one would tell him that someone from the Bakugo family died. And now, instead of calling Kacchan or Auntie as he should, he's crying into his friend's shoulder. It's pathetic. He's pathetic. They deserve to know just as much as he does, because while they're not officially listed as family or emergency contacts for each other on legal documents, they're all very close together. Izuku and Kacchan have grown up together. Mom, Auntie and Uncle Masaru have basically lived with each other in collage. They all deserved to know. They should know. Why isn't Izuku doing anything? Why—Why is he just—

Shouto hushed him, the hand that was tangled in his hair was lightly pressing Izuku's head into his shoulder. He must've been muttering then. The boy kept whispering soft assurances into Izuku's ear, trying to soothe him of any and all worries. It was— helping. A little. Not much, but still.

God, he loves Shouto. His friend is always there for him, just as Izuku is for the boy. Shouto and he have helped each other in ways that some just wouldn't— couldn't understand. That's why Izuku came straight for him when he walked into the dorms, why they always made sure to be close to each other, why they never left each other's side. They were like best friends—but deeper. Not in a brotherly way, but more.. affectionate. Like two drops of water. Soulmates made from the same strand of hair, always meant to be.

Izuku still haven't finished crying, but it was definitely more quieter and there wasn't the need to muffle himself with Shouto's shirt. "Want me to stay over tonight?" Shouto whispered in his ear in a hushed tone after a few more minutes of silence mixed with occasional sobs or hiccups. Izuku nodded, too tired to properly respond.

Shouto didn't make any move to stand up or walk away to gather his things in his dorm. Why would he, when he has spare pyjamas hidden away in Izuku's closet just for occasions like this, and the same goes for the opposite. Izuku has some of his clothes stashed in Shouto's wardrobe too, mostly Mirko or Hawks themed.

The boy, instead of standing up, guided them both lower so the they were laying on the bed instead of sitting, still cuddled in each other's arms. Izuku seemed to finally calm down, which put Shouto a little at ease. He hated seeing his best friend sad like this.

Another few minutes passed, this time with no hiccups or sobs, just the heavy breathing of an exhausted boy. Not a man. A boy. A sixteen year old boy who's only source of parenthood was ripped away from his bare hands.

Shouto, deciding it was now too late to lay in bed comfortably without the risk of falling asleep without brushing their teeth or changing their clothes, finally spoke up.

"I think we should get our night routines over with now instead of having to deal with them later, don't you, Izu?" He offered. "Then we can chill all we want, 'kay?" he brushed away a stray piece of hair out of Izuku's eyes when he pulled away to the able to look at the other boy. Izuku nodded, already half asleep, but forced himself upright.

"You have the spare toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink" Izuku said, lazily rubbing his eyes. He stood up and walked over to his closet, pulling out the pyjamas for Shouto. He tossed them over his shoulder and went into the bathroom to get ready.

And— Holy fuck. Izuku looked terrible.

In the mirror he saw that his eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were stained with almost dried tear tracks. His whole face was tinted red and his collar was a bit wet. In short, he looked like a mess, although he was too tired and drained to do anything about it.

Izuku decided for a quick shower without washing his hair—he washed it yesterday and it still looked fine. He quickly dried off and got into his Present Mic themed pyjamas, humming a low tune. He barely and begrudgingly managed to brush his teeth, but hygiene was very important to Izuku, so he couldn't let it slip or he'd feel even worse.

Now, looking into the mirror, he felt. . . empty. Maybe it was because he's cried out all of his tears and worries today, but also..

He doesn't know. It's weird, after hearing that Mom died. He doesn't know if he has truly processed it yet, he doesn't know if he ever will. It's just— It's so surreal. Mom would never leave Izuku. She said she'd stay. She promised! She said she'd always be there for him. That no one would separate them. She said she'll cheer him on for the rest of his life. She said she'd be there to help Izuku through the hardest times. And she was! She helped him through middle school, offering katsudon whenever they had the money and time. She always said she'd smile at his side when he becomes a hero! She promised!

"Izuku! Are you okay in there?"

But now. . . now she left. She left him. But why? Why did she? Why wasn't she careful?! Did she not think about how Izuku would feel? And— No. It's not her fault, but.. She could've been more careful, couldn't she? Maybe if she— if she just— Maybe she could've done something to prevent that? There must be at least one thing she could've done. She could've.. Maybe she could've took a different route? Go a different way. Or she could've just.. Went somewhere else. Or she couldn't just put that thing off for a different day? She—There must've been something—

(His hands grab the edge of the sink. His grip is so hard his knuckles are turning white. His teeth clench. His breathing becomes labored and fast. The view of himself in the mirror is becoming blurry. His whole frame is shaking. Izuku can see that by the little of what he sees his arms. He thinks there are some knocks on the door, but that might be his imagination. Or Shouto. Whatever.)

"Hey, Izuku? I'm—I'm coming in, okay?"

Fuck. He's being selfish again. Who does Izuku think he is, pointing out the ways his Mom could've avoided death? That's— That's so toxic. That's disgusting. Izuku is disgusting. Is he really blaming the victim for what happened to them? He's— Fuck. That fucked up. That's really, truly fucked up. He— He never did that. He didn't even think he could do that. Because— What? It's— Is he really blaming his own mother? Is he that crazy? What— Izuku doesn't even recognize himself. That's just— Fuck. He wants to— to throw up. He wants to throw up. He wants to throw up? Fuck. Shit shit shit shit shit. He's gonna—

Two things happen at once. First, Shouto gently opens the door, slightly facing away as if not to invade if Izuku was actually doing something other than—well. Second, Izuku runs over to the toilet as fast as he can and vomits right into it.

Shouto, seeing that Izuku is fully dressed, quickly makes his way towards the boy and crouches next to him, putting his hand on the other's back and rubbing slow, assuring circles.

"Hey. Breathe, Izuku. Everything is alright," Shouto says, keeping his tone low and steady.

Izuku nods, squeezing his eyes closed. It thankfully wasn't a long.. session, but his stomach is still reeling and he, in general, fells bad as fuck. His legs and arms hurt, along with his throat and head. Head ace. He probably has some pills lying around.

"Ye—Yeah," Izuku stutters out, clutching his stomach with one arm and the toilet seat with the other. "I'm fine. Thanks, 'Shou." He looks to Shouto with a pretty noticeably forced grin on his face.

Shouto's eyes soften, but his hand stays firm. "Okay. I can wait outside while you brush your teeth," he pauses, considering something. "When you're ready, I'll hurry up with my routine, 'kay?"

Izuku nods. He slowly stands up wiping his mouth and pulling Shouto along with him. The bi-colored boy reaches over to squeeze his hand before walking out of the room, leaving Izuku alone. He goes to the sink to brush his teeth again. This time, he, thankfully, doesn't develop into a panic attack.

He walks out of the bathroom with his head hung low. He sees that the spare futon is already laid out and Shouto is doing some stretches. The boy smiles when he notices Izuku and pauses his exercise.

Izuku rubs his eyes. "You know where the stuff is. Towels under the sink. New toothbrushes in the cabinet. You can use my shampoo," he yawns and walks around the futon to sit on his bed. "'Imma wait for you," he lies down on his stomach, tucking his face into his pillow.

Shouto nods, and once again, Izuku is left alone. He flips to his back to stare at the ceiling—at the posters and glow-in-the-dark stars he attached there.

He feels like shit.

The little panic attack along with the vomiting have drained out what little energy he had left, leaving him feeling utterly exhausted and tired. His eyes close, and for a second, he lays there, not moving an inch. Damn, he should've gotten a glass of water or something.

Izuku's almost falling asleep when Shouto enters the room. The former perks up, although slightly, and locks his gaze onto the other boy. Shouto smiles softly at Izuku and goes to sit on the futon, leaning his back against the bed, pulling up his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Izuku fumbles a little until he's lying on his stomach with his head next to Shouto's. "Thanks," he mutters, sighing tenderly. "For staying, I mean. I know I'm kind of.. a mess right now,"

Shouto huffs out a half-laugh-half-sigh. "Sure. You were there for me, so I have to return the favor, no? Besides, I'm glad I'm able to help." He smiles.

"Mhmm.." Izuku hums. His eyes slowly drift shut, but he fights to keep the open.

Shouto notices it, as he always does. "Let's go to sleep, hm? It's been a long day,"

Izuku nods and turns so that he's lying in the correct direction with his head smashed into the pillow. Shouto turns the night lamp on and stands to turn the lights off, leaving the little lamp to illuminate the room with a soft yellow-ish gleam.

"Goodnight," Izuku mutters sleepily.

"Night," Shouto whispers softly, ticking off the little lamp.

The duo falls asleep quickly, both enjoying each other's presence.

And if Izuku is awaken in the middle of the night by a nightmare and slowly lowers himself onto the futon next to Shouto,,

Well, who's there to tell?

"It's gonna be okay, Izuku, I promise," Shoto squeezed his hand.

The funeral was small. Inko didn't have many friends or family. So i the end, it was the Bakugos, some of Izuku's closest friends— Ochaco, Tenya, Tsu, Hitoshi and Shoto along with Kirishima, Yaomomo, and some more of class A along with Aizawa-Sensei and Mic-Sensei and a few close co-workers.

"I can't Shoto— I just— It's—" Izuku whispered, shaking.

"Shhh, I know, Izu, I know. Just take deep breaths, okay?"

—-X —-X —-X

"Inko— she was like a sister to me. She—" a hiccup broke the woman off, but she quickly corrected herself. "She was the most s-supportive person I have ever been introduced to. We met—We met in college through a group project." She took a few supporting breaths. "She was always there for me, physically and men—mentally. We planned our kids to-together. We planned our futures together. Inko was always positive, even— even when life tried tripping her feet. She affected people in ways that can't be explained. Her smile was brighter than the s-sun, and it helped me survive. Her— She carried that light in her. It wasn't something you could learn, no. She was born with a gift. She never gave up. That is the Inko she'd want to be remembered as— The loving daughter, mother, friend and person. She—"

The memory disappears as Izuku wakes, fighting off a panic attack.

—-X —-X —-X

Izuku steps up to the podium, hands shaking. Why does he have to do this? He hates this. He wants to get out. Get out. Away. Far from here. Anywhere. Not here. He sees Shoto looking at him. Izuku remembers to take a few deep breaths in.

"Midoriya Inko." he starts, "She is— words can't explain who she— she is to me." Deep breaths, Izuku. "She is the best and— and most supportive mom I could e-ever hope for. She helped me through my—my worst days and always offered comfort. Sh—She loves talking about her interests. Each of her words carry a certain p-passion with them, even when she's tired." Izuku must look like a failure right now, talking about his mother as if she isn't dead in front of his friends and teachers with tears staining his cheeks and carelessly falling onto the paper he prepared his speech on.

"She shows support to-to everyone she comes in-contact with. Sh-She never judges anyone and thinks rationally. Her de—" A hiccup breaks him off, but he quickly recovers. "Her de-decisions and moves are always precise and thought-out. She ne-never acts on impulse. Her—Midoriya Inko is the kindest woman that anyone could meet." Deep breaths.

"H-Her personality is something that everyone should look up to. She helped multiple people over the course of the years, ev-even the ones that everyone else had g-given up on. She a-always puts others before—before herself. She en-encourages people to—to be the best versions of themselves, even when it's hard. I would know. She helped me become who I am today, and—and I am very, very grateful," Izuku's voice breaks, but he doesn't pay it any mind.

He doesn't pay any mind to this whole thing, to be honest. His thoughts are drifting all around the place, and Izuku just focuses on not spiraling into a panic attack in the middle of his speech. His whole body is trembling, and he barely keeps his voice from doing so too. He must look pathetic. Deku can't even compose himself during a funeral. What a disappointment.

"Without her—" he continues. "—we'd all be different. She takes a—a big part in molding mine— and other people's gathered here— p-personality. She i-is strict about her morals, but is always quick to—to hear the other side out."

"We should a-all take inspiration from her as a p-person, as a friend, and as—as a mother. Her actions p-prove that everyone deserves sympathy, no—no matter who they are and—"

The memory fades when Tsu quietly nudges him. Right. Lunch. Next is heroics. He better not get stuck in his head during that.

"Come on, Izuku! We're gonna be late!" The cheery voice shouts excitedly.

Izuku huffs out a quiet laugh, still in his room fixing his tie. "Coming, Pa!"

This is the final day. The day of graduation.

And Izuku struggles with his tie till this day.

Figures.

He runs his fingers over his grown hair. God forbid he ever returns to the half-shaved haircut, even if it was needed to tend to his injury. It was absolutely horrendous, and his classmates still make the 'lesbian mother of five' jokes.

The war tugs at his mind, but he quickly pushes it away. This is no day to be sad. Izuku smiles at his reflection in the mirror. He pushed through it with therapy and support from his close friends and family. It may still bother him sometime, but.. No. Now is not the time.

Even though it's not the time.. his thoughts drift to when he was first adopted— or fostered, if someone cares about the details.

He wasn't placed with his current family from the start. It would be kinda weird if he was, Izuku thinks.

His first placement was with Ito. He shudders at the thought. He remembers getting greeted into their household, being told that this was one of the safest places he could be in.

And. . . the statement wasn't necessarily wrong.

He'd been safe there. He was fed and provided clothes even though he already had them. The Ito family was kind, consisting of a middle aged couple. Both of them had plant-related quirks and let Izuku ask all about them. During the week he got off school to help him settle in, he was actually warming up to them.

Himari Ito— the woman— was very nice. She sung while making dinner and was always open to talk to. She and Izuku bonded over the love of comics and she even let him borrow some of hers! Then the man— Genzo Ito. He was kind of like Detective Tsukauchi, now that Izuku thinks about it. He had a good head on his shoulders and based his opinions on facts instead of assumptions. He didn't go out of his way to welcome Izuku into the house— more acting like the boy was always there. Izuku still doesn't know if it comforted him or not.

As much of a weird dynamic they were, it was a good home. They provided a secure roof over his head and warm meals every day.

Things took a bit of a turn when he started going to school again. Training was still light, mostly to let all of them recover from the war, but when fighting against someone who could literally harden his body, some bruises obviously had to be gathered.

One of them was an ugly yellow under his eye.

When he walked into the house with the intention to spend the weekend there with his cheek covered with a bandage or two, Miss Ito lost it and assumed the worst. Maybe because she saw his fight, or maybe because she had some sort of trauma involving injuries.

She— quite embarrassingly and unsuccessfully— tried to pull him out of UA. Izuku tried explaining multiple times that 'I swear it's just training!' and 'I've been to Recovery Girl, I'm okay now,', but the woman had none of it. She forced him into her car and drove straight to UA, complaining the whole way that 'A hero school shouldn't treat its students like that! What was your teacher thinking?!'.

It was quite the show, watching her storm into the Principal's office without so much as knocking, Izuku quietly tailing behind her curled in on himself and trying to convince her to turn back.

Unfortunately, she didn't listen. Fortunately, his Sensei was in the room at the moment. He professionally restrained her when she started getting too close for comfort to Nedzu. The poor man looked as if he aged at least five years at that exact moment.

Nedzu was just quietly sipping his tea while Izuku profusely apologized over and over again, bowing at the speed of light. The rodent cackled and called Tsukauchi to relay the news.

While the woman hasn't technically done anything wrong and all could be probably explained under the cause of 'being worried for her ward', pulling a kid out of a hero school was hoped to be prevented. Especially when that kid was Izuku, even quirkless. He wasn't one of the best fighters in class for no reason after all.

It went quickly afterward. Getting Izuku back to the house to gather his things that he hasn't even fully unpacked, getting him to UA under the watch of Snipe, signing the paperwork, and finding him a new placement.

He lived with Snipe for about three weeks. The man was really understanding of the situation and taught Izuku a few cooking skills that proved to be useful in the future. He even gave the boy some gun-welding knowledge, which resulted Izuku expressing interest in and eventually getting his own gun license for his weapons.

Snipe was great, and Izuku still calls him Uncle to this day, but he doesn't think the man would be the best as a full-time parent.

They both quickly came to terms that this was a temporary placement, and it didn't bother either of them. Their dynamic was more of a cousin-uncle instead of guardian-kid, which may not be necessarily bad, but at the time Izuku just needed something more. Snipe also admitted that he doesn't think he's ready for a kid anytime soon, and all of them understood it. The man was fun to be around, but wasn't really great with comforting people from panic attacks and things of the sort.

You could see how that would be troublesome for Izuku.

Everything was still fresh and he could often wake up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down his cheeks. He once got a panic attack from seeing something on the TV— probably a villain— and Snipe was.. he was trying, at least.

He tried the 54321 method, but that never really helped Izuku. He tried untangling Izuku's fingers from the boy's hair, but Izuku just flinched back and spiraled even more. Finally, Snipe took a second to research tactics, and somehow somewhat managed to calm Izuku down. It was one of the most awkward panic attacks for both sides. Snipe tried apologizing, but Izuku just brushed him off—he himself didn't really warn Snipe of his panic attacks and things of the sort.

Anyways, the three weeks spent with Snipe were really great. Maybe not the most adult-y, but still great. The man provided a familial comfort. Maybe not a father-son relation, but for just a few weeks it didn't bother Izuku.

After Snipe came the Ichinose.

That was his worst placement.

It was a small family of three. Minako— the mom, Kakeru— the dad and a baby called Kenta.

They weren't bad, at least not in the beginning. They were quite the happy family, and Izuku lived with them for a good month before things started going to shit.

At first when they welcomed him, they talked about their marriage. They talked about how long they've lived with each other and about their families. Izuku loved hearing about it all, and a good portion of free-week was spent telling stories from their lives. Both sides enjoyed learning about the other.

Kenta was just a newborn, meaning that Izuku couldn't really interact with him much except for playing peekaboo or something, though he supposed all newborns were like that. At least he'd get a chance at being an older brother.

Or so he thought

One day, Kakeru came home angry, carrying am alcohol bottle in one hand and a picture in the other. he was drunk and started yelling profanities at Izuku. They were more or less directed at Minako, but the woman wasn't home at the time. Izuku tried calling the police, but Kakeru just yanked the phone out of his hands and stomped on it with his foot.

One thing Izuku forgot about was Kenta, who was currently in the living room in his little baby-bed. Kakeru, probably forgetting that Izuku exists in his drunken state, started walking towards him while raising the empty glass bottle in his hand. Izuku, predicting what was about to happen, jumped in between them.

That earned him some glass shards in his hair and face. He still has the scar on his eyebrow to show for it.

Izuku had to put his hero mindset on and grabbed Kenta and hid in his room. He stayed there hyperventilating for about thirty minutes, hugging the boy while Kakeru banged on the door, demanding for Izuku to open it and 'man up'.

Izuku decided he needed to leave to notify the police, because he didn't know when Minako was going to get home and he didn't want her to get hurt, and also because the blood from his eyebrow was getting into his eye. He quickly slapped a bandage over his eyebrow and packed his backpack with essentials— he didn't know if his things wouldn't get destroyed while he was out— and after blocking the handle with a chair, he leapt out the window, still carrying Kenta.

He had his provisional license, so he used the embers of his quirk to leap across rooftops in hopes of finding the police precinct quicker. His search didn't last long, as only about ten minutes from going out he found the station. Now, thinking back, he could've just asked a passerby for their phone, but he was stressed so you can't really blame him, can you? Oh yeah, that he thinks about it, he was a hero in-training, so he could've just knocked the man out. There are actually many ways he could've acted differently..

But he didn't. And that doesn't matter right now.

The person he found there was officer Sansa. The man saw a frantic Izuku with a kid in his arms and blood smearing his face and immediately called Detective Tsukauchi over, recognizing that Izuku was the hero student Tsukauchi was tasked with getting a home for.

The detective, thankfully, had great skills in calming people/victims down. He needed it for the job, after all. Izuku doesn't remember much about what happened after. Just some bits and pieces about getting himself healed up, police cars and packing the rest of the things that he left in his room.

After that.. unfortunate placement, he was given to his current family, the one he stayed with the longest.

He loves it here.

"Izuku!"

Right. Graduation. "Coming!"

With a final slap to his cheeks, he went out of his room and down the corridor to the main area. There, he saw Shota talking quietly with Hitoshi on the couch and Hizashi fixing Eri's dress.

"Sorry, I still can't handle my tie well," Izuku smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

Hizashi looked over at him from his crouch next to Eri. The man's eyes became glossy for a second before he wiped them with his hands. He patted Eri's shoulders down and walked over to Izuku, undoing the tie from the mess it was.

"No matter how many times me and Shou try to teach you, you always forget, don't you?" The man smiled, tying the last knot before pulling away and straightening Izuku's uniform. "I'm so proud of you, Izu," he smiled and stepped back, going to gather his things that lay on the kitchen counter.

Eri suddenly slammed into Izuku's legs, making him stumble. "Zuku! Do you see my dress? Aunt Nemuri got it for me! Do you like it?" she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Izuku smiled and easily leaned down to pick his sister up, spinning her around in the air. "I love it, Eri!" the girl let out a giggle that minutely melted Izuku's heart.

He set the girl back down and went over to see that Shota and Hitoshi were talking about.

"—so that's how the agency would look like," Shota explained. He looked over when Izuku settled on his left side, as Hitoshi was already occupying his right. "Hey Izuku. Everything alright?" he asked.

Izuku nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just curious what you guys were talking about,"

Hitoshi leaned over Shota to be able to look at Izuku. "The UHA— Underground Hero Agency. I'm sure you've heard of it before," he said it with a monotone voice, but his eyes betrayed his excitement.

"Oh, the UHA!" Izuku smiled. "I used to research a lot about it! Did you know that it's the agency that is the most willing to work with vigilantes? Their success rate for missions is really high and the people that talk about it always praise it. They've helped complete over five thousand successful raids. The UHA has donated to many charities over the course of the years, including but not limited to: the Red Shoe Foundation—for quirkless people, the Mutant-Rights Foundation, the NSBQ Foundation, standing for Not So Bad Quirk—basically for people with non-heroic quirks that some people might find 'villainous', the Not So Weak Foundation—for people with quirks that are deemed as 'weak' by society, along with donating to orphanages, hospitals, clinics, homeless shelters and things of the sort. They've always made their stance on discrimination very visible, as every hero that expressed some form of bias towards a group has been blacklisted from the agency. The UHA also opened a suicide hotline a couple years back! I think I was in middle school at the time. Anyways, the hotline received a huge amount of support and has saved a lot of lives. I actually had a friend that—"

Hitoshi throws a pillow at Izuku's face.

"A— hey! What was that for?" he grins, knowing that he was probably mumbling.

Hitoshi grins back, reaching over to grab another pillow. "For educating me. Please. We're just about to graduate, spare me the knowledge for the next ten years, would you?"

"I still have the power to hold you back a year, you know." Shota says in a half-amused voice, nursing a cup of coffee out of nowhere. "You kids are lucky that I'm too lazy to do it, or you'd be running suicide sprints right now,"

Izuku and Hitoshi visibly pale and stand down from their bickering. They both know that if Shota really wanted to, he could hold them back, and he would do it really painfully.

"A-Anyways," Izuku continues, not wanting to think about that possibility. "I think the UHA is a really great path for you, 'Toshi. They have good people there and I'm sure you'd find someone reliable,"

His brother nods. "Yeah. I hope so, at least. I was originally going to go independent, but Dad said that you can't be independent in the underground,"

"It's the truth," Shota butted in. "Trust me, I'd be the one to know that." He grimaces for a second before schooling his expression. "Anyways, Izuku. Are you still planning on opening up that agency with Todoroki?"

Izuku immediately brightens. "Yes! He and I chose this really great spot in the center of the city with a lot of accessibility. Tsu and Ochaco also said that they'd be happy to join, and that our businesses could mend together. I think it's a great idea, since hero agencies can earn a lot of money—if taken care of properly— and it would be useful for the quirk counseling Ochaco is doing,"

Hitoshi and Shota nod, but before they can say anything, Hizashi is suddenly there with Eri by his side.

"Come on, people! Let's move it before it's too late!" He exclaims, throwing his hands out. Eri nods along beside him with her hands on her hips.

Shota sighs but goes to stand and gives his husband a quick peck on the lips. "He's right, kids. Come on, or I will actually make you run suicide sprints,"

Izuku and Hitoshi both stand up with no complaint, knowing better than to argue with their parents.

They go to put their shoes on, and as they approach the common room where most of 3-A is settled, waiting for them, Izuku let's himself think about it all.

And—woah.

These past few years were stressful for all of them, but they all came out stronger than ever.

Maybe things aren't perfect, and maybe they won't be for a long time.

But they've got each other.

And now—looking at his class from a corner with Shoto by his side, he let's himself think that it will be okay. Not perfect. Okay.

That's enough for him.