Archive of Our Own

“So…” Present Mic begins, breaking the silence that had settled over the room for the past five minutes. For once, the Voice Hero seems lost for words. “What do we do with it?”

Sitting next to him, half buried in his capture scarf, Eraserhead sighs, sounding even more exhausted than usual. “He’s not an it, Hizashi.”

The blonde frowns. “Well I’m sorry—”

“I have to say,” All Might says, cutting the other hero off, “I don’t feel comfortable fighting him like… this.” The man isn’t in his muscled form anymore; everyone (well, mostly everyone) in the room knows his secret, and he can’t afford to waste anymore of the time he has. The All Might costume hangs limp from him, making the man look even more skeletal than usual.

Hizashi glares, annoyed at the interruption.

“No,” Hound Dog agrees. A few other teachers in the room nod along with him. They’re Pro Heroes, but they’re also teachers, and… fighting… a young child just doesn’t sit right with any of them.

That being said, seeing who they’re dealing with…

Aizawa glances at the man sitting at the head of the table. They’re the only one in the room who has not yet spoken, instead seeming to study the child, a strange gleam in his eyes that sets Eraserhead on edge immediately.

One may assume that the other people in the room have forgotten the presence of the one who has not yet spoken. This is incorrect, and serves to say that the person assuming has never met Nedzu in their life. No, it is less forgetting his presence, and more gathering the courage to ask his opinion on the matter.

It is, predictably, Aizawa who is left with the task of dealing with the rat.

“Nedzu?” He asks, diverting the Principal’s attention from whatever he had been planning.

“Yes, Aizawa?” Nedzu replies cheerfully. A wide smile is upon his face, a happiness that feels oddly misplaced in the current room.

An uneasy feeling begins to rise in Eraserhead’s stomach. Imperfectibly, he swallows, not allowing anyone to notice the emotion.

“What do you think we should do with him?”

At this, Nedzu’s grin gets impossibly wider. All the teachers in the room shiver.

“Well,” The rat begins, clapping his paws together and leaning forward. The gleam in his eye has gotten more intense. “This is quite the predicament, isn’t it?”

The predicament is, of course, the white haired four year old who is sitting in the middle of the table.

The white haired four year old who also happens to be the most dangerous villain in the history of quirks, the Symbol of Evil and the Number One Heroes worst enemy.

All For One.

When the villain, along with the rest of the League of Villains, had disappeared one random day four months ago, everyone in U.A. and the majority of the heroes out of it had been put on high alert. Whatever the League was planning, it was a big one, big enough for them to have to pull all their forces together and vanish. But whatever the League was planning, the heroes would be ready.

Four months had passed, and still no sign of the League, not even a whisper of All For One passed silently within the Underground – and Eraser would know. He had put all his contacts on high alert.

Many of the heroes and students had relaxed after the first three months. There was talk of the possibility that the League had moved on, either from Japan or their villainy entirely. But Class 1-A hadn’t relaxed, and neither had Shota; they knew better than that. They had been attacked too often for the League to just give up.

Whenever the League made their next move, no matter how subtly, they would be ready to fight them.

Aizawa has to admit, he did not expect for the League’s next move to be a small child.

He had first turned up crying in front of the U.A. gates, no parents in sight. They had decided to take him in to U.A. in an attempt to calm him down, just until they found his parents.

Eraserhead would love to say that he saw through the ploy straight away, sensing something was off about the situation. Ultimately, however, it had been Midoriya who was the one to recognise the child for who he really is. The Problem Child had bumped into them as he was on his way back from Recovery Girl, taken one look at the boy, and paled immediately.

Aizawa doesn’t know the exact detail of what happened next, but he had managed to catch a few words of the conversation between Midoriya and All Might; something about the child “looking like ‘First’” – a useful reminder that Aizawa really needs to talk to both the Number One Hero and the Problem Child about whatever the hell is going on. But All Might had asked no further questions, taking the child straight to Nedzu, ignoring Nemuri’s incessant probing.

A few minutes and a broken front door to an office later, the staff of U.A. were forced to admit that, however unreliable the source, the innocent four year old they had brung in to the gate was a child version of the very villain they are trying to take down.

… At least the rat seems to be having fun.

“We could give him to the Hero Committee?” It’s Vlad King who suggests this one, quickly shrinking back into his seat at the scalding glares of everyone else in the room. “Or not.” He adds hurriedly.

“I wouldn’t trust them with a pet, let alone a child.” Midnight smiles sweetly.

“A villainous child,” A short old man who Aizawa vaguely recognises as the one to take Problem Child’s internship points out. Eraser doesn’t have enough energy left in his body to question why he’s there.

“Ah, but he’s not villainous yet!” Nedzu chirps, “Unless he regains memories as he grows older, or the quirk suddenly reverses itself, with the right nurturing, he has the potential to become a completely normal citizen! Or even Pro Hero!”

Toshinori shuffles nervously in his seat. “I, ah…” He pauses. “Is releasing him to the public such a good idea? I mean, he could severely harm many citizens…”

“Oh, no,” Nedzu placates. Toshinori relaxes. “Not quite yet, anyway! We will have to run a few tests, see if there are any triggers that will return his memories or revert his state back to being an adult, of course!”

All Might immediately tenses again.

Nemuri frowns. “And how do we do that? All Might’s already here, and it doesn’t seem the kid reacted to his presence at all.”

“… Actually,” Hizashi snickers. “He did start crying when he saw you.”

Aizawa huffs. “I don’t think that was because of any time travelling quirks.” It was true – one look at the skeletal man and the child had immediately started crying again. Right after they got him to stop, too.

But if Nedzu wasn’t planning on using All Might, then who was he planning on? It’s not like any of them could contact the League, and that’s to say that they’re not also in the same predicament, having been hit by the same quirk. They’d have to choose someone who All For One spent a lot of his time thinking about, someone who had been involved in his life and his schemes…

The uneasy feeling in Aizawa’s stomach grows. He has the sudden realisation that whatever Nedzu is about to say, he’s going to disagree with it.

The gleam in the rat’s eye is now downright malicious in it’s foreboding.

“Why,” He begins cheerfully, and Aizawa knows he’s right, because no good sentence that comes out of Nedzu’s mouth is ever said with that much glee. “What better to test his response than reintroducing him to the class he’s been targeting all year?”

… Fuck.

///

“Okay,” Aizawa starts, looking down at the white haired four year old clinging to his legs. As they make eye contact, the Hero softens slightly for a second.

No. Bad Aizawa. This child – no matter how innocent he looks right now – is the Number One Villain. He is not adoption material.

It had taken two hours, some shots, and many, many I-O-Us from Nedzu for Aizawa to finally – inevitably, because this is Nedzu and he rarely takes no for an answer – cave and agree to the rat’s stupid plan.

Ergo; standing outside the doors to 1-A’s classroom, seconds away from walking in and introducing them to a child version of the person who’s been out to kill them for the past year and a bit.

… Perfect. Great.

Is it too late for Eraser to quit his job and move to Hawaii?

He leans down, bending one knee, getting onto the kid’s level. He suddenly finds himself grateful that he’s had experience with young children recently – if this had happened before he and Hizashi had adopted Eri, Aizawa isn’t sure what he would have done.

“I’m going to introduce you to a few people, okay? They’re a bit loud, but not scary at all.” This was illogical. He should walk in there and rip the band aid off.

The child (and Aizawa needs to either find out his real name or think of a new nickname for him) nods, looking a little less nervous than before.

Aizawa frowns. Has the kid spoken once in front of him since he was taken into U.A.? Is he nervous? That would be a reasonable reaction to appearing in a new place with people you don’t know all around you, at least a hundred years in the future. But what could Aizawa do to help?

Aizawa, a voice that sounds like Hizashi’s chides him, you cannot adopt the child. He is a murderer!

“Alright,” The Pro Hero continues when the boy still doesn’t speak. “We’re going to walk in together.”

Another nod.

Aizawa sighs. He thinks back to all the new alcohol he just had Nedzy buy him waiting in his flat, and opens the door to 1-A’s classroom.

The onslaught of noise is sudden and violent. Behind him, he feels the kid flinch slightly.

One

Two

Three

“It took you three point four seconds to quiet down,” Aizawa notes. “You’re getting better, but you still need improvement.”

Iida stands up, lowing himself into a deep bow. “Apologies, Aizawa-sensei, we will do bett—” He begins.

Aizawa cuts him off. “I don’t care.”

The blue haired student nods sharply, sitting back in his seat. Hm.

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

“… Is that a child?” It is, not unexpectedly, Jirou who first notices the four year old hiding behind their teacher’s legs. Thirteen point oh seconds. Evidently, Aizawa thinks, more situational awareness classes are needed. It’s probably due to the fact they feel safe in the classroom, not looking out for threats.

A small grenade in their dorms common room should teach that lesson nicely. The couch is normally replaced every other week anyway.

Mina gasps, “Is he involved in our lesson today?!” She asks excitedly. “Do we, like, have to calm him down?”

“Heroes do have to interact with children often—” Uraraka mutters (a habit she no doubt picked up from Midoriya).

“That’s so manly!”

“Oh, Bakubro, you are so going to fail—”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, DUNCE FACE?”

Aizawa sighs for what feels like the millionth time.

“Class,” He says. Everyone, including Bakugo, falls silent. Good. He considers the best approach for this, but ends up just ripping the band aid off. “This is All For One. All For One, this is Class 1-A.”

Huh. If he knew that all it took for the problem children to be quiet was telling them the Number One Villain has been turned into a child, he may have done it earlier and caught up on some well needed sleep.

“Aizawa-sensei?” It’s Uraraka who’s the first to break the shell-shocked silence that has descended upon the classroom. The brown haired hero student is shuffling in her seat, not making eye contact. “That’s, uh… that’s a child?”

Aizawa has to bite his tongue in order to not reply with something sarcastic.

“It is our conclusion that sometime in the last four months, All For One,” And maybe the rest of the League, but he doesn’t even want to consider that possibility yet, “Got hit by a quirk not unlike Eri’s that made him physically – and, from what we can tell, mentally – reverse back in age. Currently, it’s estimated that he’s four years old. When he appeared outside the gates an hour ago, we were unsure of his identity, but Midoriya, “Said boy suddenly looks very nervous as everyone in the room’s attention moves to him, “Managed to identify him as All For One.”

“But… how did Midoriya know?” Aizawa hears Todoroki murmur faintly. “Unless…”

“Shouto. Shouto please, All For One is not my dad.” Midoriya says sternly, as if this was a common point of conversation between the two. The other boy doesn’t look convinced.

“… What?” Aizawa asks. “Nevermind.” He adds on quickly, seeing Midoriya, Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida and Bakugo’s faces. Whatever the hell they are talking about, they can sort that out between themselves.

“Uhm, Sensei?” Yaoyorozu begins hesitantly, “Why is he here?”

“Yeah,” Sero agrees, a frown on his face. “Shouldn’t he be, like, in Tartarus or something?”

“Dude, he’s four years old!” Kaminari yells, looking taken aback.

“He’s a villain!” Sero counters.

“Not yet he’s not!”

Midoriya makes eye contact with Aizawa, dawning understanding on his face. The teacher subtly nods.

Tsuyu frowns. “He should at least be with the police, kero.”

“Surely a rehabilitation programme would be acceptable?!” Iida cuts in, prompting a few nods around the classroom.

“I mean, we don’t know how long the quirk will last for,” Yaoyorozu hums.

“He may yet be swallowed by the darkness that resides in us all,” Tokoyami nods, expression dark.

“Oh shit, he could turn evil right in front of us!?”

“Children,” Aizawa says, voice loud enough for them all to hear him. Everyone looks at him, and he gestures to Midoriya, indicating him to explain.

“Oh!” The boy’s cheeks are faintly flushed as eighteen (Mineta had finally been expelled just two weeks ago, to the joy of everyone in the class, and the papers to transfer Shinso to 1-A are still being processed) teenagers turn to look at him. “Well, I’m guessing he was brought here to, uh, test his memories?”

“See if they will be brought back if he’s faced with people he targeted in the past,” Yaoyorozu nods in understanding.

“But that’s not entirely reliable,” Iida points out, a frown on his face. “None of us have ever met him in person, correct? Wouldn’t it be better to test this against someone like All Might?”

There’s more nodding amongst the students, though Aizawa notices that Midoriya and, strangely enough, Aoyama, look slightly guilty. Hm. He mentally takes note, marking it to deal with later.

“That’s not the only reason they’ve brought him here, though.” It’s Todoroki who realises it first, voice blank and leaving no room for argument.

“Oh?” Hagakure tilts her head – well, Aizawa thinks she does. It’s still hard to tell sometimes. “Why else would they?”

“It’s rude to assume Aizawa-sensei purposely left out information, Todoroki.” Iida frowns, and Aizawa raises an eyebrow at that – it’s very common for him to leave out information, if not downright lie in his logical ruses.

Todoroki shrugs, unbothered. “None of the heroes know what to do with him,” He turns to Aizawa, “Do they?”

“… That may also be a part of the reason, yes.” The teacher admits. Damn his class and their perceptiveness when he doesn’t want it. (They’re all going to make great heroes. Japan won’t know what’s hit them.)

“All the heroes are too manly to throw a child in jail,” Kirishima nods slowly.

“Let alone fight one, kero.”

Kaminari huffs, “They didn’t have any reservations during our Final Exams.” He complains, though not mean spirited.

“Exactly,” Aizawa says, ignoring the comment from Kaminari. He feels faintly pleased by the class’ reaction to the news; he had expected something more… well, explosive. “Nedzu thinks the boy should stay in the classroom for the entirety of class.” He looks to Aoyama, sitting in the first seat. “Aoyama, if you could move to Mineta’s old seat for this lesson?”

The blonde startles. “Ah, uh, oui, sensei.” He tries for a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

Todoroki isn’t done, though. “So you need someone willing to fight a child,” The comment is so unexpected that the Pro Hero nearly does a double take. The boy looks deep in thought.

“Yes?” Aizawa says, not sure where the dual haired boy is leading to. “That’s the issue we’re facing—”

“I know someone.”

… What?

From his seat, Midoriya blanches. “Shouto, no.” He almost begs.

“Problem Child,” Aizawa warns, and turns back to Todoroki. “You know someone?”

The boy in question nods.

“… A hero,” Aizawa clarifies, watching as Todoroki nods again, mind racing through all the heroes Todoroki would have been introduced to throughout the span of his life. One in particular sticks out. “Who would be willing to hurt a child.”

He almost doesn’t want Todoroki to nod again. He does.

What the fuck.

“Can you… call them?” Listen. Aizawa isn’t going to let the hero hurt the child version of All For One – probably – but he has a theory as to who it is, and he needs it rebuked.

“Oh, no,” The boy shakes his head, and Aizawa nearly relaxes, for who wouldn’t have their own parent’s number saved – “I have his number blocked, but you probably can. It’s, unfortunately, listen as my emergency number?”

Aizawa’s starting to think that he should have asked Nedzu for more alcohol.

“Iida’s your emergency number.” Aizawa states, to the confusion of the whole class, most noticeably Iida himself.

“What?” Todoroki blinks, the most emotion he’s shown for the whole conversation. “No,” He squints, “Why is Iida listed as my emergency number?”

“Probably the rat’s fault.” Definitely the rats fault. Aizawa’s ninety percent sure that Iida’s the whole of 1-A’s emergency number. “Who did you mean?”

“My father.” Todoroki states bluntly.

Ah. His hypothesis was correct, then.

… Aizawa really, really doesn’t want to think about the meaning behind that sentence, because fuck. With Midoriya and Aoyama’s weird behaviour, he’s going to have to do a lot of digging into the personal lives of his children.

One thing at a time, though.

“Bakugo, I’m going to need to use your phone.”

“Heh?!” Bakugo scowls, “Why mine?! Use your own goddamn phone.”

“I would, but I’m pretty certain he already has my number blocked, and you’re the most likely for him to pick up, barring Todoroki, and I’m not going to make Todoroki unblock him just for this.”

Grumbling, the blonde pulls out his phone, throwing it to the front. Aizawa catches it in one hand, already dialling Endeavor’s number.

Todoroki nods in respect.