Archive of Our Own ^beta

If you feed a stray it will come back expecting more. Shouta was well aware of that worldly law and he used it to his advantage in order to draw in all the stray cats around the city. Underground work was… long. Stressful. Exhausting.

It was also oftentimes boring. Stakeouts were common. Shouta had trouble standing still for a full minute without hearing the siren song of sleep trying to drag his eyes closed. It didn’t help that when he actually had time off to try to sleep his mind decided that was not the right time for it and would instead fill his thoughts with things that set his heart racing to a breaking point.

The cats helped. Every corner of the city had them. Whenever he went on patrol he would bring tins of food and bottled waters with him, stopping at specific spots to feed the wandering felines. It was rewarding, in its own way, when they would approach him without fear. When the ones that would hiss and bite would headbutt his legs hard enough to make him lose his balance if crouched. When it was cold, dreary, and unbearable to be forced to sit in one place for too long and they would curl around him with purrs vibrating through every inch of their bodies. 

It was nice.

Feeding strays had never been a problem. 

Until it was.

Shouta closed his eyes, reveling in the respite. If he didn’t look he wouldn't see, and then it wouldn’t be his problem.

A few seconds later he glanced down at the street corner and saw the kid sitting there like he did every day.

God damnit. 

It started a month ago. There was a corner a few blocks away from his apartment Shouta liked to stop at during his patrols. The building placed there had a cement lining near the top two floors that was wide enough for him to perch comfortably and it overlooked a significant portion of his area of the city. The edges were enough like alcoves to protect him from poor weather too, which was always a nice boon, and this high up no one would be able to see him blending with the dark colors of the building unless they had a vision quirk.

That was where he had first seen the kid. 

Shouta patrolled during the darkest hours of the night. Where most people tried to pull shit because they felt safer in the dark. He didn’t often see kid kids. Teenagers, sure. Either pulling dumbs stunts, sneaking out, or getting themselves into serious situations that would fuck up their lives forever. It wasn’t uncommon for him to see a handful of teens every night. There had been a baby, once, abandoned in a cold dumpster before he found them (and, after making sure the kid was safely looked after at the nearest hospital, spent a good week tracking down the people that had left them there). Toddlers he would see once in a blue moon when someone was rushing them to an emergency room for a terrible fever (he wasn’t a taxi service, but he could make some exceptions) or for late-night trips with children too young to leave alone even for a few minutes.

He never saw young kids out by themselves at this time of night unless something was wrong.

The kid had been walking next to the dimly lit sidewalk on the opposite side of the street Shouta was on. They were giving the lighted sections a wide-enough berth that they wouldn’t be immediately spotted by anyone walking along but was close enough to find comfort in the safety of light. 

Shouta had thought they were wearing a red jacket, at first, until he swung down on his capture weapon and realized it was a pair of bright red wings wrapped around small shoulders like a blanket.

“Hey, kid,” Shouta landed right in the middle of a well-lit section, just a bit in front of where the child was walking. 

There was a soft, hiccuped gasp. The wings rose to completely encompass them, with only two little golden eyes peering out.

“I’m a hero,” Shouta told them calmly, crouched with his hands raised. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you shouldn’t be out this late. It’s time to go home.”

The golden eyes blinked and it was a little difficult to tell, with how hidden their face was, but Shouta had noticed them lean forward when he said he was a hero. 

“Go home, kid,” Shouta ordered, swishing his hand in the universal ‘shoo’ motion.

A creaky, gurgling moan came from the bundle of feathers. Or, more accurately, the kid’s stomach. 

Shouta sighed. They had probably snuck out to try to get a snack from the convenience store or something. He dug out one of his jelly packets and tossed it over.

The kid flinched but thin, bony arms shot out to catch it before retreating back in a blur.

“Eat that,” Shouta pointed at them, “ after you get home.”

The little feather cocoon shivered, their feet shuffling awkwardly, before the kid was hurrying down the street away from him.

Shouta watched them go. Halfway down the street, the kid turned again, jumping when they realized he was lazily trailing behind them. Shouta shooed them again.

He followed them until they walked up the steps to one of the more rundown apartment complexes just two streets away.

His first mistake, back then, had been leaving right away. If he had just waited longer than a minute he would have seen the kid sneak back out, looking around warily for any followers before opening the jelly packet and draining it all in one go.

The second mistake was made the second time he ran into them.

Same spot, nearly same time, but this time the kid wasn’t walking along. They were sitting, curled up with their knees to their chest, right next to the lighted area Shouta had dropped into a few nights before.

The same spot he landed on this time, too.

“Kid,” he sighed. They flinched, wings poofing up a frankly ridiculous degree, as they scrambled to their feet and hid behind a wall of feathers once more. “What are you doing out here again?”

The wings lifted up and down like a shrug.

“Come on,” Shouta beckoned with a finger. “You’re going home. Do I need to talk to your parents about you sneaking-?”

All of the feathers bristled, looking oddly dangerous now, as a tiny blond head poked out to give a rapid shake of disagreement.

Those golden eyes were pinpricks, the edges of wide eyes creased with something dangerously close to fear. For a second Shouta thought there were bruises circling the kid’s eyes, sparking a boiling rage, but they were just marking along his eyes similar to a bird’s. Probably because of his quirk.

Shouta dropped his hand back to rest along his leg. “...Alright. Not this time then, but you can’t keep coming out here so late. It’s dangerous.”

The fear faded. No, that wasn’t quite right. It looked more like the emotion had just been wiped away to leave a concrete slate behind. If it wasn’t for the shuddering of wings settling back down Shouta wouldn’t have been able to tell that what the kid was feeling at all.

He walked next to them this time. He stayed on the sidewalk while they edged around the circles of light but there were a few times where tiny sandaled feet would toe the lines between light and dark as they drifted closer to him without seeming to realize it.

“Head in,” Shouta jerked his head at the building they had gone into last time, stopping right at the bottom of the cracked steps. 

The kid hopped up onto the first one and turned around. Their head was out of their cocoon, it had been since they first popped it out, which made it a lot easier to tell what they were looking at.

Shouta drifted his hand over the pocket they were staring a hole into. He didn’t have a lot in that one, it was mostly just his- ah.

“I can’t keep handing these out like this,” Shouta warned them, pulling out a jelly packet any way and tossing it over.

The kid brightened, catching it between two little taloned hands. They held onto it carefully, making sure not to poke any holes into the fragile aluminum pouch.

That had been the second mistake. Feeding a stray once was one thing. Feeding it twice created expectations. After that it would start to look for you. And if you feed it more than that? 

Then it starts to follow. 

Which was normally his goal.

Shouta crouched down. He set the plastic plate down carefully and cracked open the can of wet food. Immediately several pairs of reflective eyes appeared in the dark. He smiled into his capture weapons, dumping out the food and sitting back to wait. 

It always took a few minutes. Even for the ones he had known for years. It would take them a second to figure out it was him. The second they did though-

Three cats rushed from the darker corners of the alleys, brushing against his legs harshly with purrs so loud their bodies trembled. He scratched Nugget behind his scarred ear, shifting his leg so that when Luna inevitably lost her balance trying to headbutt him she wouldn’t fall on her side. Bean curled her tail around his knee, sticking her entire face into the food. 

Shouta let out a sigh, the tension in him draining out with it. 

Everything was so… slow, lately. Heavy in a way he couldn’t put words to. 

It was exhausting.

For nearly a week he didn’t see the child again. He went back to his usual schedule, picking up some cat food near the end of his shift and stopping at the alleyway he often frequented. Nothing changed for a while and the fog of apathy settled over him stronger every day.

Then one day something about his routine changed.

Someone was already there, in his usual spot. 

It was the kid again. The wings were a dead giveaway. 

“Ah,” the kid gasped, falling backward towards Shouta with a startled little yelp. Nugget was batting at their wings with the widest irises Shouta had ever seen on the stocky cat. Luna was attacking their shoes and Bean was… Bean was eating what looked like chicken off of one of the chicken skewers sold down the street. 

"Kid-"

The tiny wings flapped spastically as they shot down to the other side of the alley so fast it left a small burst of wind blowing Shouta's hair from his face.

He sighed, shaking his head.

If he just let the kid go they might not come back. Leave Shouta in peace and stop hanging around so much.

Nugget slunk over and draped himself over Shouta's feet.

Shouta snorted. He nudged the tabby off and walked carefully down the alley.

"Kid," he called out, because he was an idiot.

It was a lot like coaxing out the cats. He knew they were behind the dumpster, little pricks of red sticking out around the edge. He didn’t approach because talking to a kid on a well-lit street was a lot different than walking up to one in a closed-off alley. Instead, he sat down and scratched at Nugget’s belly fat (now that he actually had some) when the loaf flopped over his legs like a heated blanket. Bean eventually joined them, jumping up to burrow into his capture weapon. Luna took the initiative, and, as soon as she was done eating the chicken the kid must have bought them, went charging after their shoes again. 

“She won’t bite hard enough to hurt,” Shouta said, scratching Bean behind the ears as she tucked under his chin with a happy ‘mreowp’. “And she doesn’t have claws.”

Bean and Nugget were the only reasons she was still alive on the streets without claws to defend herself. 

Shouta watched the kid bend down, the curve of a bony knee appearing from behind the dumpster, to extend tiny taloned fingers towards the cat. Luna wrapped her paws around their wrist, nibbling at the wide part of their arm while she bunny kicked their hand. 

The kid laughed.

Shouta was always cold. It wasn’t anything new, he had long since adapted to it, and he had the cats to look forward to when the aching chill inside him grew too strong. He hadn’t expected something as simple as listening to a child giggle as they wrestled with a cat to spark a warmth on the inside where the natural heat from Nugget or Bean couldn’t reach. 

The next breath he let out was a bit shaky, but it felt easier than the thousands of breaths he had taken before. Had he been struggling to breathe? He hadn’t noticed. 

Eventually, the kid finally hopped around to join Shouta and watch as he fed the cats more than they probably deserved considering how big they were getting and how whiny they were. 

“How’d you find this spot?” Shouta asked as soon as the kid was held down by the weight that was Nugget (they’d looked starstruck, hugging Nugget close to their chest and ignoring the way the fat cat tried to eat their feathers whenever they were within range).

Gold eyes darted up to him before they were hidden away by multi-colored fur. “Um,” their voice cracked.

Shouta was actually a little surprised that they could talk, given how quiet they were the last few times he met them. 

“I… followed you.”

Shouta blinked. “...When?”

They shrugged, nuzzling their nose into Nugget’s belly (who only purred louder). “Few times. You’re fast.”

Shouta was fast. Far faster than seven or eight-year-old looking children who he would have seen a mile away flying through the skies.

He’d need to pay more attention to his surroundings if a child could tail him at any point. 

“What about the chicken?” he nodded towards the two wooden sticks near the opening of the alley.

“I like cats,” they hugged Nugget tighter. “I copied you.”

Shouta ran a hand over his face. This kid had not only been able to follow him to this specific alleyway at some point (the only relieving part about that was it was only a few streets away from the usual area the kid walked along) but he had been able to observe Shouta long enough to know how he handled the cats.

“Kid,” he sighed, low and deep in his chest. The automatic flinch made him feel something like a pinprick in his chest. Shouta rubbed at it idly. “What’s your name?”

“Keigo.”

Shouta waited for the rest of his name, but apparently that was it. 

“Keigo,” he stretched his neck. “You can’t keep wandering around in the middle of the night. You’ve been very lucky so far, but you can get hurt,” or worse, “if you don’t have an adult with you.”

A tiny iris peaked out at him. “You're an adult.”

Shouta snorted. 

“And a hero,” Keigo continued, suddenly emboldened. “You’re supposed to help people.”

“I help people by keeping kids off the streets when they are supposed to be at home, in bed.”

If he hadn’t been watching he would have missed the slightest pout form on Keigo’s face.

Shouta huffed now, some inexplicable weight fading away with the sound.

“As a responsible adult I should tell you to stop sneaking out all the time and take care of yourself,” Shouta lifted Luna into his arms to stop her from chewing on the kid’s toes. “As someone with a brain, I can tell you’re just going to keep doing it anyway, right?”

Keigo glanced at him, shrugging.

“Thought so. In that case, at least stay inside until I’m there, alright?”

Keigo’s grip tightened, his wings lifting. He stared up at him with wide eyes that made Shouta feel oddly like flinching away. 

From a kid barely up to his waist. If he needed a sign that he was going soft, this was it.

“I always feed them around this time. If you wait for me you can visit them.”

Shouta blinked when the kid’s wings seemed to expand to double their usual size. They were poofed up, looking incredibly soft and it drew the attention of all three cats immediately. 

“Really?” Keigo breathed, leaning forward a bit on his toes (the way he perched was familiar but Shouta didn’t know how he could hold the pose for so long when his own legs ached by the time an hour would roll by). 

“Really,” he deadpanned. “So stop walking along the streets asking for trouble.”

“O-okay,” he trembled a bit. 

Shouta frowned. “Are you cold?”

“No!” he shook his head, face blank but tinged red. “No, I’m warm.” 

A small, incredibly soft smile grew on the boy’s face.

“...I’m really warm.”

His heart twisted sharply, so suddenly that it couldn’t possibly be healthy. 

Then Keigo’s stomach growled loud enough to echo through the alley and spook the cats into running away. They didn’t do well with sudden noises.

Keigo made a despondent sounding noise, reaching for them as they ran.

Shouta pulled out a jelly pouch. “Stomach’s pretty loud for eating chicken skewers.”

Keigo took it with ease this time, glancing up at him but not retreating into his wings as a shield. He was just like a cat.

“Didn’t have none.”

“What?”

Keigo shrugged again, opening the jelly pouch and sipping at it greedily. “I didn’t have no- I mean, enough. Money.”

Shouta looked at the two discarded sticks, then at the scrawny stick drinking a simple jelly pouch like it was his first meal that day.

“Let’s go,” he stood suddenly, making Keigo jump.

Keigo looked at where the cat’s had disappeared, wings drooping but expression dull. 

Shouta led him down the streets, stopping in front of the convenience store.

“Wait here for a sec,” he told the kid.

When he came back out with two boxes of jelly packets and a container filled with chicken skewers the kid’s mouth dropped open.

“Here,” Shouta shoved the chicken into his hands. “There was a sale, I can’t eat all that.”

Keigo stumbled to keep up with him when he immediately started walking again, and it took him a few moments of glancing back and forth from Shouta to the box before he actually opened it and took a large bite from one of the skewers.

Shouta actually paused when the kid let out a fluttering, odd kind of chirping noise. His wings were poofed up again, flapping around him like he was excited about something.

Shouta tugged his capture up over the lower half of his face when he felt his lips twitch.

Keigo waved at him when he dropped him off, hopping on his tiny feet when Shouta told him to keep the box along with one of the ones filled with jelly packets.

Shouta waved back.

There were a thousand things Shouta could have done the fifth time he ran into the kid. The sixth time, the eighth. Shouta could have taken any number of steps to stop the inevitable outcome of the choices he did make.

Choices like not speaking to the boy’s parents (but Keigo’s reactions whenever he so much as hinted at them seemed too strong from the kid’s usual monotone reactions).

He could have been more forceful in making sure Keigo knew to stop coming out so late at night (which was honestly Shouta’s fault once he noticed the kid always waiting for him at the exact same spot two or three times a week).

He could have stopped feeding Keigo and making it seem like sneaking out was something to be rewarded (his stomach always growled so loudly it hurt to listen to, was it really wrong if he started bringing store-bought bentos just to stop the noise?).

For an entire month, Shouta could have- should have done things differently. 

But he didn’t. So now, here he was in the middle of the afternoon looking up at the large oak tree just a few paces away from where he always saw Keigo at two in the morning (and, wait, wasn’t it bad for kids to be up that late all the time? Another mark of failure on Shouta’s part). He’d swung by on a whim, more than anything, because this wasn’t a place he ever walked through unless he was on patrol. This wasn’t even a time he was usually awake but hunger had dragged him up and he’d forgotten to go grocery shopping the day before. He could have gone to the place right next to his apartment, but the memory of a happy little chirp created by the chicken skewers only this particular convenience store sold had forced his feet to take a bit of a detour.

It was the middle of fall, and the majority of all the leaves had already turned and fallen.

That was the only reason Shouta saw him.

He’d seen a flash of red, familiar enough that his brain didn’t automatically categorize it as a clump of leaves, and when he’d looked up he froze.

Keigo was halfway up the tree, a cocoon of feathers pressed against the trunk as he curled up on the largest branch. Shouta couldn’t see his face from there, but he could see the bottoms of his feet flat along the branch and so close together that his knees must have been pressed into his chest. He looked like an egg.

Just like with the previous month, Shouta had a lot of choices at his disposal to deal with this. He could call out to Keigo like a normal human being. He could ignore him and walk away like an asshole. He could even wait, just like Keigo usually would, for the boy to realize he was there and climb down on his own.

Shouta did none of these.

He dropped his bags at the base of the trunk and climbed up.

Keigo was sleeping. 

His breath was rattling in his chest and it sounded congested.

Shouta felt a spark of something uncomfortable in his chest when he reached through the feathers to gently shake his shoulder and he didn’t wake up.

Heat poured off Keigo even through his shirt (had it always looked that tattered? Shouta had never gotten a clear look at it before with so many feathers in the way) and there was a dark flush along his face and neck. The scraggly eyebrows Shouta always chuckled about internally were furrowed and he looked like he was in pain.

“Keigo,” Shouta shook his shoulder a bit rougher, making sure not to dislodge the kid from his impossible-looking position on the branch. “Keigo, wake up.”

Keigo let out a low whine. The pain in it had Shouta gently prying his wings open and scooping the kid to his chest as he jumped down.

Shouta didn’t have the greatest memory. With the stress, exhaustion, and anxiety that plagued him it wasn’t uncommon for him to forget things or blank out for a bit. It was still a little startling when, right after his feet hit the ground, he was suddenly slamming his hand on the front desk bell of Keigo’s apartment building.

It took someone three whole minutes (Shouta was startlingly aware of the overbearingly loud ‘tick’ of the clock on the wall that marked every second) to come out from the back. Shouta took those three minutes to shake off whatever had made him run so far without even really remembering it and to hit the bell every ten seconds.

“Jesus fucking- what do you want?!”

A tall man with patchy stubble and bags under his eyes to rival even Shouta’s slammed the back door open.

“Which room?” Shouta demanded. “This kid, which room does he live in?”

The cursory, uncaring scan the man gave Keigo made Shouta’s fingers twitch.

“Never seen him.”

“He lives here,” Shouta growled. “He has wings , how could you never have seen him?”

The man groaned like he was being forced to work overtime at the end of a long shift. “Look, the landlord hates mutants. I don’t give a fuck if he’s an alien with shark teeth, but if they’re not normal, they don’t live here. Try across the street, but he doesn’t live here .”

There was a strain around his eyes similar to when he overused his quirk. A pulsing feeling like the veins were about to burst.

Keigo took in a particularly rattling breath which turned into a choking kind of cough. 

Shouta was out the door and down the street before the man behind the desk could say anything that might make Shouta assault a civilian. 

Fuck, this is why he worked at night. Away from the general populace. 

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Shouta told Keigo even if the kid clearly couldn’t hear him. “I just… don’t know where else to take you.”

Which was another mistake in the long list of mistakes he had made. Because a hospital should have been the most obvious thing in the world but that irritating little spark from before had built itself up strong enough to crush any logical reasoning he might have formed. 

So he brought Keigo to his apartment.

Then, pacing around his small living space with Keigo still curled against his chest because he didn’t know what to do , he called Hizashi.

--00--

“Okay,” Hizashi stood up, carefully smoothing out the blanket on the boy’s shoulders. Shouta had set the kid on the couch after Hizashi had appeared at his doorstep, arms laden with bags. 

“Okay?”

Hizashi sighed, brushing his loose hairs back behind his ears and for the first time Shouta realized it must have been one of his days off. Was it the weekend already? His hair was up in a messy bun but so much of it had escaped the hold of his hair ties it made the bun obsolete. He hadn’t been able to talk to Hizashi much lately, not with his new job at UA and Shouta’s own schedule, but he at least knew that the blonde wouldn’t be caught dead outside before he was dressed up and ready to go. Hizashi still had sweatpants on, with a sleepshirt Shouta recognized from when they were younger. He was wearing slippers.

“I think he’s okay,” Hizashi crumpled up some of the empty bags around the couch. A thermometer, cool wraps, and several different brands and types of medicine. All the food he had brought was in the kitchen. “I’ve never had to help with kids when they are sick but everything I looked up points to a pretty nasty cold. Not bad enough to mean a hospital visit, I don't think. His parents should take him anyway, just to be safe with that cough, but for now he’ll be okay.”

Shouta grimaced. 

Hizashi, well-versed in Shouta’s facial expressions if a bit rusty, looked concerned. “Are his parents- I mean, I’m assuming something happened since you brought him to your apartment.”

Shouta rubbed at his eyes and motioned for Hizashi to follow him into the kitchen. Everything was covered in a layer of dust except the microwave and coffeepot. There were no dishes in the sink, thankfully, but that was mostly because he didn’t really use plates or silverware. All of his meals were pre-packaged.

“I brought the kid to his apartment, but they said he didn’t live there. The landlord hates people with heteromorphic quirks, apparently he would never let anyone with one stay there.”

Hizashi’s expression curdled, his dark green eyes lighting up a bit in the way they always did when he was angry. Then it faltered.

“Wait, then where does he live?”

The curl of shame and self-loathing grew, wrapping around his heart more fully.

“...I don’t know.”

Hizashi shifted on his feet, eyes darting to the main room. “Is there anywhere else you can find his parents? Where they work, the store they usually go to?”

He shook his head.

Hizashi bit at his thumb. Shouta was tempted to reach out and pull his hand away, like he used to, but it had reached a point where they hadn’t seen each other for long enough that casual touches like that seemed almost… wrong. 

Shoving away the shattering feeling of losing his best friend without even realizing it was hard, but he was used to being alone. He’d known they would grow apart when they first met. Just because it took longer than he thought didn’t mean it should surprise him.

“Does he even have parents?” Hizashi worried at the skin along the nail. “Does he even have a home ?”

“I don’t know,” he said again.

Hizashi’s brow furrowed and he did the thing where he bit the corner of his lip because he was wanting to say something but he knew it would sound insulting.

“You said on the phone that you’ve seen him around for a few weeks.”

He said it slowly. Carefully. Like Shouta didn’t already realize what a failure he was. That he should have taken one look at a child on the streets in the middle of the night and known something wasn’t quite right. That his clothes were dirty and his shoes were falling apart and no one ever came looking for him even when Shouta fell asleep while he played with the cats until the sun started to come up or how he was always hungry. Anyone else would have seen those things and known that something was off. 

Shouta should have known. He had, in a way. He’d noticed the problems. Brought more and more food, gave the kid his jacket when they met, looked at tiny shoes in windows and felt his hand twitch towards his wallet. He’d known. He had just ignored it.

Shouta glared at the floor, his hair covering his face.

Why had he ignored it? He wasn’t- he didn’t think he was a bad person. He wasn’t a good person, either, but he wasn’t the type that enjoyed the suffering of others. This kid- Keigo hadn’t done anything to earn that kind of ignorance from someone whose literal job it was to help people. He didn’t hate the kid. He liked him. A bit. Keigo was a sweet kid who spent the little bit of pocket change he had on chicken for cats instead of himself and waited for Shouta no matter how late it was. Who would open up to him bit by bit, and would chirp happily whenever Shouta brought something that tasted good. He was-

Shouta dropped into the chair behind him so heavily it nearly tipped. Hizashi made a startled sound, jerking forward to catch him.

He’d been treating Keigo like a stray cat. 

“Oh, Shouta,” Hizashi was suddenly knelt down in front of him. The hands wrapped around Shouta’s were almost unbearably warm. “You know now. Let’s go from there.”

Go where. Drop the kid off with Social Services and leave it at that? After all of this, it would crush the kid’s heart.

“Hey,” Hizashi called him back again. “One step at a time. You don’t know if he has parents, right? That’s the first thing we should find out.”

“He’ll probably lie if he doesn’t,” Shouta muttered. He was so tired.

“Then we’ll look ourselves until we find the answer.”

Shouta frowned at him. So many years, and somehow he was still the same.

“We?”

Hizashi patted his hands with a smile. The skin along Shouta’s knuckles burned and tingled under the touch.

“We. Until we figure it out, why not let him stay here?”

Shouta looked around his ratty kitchen in his tiny home with a grimace. This wasn’t a place for kids.

“We just need to clean up a bit,” Hizashi seemed to read his mind. “That’s all. And maybe buy a few more things.”

Shouta had to close his eyes. Looking at Hizashi, hearing his words and knowing that if he leaned forward someone would catch him, hurt more than the hit to the face he’d gotten a few nights ago. It ached so much stronger, radiating out from his heart until it reached his lungs and made it impossible to breathe.

“It’s okay,” Hizashi soothed, brushing his hair out of his face before pulling back. Giving him space he didn’t even deserve. “I’ll make us some breakfast. Why don’t you go take a shower?”

He didn’t have the energy for words so he just nodded. It took him a moment to rise out of his chair and move to the bathroom, passing by the couch on his way.

Keigo was curled up like an egg again. His back was pressed as deeply into the couch as it could go, with one wing under his and the other curled above so he was full encompassed. The very tips of his eyelashes were peeking out over the top of his feathers, fluffy eyebrows scrunched but not as deeply as they had been before.

For a moment all Shouta could hear was the rattle of his breath. He reached out, carefully resettling the fallen wet washcloth that had slipped from the kid’s forehead.  

He blinked back in the shower.

The water was cold. He didn’t bother to make it warmer.

He had a dingy mirror hung over his sink. It was smudged, the lighting glaring. It made the shallowness of his cheekbones look even worse, the paleness of his skin striking. The stubble on his face that he usually detested enough to actually motivate him to at least try to clean up every morning was nearly a full beard. When was the last time he’d shaved? When was the last time he’d even thought about doing anything other than sleep and work?

By the time he got out and dealt with the coiling emotions from finding a fresh pair of clothes he didn’t even remember owning waiting for him on the edge of the sink the kid was already awake.

He was also missing.

“I don’t think he left,” Hizashi looked frantic behind his forced calm. “Your door squeaks and the windows won’t open very well. I tried earlier, there’s no way someone as small as him could open them. He must be hiding.”

They looked for him in all the rooms. Hizashi called for Keigo softly, explaining where he was and why he was there. Shouta was silent because he didn’t know what words to use. 

Hizashi went to the never-used guest room that was so empty it didn’t even have a bed. Shouta went to his own room, which wasn’t much better.

His jacket, the one he wore with his uniform on cold nights, wasn’t where he left it.

He found it in the closet, far in the back corner and wrapped around tiny trembling wings.

“Keigo,” he said, and regretted it. He hadn’t said it as nicely as Hizashi was still doing out in the hall. 

At least it got the kid’s attention.

Wide, red-tinged eyes peered out at him from an otherwise blank face.

“You’re safe, kid,” Shouta assured him. That much he could promise. “This is my apartment. I didn’t kidnap you.”

“You’re a hero,” Keigo croaked like he needed to remind himself.

“Yeah, kid. You’re really sick. I couldn’t find your parents so I brought you here.”

His wings trembled even harder as he coughed deep from his chest. Shouta shifted forward.

“You’re sitting wrong,” he muttered. “Come back to the couch, you can rest there.”

Keigo shook his head, lips thinned. “...There’s a stranger.”

Shouta paused. Hizashi, right on cue, called out for Keigo once again. “That’s my friend. He’s a hero too.” Shouta dug around for words like he always did, hoping that this time the ones he found would actually be useful. “...He brought you medicine.”

“Why?”

Aizawa shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He’s nice. Nicer than I am.”

Keigo tilted his head, the smallest of furrows to his brow like he didn’t quite believe him. What part he didn’t believe, exactly, Shouta wasn’t sure but it didn’t matter when the kid stood up on shaky legs and stepped closer.

Shouta led him out of the room and back to the couch. The tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his pants made it a little hard to move but Shouta didn’t mind shuffling. It was his usual pace anyway.

“Hey there,” Hizashi said softly with a lilt in his voice that made Shouta look at him weird. “I’m sorry if we scared you.”

Keigo didn’t say anything, keeping his wings (and Shouta) between him and the blonde.

“Sit,” Shouta nudged him back onto the couch. “You need to take medicine.”

Keigo curled his wings around himself, burrowing his face into his knees. A few feathers lifted, parting so he could keep an eye on Hizashi.

Shouta ignored the nervous energy coming off of both of them. He was too tired, now that he knew the kid was going to live and Hizashi wasn’t going to start screaming. He looked over all the bottles laid out on the table, wondering which one was supposed to be used first.

“Here,” Hizashi grabbed one and held it out, tearing his eyes away from Keigo long enough to give him a reassuring smile.

Shouta scowled. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t have to see it. 

“I made some food, too. He should try to eat before he takes that.”

Keigo’s stomach growled, deep and stuttered. His feathers puffed up, his eyes disappearing behind them.

Shouta huffed. “Stay here. You can eat on the couch.”

Hizashi had made too much. He always had. Rice, soup, fish, and even tiny pancakes. Shouta hadn’t even seen a pancake for years.

Shouta had to brace himself on the edge of the counter, closing his eyes to hear the way Hizashi tried to slowly draw Keigo into conversation with so much softness in his voice it felt like a punch. This was all too familiar.

Shouta blinked his eyes open and he was on the couch. Keigo was pressed into his side as he ate, it had been the warmth that called him back, while Hizashi sat on the beaten-down chair across from them. All furniture he’d gotten more as a gift than anything when he first moved in that he rarely ever used.

“Do you know where they went?” Hizashi was asking, eyebrows dipping with lines around his eyes that didn’t used to be there. He looked tired.

Keigo shook his head.

Shouta realized the question must have been about his parents. He’d missed out on something important. Again.

“Do you know how to find them? A phone number, a family friend, anyone that they might have talked to?”

Keigo shook his head again. He didn’t seem bothered by the questions. At least, not in the way he’d get upset when Aizawa asked. He was just shoveling food into his mouth, with his wings down near his shoulders instead of lifted as a barricade. 

Hizashi was always good at getting people to lower their barriers. Thank god he was here.

“Okay,” Hizashi ran a hand through his hair. “That’s okay, buddy, we’ll figure it out. Do you want more food?”

Keigo’s eyes widened. He scrubbed at the grains of rice stuck to his cheeks and nodded. Shouta moved to take his plate but Hizashi already had it in hand, waving him away.

“You finish your food, you’ve hardly eaten anything.”

There was a plate in his hands. Some of the rice was missing. 

“He’s really nice,” Keigo whispered to him once Hizashi left, still pressed into his side like it was normal. He’d taken to standing or sitting closer to Shouta more and more over the last week, but he’d never stuck this close.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is there a reason you don’t want to tell the truth about your parents?”

Keigo froze. His face eerily blank as ever, but his wings shaking with bristled feathers. “...I’m not lying.”

“You’re not talking enough to lie,” Shouta yawned, scratching at the stubble on his face. Maybe he would actually work up the energy to save tonight. It was getting a bit ridiculous. “You know where they are?”

Keigo curled up again. Shouta looked away. 

“...They’re not coming back.”

“Even if we look for them?”

Keigo shrugged, peering out at him again with dull eyes.

“...Do you want them to come back?”

Keigo breathed out shakily, coughing with a rattle that made Shouta want to lean forward to check on him. 

“I don’t know,” he croaked.

Shouta held out the small glass of water that had been resting on the small side table. He waited until Keigo uncurled to grab it.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll start looking while you think about it. And then you can decide what you want to do.”

“Me?” Keigo looked at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s your life.”

Which is probably what he shouldn’t say to a kid that barely came up to his hip. He wasn’t good with kids, though, and with how his life seemed to be going he deserved to make some choices for himself.

“Can I-,” Keigo cut himself off, curling his fingers into his wings. Shouta reached out to tap his knuckles without thinking about it when tiny talons gripped too harshly. 

“Use something else if you’re gonna hold that hard,” Shouta told him, offering a bunched up fold of the blanket peeking out from under his wings. 

Keigo hesitantly grabbed the blanket instead, staring like he always did. 

Was a blanket enough? Shit, probably not. What else would he be able to use?

“Okay,” Keigo’s wings puffed up. “Um. While I’m thinking… can I-”

Shouta rested his head on his hand, blinking tiredly. “Spit it out, kid.”

“Can I stay here? Just… just at night. While I think.”

Shouta scratched at his neck. 

“You can stay however long you want. I’m rarely here anyway, make yourself at home.”

...That was a stupid thing to say. 

Keigo lit up, his wings fluttering. He smiled.

Well. Just because Shouta messed up, didn’t mean he’d make the kid deal with it. He told him he could stay so he could stay. 

--00--

“Hey,” Shouta scowled at the young woman putting some shirts away, “do you have any of these for kids with wings?”

“We do!” she smiled back so brightly it had to be faked. “We have heteromorphic quirk sections in all our categories. Unfortunately, due to the variety of types of quirks, we are unable to cater to everyone exactly as they need in our common market brands but if you are unable to find what you are looking for we do offer the option of custom made clothing at a higher marked price.”

It’s like she was reading out of a book.

“The section for winged children will be in the far back of the store on the left. Would you like me to show you?”

“It’s fine,” Shouta waved her off and she immediately went back to shelving shirts, happy to ignore him.

Shouta couldn’t blame her. 

The winged section was rather large, so he had a variety to choose from.

Which was a problem.

How was he supposed to know what to get? Did Keigo have a type of clothes he liked? All he ever wore was the same few t-shirts and shorts but he doubted the kid ever had much of a choice. Maybe he should just get the first few outfits he could find and then when Keigo was feeling better they could come back. Or maybe Hizashi could go instead. He’d insisted Shouta had to do this alone. Some kind of ‘milestone’ but that was over now. Hizashi could go next.

It took three shirts, some multicolored shorts, and a jacket for Shouta to realize he was planning for Keigo to stay for a while.

“A week,” he muttered to himself, debating between normal blue tennis shoes and ones with cats printed on them.

Keigo would be around for a week at most while they figured things out. Buying all of this, or buying more in the future didn’t mean anything. It just meant he wouldn’t need as many things later.

It was just a week.

--00--

Two weeks later Shouta walked into the kitchen (that he had been kicked out of) after washing his hands in the bathroom. His apartment was so clean now, it still felt like he’d moved somewhere completely new.

“What is this?” Shouta asked, sitting down in front of the steaming plate of plain white rice.

Keigo looked at his feet, shrugging. While Shouta was on patrol or looking into finding the kid’s family Hizashi would watch him.

And teach him, apparently.

Shouta huffed, lips twitching. He grabbed his chopsticks, and Keigo’s head shot up to track the motion. Shouta took a generous bite, making a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat.

It was just rice. Kind of dry too. But it was warm in a way that made his heart ache.

“This is pretty good,” he said, scooping up some more.

He saw Keigo’s wings puff up and flutter out of the corner of his eye.

“There’s more,” Keigo told him before he could make the kid sit down and eat something for himself. “Vegetables. They’re good for you. Zashi said so”

‘Zashi’. Hizashi really was good at getting people to open up.

Shouta was a pushover. He didn’t use to be, he was pretty sure. A lot of people told him he was exactly the opposite. Even Hizashi, who seemed to genuinely care about him even now (and wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth, when Shouta had never tried very hard to reach out in return) had mentioned how blunt or brash he could be.

If anyone else had set a bowl of uncooked, uncut vegetables in front of him he would have glared at them and offered a handful of scathing words before leaving.

Keigo looked at him, wide eyes holding a little sparkle in them that had steadily grown over the days he had been living here, over the rounded top of a full potato.

Shouta closed his eyes, mentally prepared himself, and took a bite from the potato.

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good , but he could deal with it. He just had to treat it like an apple.

Keigo actually smiled. 

Shouta ate the entire potato. And the broccoli. And the spinach.

It had been a long time since he’d eaten so much solid food in one sitting. He felt a bit miserable. 

Keigo chirped as he ate his rice, little grains stuck to his cheeks.

Shouta looked at his hands when the thought of eating a hundred raw potatoes would be worth it to keep the kid happy.

God, he really was going soft.

--00--

Shouta woke up around two in the afternoon to his front door opening and closing. He could sleep through a lot of things, but certain sounds always triggered his fight or flight instincts.

Keigo had gone outside.

This wasn’t the first, or last, time. Keigo liked to go feed and play with the cats whenever he was bored with coloring or practicing reading with the books Hizashi had bought him. If Shouta was sleeping the kid refused to wake him up for anything so Shouta had gotten him a key of his own to make things easier. Hizashi had one too, now. In case he wanted to check on the kid while Shouta was on patrol.

Speaking of Hizashi, wasn’t he here too? Shouta was pretty sure he’d been sitting on the couch, watching some ridiculous kid show about dancing robots, when he’d dozed off. Hizashi had been singing along, which had encouraged Keigo to break out of his shell enough to sing softly with him.

Shouta slapped around for his phone, to make sure that taking a video hadn’t been a dream.

The video was there. His jacket, which he had definitely been wearing, wasn’t.

Getting up was easier than usual. His eyes still stung, but they didn’t feel sunken into his face. There wasn’t a heavy fog settled around his lungs, pressing him down until he finally passed out wherever he stood still for too long. His face kind of itched though.

Maybe it was time to shave.

Hizashi and Keigo made a reappearance when he was staring at the fridge, rubbing at his smoother face while wondering if he should even try to make lunch. Even Keigo was better at cooking than he was and the kid had only been learning for a month. 

“No need!” Hizashi cheered, the second they walked in and saw what he was looking at. A familiar jacket was draped over his shoulders. Shouta was infinitely grateful that he’d done laundry a few days ago and Keigo tossed his jacket in when he wasn’t looking because it apparently smelled like old chicken kabobs. “Keigo-kun and I picked up some chicken on the way back.”

Keigo rushed over before pulling back at the last second, tipping back and forth on his feet while his fingers gripped his wings. Shouta patted his head.

“I… showed him the cats,” Keigo whispered.

“Did he like them?” Shouta asked.

Keigo scanned over his face, deadpan slowly falling away to reveal an almost mischievous smirk. His wings poofed up behind him.

“They tried to eat his hair.”

“Mh,” Shouta nodded, glancing at Hizashi as the man set the food out on the counter. “Yellow is Bean’s favorite color.”

“You can tell their favorite color?” he sounded amazed.

Shouto shrugged. He couldn’t, not really, but Bean did like to attack the yellow toys he brought more than the others. It could be for a million different reasons, but the way Keigo stared at him now made it impossible to disagree.

“Alright, let’s wash up and then dig in! Aw yeah!” Hizashi cheered, doing a weird hand motion like always. Shouto pressed his lips together when Keigo stared at the taller blonde’s hands and mimicked the motion.

“Aw… yeah,” he smiled back.

Hizashi's face scrunched up in the way it always did before he cried. “Soap!” he shouted. “Let’s go get soap!”

Keigo scrambled for the bathroom, urged on by the smell of food. Shouta rolled his eyes, lips twitching. He frowned when he caught Hizashi smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, lifting his hand towards his mouth.

Shouta tapped at his hand. “Stop that, you’ll make your thumb bleed- uh.”

Hizashi looked even closer to crying now.

“I’m glad we can hang out again,” Hizashi said with far too much honesty. “Keigo-kun is good for you.”

Shouta blinked. What did that mean?

Hizashi laughed at his face, patting his shoulder and giving him a quick, sudden hug before disappearing after Keigo to wash his hands.

Shouta stood there for a long time. Unlike most times where he stood still for too long, he didn’t blink and suddenly find himself somewhere else. No, he was far too aware of the passage of time while he stood frozen with a burning warmth crawling along the places Hizashi’s arms had touched.

--00--

“Does this look right?”

Shouta and Keigo tilted their heads.

The wall perch he had ordered online (why had he never thought of online ordering before, it cut out all of the things he hated about being outside) looked secure enough in the middle of the main room wall. He’d rather have a thousand weird branches in his walls than see Keigo on the edge of the windows so high above the ground. Sure, the kid could fly if he needed to. Logic dictated that it would be fine. 

Shouta’s adrenaline didn’t listen to that logic. He regretted fixing those windows, even with the fresh air filtering through the apartment all the time now.

“Give it a try,” Shouta sighed, standing next to it so he could catch Keigo if he fell. 

Keigo flapped up, settling onto the perch with a wobble that made Shouta jerk forward. Keigo crouched, his wings lifted high to help him balance. He wrapped his hands around the malleable pole, his talons sinking in nicely.

“Good?” Shouta asked.

Keigo smiled, chirping a bit as he kneaded his talons in further. 

Shouta huffed. Maybe he should order a few more to put around the place. It wasn’t like he was going to be using the space.

--00--

The mirror was still pretty dingy. It was clean now. The whole apartment was, to a level that Shouta had thought impossible. There was a tiny toothbrush with one of those dancing robots on the handle. A comb that would never work on Shouta’s mess but pulled smoothly through tiny blonde tufts. Another brush for thicker red feathers and a small container of dust to help reach the spots Keigo couldn’t get to with his tiny arms (preening was a new thing, and it was kind of weird, but it was relaxing in a way Shouta could appreciate). 

The face in the mirror… was still his. Still a bit sunken in. Bags under his eyes. Stubble. 

But it was only stubble. He shaved every few days now. Showered every night so tiny eyes wouldn’t worry that he was feeling down. His hair was up and out of his face, tangled looking but clean. He was wearing a new shirt. Keigo had refused to buy any clothes for himself unless Shouta got some too. His face was fuller too. Actual meals were commonplace, with Hizashi and Keigo teaming up in the kitchen all the time. They’d had a full course dinner last night. It had been overcooked and a little choppy, but it had been a meal . He didn’t look like he was dying, he just looked tired.

When had his habits changed, exactly?

Months of silence, only speaking when forced to report to an officer, and subsisting off of jelly packets alone. Sleeping, working, sleeping, sometimes eating. Using exhaustion and cats as a tool to fight off thoughts, because thinking brought memories.

Then this feathered twig comes along and all of a sudden he’s talking to people again. Keigo, of course, but Hizashi too. People in stores. People . 

Shouta hadn’t realized that being warm again would hurt so badly. Would make him look at himself in the mirror, see every imperfection glued together to create a shattered picture of a man, and care that he looked like shit. That he wanted to look better. Try harder.

Hizashi had been right, Keigo was good for him.

He was dragging Keigo down. 

The kid was eight . His father was a murderer, his mother had abandoned him, and he’d been living on the streets for months before Shouta stumbled upon him. And on top of all that Shouta wanted him to hang around for what? To make himself feel better? To boost himself up even if it meant this kid who spent the only money he had on feeding cats over himself and helped old ladies in parking lots and tried his absolute best to learn to cook for Shouta would just end up wasting his life trying to take care of a grown-ass man that couldn’t even do anything for him in return?

Patrols made him leave Keigo alone for hours at a time. Even with Hizashi coming by when he could (which only made the guilt sharpen further, dig deeper) Keigo was alone a lot of the time. He had a roof over his head, food in the fridge, books, toys, and things to play with but he was still alone. 

And Shouta couldn’t keep him forever. He shouldn’t have taken him in the first place. He must have broken a hundred laws just taking him to his apartment when he got sick and then not calling anyone. 

He hadn’t wanted to pressure Keigo. Didn’t want to put the kid into a place that might not take care of him. Keigo seemed happy here, and he was looking healthier every day. 

Kids went to school. They made friends, went to events, went on trips with their families. They had families . Shouta might not have come from a very affectionate or close family, but he’d seen others. Seen the kind of support and love children should have gotten. He’d always been so bitter as a kid, before he learned that life was just like that sometimes, when he saw the lives other kids could lead that he would never have.

Could he really do that to Keigo? Give him this bare minimum and expect him to be happy about it? To miss out on everything he could have?

If Shouta… if Shouta kept him, would that be right? Taking all that from him just because he was fond of the kid, that wasn’t fair to Keigo.

The kid had given him so many things. Warmth. A purpose outside of work. His friend, back in his life, when he’d made peace with losing him to time and distance.

Keigo was a good kid. He’d give away everything he had, everything he could have, to make someone else happy. 

Shouta couldn’t let him do that.

--00--

“Sho,” Hizashi looked heartbroken. Shouta couldn’t look him in the eye. “Are you sure about this?”

“...Yeah.”

--00--

“They’ll take care of you,” Shouta continued, dragging a hand over his face. “Get you into a good school, make sure you’re safe. Happy.”

Keigo didn’t say anything. He was looking at his feet, clutching the ends of his shirt like he always did when he was nervous. His hair was getting long again. It draped over his eyes, hiding his expression.

Shouta swallowed against the lump in his throat. 

“Kid?”

“Okay,” Keigo whispered, finally looking up. He wasn’t crying, at least. He wasn’t… he wasn’t doing anything. His face was as blank as it had been the first day he’d met him. Cold and emotionless. His wings weren’t moving.

“You don’t-,” Shouta cut himself off. He was toeing a line here. He could feel it. “You don’t have to go. If that’s not what you want. We can find someone else.”

This was the best family he could find. Monoma Ava and Monoma Keiko already had a son they had adopted, and they treated their son with nothing but love. Shouta had been talking to them for the last month and no matter how much he looked for flaws he couldn’t find any. They were perfect. They were everything he wasn’t.

 Shouta wasn’t going to force him, though. Keigo’s life would be better with the Monoma family, he knew that much, but he wouldn't take the kid’s choices from him like that.

“I’ll go,” Keigo said again. Shouta had to lean forward a bit to hear him. “I… want to go.”

Shouta couldn’t tell if he was lying. He didn’t have the usual tells. The flickering eyes or twitchy fingers. Keigo wasn’t blinking very much, but that was normal. The lack of emotion in his eyes was definitely worrying, but he always tended to shut down more when anything emotional popped up. That could just be in response to Shouta’s emotions, he knew he wasn’t getting this all across very well. 

“...Take a few days to think about it,” he settled on. He’d give Keigo some time to process everything before a final decision was made. “If you’re still okay with it by Friday, they would love to meet you.”

Keigo nodded once, sharply. The silence between them was stifling. It wasn’t anything like the peaceful stillness Shouta had been enjoying the last few weeks. 

“I’m going to bed now,” Keigo decided. 

“Sure,” Shouta nodded. “I’ll be up for a while. Let me know if you need anything.”

Keigo went to his room- the guest room, repurposed for a small winged child- and closed the door so softly Shouta strained to hear the click.

The air in the room was oppressing. Old, dark worries crawled their way out of his heart, wrapping around his lungs like an old enemy. 

He was really fucking things up, wasn’t he?

--00--

It was halfway through patrol when he got the call. 

Keigo was with the Monoma’s that night. They wanted him to adjust slowly, so he was having a sleepover with their son. Keigo had been nervous around the other boy, just a year older, who was loud and confident.

Shouta had talked with Keiko and Ava for an hour before they found the boys dramatically acting out one of Neito’s stories in the boy’s room.

Keigo liked Neito. Neito seemed rather fond of having a young kid look up to him so much, so he accepted Keigo pretty easily after the first round of suspicious stares. 

He’d seemed excited for the sleepover. His wings had been fluffy.

Keigo ran away.

“I’m so sorry,” Ava’s voice crackled over the phone with barely concealed panic. “I went to check on them and the window was open. I thought he was asleep but with the storm-”

“He’s afraid of lightning,” Shouta muttered, falling into a weird state of the world around him moving achingly slow while his heart pounded against his ribs. “Check all the closets. Corners. He finds holes to hide in when he’s scared.”

The window had been open. 

“I’ll look outside,” Shouta said, then hung up.

The rain was so heavy he’d had to take shelter under an alcove. It was warm, but the wind made it colder than it should be. Lightning cracked across the sky every few minutes. 

Shouta went to the alleyway first. The cats would be in his apartment. When the weather turned he would always make room for them, and with Keigo there they were content to laze around there instead of outside more and more. He always left the kitchen window cracked so they could come and go as they pleased. 

Keigo wasn’t in the alley.

He checked all the trees he passed. He had to climb the ones with heavier foliage just to be sure. He checked the parks. All three of them. The street corner he first met him out, and several blocks surrounding it. He swung by the Monoma’s neighborhood and repeated the process. He checked his own neighborhood. Nothing.

He couldn’t find Keigo anywhere.

“I checked,” he told Hizashi over the phone as calmly as he could with how harshly his lungs shook from the cold invading his body. “Did he know where you lived? Would he have gone to you?”

Out of anyone Shouta would go to Hizashi too. God, he hoped the kid went to Hizashi.

“I’ll check,” Hizashi said. He had his hero voice on, completely masking his panic in a way Shouta wished he could replicate. “I’ll keep you updated. Have you tried the corner store?”

“All of them,” Shouta shoved his front door open. “I’m grabbing his jacket for if- when we find him.”

“That’s good,” Hizashi assured, voice softening. “We’ll find him, Sho. I’ll call you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t bother kicking off his shoes, tracking water all the way to the guest room. Keigo’s jacket was on the perch next to his door, where they’d set it up in a corner with a net tied from the pole to the wall so he could stuff it with pillows like a nest. He pulled it out, careful not to disturb the careful creation of comfort the kid had made, and turned to move back to the door. 

It was pure chance that he bothered to glance into his room. A simple twist of his head, a peripheral scan.

His blanket was gone. He made it two steps past the door before it clicked. 

Rushing back he flew to the closet.

“Keigo?”

His blanket was in the back corner, wrapped into a giant ball.

It was shaking.

Shouta sank to the ground next to him, not fighting the wave of relief that brought him down faster.

“Keigo,” he said again, stronger.

Blonde hair popped up, followed by teary golden eyes. Keigo was soaking wet, shivering from the cold. 

“I’m here,” Shouta told him, as close as he dared to avoid startling him. “Are you hurt?”

Keigo took several deep, shuddering breaths. Shouta prayed this wouldn’t bring his cold back. It had taken a long time to get rid of it the first time, and the doctor he’d taken him to had warned him of a possible relapse. 

Keigo shook his head.

Shouta closed his eyes. He ran a hand over his face, harshly shoving all of his hair out of the way. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. You need to warm up. Can you walk?”

Keigo nodded.

Shouta helped him disentangle from the blankets. He’d have to wash them, they’d absorbed a heavy amount of water. Not as much as Keigo’s wings had.

“Hold on,” Shouta told him, stepping into the bathroom first to start running a bath. He knelt at the edge, sticking his hand under the running water to keep track of the temperature. 

He shivered, hair flopping damply over his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

Shouta froze. 

Keigo was still shivering by the doorway, rainwater dripping off him onto the floor in large drops. His wings were dark, small lumps against his back. They rattled against his small form like they were itching to burst but he kept them crammed close. 

Shouta realized, in a portion of his brain that wasn’t focused on the shattered words that had just slipped from the boy’s mouth, that he must have been afraid to make any more of a mess.

Shouta slowly twisted, pulling his hand away. “It’s okay. I know you had a reason.”

Keigo took in a breath that rattled his body like a gust of wind through a rotten building. His mouth opened and closed, small choked noises falling out like he was trying to talk but couldn’t.

“Come here,” Shouta urged, holding out his hand. “Don’t worry about anything right now, let’s just get you warmed up.”

The bath was full enough. He stopped the water and motioned for Keigo to come closer.

Keigo shook his head.

“Kid,” Shouta tried, feeling so far out of his depth it was actually horrifying. This wasn’t just fear of lightning. Did something happen?

Keigo coughed, his face scrunching alarmingly. “I… have to go.”

“What? No, you need to warm up. We’re not going anywhere until you’re okay.”

“No,” Keigo squeaked, his voice cracking painfully. “I have to leave.”

To Shouta’s horror, he began to cry. Keigo had never cried before. 

“Kid,” Shouta near pleaded, and Keigo only cried harder. “ Keigo. You can stay here, you don’t have to leave-”

“No!” Keigo sobbed, shaking his head back and forth, scrubbing at his eyes. “I can’t-!”

Shouta’s hands opened and clenched. “You can , no one is going to force you to leave.”

“You don’t want me!” Keigo shouted, throwing his hands at his sides with crystal clear emotion in his eyes for the first time since Shouta had met him. Raging, boiling, hurt . “ No one wants me! I’m not- I’m not good , I can’t-!”

Keigo curled into a ball, shoving his face into his knees and wrapping his wings around himself as tight as he could as he wailed.

Shouta could feel his breath stuttering in his chest. He was still near the edge of the tub, just watching as the small child screamed and sobbed in front of him.

He’d fucked up.

“I want you.”

It ripped out of him so strongly, so roughly it hurt. Deep in his heart, where the pain from the first time he’d seen the kid laugh had started. 

Keigo shook his head, sobbing. His wings spasmed on his back. 

Shouta knelt in front of him, running his palm along the area between his wings so that they didn’t cramp. Keigo wailed.

“I’m sorry,” Shouta breathed, carefully pulling him into his arms. Wrapping his arms around Keigo like his wings would, tucking the feathers carefully so they wouldn’t hurt. “I’m sorry, Keigo. I want you. You deserve so much better.”

Keigo was trembling so hard it was hard to tell when he shook his head.

“I do ,” Shouta insisted, resting his head on top of Keigo’s. “If I could keep you, I would.”

Keigo shook his head even more fiercely, nearly headbutting Shouta’s chin. “You don’t- you could but you won’t -”

“I want you to live a happy life,” Shouta grimaced. “A good one. You can’t get that with me.”

“ Why ?”

Shouta opened his mouth but Keigo beat him to it. 

“I’m happy here ! I love it here! I have you, and Bean, and Luna, and Nugget, and Zashi! We make food, and play games, and I- I thought you were happy! I want to be here, you’re just lying-!”

There were a lot of new sides of Keigo he was seeing today. He wished he hadn’t been the one to draw them out.

“I’m sorry,” Shouta said again, because he’d really fucked this up. Keigo wailed again, clinging to him with his face shoved into the crook of Shouta’s neck. 

Shouta didn’t know how to explain it all to him. Shouta failed so spectacularly at taking care of himself, how could he possibly handle a kid? All he’d done with Keigo was make mistakes. He couldn’t put the kid through even more of that.

Shouta hugged him tighter, because messing up was exactly what he was doing right now.

They were both sopping wet, in the middle of the bathroom with a bathtub full of cooling water and puddles littering the hallways. Keigo had ran or flown for at least an hour just to make it back to the apartment. The first thing he had done, when lightning struck, was rush to Shouta’s closet with his blanket. 

“Why can’t you pick me?” Keigo whispered. “I picked you.”

Shouta nearly flinched. No one picked Shouta. No one should. 

“I want to be here,” Keigo sniffled, having cried so hard he ran out of the little energy he had left. There was a whine in his voice that finally reflected how old he was. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Okay,” Shouta breathed, curling around him further. “Okay.”

--00--

Keigo was still in his arms when Hizashi arrived. They were both bathed and cleaned, dressed in dry clothes. Shouta had dropped towels on the puddles in the hall and left them be as he collapsed on the couch with Keigo passed out on his chest and clenching his shirt in his talons with an unbreakable grip. 

“I can’t do this,” Shouta stared at the ceiling, running his free hand over Keigo’s wings. “I’m gonna fuck this up.”

Fingers tangled in his hair, gently brushing it away from his face. Shouta had to close his eyes against the burn of tears. 

“It’s okay,” HIzashi soothed. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“We?”

“We.”

Hizashi… was good at this. He was good with kids. And at stopping Shouta from making stupid choices. It wasn’t fair to ask him to handle them both. But…

“Thank you,” he choked out, leaning into the touch. Lips touched his forehead and the feeling of them against his skin burned.

--00--

“Look at you!” Hizashi cheered, dancing around him and flattening out any wrinkles. “I haven’t seen you dress up like this since we were students.”

“I hate this,” Shouta groused, fixing his tie. 

“You’ll do great,” Hizashi brushed some lint off his shoulders, so certain it was embarrassing. “And with this you can finally cut down on your patrol hours. It’ll give you benefits, and once the adoption papers are finalized you can get Keigo signed up for school, and with the classes set up like this one of us can always be with him when he’s not at school.”

“I know, I know,” Shouta breathed out heavily. “...I’m not good with kids.”

“You’re awkward with kids,” Hizashi corrected happily. “You like them just fine.”

“They don’t like me.”

“I know a very specific little one that would disagree.”

As if summoned by the mere mention, Shouta’s phone buzzed. He gave Hizashi a deadpan stare as he pulled it out to check the message.

Monoma Ava: He already misses you

Attached to the text was a picture. Keigo was wrapped up in the blanket Shouta had gotten for him, curled up next to the window and staring out of it with a single-minded focus and the slightest purse of his lips. His eyebrows were furrowed. Neito was pouting at him from the doorway with a storybook in hand.

Shouta closed his eyes, pocketing his phone quickly before it gave him any stupid ideas like canceling the interview and running back.

God, he was pathetic. If he managed to get this job, he could never let any of the students know. They would walk all over him.

“You’ll do great,” Hizashi said for the hundredth time. “And then we can all go out to celebrate.”

Shouta nodded. That sounded nice.

“Hey,” Hizashi settled his hands along Shouta’s elbows, drawing his attention back up. “Remember why you’re doing this.”

“I do,” Shouta felt steadier thinking about it. It was still horrifying, but the fact that he could see a path leading to what he wanted to get- what he wanted to give , gave him the courage he needed to get it done. “Thank you, Hizashi. I owe you… everything.”

Hizashi sighed, fond. Like he’s said something ridiculous. 

“We’ll work on that.”

“On what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Keigo-kun and I have a plan.”

The thought of them scheming wasn’t as worrying as it probably should be.

“Aizawa-san?” a high-pitched voice called.

Shouta looked down at the little mouse greeting him.

“Are you ready for your interview?”

“Yeah,” he said before he could back out. He nodded to Hizashi, who twisted his fingers together like he was nervous even as he smiled brightly enough to rival the sun.

“Good luck!” Hizashi gave a dramatic thumbs-up, voice pitching up.

Shouta huffed. “Thanks.”

He followed the Principal into UA.