Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took years for him to admit that it wasn’t his fault. They had fallen in love early, just after he graduated from UA, before his career kicked off. They’d met in a cat cafe, of all places. He’d gone there to use the last few pennies from his first measly paycheck. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did remember the horrified shriek when the green-haired young woman had accidentally sat on him. To be fair, with cats everywhere and large black pillows, he did blend into the furniture. 

“I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there. I thought you were just a pillow—”

There was raucous laughter from the blonde woman standing beside her. “And you call me the rude one. You just sat on the guy! Just apologize and introduce yourself!”

Shouta had ignored her, focusing blearily on the woman who had mistaken him for a pillow. She had flushed a deep crimson, fidgeting shyly, before meeting his gaze.

He had spoken before she could. “ ‘S fine. Didn’t know I was asleep.” 

When he had sat up, she had smiled timidly at him. “At least let me buy you a drink, Mr…”

“Aizawa.”

She had captured his attention right away, and his heart not long after. The following months were some of the best in his life. Inko was like a missing puzzle piece he never knew he’d been missing. It soothed something inside of him after the aching void left by Oboro’s death. He began looking forward to coming home, to seeing her green eyes and feeling her soft hair, to the scent of cherry blossoms in the springtime. He was more careful on patrols, and eight months after they had started dating, he began to save up any spare change he could after his measly pay from being a beginning underground hero. He had wanted what they had to last forever. 

Shouta had been so sure that she had felt the same way. He had been so sure . Until he came home from a long, hard patrol to find her gone. She hadn’t even left a note.

He had panicked at first, thinking something had happened to her. But there was no sign of a struggle. All of her things had been packed away. He tried calling her, but her number had been disconnected. His apartment which he had been sharing with her felt empty and bare. It was cold without her warmth to drive the thunderstorms away. Had he done something wrong? Why had she left? Was it his fault? Was he not good enough?

Had he been able to think straight, he would have tried to find her and ask. But he felt frozen, trapped, every time he remembered the empty space they had once shared, the sudden loss, like sunlight ripped from his fingers just when he was learning to embrace it once more.

That was why he was shocked when, eight months later, he saw her exiting a convenience store, shopping bags in one hand, the other held over her rounded stomach. He froze, feeling like his feet had been rooted to the ground, even as people walked around him.

She looked every bit as beautiful as she had when they first met. Her dark green hair was pulled into a half-bun, loose strands framing her round cheeks. She hadn’t noticed him, too busy with the bags in her hands. Her warm green eyes were focused on something on her phone, brows furrowed slightly in that way that made him feel fuzzy with fondness. Her hand, which he knew was baby soft, rubbed gently over her heavily pregnant stomach.

She was gone before he thought to chase after her.

That was the last time he saw her.

A month later, he received a letter in the mail. There was no return address, but her name was written in her neat penmanship in the top corner. It was a short letter. 

     Shouta,

     I have had a baby. He’s yours. I want him to be safe, so I won’t tell you his name.

     I am changing my last name. There are things I can’t tell you. But I thought you’d like to know. Please don’t look for me. It’s better this way. What we had was real, but not something we could have kept.

     Inko

There was a picture as well. A tiny baby, wrapped in a hospital blanket with a sky blue cap on its head. His son. He had a son. But he didn’t even know the name. That crushed him more than her absence had.

He put the picture in his wallet anyway. He had a son out there somewhere. With his whole heart, he wished to be able to meet--to hold--to love the kid.

He didn’t expect that letter to be the last time he heard from Inko. 

Five years later, he had been dragged out on a shopping trip by his friends. Why they bothered to bring him along on such trips he’d never know. He watched as they laughed in front of him, pointing to various shop windows and generally enjoying themselves in the crowded plaza. Rolling his eyes, he paused by a newspaper stand and picked one up absentmindedly. Not many people read the newspaper anymore, but he found that sometimes important information was hidden away inside. He’d solved a couple cases that way. He hummed to himself as he flipped through the newspaper’s obituaries. He was just about to put the newspaper down when something caught his vision. He zeroed in on it, then immediately wished he hadn’t.

Her name was listed, right in the middle of the page. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked between the top of the page and the entry several times before the meaning began to sink in. 

Inko was dead, killed in a villain attack.

The world fell apart around him. In Shouta’s chest, an aching chasm yawned wide and suffocating. Claws of ice wrapped around and tore out his heart. Everything sounded like it was underwater. The words became blurry before him, the edges of his vision darkening—

“—outa. Hey, Shouta. Focus on my voice. Come back to us, Shou.”

He recognized that voice. That voice was familiar. He--

A hand landed on his shoulder, and the world crashed back all at once. He found himself on the ground, knees stinging, paper fluttering to the floor. Concerned lime green eyes stared into his own, blonde hair falling softly around Hizashi’s face as his best friend pulled him back from his own head. 

Hizashi smiled at him, but it was small and filled with worry. “There you are, Shou. Hey, what’s got you so upset?”

Wordlessly he picked up the newspaper and handed it to the blonde, pointing to the spot halfway down the page that was shattering his fragile heart. He knew when Hizashi had found it because his breath hitched and a wounded sound escaped his lips. Shouta found himself wrapped in his friend’s long arms as the man whispered apologies to him. That was the last straw for him, and he broke down right there, sitting in front of the newspaper stand.

He had never loved anyone like he had loved her, and now she was gone. 

In that moment, he remembered the son he had never met and sent up a silent prayer that the boy would just hold on until he could be found. 

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya had never had an easy life.

When he was small, he used to watch his peers as they were picked up from daycare by two smiling people and then dropped off the next day by the same two people. He just had his Mama to come get him every day. Even Kacchan had two people who cared for him. He asked his Mama about it one day. 

“Mama, why does everyone have two people to come pick them up every day?”

She had looked at him with those big green eyes touched with sorrow. “It’s because they have a mommy and a daddy, Zuku.”

“Do I have a daddy, Mama?”

He still remembered the faraway look that had come into her eyes at the question. “You do, dear. But his work is dangerous and you may never get to meet him.”

At the time, he had accepted it. But when he turned four and his quirk still hadn’t come in, he began to wish that he had a father around.

Kacchan began growing impatient with Izuku’s quirk by the time they were five and it still hadn’t shown up. His mother had taken him to a special clinic, and they reassured her that while he did have one, it was late coming in. But Kacchan wouldn’t listen to him when he said that. His teasing became less friendly. Smiles turned into sneers, and the pop-pop of Kacchan’s quirk came closer and closer to his bare skin. The nickname Deku changed from something almost fond to an insult.

It all came to a head during Christmas a year later. Izuku, tired of his friend’s aggression, asked Kacchan to stop, insisting that he hadn’t changed and a quirk shouldn’t matter. Kacchan had lit up in incandescent fury, and for once his own anger boiled over. His eyes itched with the heat of unshed tears, indignation at the starbursts popping nearer and nearer, and suddenly a breeze whooshed past the back of his neck. The explosions stopped. Kacchan’s expression morphed from fury to terror. 

“My quirk’s gone!” he exclaimed, looking at Izuku directly before his eyes blew impossibly wider. “You took it! Give it back!”

“I…took it? …I don’t think I did,” Izuku mumbled. He was doing something , he knew, but he didn’t know what.

“You took it!” Kacchan insisted, lunging forward again. “Give. It. Back!”

Their parents, summoned by the raised voices, came running to see what was happening. They didn’t get there before Kacchan had landed several hits on Izuku. He closed his eyes, hearing the crackling of his friend’s quirk return, but not daring to look.

Kacchan avoided him after that.

Two months later, it didn’t matter anyway.

He had been coming out of another long day at school. Now that he had a quirk, the bullying had quieted down some, but the mistrustful looks and angry words hadn’t stopped. Everyone was too afraid of losing their quirks, even temporarily, to spend much time around him. He was looking forward to a nice night with his mom, keeping an eye out for her, when a police officer approached.

“Midoriya?” he asked.

Izuku nodded. A knot of dread was forming in his stomach.

“There was a villain attack this morning where your mom works. She’s in the hospital. I’m supposed to bring you to her.”

The knot tightened, then opened into a yawning chasm. He nodded again, unable to find words through the ivy wrapping itself around his throat.

He followed the officer to his car woodenly, thoughts racing and sluggish at the same time. After a while, he settled on one thought and forced the words past the tightness of his throat. “Is she gonna be okay?”

The officer glanced over at him. “I won’t lie to you, bud. It doesn’t look good.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. The officer led him out of the car into the hospital, handing him a pass from the front desk, then guiding him up until they stopped in front of a white door.

Izuku’s surroundings suddenly became clearer as the officer knelt down next to him, one hand on his shoulder. “You ready to go in, bud?” he said softly. Izuku studied his face. It was kind and sincere, if stern. He took a deep breath, then nodded.

The sight inside would be etched in his young mind forever. His mother lay in a blank white hospital bed. Dust coated her dark green hair. She was hooked up to several machines on either side of the bed. Even though his mother was vibrant and loving in her attentions, he couldn’t see any of that in her now. Instead, she looked…fragile.

He didn’t want to get closer, but his feet dragged him to her bedside anyway. The officer dragged a chair next to her bedside, and Izuku climbed into it so he could see his mother’s face. It was bruised and dirty and far too pale.

Slowly, shakily, he reached out and put one small hand on her cheek. Those green eyes opened slowly, fogged over with pain and medication, but they only took a moment to focus on him.

“Zuku?” she said, her voice cracking like an ancient oak. Her hands twitched, like she wanted to hold him close but lacked the energy.

“I’m here, Mama,” he assured. He grabbed her hand with his, squeezing it gently in the way she did when he wanted comfort.

“Zuku,” she said again, and it was filled with love. “Hi, baby.”

“Mama.” He gulped back the tears threatening to fall. “You’re gonna be okay, right Mama?”

“I’m sorry, Zu,” she replied. Her voice was getting fainter. “I love you so much.”

The tears streamed down his cheeks. They both knew the answer. “I love you too, Mama.”

“Zu…don’t lose hope.”

Her green eyes closed once more, never to open again. At 3:22 that afternoon, Inko Midoriya was pronounced dead, her last words speaking love over her only son.

Chapter Text

The walls were just a blur of white at the edges of his vision. He knew there were people talking, voices murmuring, but the sound was nothing more than background noise—nothing clear enough to make sense of. He felt like he was floating, like the world had been moved underwater. Nothing made sense anymore. 

What will happen to me now?

He didn’t dare repeat the thought louder, too afraid to think about why the thought was there in the first place. Instead, he let the numb feeling spread, making his limbs iron-heavy, blurring his vision, distorting his hearing. He didn’t want to feel anything right now. Some part of him believed that if he didn’t feel anything, then it couldn’t be real. Maybe it was all just a nightmare. He’d wake up to his mother’s cooking, a hand running gently through his curls, and a warm embrace would greet him before he walked out the door.

Something was placed right beneath his nose, and he jolted, staring at the steaming bowl of food in front of him. He blinked at it, then at the nurse holding it. Something of his reality came crashing back to him then, and he started again, looking around him. He was still in the hospital, but it was quieter now. Fewer people were walking around the halls. At some point, a blanket had wound up around his shoulders. He blinked again, trying to process this, before the food in front of him moved again. He looked back at the nurse holding it.

“You haven’t eaten in a little while, kid. Try to at least eat a bit, okay?” he said. Izuku nodded numbly, but took the bowl and chopsticks obediently.

He stared at the food blankly for what felt like ages. He wasn’t hungry. But the nurse had asked that he try to eat some, so slowly he picked up the chopsticks and grabbed a small bite.

He ate mechanically. The food tasted like sandpaper on his tongue. 

The nurse took it from him when it became clear he couldn’t finish it halfway through. Izuku couldn’t even remember what he had just eaten. The thought didn’t worry him as much as it should have, but he didn’t hold onto that thought any better than he had held onto any one thought for what felt like both an eternity and a single moment. 

The nurse reached out again and readjusted the blanket around his shoulders. “It’s getting pretty late, kid. We’ve called a few people to try to help you, but they won’t be here till tomorrow morning. I’ve got an extra bed for you for tonight, though. That okay with you, kid?”

It took Izuku an embarrassingly long time to process the offer, but once he did, he could feel the exhaustion weighing him down just as heavily as…as that one thing he didn’t want to focus on. Hesitantly, he nodded. 

The nurse led him gently to a room in the hospital and helped him climb into the bed. He pulled Izuku’s shoes off and lifted the covers. Izuku crawled under them wordlessly, curling up as the nurse tucked the covers around him. It wasn’t as cozy as his mom knew how to do it. 

“If you need anything, there’s a button right here, okay kid? I’ll be back in the morning, and we’ll get you sorted then.”

The nurse left then, and Izuku was left in the dark, alone with his thoughts. It was then, in his exhaustion, that the question rose again, and this time he didn’t have the energy to push it away. 

What will happen to me now?

He didn’t think the Bakugous would be able to watch him. Their house wasn’t big enough, and Kacchan didn’t like him very much. He and his mom had lived alone, and she had told him not too long ago that her family weren’t good people and she didn’t talk to them anymore. He didn’t know who his father was, but if his job was dangerous like his mom said, then he might not want to watch someone like Izuku. He couldn’t stay at home alone. He’d have to move. He’d have to move in with a complete stranger. 

He had to move because his mother was--she was--

No. He couldn’t think about it.

He scrubbed at his cheeks, surprised to find them wet. He had been crying. When had he started crying? It hardly mattered. His mom wasn’t there to wipe the tears away. 

In that moment, Izuku wanted nothing more than to be held. He wanted his mother’s soothing voice to drive this nightmare away. He wanted her gentle hands running through his hair.

He just wanted his mom back.

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t really sleep that night. Time seemed to drag on as his eyes closed only to open again not long after. He only really knew morning came because the nurse who had fed him the night before returned with another bowl of food.

A knock on the door sounded just as he was handing the bowl back to the nurse. He looked up to see two people standing just outside; one was the police officer from before, and the other was a woman with long hair tied in a messy braid which hung over her shoulder. It was dark brown with the exception of a streak of pink dyed into a portion of one side. She smiled gently at him as the nurse waved them in.

“Hey there, Midoriya,” the woman greeted him. “My name is Aika Hashimoto. You can call me Aika. I’m here to help you find a place to stay, okay?”

Izuku nodded at her, finding his voice long enough to speak. “Where will I go?”

Miss Aika hummed. “If you have any relatives who want you, then that’ll be the first place. Otherwise, I’ll help you find a nice family that can take you in. We’ll be able to stop by your house to grab a few things on the way.”

Looking down at his hands in his lap, Izuku took this in. “I think my dad is alive, but I don’t know who he is,” he said. “Mama--” His voice broke with a sob that he forced down. “Mama didn’t like the rest of her family. She just--just had me.” And I only had her.

“Well, sweetie, we can try to find your dad if he wants you. I can help with that. My quirk is called Family Connections. If I touch you, I can sense any living relatives and their feelings towards you and how you feel about them. I won’t do that if you don’t want me to, but it could be a good starting point.”

Hope bloomed and simultaneously wilted in Izuku’s chest. There was a chance that his father wanted him. He could know if that were true. But there was also the chance that his father wanted nothing to do with him. That thought scared him more than he cared to admit.

Did it really matter either way though? He had no idea who his father was. How would they find him? He didn’t even have a name .

Apparently he had been quiet for too long, because Miss Aika tapped his knee gently. “It’s okay if you don’t know right now. You can decide later if you want. For now, though, my friend here is going to drive us to your house to pick up your things, okay?”

The police officer gave him a small smile. “Hey, bud. Ready to go?”

Was there much of a choice? Suddenly, he didn’t want to be there. He nodded, trying to hold back more tears. He didn’t succeed.

The drive to his house passed in a long, gray blur. It was only when he caught sight of the apartment building that it registered what they were doing, and his breath hitched. He had to go into his apartment--without his mother--and he could only take what he could carry out.

His entire life, packed into two or three bags.

He walked up the stairs with the social worker and the police officer. The spare key was still in the dirt of the potted plant by the door. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. It felt cold inside. All the warmth had seeped out, draining away. His mother must have taken it with her.

He must have slid off his shoes and walked through the house, because the next thing he knew, he was sitting on his floor, Miss Aika sitting across from him with a half-filled suitcase on the ground between them. He blinked, looking around in confusion. A hum drew his attention to the woman sitting in front of him.

“You back with us, sweetheart?” she said gently.

Izuku blinked again, but nodded hesitantly. He registered the tingly sensation in his toes from sitting still for too long, and shifted to stretch his legs out.

“That’s good. We have most of your clothes in here now, but I’m sure there’s more than just clothes that you want to take. I found one big duffle bag besides this suitcase, and then we have your school bag as well. You can fill all of them as much as you like.”

He sat and thought for a moment, then stood and walked over to his desk. He grabbed one of his favorite All Might figures from the shelf--the one that his mother had stood with him for four hours to get--and carefully tucked it in the bag. Then he grabbed his oldest figure and placed it beside the first. He turned around, pulling the blanket off his bed, then froze.

He was grabbing things from his room, but most of that could be replaced. His mother’s stuff would never be replaced.

He dashed out of his room, running into hers. Her scent still laid heavily here, a smell of flower petals and falling blossoms. He stood frozen in the doorway for a moment. Her room felt like a sacred space. But there were a few things he didn’t want to leave, tokens of hers that he wanted-- needed --to have, to remember her by. 

Her nightstand was where she kept most of the things she’d use on a daily basis. There were a couple of necklaces she switched between wearing. They were nothing large--mostly just sentimental--but it looked like she’d forgotten both yesterday morning. Reverently, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against his favorite. It was a small pink cherry blossom on a gold chain. The little gem in the center sparkled delicately, kept carefully clean by her gentle hands. Beside it on the little table was a pink and green braided bracelet. He had made it for her not long ago. She took it off to shower, saying that she didn’t want to ruin the threads. She hadn’t put it on that morning, either.

Carefully, he picked up both pieces of jewelry. The bracelet was too big for him to wear, but the necklace he slid over his head. The cold metal rested securely on his chest.

He moved into the bathroom next. She always used the same scent in the mornings. It was comforting to him, so he grabbed it off the counter to place in his bag.

There was a shawl resting on the edge of the chair in the living room. He picked it up as if it were silk and folded it gently to bring with him.

He was about to return to packing up his room when he stopped again. The pictures on the wall were never very numerous, but it was all the two of them, smiling and laughing together or cuddling while watching movies or playing in the park. They held memories, fleeting and gone like ocean foam.

It hit him, then, how easy it would be to forget her. The thought shook him to his core, and he was grabbing at all the pictures of her before he could think twice.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Miss Aika spoke up, and he startled. He’d forgotten she was there. “I don’t think we’ll be able to take all of these pictures with us. Do you have a photo album or something that we could grab instead?”

He did. She’d kept one on the bookshelf back in her room.

He must have said it out loud, because Miss Aika responded to his thought. “Do you want to grab it?”

Izuku ran back into her room, grabbing the scrapbook from the shelf and running his hands over its decorated front. He was about to turn around again when something caught his eye.

There was a second scrapbook, smaller than the first, that he had never seen before. But the front had a picture of his mother, much younger than she had been, and he found himself staring at her beautiful face, those bright green eyes half closed and her mouth wide open in a breathless laugh. She had her green hair tied in a half-bun, the rest of it flowing down her back and shining in the sunlight. Her yellow and blue sundress was being blown by a light breeze, the glint of ocean waves in the background behind her. He could almost hear it--that laugh, the waves, the calling of seagulls. The warmth of the summer sun, the gentle, salty breeze.

“Did you find it, sweetie?” Miss Aika asked, stepping into his mother’s doorway, and the spell was broken. The cold rushed back, the silence crashed in. He grabbed both books before he could think twice about it and shoved them into the bag she carried.

The social worker asked if he had everything, and he nodded, looking around the apartment one more time. As they left, though, he swiped one of the photo frames off the table where they had been left and hugged it to his chest, trying to remember everything he could about his mother and the life they had shared.

The sound of the door closing behind him rang with a note of finality as he turned away, the social worker taking his hand and walking him quietly back to the car and away from everything familiar.

Chapter Text

They had found a home for him. It took most of the day, but time didn’t matter anymore anyway. It slipped through his fingers like sand, gone too quickly to take note of, so he stopped trying. 

There were several things said around him. He only picked up snippets of conversation. The words floated disjointedly in his mind. 

“No relatives…mother’s side…”

“Check the birth certificate…file.”

“...father’s name is blank…”

“...system…keep looking…”

At some point, food ended up in his hands again. Miss Aika’s face swam about him several times, checking in or asking questions that he couldn’t remember. He gave answers, though he never knew what he was saying. It must’ve been enough, though, because she’d leave and come back again later to ask another question. 

Eventually, more words filtered in with a bit more meaning. There was a family willing to take him in, despite the short notice. Miss Aika was supposed to work on the paperwork for it. She got a phone call that would take her to help someone else, so she wouldn’t be with him when he met the new family. This was unusual, the voices formulating words around him said. She’d come to see him the next day, or maybe the day after. The office was busy in the evenings.

The police officer hadn’t left them all day. He even just sat with Izuku in silence for a bit as Izuku stared at the picture in his lap. Now, he ruffled Izuku’s hair and grabbed one of the bags that had been sitting by their feet all day.

“Ready to go, bud?” he asked.

Izuku nodded. There was nothing else to do, anyway.

Miss Aika crouched down in front of him, silently asking for his attention. He gave it to her. Her dark gray eyes were kind as she grabbed his hand and put a slip of paper in it.

“That’s my phone number. If you need anything, or if you want to find somewhere else to go, you just let me know, okay? I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

Izuku nodded, glancing down at the number and holding onto it just a little tighter. Her hand on his shoulder drew his attention back.

“One last question for you, sweetheart. Do you want me to use my quirk or are you okay without it right now?”

Izuku thought about it again. Family Connections, she had said. It sounded interesting. He could see how it would be useful in her chosen field. She could say whether parents wanted kids, or whether the kids wanted their parents. Maybe her quirk was enough to open investigations into homes where kids didn’t want to go back. What would that look like? Did she work with the police then? She must, if the police officer was still here, despite being held up all day watching out for him. He was sure the man had other places to be.

It was an interesting quirk. But did he want her to use it?

Did he even want to know his father?

He remembered when he had asked his mother about it a few years back. She didn’t tell him what his father did, but she said that it was to protect both of them. His father’s job was dangerous. But when he had asked her about him again later, she had gotten misty-eyed in the way she did when she was remembering something with fondness.

“I can’t share very much,” she said, looking down at her hands and rubbing her ring finger. “We met at a cat cafe. He loves cats. I caught him feeding strays a few times. He’s--he’s not the best at sharing how he feels, but he likes doing little things, like making breakfast in the morning, or folding the laundry, that show how much he cares. He doesn’t talk very much. He tends to be intimidating sometimes too.”

“Like Auntie Mitsuki!” Izuku exclaimed, and she laughed.

“Yes, like a quiet version of Auntie Mitsuki!” Mama said. Then her eyes had that faraway look again. “Your father is a good man. He’s very kind. I just wish…”

“Wish what?” he asked when she had been silent for just a little too long and he couldn’t hide his curiosity anymore. “What do you wish?”

“Oh, Zuku. I don’t think you’d understand right now. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

If his father was a kind man…maybe he’d want Izuku?

So Izuku nodded, meeting Miss Aika’s eyes steadily. “I’d like if you could use it, please.”

She nodded at him, then turned her hand palm up. “It works through physical contact, so could I hold your hand for a minute?”

He placed his hand in hers, and she closed her eyes. Her fingertips glowed a deep pink color. Izuku held his breath as her quirk worked. A moment later, the glow stopped and she opened her eyes again.

“Well, sweetheart, your dad’s still out there. I don’t know who he is, and I’ll look into that for you if you want me to, because he wants you. He wants you very much. So hang in there for him, okay? You think you can do that?”

His dad wants him. He released all his breath in one big whoosh as something settled in him that he hadn’t known was out of place. He nodded furiously, and Aika’s smile grew bright and wide.

“Good. You hang in there then, champ, and we’ll find your dad.”

Chapter Text

Shouta took a week off of work following the news of Inko’s death. He felt like an emotional train wreck even though he hadn’t seen her in years. That evening and the day after, he wandered his apartment aimlessly, picking things up and putting them back down again, sitting down just to stand back up, and staring vacantly at a wall for minutes at a time. For once, he was frustrated with his inability to produce tears. He would have welcomed the catharsis that crying would give.

Somehow, he remembered to feed his cats and himself on the second day. Perhaps it was because Jelly woke him up with her screaming. He had nearly thrown the cat across the room with how startled he’d been. He hadn’t even remembered falling asleep sitting up on his couch. It had to have been after three in the morning. 

It was on the third day that one crucial fact truly hit him. Inko was dead. She had had a child. That child no longer had his mother. Where would he go?

He scrambled for his phone, but before he could find it there was a knock on his door, and Hizashi came stomping in, Nemuri striding in after him.

“Heya, Shou. Nem and I came to check on you. Also, we brought food, ‘cause I’m sure you haven’t had enough to eat yet this week!”

“This year, more like,” Nemuri added, toeing her shoes off and sprawling in his armchair.

“I ate yesterday,” Shouta grumbled.

“Have you eaten yet today?” Nemuri countered.

He grumbled more, not happy about being found out, and she smirked at him.

“It’s a good thing I brought so much food, then!” Hizashi called from the kitchen. “I’ll whip something up real quick. Give me like thirty minutes.”

“Food is irrelevant. I need to find my phone.”

Nemuri looked at him in confusion. “Your phone? Why would you need your phone? You don’t really have a social life, Shou.”

He ignored her subtle jab, too busy turning over pillows and moving books to pay it much mind. “I need to find it. I don’t know where he is.”

His friend’s confusion deepened. “He? Have you named your phone? Shouta, are you okay?”

He gritted his teeth. “No, I am not okay! I need to know where he is. She’s dead --” His breath hitched with the voice crack, the severity and finality of saying the words aloud causing a lump in his throat. He resolutely ignored it, forcing words around the tightness in urgent need to communicate. “She’s dead, and he’s alone now, but I don’t know--I can’t--”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Hizashi was there.

“Deep breaths, Shou. Let’s take it one step at a time.” His friend guided him gently back to his couch, and reluctantly, he let him. “Just breathe for a bit, yeah? Then we can work through this.”

It was logical, he admitted to himself. So he worked to steady his breathing and put his thoughts in order. The latter proved to be too difficult, however, and he was grateful for his friends once again breaking the silence and keeping his thoughts from spiraling out of control. 

“Now, this has to do with Inko, doesn’t it?” Hizashi started.

Shouta nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright. Is it about the last time you saw her?”

He went to deny it, then paused. He never did tell them that he saw her again, did he?

“Shou? What thought did you just land on?” Nemuri pressed.

He looked at her, eyes widening in realization. He never told them. He forgot to show them the letter. And the picture--where was his wallet?

“Why do you need your wallet, Shou? What did you forget to tell us?” Hizashi asked, already moving around the apartment to where Shouta kept his keys and wallet. Shouta ducked his head in embarrassment. It had been years since he’d been caught mumbling like that.

“I saw Inko briefly after she left. Only once. She vanished again before I thought to look for her. She was pregnant.”

Nemuri choked on the water she had just brought to her lips. “She what? ” the heroine screeched.

Shouta ignored her, reaching into the wallet that Hizashi handed him. “I heard from her one more time after that. She sent me a letter. No return address, just her first name. The letter said she had a son. We-- we had a son . ”

He pulled out the picture, staring again at the tiny baby with the sky blue cap covering his little head. The baby’s face was pulled in a grumpy little frown, his hands fisted and reaching in different directions. His eyes were barely open, just little slits with hazy green peeking through. A soft white blanket lay partially tossed aside, as if the baby boy had escaped its clutches to reach for the world around him. 

It was the most precious picture he owned.

“Oh, Shouta ,” Nemuri breathed. “He’s perfect .”

Hizashi muffled a squeal behind both hands. “He’s so adorable and so tiny ! He looks just like Inko, too.”

“Yeah. And now he has no mother.”

It came out sharper than he had intended, but Shouta found himself acknowledging the truth behind the blunt statement. It brought his excitable friends back down to earth.

There were a few beats of silence, all three of them considering this, before Hizashi spoke up again. “So then what are you planning to do about that? Do you know how to find him?”

“No,” he growled, frustrated. “She said she was changing her name, and she didn’t tell me what she named the kid.”

“Do you know his birthday? If you know that, we might be able to search through the database,” Nemuri suggested, but Shouta shot that down too.

“Don’t know that either. Don’t even have an exact month. He should be five or older by now, but I don’t have anything else to go off of beyond this picture and what she said in the letter. The letter was short. She just told me she was changing her name and that she had a kid. That was it.”

“Alright, Shou. We get it. No need to bite our heads off,” Hizashi soothed, and Shouta had to take another breath to remind himself not to snap at his friends. It wasn’t their fault, after all.

“It sounds like we don’t have much of a starting point,” Nemuri said.

He almost growled at her again, but stopped as her wording registered. “We?” he asked.

“Of course, we , you blockhead. You aren’t really expecting us to leave you to find your son all on your own?” she replied.

“We wouldn’t be able to call ourselves friends if we did that!” Hizashi added. “How about this: I’m almost done with lunch, so once we eat, we can all go down to the station and see if anyone there can help us find some leads.”

Shouta opened his mouth to reply, but Nemuri shoved a finger against his lips. “No, we cannot skip lunch. We need food.”

He closed his mouth again, relenting. “Fine. But we leave right after to see if we can find him.”

“Of course,” they both said in unison.

“No matter what, Shou, we’re not giving up on this. We’ll find him one way or another,” Hizashi promised.

That’s right , Shouta thought. One way or another. Just hang in there, little one. We’ll find you.

Chapter Text

The house they led him up to seemed nice enough. The yard was mostly well-kept, the planters a little worse for wear and the paint beginning to peel in places, but overall it looked homely and lived-in from the outside. The door was painted in a cheery red color. It was clear that they were expected, because as soon as they stepped onto the front porch there was a couple rushing to greet them and lead them inside.

The nice police officer set down Izuku’s bags in the genkan and toed his shoes off. Izuku quickly followed suit, slipping on the guest slippers set out for him. He took note of the five other pairs of slippers set in more permanent places in the entryway before following the officer further into the house.

“Midoriya, right?” the woman who had opened the door said, smiling gently at him. It didn’t quite look genuine. “Welcome to our home. I am Yuri Uchida, and this is my husband Kioshi Uchida. You’ll be in our care now, okay?”

Not knowing what else to do or say, Izuku just nodded. The woman seemed to hesitate a moment, but quickly recovered and gestured further into the house.

“If you follow me, I’ll show you where you can put your bags. You’ll be sharing a room with another boy, but he shouldn’t touch your things. We’ll be done with dinner soon, so once you put your things down feel free to come back out and we can show you around.”

“I have a few legalities to work through with you while I’m here,” the officer spoke up then, putting a firm but gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’ll come back to discuss them once I help get him settled. His social worker should be in tomorrow to finish all the fine details. She had an emergency to take care of across town today.”

Huh, Izuku thought idly. So that’s where she went.

Mrs. Uchida led him through the house to a small bedroom. There were two beds set up on opposite sides of the room, a small nightstand next to them and a dresser at the foot of each bed. The one on the left, further from the door, was clearly in use. The right one, however, had a set of clean sheets and a fluffed-up pillow waiting for a new resident.

“This’ll be your room,” Mrs. Uchida said, waving a hand at the right bed. “Make yourself comfortable and come join us when you’re done.” She left without another word.

The officer sighed. “Alright, bud, let’s get you settled. Why don’t we put your bags on the bed for now and then you can put your clothes in the dresser?”

That was a good starting point. Izuku nodded, but didn’t move. His feet felt glued to the floor.

The officer sighed again, but he didn’t sound too annoyed. Or maybe he was. Izuku couldn’t tell and couldn’t bring himself to look. “It’ll be okay, bud. I know it’s new and scary, but it’ll get better.”

Slowly, he lifted one foot off the floor, dragging the invisible boulder chained to it with him. The next foot lifted the same way, and the shackles on his ankles loosened, but did not disappear. He shuffled forward until he was standing beside the bed.

His bags got placed in front of him and unzipped. “Here, bud, let’s get this put away.”

He went through the motions of placing his clothes in the dresser (not his dresser) and placing plushies on his bed (not his bed) until he was left with his books and the trinkets he’d grabbed that were his mother’s. His breath hitched when he looked at them again, and he shoved them back in a bag and stuffed it underneath the bed, out of sight. He didn’t want to cry right now.

“That looks like everything for now, yeah?” the officer said. “Ready to go back out there?”

He wasn’t really, but he nodded anyway. Best to get it done with so he didn’t have to sit by himself and think too much.

The Uchidas were sitting at the kitchen island when they walked back out. He was ushered into a seat. Words flew over his head as the policeman went over something--it was all legal stuff and didn’t make much sense, and he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it--until a mug of something warm was pressed into his hands and his hair was ruffled.

“Your social worker’ll be in tomorrow to check up on ya, yeah? I’ve gotta leave now, bud.”

“Oh,” he managed. Any other words were choked out by the stillness in his chest.

He got one last hair ruffle, then the officer left. Izuku stared blankly at the cooling tea in his hands.

Something loud slapped onto the table, and he jumped. His attention snapped to Mrs. Uchida, wide-eyed, heart racing at the sudden noise.

“Right, let’s go over some ground rules. They’re real simple. Don’t break things. Don’t steal things. Tell us if you need food. If we’re working in the office, don’t disturb us. No shouting in the house. Be back by eleven.”

Izuku blinked, processing, then waited for more rules. None were forthcoming, and both of them were staring at him. Wait--they were staring at him. Why were they doing that? Were they--they were waiting for something. Waiting for him to acknowledge the rules. He nodded to tell them he understood.

“Great. Next order of business. What’s your quirk?”

“O-oh,” Izuku mumbled, fighting past the stillness in his throat. His voice sounded small. “Well, um, I don’t know much about it yet,” he admitted. “I got it kinda late.”

He waited to see if they would say anything about it, but they were both still staring holes into him. He shifted uncomfortably, but continued.

“I haven’t really used it much. I think it, like, stops quirks? But only when I turn it on. I don’t know that much yet. It’s not--” his voice faltered. He couldn’t finish the rest of his thought out loud. It’s not like my mama’s quirk .

Perhaps if he had looked up, he would have seen the look that crossed both of their eyes. He would have noticed the disgust, the flash of fear that was already becoming familiar in his teachers and classmates. It would have warned him of what was to come. But he didn’t see, his eyes glued to his hands where they were fidgeting on the table.

It was the first time a guardian had looked at him like he was a dangerous threat, but in the weeks to come, he would see that look too many times to count.

Chapter Text

One way or another turned out to be more complicated than Shouta was expecting. 

As they had promised, his friends came with him to the police station right after lunch. There was a brief delay at the front desk--the people working there weren’t familiar with Eraserhead since he normally only worked at night--but any confusion was smoothed over by the other two heroes and it only took a few minutes before they were making their way further into the station.

Only partially aware of where his steps were leading, Shouta found himself knocking at a particular door before walking in, his friends trailing behind him. Detective Tsukauchi looked up at him from where he had been shuffling papers around his desk. The detective’s dark eyes smiled pleasantly at him even as his mouth formed a line of confusion.

“Aizawa,” he greeted. “It’s unusual to see you up here this early in the day. I thought you had the week off?”

“I do,” Shouta confirmed. “I need to find someone.”

Tsukauchi blinked, confused, but began reaching for his computer. “Is this linked to a case?”

Shouta hummed. “Not exactly? It’s--I don’t know where to begin.”

Nemuri laid a hand on Shouta’s shoulder. “How about you start with the letter, like you did for us?” she suggested.

“Right, okay,” Shouta breathed, trying to still the anxious tremors in his hands. “Do you remember Inko?”

The detective paused, but only for a moment. “Yeah. We were only just starting to work together then. I remember you two were close. Is she in trouble?”

“She’s dead.”

Tsukauchi stilled, the hands that had been roaming over his keyboard freezing as he processed. “True. I’m so sorry, Aizawa.”

He grunted, accepting the apology but brushing it aside in favor of his urgency. “There’s more. When she disappeared several years ago, she was pregnant. She had a son. The kid’s mine.”

All the air whooshed out of the detective’s lungs. “ True. Shouta-- ”

“We need to find him,” Shouta interrupted, ignoring the detective’s slip with his first name. “He’s just lost his mother. The system’s a corrupted mess. I don’t want--I need to find him.”

The “I can’t lose him too” was left unspoken, but it was heard loud and clear.

There were a few moments of silence before Tsukauchi seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts. “Alright. That shouldn’t be too hard. I just need to look up her name and find any listings of dependents and I should be able to trace it from there.”

Hizashi cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it does get a little more complicated, Detective.”

It took a few heartbeats before Shouta remembered what his friend was leading up to. He fumbled for his wallet again, pulling out the picture and the letter that he had shoved inside before they left his apartment. He handed both to the detective, holding them out like they would crumble at the slightest touch. The detective took them from him with the same amount of care. He unfolded the letter carefully and read it, then leaned back in his seat. His expression screamed This needs an unholy amount of coffee . Shouta could relate.

“So she changed her name.”

“That’s what she said, though the obituary had her old name along with her age,” Shouta confirmed.

“That complicates things,” Tsukauchi said. “How about the kid? Do you have a name for him?”

Sadly, Shouta shook his head. “That letter is the last I ever heard from Inko. She didn’t tell me his name. Not even his birthday. I only have a guess as to his age. He’d be around five or six by now.”

“What about any other relatives? Could the kid have gone to any of them?”

Shouta shook his head again. “No. Inko had cut ties with all of her family. Some sort of disagreement. I could never get the full story from her.”

Tsukauchi hummed. “So he’s probably getting put in the foster care system then. Without a description, name, age, or quirk, that could take ages to look for, and it wouldn’t even be a guarantee. Depending on the social worker assigned, he could just slip through the cracks.”

It was a horrible truth. There was a lot of corruption in the foster system. Most social workers were severely overworked and underpaid. Some kids happened to fall through the cracks because of lost papers or general forgetfulness. A larger number ended up sold to trafficking rings or landing in orphanages and bad homes. Sure, there were good people involved in the system--Shouta had worked with one or two of them himself--but the overall picture was not a kind one. The system had churned out far too many criminals and villains due to negligence and abuse.

In some cases, the kids didn’t come out at all.

The thought of that happening to his kid made Shouta nauseous, and he had to close his eyes to maintain his composure.

“What about tracking down Inko through the name change? There’s a lot of paperwork involved in something like that,” Nemuri suggested.

“That’s a good place to start,” Tsukauchi agreed. He turned back to his computer again. “What was her name before?”

“Akatani,” Shouta told him.

There were a few minutes of silence as the detective searched through his system. Shouta had to keep clenching and unclenching his hand, focusing all his anxious energy on the repetitive motion.

The silence was broken by the detective’s soft curse. “There’s something wrong with the paperwork. Someone filed it incorrectly. It’s like she just dropped off the face of the earth.”

Shouta’s heart plummeted, falling right off the face of the earth after her.

“So you can’t find her,” he said, vaguely registering that his tone was more flat and his voice more husky than normal.

The detective turned an apologetic glance towards him. “I can work on finding the people who filed her paperwork, but it’ll take time. I’m not sure whether it would be faster to do that or to search through the foster system. Either way, I won’t be able to find him right away.”

If it weren’t for his dry eye, Shouta would’ve been crying again. As it was, he just nodded and wordlessly turned to leave.

“I’ll keep working on it, Aizawa,” the detective promised. 

Shouta paused in the door, looking back at the detective out of the corner of his eye and nodding again. He knew Tsukauchi could read the gratitude in the silence.

He shut the door softly behind himself.

Chapter Text

They were quiet as they walked back through the police station. His normally exuberant friends were both subdued, Hizashi clearly upset and Nemuri deep in thought. Shouta was halfway through debating whether it was worth it to do an extra patrol when a loud shout drew his attention.

“Hey, you’re back!” one of the officers was shouting to another who had just walked in. “Got to spend a couple days away from here, huh?”

The other officer gave a small shrug. “It wasn’t really all that exciting. Kind of sad, actually. I had to help a kid whose mother just died.”

“That sucks, man. But I got a complaint. How come they always send you to work with the kids?”

Someone else piped up from one of the other desks. “Stop pretending the kids won’t be scared away by your ugly face.”

There was a round of chuckles before the first man spoke up again. “But seriously, they send you with all the cute kids all the time.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why. But this kid really was cute. We had to put him in the system. I almost wish I could take him myself, though.”

“Poor guy. The system’s rough. Did he at least get a good social worker on his case?”

“Oh, yeah. Aika Hashimoto’s taken over his case. He’ll be in good hands with her.”

Shouta remembered that name. He’d worked with her before in cases where he’d gotten children out of abusive homes. She was young, but she did a good job. She genuinely cared about the children she placed in new homes. Whoever the poor kid was, he knew that they’d be taken care of as long as Hashimoto was on the case.

Shouta didn’t hear the rest of the officers’ conversation as he was led out of the station by his friends and the door closed behind them. He blinked in the sunlight, turning to head back to his apartment and thinking over what he’d overheard. He hoped his son had managed to find himself with a good social worker. And a good temporary home. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to stay there long. Surely they’d be able to work through the paperwork issue relatively quickly? 

Surely they would…

His thoughts were interrupted when Hizashi grabbed his and Nemuri’s shoulders. “I’m not ready to go back to the house yet,” he said once he was sure he had their attention.

Hizashi began walking in another direction, not explaining. Shouta looked at Nemuri, who seemed just as confused as he was. She shrugged, then began following their blonde friend. Deciding to just roll with it, Shouta followed suit. 

It only took a few minutes for Shouta to figure out where they were going. There was a cat café not too far from them that all three of them liked to go to on occasion. It was a quiet spot that would allow them to sort through their thoughts. And, Shouta admitted to himself, he wasn’t ready to go back to his apartment either.

The next half hour was spent in silence, not even his exuberant friends willing to speak. They entered the café and paid for their time, settling into a corner booth without words. It was only when they all had cats milling about, sitting in their laps and demanding attention, that Nemuri broke the uneasy peace.

“If you end up having to search the foster system, it might be a while before you can find your kid,” she began, a determined look flashing across her eyes. “What’s the process for getting an emergency foster license?”

Shouta immediately caught on to what she was thinking. “You know finding him that way would be worse than trying to find the exit of a maze while blind. It’s an emergency license.”

“Yes, I know that,” she dismissed. “But there’s still a chance. Plus I could help other kids in the system if they need it for a few days. And it’ll give me experience working with kids. I really don’t see a downside here.”

Hizashi sat up straighter. “You know, Shou, she might have a point. There’s not much we can do right now to help the investigation, but we might be able to do something that’ll help in the future. And even if we do find him, won’t you still need to prove that you’re capable of taking care of him?”

Shouta went to argue, then realized his friend was probably right. Since he’d never met the kid, he’d probably have a couple extra hoops to jump through. He’d have to do some research on it.

“I need a bigger apartment,” he said instead.

“Shoot, you’re right,” Hizashi agreed. “You don’t even have a place to put the little listener right now.”

Shouta groaned and slammed his head on the table, making the cat in his lap jump and skitter away. He didn’t think he could afford a bigger apartment quite yet. Sure, he was making more than he had been when he first started as an underground hero, but it was just enough for him to be living fairly comfortably with his minimalist style. There was no way he could also support someone else with what he was currently making. He groaned. He’d have to pick up even more shifts.

He couldn’t find the frustration that would have normally accompanied that thought. It would be worth it, he decided, if he could save enough to be able to provide for his child.

Under the table, he pulled out his wallet so he could look at the picture again. He fondled the edges gently, staring at those half-open hazy green eyes and the fist raised defiantly in the air. He marveled at how much love he felt for this little life that he hadn’t even had the chance to meet yet.

Nemuri had a point. If he could look into emergency fostering, it might make the search just a little bit easier. He wasn’t that good with kids, but if it was just temporary, he figured he could do it. It might give him a little bit of experience, too.

Maybe he could reach out to the rat for some help…

No, he wasn’t that desperate yet. It was a good thought to keep in mind though. He allowed a gentle smile to break through his normally blank expression as he ran a finger along the picture’s edges one more time.

He wasn’t gonna give up on this anytime soon. They’d find his kid eventually.

In the meantime, he’d do what he could to prepare.

Chapter Text

Izuku stayed home from school for the rest of that week. His social worker came and went after ensuring that he was doing relatively okay with his new placement. He also met his new foster brother, but he couldn’t remember the other boy’s name. Mrs. Uchida stayed home with him that week, but she mostly left him alone. That was fine. He tried to look at his schoolwork or draw a picture of a hero he’d seen last week, but when he actually went to pull those things out he couldn’t find the energy to start. He felt empty. Incomplete. Like a part of him was missing.

It wasn’t far from the truth, he decided.

The day he finally got to go back to school, he slipped his backpack on and accepted the bento that was handed to him. He was about to leave when a hand on his shoulder held him back. He looked back to meet Mr. Uchida’s eyes. The grip on his shoulder was just a bit too tight to be comfortable.

“I better not hear any complaints from the school about you. Understand?” he said.

Puzzled, Izuku stared at him for a long moment. He didn’t typically cause any trouble at school. Kacchan was louder than he was, and the kids who tended to follow him around didn’t pay as much attention in class. Of course, the others didn’t seem to like him very much, but that still didn’t mean he caused trouble in school. 

“Well?” Mr. Uchida prompted, squeezing his shoulder just a little tighter. Izuku, realizing that the man was actually waiting for a reply, hurriedly nodded. The pressure lifted off his shoulder.

“Good. Just so long as you remember that,” the man said, then shooed him out the door.

Somehow he made it to school just fine, despite coming from a different direction. He went unbothered to his classroom, sitting down at his desk and pulling out a notebook before the bell rang and all his classmates rushed to their own chairs.

The morning passed just fine, with some learning and some crafts. It wasn’t until lunch that something different happened.

Izuku was pulling out his bento when Kacchan’s voice broke through the cloud of his thoughts. 

“Hey, Deku.”

He stopped short to stare at the other boy. Kacchan wasn’t being loud like he normally was, and for once he was making eye contact--a rarity after the first time Izuku’s quirk had shown itself. His red eyes were slightly narrowed, but he looked more thoughtful than anything else.

“Is Auntie really gone?”

Gone. She’s gone. She’s--

Izuku had to drop his gaze to the floor, desperately holding back the tears. He didn’t want to think about it.

A soft “Oh” came from in front of him, and then Kacchan’s bento was slammed onto his desk next to his own. Izuku looked up sharply, but his friend was avoiding eye contact again, silently pulling up his chair and sitting down in it.

A small smile tugged at his lips. Kacchan wasn’t good with words--or emotions--but Izuku knew he still cared deep down. Times like now proved that, with the blonde offering his support silently yet with a glare that just dared anybody to comment.

When lunch ended, the silent truce was broken as Kacchan returned to his own chair. Izuku knew him well enough to know that he’d pretend the quiet stillness they’d shared had never happened. The normalcy of the thought almost made him smile again.

The second half of the day passed in the same vague blur as the first. When the final bell rang, Izuku picked up his notebook and slipped it back into his backpack. He slipped silently out of the classroom.

Kacchan caught up to him at the school gates. “Hey, nerd.”

Izuku paused, waiting, but didn’t say anything. A flicker of frustration crossed Kacchan’s face, but the other boy clearly made an effort to push it down.

“You aren’t staying alone, are you?”

Izuku shook his head. “They put me in a foster home,” he said quietly.

“Good,” Kacchan grunted. “‘S long as it isn’t too far.”

The blonde-haired boy insisted on walking home with him, and Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. Their walk was silent, sitting in a shared grief and a temporary reprieve from their mocking classmates. The teasing Izuku had started getting after his quirk came in was growing worse over time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just then. Not while Kacchan’s presence soothed the aching gap left by his mother’s absence. 

The two of them arrived back at the foster’s house eventually. Izuku turned back to his friend, trying to find the words to thank him for being there, but the words got stuck in his throat. But Kacchan was smart. He just huffed and rolled his eyes, and Izuku knew the message was received. (And promptly discarded. Kacchan would never admit it, but Izuku knew how embarrassed he got when he was thanked.)

“See you tomorrow, nerd,” he said, then walked away.

Izuku walked back into the house alone, being greeted at the door by Mrs. Uchida.

“Back from school, I see,” she said. “Get cleaned up and start on your homework. I have a few chores to assign you once you’re done.”

Izuku nodded and obeyed. He didn’t have very much homework to get done, so he pulled it out at the coffee table and mindlessly finished it. He packed it away just as quickly, then returned it to the room where he was staying.

He meant to return to the living room where Mrs. Uchida was. He really did. But then his eyes caught on the bag he had shoved under the corner of the bed, where the last few things of his mother’s were, and his breath hitched in his throat. 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t--

He was so tired of crying. A tear slipped down his cheek. He choked on a sob, trying to stifle the noise. The air caught in his lungs. The familiar burn of salty tears on his cheeks came back. He had just gotten it to calm down that morning from the last time he cried.

He was so tired of crying.

Mrs. Uchida found him several minutes later holding the bag of his mother’s belongings and sobbing into the top. He didn’t know she was watching him until she banged on the doorframe. “Hey, kid,” she said. “I thought I told you you had chores to do after your homework.”

Izuku looked up at her through his tears. “I miss my mama,” he admitted.

Mrs. Uchida just sighed. “Well, she’s gone now. It’s best not to think about it too much. Come on, keeping busy’ll keep your mind off of it.”

Izuku complied wordlessly. He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to distract his thoughts while Mrs. Uchida instructed him on how she wanted the living room cleaned.

Chapter Text

It was fine.

Really, it was.

He’d just caught the Uchidas looking at him with a strange glint in their eyes a few times. Maybe it was that they didn’t really trust him? It would make a bit of sense, he supposed. He was a strange kid they’d just opened their home to. They didn’t know much about him just like he didn’t know much about them. Of course it would make sense if they were a bit careful around each other.

It didn’t matter that they made him clean the whole living room every day after school. It kept his mind off his mom, and she’d had him help her clean every now and again anyway. This wasn’t that different. Sure, it was more than he was used to, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Now that he was getting older, he needed to learn to take more responsibility anyway. Yeah, that must be what it was.

Izuku kept repeating these thoughts to himself as Mr. Uchida placed his mug down on the coffee table he had just cleaned, leaving a ring on the wood just like the one he had wiped up only moments before. He forced down a frown as he carried the dust rag into the laundry room, leaving only to collect his own clothes and get them ready for his foster sister to wash. (He shouldn’t frown at the chores they gave him, he’d been told after Mr. Uchida had caught the expression on him and smacked his cheek with a dish rag. Doing his chores cheerfully was a sign of good character.)

Sometimes, he wondered how Miss Aika was doing at finding his father. He wondered if they’d managed to figure out what he looked like or if they knew what kind of job he had.

That’s what he was thinking about as he repacked his backpack for school the next day. The school year was coming to a close soon, and there was less work to do during the school day. He sorted through school books and folders, taking out one of the notebooks he was done with and reaching for the small stack of books he’d placed under the bed.

He had been looking for a book on English basics, but when he pulled out a red-spined notebook, pages soft at the edges and already showing signs of wear, he couldn’t help but pause. It was his old hero notebook. He’d started it the week of his fourth birthday, when his quirk refused to come in right away. He’d told his mama that it would be good to start looking at other quirks to learn how they worked--it would help him be a hero. She’d just smiled at him, that soft smile full of love that he could never see too much. 

It had been fun, actually. He spent many afternoons watching hero fights on the TV, writing down what the heroes did and how they used their quirks. It definitely wasn’t all that good back then, but it was a hobby that he loved. He flipped the notebook open, looking at the crayon drawings and short notes. 

Someone called his name sharply, and he hurriedly shoved the notebook into his backpack without thinking. He’d worry about it later.

***

He pulled it out of his backpack during their free period at school the next day. It had slipped his mind that he’d left it there the night before. He’d been called to fold his laundry and clean the coffee table again. Then his foster brother had asked for help cleaning the bathroom, and he had agreed to help even though he couldn’t use most of the cleaners yet. By the time they’d finished, he’d been so tired he’d just gone straight to bed.

The notebook seemed to call to him now, and he only hesitated for a moment before flipping it open and reading what he’d written before. 

The very first page was All Might. He was Izuku’s favorite hero. He used to watch All Might’s debut video every day. It sparked something within Izuku, seeing the hero save people fearlessly with a smile on his face. The notebook reflected that admiration, with the first page completely covered by a messy picture of the number one hero. The red, blue, and yellow crayon was still as bright as the day he’d drawn it, sitting at the coffee table with a cartoon playing in front of him. 

He flipped to the next page, and then the next, and the next after that. A small half-smile formed as he went through the pages. He used to love doing this.

Would he still love it now that his mama wasn’t there to read them after he was done?

The smile that had started to grow faltered, the breath pulled out of his lungs at just another reminder of how his life was different. 

Of course life is different now. Mama…Mama is…

Dead. 

She was dead. She’d never come back again. 

He hadn’t wanted to believe it before. Now, he couldn’t say it wasn’t true anymore. The finality of the word pierced his throbbing heart. He brought a hand up to his chest, trying to grasp the invisible weapon and draw it out, but he couldn’t. The desk blurred in front of him as tears welled up, followed hotly by outrage. 

It wasn’t fair . Why had she been taken away from him?

A chair skidded loudly across the floor. Kacchan’s shoes suddenly appeared right at the edge of his vision. “Deku and I are going to the bathroom,” the boy proclaimed, and then Izuku’s wrist was grabbed in a warm, firm grip and he was tugged out of the classroom before either of them could disagree. 

Kacchan didn’t lead him to the bathrooms like he had said. Instead, he pulled Izuku to the far end of the building, to the back staircase that rarely got used. He shoved open the door to the staircase, rushing both of them inside. The door clanged shut just as Izuku lost the last shreds of his control.

“She’s gone, Kacchan. Mama’s dead!” he cried. 

Suddenly he was pulled into a rough hug, held close by his best friend. “I know, Zu,” he said. 

“It isn’t fair! It’s not fair, Kacchan!”

“I know, Zu.”

“No! No, you don’t! She should still be here! She—she left me! It’s not fair! ”

Kacchan didn’t say anything more, just held Izuku close. Izuku’s broken sobs turned into wails even as he kept trying to speak, a broken record stuck on one line. The hole in his chest he’d been ignoring yawned wide, an endless black pit that pulled all of him in towards it. He pounded his fists angrily at Kacchan’s sides, lungs heaving for air, but all he could do was wail .

Eventually his sobs slowed to cries then to sniffles. His cheeks were soaked in salty tears, his nose clogged, and his eyes heavy. Gradually he found he was able to breathe again. His hands were clenched tightly, Kacchan’s shirt held in a grip that hurt his fingers as he loosened them. Awareness returned slowly after, and he noted numbly that the light in the stairwell was a little different than it should have been. 

He slowly looked up at Kacchan. The blonde boy had tear tracks on his face too, and his eyes were a bit redder than normal. When he caught Izuku looking, however, he glared and looked away. 

“ ‘M sorry Kacchan,” Izuku said. “I took a lot of your time.”

“It’s fine, Deku,” Kacchan said. 

“And I hit you, too. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Your weak little slaps didn’t even hurt,” the other boy said, unwrapping one hand from around Izuku’s shoulders and scrubbing at his face. 

They stood a few more moments in silence. Drained, Izuku couldn’t stop the huge yawn that escaped him. 

“We should head back to class,” Kacchan said, releasing Izuku from the hug he’d been wrapped in since the beginning of his breakdown. 

“Okay,” Izuku agreed. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

The other boy’s cheeks turned ever so slightly pink. “Whatever.”

They left the stairwell quietly, walking back to the classroom. Izuku still sniffled a few times, but there was nothing that was worth saying between the two of them, so they didn’t speak. 

When they arrived at the classroom, their teacher looked as if he was about to scold them, but they must have looked terrible because he stopped and just sighed instead, pointing to a tissue box. Izuku blushed and hurried to grab a few before scurrying back to his desk. 

The notebook still sat out on the worn wood of the desk. Izuku just stared at it for a moment, aware of heat building in his eyes for just a moment before he closed them tightly and shook his head. He sat back down and shoved the notebook back in his backpack. 

He couldn’t deal with it today. He’d worry about it another day. 

Chapter Text

Shouta sighed as he walked into the police precinct. He nodded a greeting to the officer at the front desk, passing by wordlessly as he made his way back to where Tsukauchi’s office was. 

He rapped gently on the doorframe before entering, and the detective greeted him with a tired grin. “Here to randomize your patrol route again?” he asked.

Shouta snorted. “You know I don’t put patrol routes through a randomizer. It’s just logical to switch things up. Keeps me from becoming predictable.”

“Yes, well, it keeps you from being too predictable beyond always choosing routes where crime is highest,” Tsukauchi countered, but he kept his friendly smile as he turned to pull up the charts he had already prepared on his computer. He slid a cup of coffee across the table for Shouta to pick up. He did so, then settled into one of the chairs by Tsukauchi’s desk.

The two spent a few minutes looking through graphs and statistics, debating on current open cases and relative activity levels. It only took about ten minutes for Shouta to have a new patrol route laid out.

Shouta sighed as he shifted in his chair slightly. “Have you managed to find anything?” he asked, breaking the silence they had fallen into for the past few minutes.

There was a flash of pain in the detective’s eyes. “No. We’ve made practically no headway. The firm which took care of her name change was shut down two months after for fraud and breaking confidentiality laws. Several of the employees went into hiding or left the country afterwards.”

“Which makes it doubly hard to track down who was in charge of filing her paperwork,” Shouta concluded. “And they might be out of reach.”

“Yeah,” Tsukauchi said. He sounded absolutely exhausted. Shouta felt the same.

It had been two months. Two whole months since he had happened upon that newspaper stand. Two months since he’d happened to find her name in the obituary. Two months since he realized his son was out there alone.

What if he had never seen the newspaper? Worse, what if he had seen it and just walked away?

He’d thought about it in passing, but he’d never actually thought about it. If he hadn’t read that cursed newspaper, he never would have even known that she was dead. He never would have come to the realization that the child she’d had was on his own. He’d never know that he had to be looking for his son.

His breath picked up the more he considered it. Does the boy even know that there's someone looking for him? Would he begin to lose hope that someone wanted him? How much longer would he have to stay in the foster care system if Shouta didn't know about Inko's death? What if someone else found him before Shouta did? It all swirled together until it began forming a pit in his stomach. 

“Eraser? You okay there?”

Tsukauchi’s voice jolted him out of his spiral. He grunted. “If I’d never read that newspaper, I wouldn’t know to look for the kid,” he explained briefly, ignoring the rest of the thoughts that had followed that first one.

The detective nodded in understanding. “It’s surprising how such a small decision can have such a large impact. That’s the way it goes in a lot of cases we see here. But, of course, I don’t have to tell you that. You already know.”

Shouta just hummed. They sat in silence for several more minutes before he stood, draining the last of the coffee and tossing the cup.

“Well, I’m off,” he said, slipping noiselessly out of the office. He closed the door softly behind him and headed out to hit the streets, the detective’s “Good luck, Eraser,” lingering in his ears and chasing him until he could find an alley and swing up to the rooftops.

The fresh air was invigorating, and the sensation of flying which came with roof-hopping eased the stifling feelings of irritation and impatience that Shouta had felt building for some time now. The late spring weather still had just the barest hints of the chilling touch left behind by winter--just enough to keep him wide awake as he flung himself over gaps between apartment complexes and office buildings. The thrill of adrenaline racing through his veins kept his mind distracted, and he allowed it to sharpen his focus as he kept his ears peeled for any signs of help.

The majority of the night passed as a normal patrol. He stopped a handful of muggers, a couple of drug deals, and walked a young girl back home. By the time he reached the end of his shift, the exhaustion had begun to wrap around him tighter than the slight chill in the air. His bones were beginning to ache in exertion the way they did when he’d worked a lot with not enough sleep. Perhaps when he got home, he could crash on his bed for a solid twelve hours before having to worry about anything more.

He was nearly back to his tiny apartment when his phone buzzed. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled it out, not bothering to check the caller ID. “What.”

“Eraser, we need you back at the precinct. A large case was just dropped in our laps, and you’re gonna want to be a part of it.”

The severity of Tsukauchi’s voice caused him to pull himself up to his full height. He forced the fog of sleep from his mind. “What is it?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s not pleasant.”

Shouta snorted. “It rarely is if you need me involved. What’s the case?”

Tsukauchi didn’t even snort at his dry humor. Must be something really serious then. “We’ve got word of a potential trafficking ring going on. There are people disappearing. Problem is, a lot of the ones disappearing are kids.”

Shouta felt his heart drop into his stomach. He bit back a curse, already turning to jog back to the police station. His free hand dropped to the capture weapon around his neck. “I assume there’s more you’re not telling me; I’m on my way back.”

“Copy that. Please hurry. These kids need to be brought back home as soon as possible.”

He hung up without replying to the detective, swinging back up to the rooftops and racing back in the direction he’d just come from. Trafficking cases were always unpleasant, but wherever kids were involved it was always ten times worse. Some sixth sense was telling him that this one would hit him even harder than other similar cases he’d had in the past.

Actually, it wasn’t even a sixth sense. It was thoughts of his own son.

He pushed himself to move just a little faster.

Tsukauchi was waiting for him outside the precinct. When Shouta landed next to him, he nodded and turned back inside, urgency written in his steps and tension in his shoulders. The two hurried back to the seclusion of his office where they’d been at the beginning of the night.

“It’s an ugly case, Eraser. We suspect it’s quirk trafficking. And a lot of the kids who have gone missing--” The detective paused, grimacing, as if the very words left a bad taste in his mouth. “A lot of the missing kids were pulled from the foster system.”

His heart dropped even further and he cursed out loud. The case had just gotten a lot more personal.

“Tell me everything you have,” he said.

Chapter Text

Shouta pored over the police files for hours, ignoring the exhaustion which had slowly settled back over him like an unwelcome fog. He sorted through the evidence, noting down times and places and making a list of people to reach out to and another list of places to stake out. It’d mean another adjustment of his patrol route, he noted distantly. Every now and again, Tsukauchi would slide him another file, or he’d pause to ask the detective a question, but for the most part they both worked in silence.

The door opened, but Shouta ignored it until a familiar voice spoke up.

“You’re still here?”

When Shouta turned around, it was to see Sansa staring at him incredulously, one hand on the door handle and the other holding a steaming cup of coffee. The cat-headed officer blinked at the both of them several times, and Tsukauchi grumbled softly.

“Big case dropped in. We were working on it,” he said a bit defensively.

Sansa shook his head. “Until 7:30 in the morning? Your shifts end somewhere around 2, don’t they?”

“3, technically,” Shouta replied, matching Tsukauchi’s tone.

The officer turned his eyes skyward, saying something that Shouta just barely couldn’t hear, before sighing heavily. “Right. You’ve been here long enough. Go home, both of you.”

Shouta sat up straighter as Tsukauchi protested, “But--the case…”

“Will still be here when you come back. After you’ve gone home and slept,” Sansa said sternly. Then he softened. “You won’t be any use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet from exhaustion.”

And, Shouta had to admit, the officer had a point. He didn’t have to like it, but he had a point.

Sighing, Shouta stood slowly, only realizing how long he’d been sitting there when he had to stretch stiff muscles. He had to admit that he was very tired, sleep calling for his attention and causing his steps to drag ever so slightly.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But I’m coming right back after I sleep.”

“And eat,” Sansa added.

Shouta glared hard at the man. Sansa gazed steadily back, unaffected. Nearly growling in frustration, Shouta bit out a quick “Fine. And eat,” before pushing his way past the officer, heading out the door of the precinct.

“Hey, Eraser!” the officer called out after him, and the last threads of his exhausted patience snapped.

“What?” he growled, barely keeping his quirk from activating.

“How were you getting back? Were you planning on roof-hopping?”

He stared down the officer wordlessly. What else was he supposed to do? Ride in his nonexistent car? Walk back? That would take longer than going by rooftops. It was quite a long walk back, too. A park bench was starting to sound like a good napping spot. Just out of view of the normal police patrol routes so Sansa couldn’t hound him for not actually going home…

“Eraser, you’re literally swaying on your feet. At this point, you’ll fall asleep between one roof and the next. And I’m not letting you sleep on some random park bench. Last time you did that, you scared Oyama half to death. Come on; I’ll drive you home today.”

Well, there went that plan.

Shouta sighed, but nodded, following Sansa out to his car and getting in. 

He was awoken by the car’s engine cutting off, Sansa gently tapping his shoulder. “We’re here. Go get some actual sleep. I’ll see you back at the station later tonight.”

“I regret giving you my address,” Shouta said, but he couldn’t manage to put any heat behind it. It seemed the officer picked up on that, because he just laughed.

“You’re welcome, Eraser.”

Stumbling up the stairs, Shouta fidgeted with his keys, having to try a few times to get the key into the lock. Once he got the door open, he went through the motions of locking it behind him before tossing the keys onto the table and shuffling out of his boots, dumping his capture weapon and goggles haphazardly on the floor. He didn’t even bother going to his bedroom. When he made it into the living room, he faceplanted onto the couch. Breathing in deeply, he was out before he could finish the exhale.

The buzzing of his phone woke him up several hours later. Blearily, he blinked and shifted, reaching for the device. He noted idly that it was darker now than it was when he got home.

Picking his phone up, he squinted at the brightness of the screen. It was a message in a group chat.

Nemuri

I got approved for emergency fostering!

Hizashi

Congrats! That was fast!

One step closer to helping Shou’s little guy!

Nemuri

How’s the search for a new place going?

Shouta

You know you don’t have to find a bigger apartment before getting your radio station started, Zashi.

Hizashi

Hey, he’s awake!

I know, but I wanna help you find your kid!

Shouta

Hey, Nem, you might need to use that license soon

Nemuri

Why’s that? What’ve you got for me?

Shouta

A nasty case. Trafficking ring. Sansa sent me home this morning, so I’ll be going out tonight to start taking it down.

Hizashi

Yikes!

Nemuri

Good luck, Sho! Tell me if you need me to come in as backup.

Shouta

I’ll let Tsukauchi know you’re up for it.

It only took a moment to change into a new jumpsuit and wolf down some leftovers. He was out the door twenty minutes after waking up, heading straight back to the precinct.

There was a flurry of activity going on as he walked inside again. Papers were being passed from person to person, phones were ringing, and officers were running from place to place, shouting orders or talking into radios. A sense of dread trickled down Shouta’s spine.

“Eraser!” Sansa called, jogging over to him. “I’d scold you for being back so soon, but I think I’m too relieved to see you here to care.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, not wasting time.

“A local gang decided to rob a bank. They’ve got several hostages inside and they’re armed. We haven’t been able to find a way into the building yet or get any demands from them to deescalate the situation. Tsukauchi’s already on scene.”

“What do we know about the gang members?” Shouta asked, falling into step with the cat-headed officer.

“Individually, not too much yet; we’ve got a team working on finding out more. As a group, it’s a gang that’s been losing power recently. This seems like some sort of last-ditch effort for power or influence.”

“Or they could just need the money.”

“Could be, but I’d imagine they’d start trying to bargain for the safety of the hostages if that were the case. Unless they’re still panicking about being trapped. Hard to say, really.”

“Which bank is it? I’ll head over and see what I can do to help.”

After receiving instructions, he took off over the rooftops, using his capture weapon to catapult himself across wider gaps. He trusted the twilight to help hide and distort his figure from any potential watchers. He wasn’t exactly well-known anyway, and people didn’t tend to look up.

He stopped at the roof across from the bank and crouched in the shadows, observing. There was a certain shimmer to the glass that took him a moment to understand, but once he did he frowned. The glass almost looked like moving liquid, so there was either a glass manipulation quirk or some sort of plasticity one. The front doors of the bank were smoldering--probably a heat quirk--and there was little sign of movement coming from inside. The police had set up a perimeter around the bank, and several civilians were having to be held back as they tried to observe what was happening.

Reaching up to his ear, Shouta turned on his in-ear communicator and tuned into the frequency he knew the detective tended to use. “Tsukauchi, what’s the update on the situation?”

“Eraser! Glad you’re here. We’ve got a count of at least twelve hostages inside and a possible five to eight gang members. The only confirmed quirk is a hot hands sort; the doors are welded shut all around the building. We’ve tried reaching out to ask if they have demands, but there hasn’t been an answer. So far, no known fatalities or injuries. There were gunshots right at the beginning, but we haven’t heard any since.”

“It looks like the windows are being affected by a quirk too. Some sort of liquidization or plasticity, I think,” Shouta informed.

“Plasticity, I think,” Tsukauchi replied. “It looks more like a barrier from down here. Good eye.”

Shouta shifted his attention, looking more at the top of the building. “Any signs of movement?”

“There’s been a bit, but it’s been pretty indistinct. Wait--there was movement that was more clear. Looks like someone with a mutation quirk. Heavy build, looked strong. Maybe a bear or something.”

Shouta’s mind was working quickly, putting puzzle pieces together. This specific group of quirks sounded familiar. It almost sounded like-- “The Dock Crew.”

“The what?”

“That’s the gang group. I caught one of their higher ups last month, but a few of them managed to get away. I remember those three from the files and reports. There’s hot hands, plasticity, and the mutation is a bull quirk. There should also be someone with a paralytic quirk in the group. One more quirk was listed in the files as something involving darkness. My guess is shadow manipulation. There are at least two unknowns as well.”

“Thanks for the info; I’ll pass it along.”

A plan was starting to form in Shouta’s mind. “Has there been any activity on the roof yet?”

“Not that I know of. What are you thinking?”

“I think I’ve found my way in. Be ready to go through the windows to back me up.”

And Shouta moved.

Chapter Text

Anger was worse than constantly crying, he decided. It was bright and powerful in the moment--definitely more so than crying--but it left him feeling just as drained afterwards. It came up at the smallest problems, too--he dropped a pencil and was angry. Someone laughed at him and he was angry. He forgot to finish one of his chores and he was angry. He was angry because he was feeling angry. Being angry so often took so much energy .

It also caused his quirk to activate.

He wasn’t used to using his quirk all that often; after he first used it on Kacchan all the kids at school had started to back away from him whenever they happened to have time to talk or play. The only person he was around all that much was his mother, but the idea of making her back away from him like all his classmates had made his lungs ache and his heart scream. Not that it mattered now--they were aching and screaming anyway.

The point was, he didn’t know very much about his quirk. But whenever he got really mad, he felt heat burning up the tears in his eyes and his curly hair rose off the back of his neck. And then anyone who happened to be using their quirks in front of him suddenly couldn’t use them anymore. Not until he blinked away the heat and his hair fell back into its normal messy place. (Maybe he’d have to ask Kacchan about the hair raising thing once he wasn’t angry all the time.)

Nobody liked their quirks getting taken away. They were what made someone special, the thing that made them different. Not that Izuku thought that—he was still smart and kind before his quirk came in—but that’s what everyone else believed. Whenever it happened, they would turn and stare at him with this unnerving look in their eyes. He didn’t recognize it at first, but after two weeks of his quirk activating so often, the stares started following him even when he was just walking through the building. He learned what it was at that point. 

It was suspicion. 

Suspicion was still a new word for him, and he had to ask Miss Aika to explain it to him when she came for one of her visits to make sure he understood what it meant. When she described it as caution based on a lack of trust, his heart fell a little further.

“Why?” he asked the empty air. He didn’t have an answer.

He started paying more attention to the other kids at school. There were always eyes on him when he walked into class. It made his skin crawl uncomfortably. He noticed that several kids stopped breathing when he moved too sharply. A few even flinched when he set his books down too hard.

Why?

At least Kacchan hadn’t changed much. He still glared at Izuku when he accidentally disabled the small pop-pop s coming from his hands, but at least he didn’t seem afraid of Izuku.

His teacher clapping their hands together pulled Izuku out of his thoughts. “Alright, class. Last announcement of the day. Don't forget we have Career Day coming up! It’s at the end of the week--just two days away! We’ll have people from all kinds of jobs here to talk to you about what they do! We’re even going to have a hero here!”

The classroom erupted into noise. A small seed of interest grew in Izuku’s chest, and he looked up from where his eyes had been locked onto his desk. Kacchan was standing up, demanding to know who was coming. Most of his classmates were bouncing in their seats or waving their hands in the air. A few were openly shrieking while others hid behind their hands. It was so loud that it took several minutes for the teacher’s voice to be heard again.

“This is an opportunity to look at things you might want to do when you grow up. I want you to start thinking about it now because when Career Day is over I’m gonna ask you what you think you want to do.”

“I’m gonna be a hero!” Kacchan exclaimed. The class got loud again, and then the bell rang and they all raced out into the halls.

Izuku packed his things slowly, still a bit lost in thought. He didn’t know which question to answer first: why was everyone afraid of him, and what did he want to be when he grew up?

Kacchan was waiting for him as usual. They walked for a bit in silence. Izuku tried to build up the courage to ask the first question, and they were over halfway back to his foster home when he finally decided to just go for it.

“Hey, Kacchan?”

“What, nerd?”

“Um…I noticed everybody at school acts like they’re afraid of me. Do you know why?”

It took him a moment to realize that Kacchan wasn’t next to him anymore. He stopped, turning to look back at where his friend had frozen in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Deku, has no one told you?”

Izuku shook his head, starting to feel anxious. “What do you mean, Kacchan? Told me what?”

The silence stretched until he was shifting from one foot to another. Kacchan stared at him with wide red eyes. Then he seemed to shake himself out of it, and he walked back up so that they were side-by-side again.

“They’re all afraid of your quirk,” he admitted. “Pretty dumb, if you ask me, but it scared me too at first.”

Of course. They were scared that he could take away quirks. “But I don’t use it on them on purpose. I just get angry and it happens. Like you make explosions when you’re mad.”

“I have perfect control over my quirk!” Kacchan yelled, small sparks igniting in his hands. Izuku just stared at him, and he looked away after a moment. “It’s just--your quirk feels strange.”

That made him curious. “What does it feel like?”

“Like--” The blonde growled, searching for words. “You don’t really notice it at first. But then there’s just this--this empty feeling. It doesn’t hurt or anything. Just like something’s not there and it should be. ‘S weird.”

Izuku hummed.

“So what hero d’you think will show up for Career Day?” Kacchan asked suddenly.

“U-uh, I don’t know. I haven’t really looked at heroes much in a while…”

“But you love heroes,” Kacchan stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Izuku loved heroes. Two months ago that had been true, but now…

He sniffled, then glared at the ground. His eyes grew hot again as his quirk activated, and he had to blink furiously to shut it off. “They didn’t save Mama.”

They were quiet again until the Uchida’s yard came into view. Then Kacchan spoke again.

“I’m gonna be the best hero out there, Deku. Even better than All Might. And I’ll beat all the villains so what happened to Auntie won’t happen to anyone else!”

“But it wasn’t the villain who killed her. She d-died later,” Izuku said, stumbling over that one word. That one awful, awful word.

“Then I’ll save everyone too,” Kacchan said firmly. “Just you watch!”

For the first time in a long time, Izuku felt a small smile curve the corners of his lips upward. He’d be watching, he told himself silently. He couldn’t wait to see what Kacchan would become.

Chapter Text

Kacchan had always wanted to be a hero. It wasn’t surprising that that’s what he talked the most about for the next couple of days. Izuku used to feel drawn in by this sort of talk, pulled into the orbit of Kacchan’s determination, but now he withdrew, too busy thinking. Did he still want to be a hero? Could he even become a hero with a quirk like his?

Was there anything else out there that would allow him to save people like he wanted to, though?

He was thinking about this the morning of Career Day while he slipped his shoes on silently, holding back a yawn. The Uchidas had given him another chore to do every night, so now he had to dust and sweep the living room, clean the bathroom, and help with the dishes before he could go to bed. They said it was to help keep his mind off bad things, and for the most part it worked, but it left him feeling really tired.

The morning news was playing while he fumbled with his shoelaces, and he listened to it halfheartedly, not really focusing too much on what it was saying, but catching something about a bank robbery stopped successfully. He was half-tempted to listen to the rest of the news report, but he didn’t want to be late to school, so instead he grabbed an apple and slipped out the door, deciding to ask Kacchan if he had heard the news.

He managed to make it to school with plenty of time before the first bell rang, and he set his stuff down at his desk before walking over to where his friend was sitting. “Hey, Kacchan. Did you get to hear the news this morning?”

Kacchan snorted. “Good morning to you too, Deku. And of course we had the news running. What caught you this time?”

“I heard something about a bank robbery but I didn’t want to be late so I didn’t get to listen to all of it.”

“Mm. I heard that one. Villains tried to rob a bank. Some hero took the villains down by himself. They got pretty beat up though.”

Izuku felt a spark of interest. “Did they say what the hero’s name was? Or what their quirk did?”

Kacchan scoffed. “It was some no-name. I don’t remember.”

Izuku just sighed and nodded. He knew Kacchan was telling the truth. Especially if he hadn’t heard of the hero before or didn’t think they were very impressive--which seemed to be the case for this story.

Class started soon after, their teacher excitedly explaining that it was Career Day and they would have a bunch of people talk to them about their jobs and then answer questions about them.

“When’s the hero gonna show?” Kacchan interrupted loudly.

Their teacher gave a small frown at the interruption, but answered anyway. “Unfortunately, I got a call not too long ago that the hero was hurt on a job yesterday, and they won’t be able to come in. However, they sent one of the people they work with frequently to come and speak to you instead! He’ll be here right after lunch.”

A good majority of the class deflated, including Izuku. He’d been looking forward to hearing a hero talk--he’d even brought his notebook with him so that he could take notes.

A cycle of adults came and talked to them throughout the morning. There was a bank-teller, and an electrician, and a paramedic (that one was interesting. Izuku took a few notes while he spoke). There was a college professor and a businessman and an architect.

The bell rang for lunch, and Izuku joined his classmates in the mad dash for the door. He rushed to get in the lunch line.

The lunch ladies were all friendly with him, and he gave a small smile to them as he gathered his food. They beamed back at him, plating up his food with care. It made the smile he’d managed to put up feel a little more real. At least, until he got to the end of the line to scan his ID.

“Your account’s empty, kid.”

He startled. “W-what? It is?”

Mrs. Harada nodded. “Your parents should have gotten a letter in the mail last week saying that your balance was low.”

Izuku shifted anxiously. “W-well, the Uchidas s-said they were getting mail from the s-school, but they d-didn’t give me any money for lunch. I’m sorry. I-I’ll just…”

“Hey,” Mrs. Harada called out softly. “I’ll cover for you today. Just make sure you have something for tomorrow, okay? Don’t want you going hungry, now.”

Izuku nodded rapidly. “Yes, ma’am! Thank you! I’m sorry!”

The woman’s face softened even further. “Go on, go eat your food.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried away to where Kacchan was sitting, his homemade bento already open and food being shoved into his mouth.

“Eat your food quick, Deku. I wanna go outside an’ beat up bad guys,” the blonde said when Izuku sat down.

“Mkay, Kacchan. You can fight and I’ll help get people to safety.”

Kacchan glared at him with a touch of confusion. “What? No. You fight with me. You watch my back.”

“But there’s more to being a hero than just fighting, Kacchan,” Izuku scolded lightly. “Heroes don’t just fight. They make people feel safe.”

“Psh. Yeah, yeah, Deku. I’d say we can ask the hero when they get here, but they’re not coming in anymore.” At that, both boys shared a disappointed frown.

“Maybe whoever else comes might be able to tell us anyway,” the blonde eventually said, glancing over at Izuku. He understood why. Normally, he’d be the one to perk up first and say something like that. But right now, he just didn’t have the energy.

“Sorry, Kacchan,” he murmured.

“Not your fault, nerd.”

They finished eating in silence, rushing out to play for a few minutes, but Izuku was still distracted. He couldn’t quite shake the frustration and disappointment of missing a hero. He also couldn’t get rid of his doubt on whether he still wanted to be a hero. Could he even be a hero? His quirk just stopped other quirks. Wouldn’t that be dangerous to any heroes he worked with?

He sighed as they went back inside for the rest of Career Day. He’d been hoping to ask the hero about that.

A police officer walked into the room shortly after they got back. All the students sat up a little straighter, whispering to one another. Izuku watched as their teacher greeted the man, and the man turned to face the rest of the class. He had a mutation quirk that gave him a cat’s head. His hands were also covered in soft ginger fur. The policeman smiled gently at the class and started speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Officer Sansa from the local police department. I know you were expecting a hero, but he’s unfortunately pretty banged up from a fight yesterday, so he asked me to come talk to you instead.”

“You’re friends with a hero?!” someone in the class yelled. 

“I am,” Officer Sansa said. “Not all heroes work out in the public eye. Some of them work better at night, when they’re hard to see or know about. Those heroes work pretty closely with the police. They sometimes even go undercover on missions where the police can’t get the clearance needed for an investigation.”

“So you help each other?” someone else asked. It took a moment for Izuku to realize that it was him. He blushed and sank further in his seat, but the officer didn’t sigh or act angry at the question.

“We do. They gather information for us, and we pick up and arrest some of the criminals they run across every night. In fact, heroes sometimes work like extra detectives for us.”

Emboldened by the easy response, Izuku dared to ask the question that had been on his mind all week. “Some quirks would end up hurting any allies in a fight. Is it still possible to become a hero with a quirk like that?”

“You won’t be a hero with a quirk like yours! You have a villain’s quirk!” one of his classmates yelled, and it hit Izuku harder than if he’d been punched in the stomach. He had to duck his head and blink back angry tears. Surely he wouldn’t be destined to just become a villain. Right?

Right?

“That’s not a nice thing to say, and it’s not true, either,” Officer Sansa said, somewhat sharply. “My friend’s quirk would be the same way in a large fight. He has to be really careful when he’s in the field with other heroes. But he likes to say something: quirks are just tools. A knife can be used for something bad, but the same knife might also be used to help make dinner. It all depends on how you use it. Quirks are the same way. There is no such thing as a heroic or villainous quirk. It matters more what you choose to do with it.”

There is no such thing as a villainous quirk.

Quirks are just tools.

“Zu…”

He jolted slightly as the memory came back. His mother in the hospital bed. Dust in her hair. The beeping of machinery around her. Pain in her expression.

Love in her eyes.

“Zu…don’t lose hope.”

His quirk was just another tool. He could be a hero. And he promised himself that he would be.

Chapter Text

Shouta was intimately familiar with waking up in hospitals. A constant beeping sound would filter through his senses first, like an alarm set too loud which refused to turn off when he hit the snooze. Then he’d smell the disinfectants of the overly sterile environment. The only reason he didn’t immediately open his eyes was experience with the searing pain brought by the too-white lights. He heard a slight shuffling before a familiar voice cleared their throat and settled back into the chair.

He groaned, carefully bringing one arm up to drape across his eyes. He didn’t bother trying to open them yet.

“Hey, Aizawa. Good morning,” Tsukauchi said. There was another shifting of clothes and the sound of something being set down. “Let me dim the lights and grab a nurse for you.”

While his friend moved around in the hospital room, Shouta took stock of how he was feeling. There was a distant ache in his right thigh--reminiscent of a stab wound, probably from that villain with the mutation--some tightness around his chest--definitely bruised ribs, probably wrapped up--and a dull but persistent throbbing ache in his skull. That was most definitely a concussion. He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t tried to open his eyes yet.

“The lights are down. It might still be a bit bright, but it shouldn’t hurt your head as much.”

Shouta grumbled wordlessly for a moment before finally daring to open his eyes. Tsukauchi was right; it took a minute before his eyes had adjusted and he could look around without squinting. He waited until then before he removed his arm from across his face.

“Have you tested your memory yet?” Tsukauchi asked. Shouta blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision a bit more, before grunting.

“Just gettin’ there,” he replied.

Tsukauchi opened his mouth to continue, but he was interrupted by the door sliding open. A nurse walked in quickly. “Good to see you’re awake,” she said, cheerful but thankfully remembering to keep her voice down. “Let me check your vitals and then I can give you a run-down of your injuries.”

“Bruised ribs, some stab wound on m’ thigh, an’ a concussion,” Shouta recounted drowsily. “Pretty good meds, though. Don’ like how they make it foggy.”

“The foggy might be the concussion, Shouta,” Tsukauchi said.

Shouta ignored him. “How long w’s I out?”

“Just overnight. You have some bruising on your ribs, a slash wound on your right thigh from a villain’s claws, you twisted your left ankle, and you have a bad concussion. Recovery Girl is supposed to come and work her magic later this afternoon, but you’ll have to stay here for another night before we can clear you,” the nurse explained.

Shouta hummed, not entirely happy with that answer. There was something tickling the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite bring it into focus.

“’M forgettin’ somethin’,” he mumbled.

“You’re forgetting a lot, I’d imagine,” Tsukauchi replied. “You had a pretty nasty concussion.”

“M’ brain’s rattled, w’ve already been over that,” he said.

The nurse finished her check-in quickly, then left with well-wishes and the promise to return in a few hours. It gave them the opportunity to debrief, and Shouta took the time to reorganize his scattered memories. 

He remembered heading to the station just fine. He’d gotten there to see a flurry of activity and headed off in the direction of the bank robbery which had turned into a hostage situation. He remembered seeing the entry point on the roof.  

It had only taken a moment to pick the lock on the door, and he slipped inside noiselessly and stealthed his way down to the main lobby of the bank. There were twelve hostages, like the police had guessed, and Shouta immediately identified Hot Hands and Bull. Two more villains—he guessed they might be Paralytic and Plasticity—were holding guns. There was no sign of Shadows or any other villains.

Shouta knew that meant there might be someone behind him on the second floor, which meant someone might sneak up behind him and sound the alarm. He needed to act quickly. 

He activated his quirk and cast out his capture weapon to disarm the two villains with the guns, sending out another loop to wrap around one of them and knock them out against the walls of the bank. The windows lost their plasticity as Hot Hands shouted in alarm. A knife whizzed over his head, clattering on the floor behind him. He leaped forward, hitting the other previously armed villain with an open palm at the sternum before knocking them out with a roundhouse kick. He had to dodge as the bull villain charged, taking the opportunity to blink and save his eyes some strain. As he popped back up from a roll, he looped his scarf around one of the villain’s legs, tripping him up and forcing him off-balance. He kicked out at the man’s back, trying to press his advantage, and it would have worked had the villain not gotten lucky and managed to catch himself just in time. 

The sound of glass shattering heralded the arrival of the police force. Shouta trusted them to protect and evacuate the hostages, so he focused on keeping the villains busy so they couldn’t interfere.

He dodged again and reactivated his quirk as Hot Hands came at him, swinging his hands in an attempt to make contact. Shouta allowed him to, knowing that it wouldn’t have any effect, then used the villain’s moment of confusion to throw him over his shoulder and click a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. He finished just in time for the bull villain to come charging at him again. He had to roll to the side in a dodge once more, tangling the villain in his capture weapon and taking the opportunity to slam him heavily against the ground.

The fight blurred a little after that; he remembered taking down the bull villain and looking up just in time to erase the quirk of a villain who had just appeared out of his shadow. The claws on the villain’s hands disappeared, but then his vision had slammed into darkness just as he’d begun trading blows. At some point then he’d been thrown into a counter--probably where the concussion came from--and his vision came back as his fist had slammed into another villain’s face. He vaguely remembered someone there with a wolf mutation as well, but at that point the police must have been able to provide him backup. He definitely remembered looking up at a concerned Tsukauchi and giving a wide, unsettling grin, but there was nothing after that.

He shared his recollections with the detective, who nodded along and filled in some of the gaps in his memory. They had gotten the hostages out with no further injuries. Apparently, there’d been a villain with a light manipulation quirk who had cut off Shouta’s vision to disorient him. He’d still managed to take out the remaining three villains blind, moments before the police were able to back him up. The light manipulation had been concentration-based, so the punch he remembered had given him his vision back because it had snapped the villain out of their focus. All things considered, he thought he’d done pretty well.

“That’s great. When can I go?” Shouta asked once they’d finished debriefing.

Tsukauchi looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. “You have at least another night of observation here, Aizawa. Y’know, for the rattled brain part?”

“I’ve got something…there’s somewhere…” he started, trying to remember what he had planned that he absolutely could not miss. There had to be something that would get him out of the hospital faster…

It hit him like a lightning bolt, and he shot up straighter. “I can’t stay here. I have a presentation to give to a local school. My agency asked me to attend their career day.”

Tsukauchi just waved a hand at him. “We can send Sansa to go in your place. You’re not going anywhere.”

Shouta most definitely did not pout. He just frowned very heavily at his friend. “You should be at the precinct anyway. Why are you still here?”

“They gave me the day off to, and I quote, ‘Make sure your idiot hero friend doesn’t defy doctor’s orders and try to leave anyway.’ So I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Sansa can take care of your little school function.”

“The precinct is making you babysit me,” Shouta said flatly.

“If you want to think of it that way, then yes.”

“I hate all of you.”

“Mm. Sure you do.”

“You especially. We are no longer friends.”

“Sure, Aizawa. You know, your threats would probably work on almost anyone else.”

“If I say them enough, maybe they’ll come true.”

“Maybe. Sansa’s good with covering for you. Which school is it?”

“Aldera Elementary. Tell him to watch for shady teachers. Might be some money laundering going on there.”

“I’ll let him know. Now, you sleep. I’ll wake you if anything big happens.”

Shouta wanted to ignore the order just out of pure spite, but he couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel the pain-medicine drowsiness pulling him under again. “Fine. But I hope you know I won’t give you a moment’s rest once I’m out of here. I’ll be tackling that trafficking case until it’s closed.”

“I’m counting on it, Shouta. Get some sleep.”

And so he did, his heavy eyes slipping closed in the relative safety of the hospital room.

Chapter Text

The phone ringing woke Shouta up from a deep sleep some time after visiting hours. He groaned loudly, reaching out blindly for the source of the sound, trying to silence it and stop the noise from worsening his pounding headache. When he finally managed to hit it, there were a few moments of blissful peace.

“Heya, Shouta! Guess what!” a loud voice suddenly said.

He did not jump. He didn’t.

“Nemuri, why are you calling me.” He didn’t ask, too annoyed to be civil. He knew that she’d be able to pick up on that. Clearly, she didn’t care.

“I’m going back to school for a bit! Gonna get an art degree. Or maybe history. Haven’t decided yet. I’m gonna teach though.”

It took a solid ten seconds for that to process, and when it did, Shouta shot straight up, doing his best to ignore the way his body protested the sudden motion. “What? Nemuri, why ?”

“Well, I was thinking, and there are a few reasons. One is to…maybe, potentially, help you find your kid?” Shouta frowned, but she rushed on before he could say anything. “It’s just that, well, I want to be doing more, and if I were a teacher I’d be around some kids all day, and maybe it’s a shot in the dark, but at this point a shot in the dark is all we have, so I figured I might as well, you know? Plus, it should give me some job security once I’m too old and creaky to go out on patrols.”

Huh. Trust Nemuri to think further ahead. Most people didn’t recognize the sly intelligence she held and weaponized to devastating effect. It was one of the things that Shouta had caught onto right away. She and Hizashi both downplayed their intelligence.

“That sounds like a mostly good idea. Who would trust you to be in charge of a bunch of children, though, Nem?”

His friend laughed, not at all offended. “It’ll take me a few years to go through the program. I can use the time to start focusing on some charities. I really wanna press awareness of sexual assault crimes, you know?”

Shouta did know. He still remembered the night during their second year when she called him-- him , not Hizashi or Oboro--in tears because of some heckling and cat-calls she’d received right after having to help an assault victim. She knew that he’d be able to deal with such topics better than their other friends. It had been a rough night for her. For both of them, really. 

He hummed, letting her know he heard and understood. “Good luck, Nem. Probably gonna need it.”

She laughed, and after saying goodbyes, Shouta set his phone down, too awake to go back to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. So he just sat, thinking and reminiscing, watching the light fade from bright yellow to pink to orange and then to a dark bruised violet before landing in darkness as the sun set.

A nurse came in at some point to give him dinner and inform him that he’d be released in the morning after one more round of healing, but he didn’t interact with her beyond a soft thanks. He was too busy imagining his oldest friend in front of a classroom, thinking about what kinds of kids she’d teach and what they’d look like. He couldn’t imagine her teaching a class of super young children, like the age his son was. Probably older kids. But it’d take her a few years to get a degree--she’d said that herself. Would she be able to teach his kid? What even were the odds of them finding him that way? Probably no better than the odds of anything else they were doing.

His thoughts wandered on from there. What did his son look like? Did he get Shouta’s black, wavy hair or Inko’s dark green hair? Was it long or short? Did he have dark eyes or would they also be emerald green? Would he be tall? There were freckles on Shota’s mom’s side. They hadn’t managed to find their way onto Shouta, but perhaps freckles could skip a generation. What kinds of things did he like to do? Would he pick up on math and science best or did he like language and reading? Maybe he’d also like cats. Shouta found himself hoping that his son had the same gentle, soft-spoken manner to him that Inko had. The world would chew him up, but maybe he’d be able to avoid cynicism that way. He’d most likely have a quirk similar to Inko’s; Shouta’s quirk had been a mutation from his mother’s minor levitation and his father’s sight-based…actually, he didn’t remember what his father’s quirk was. He’d never seen the man use it.

It hardly mattered in the end, he supposed. The boy could be bright purple and he’d love him regardless.

At some point he must have drifted off to sleep, because he startled awake when the door slammed open.

“Good morning, Shou! We’re gonna bust you outta here today!” Hizashi cheered, and Shouta dearly wished he had something to throw at his friend. He settled for glaring harshly.

“This is a hospital. You’re supposed to be quiet,” he hissed.

Hizashi grinned sheepishly. “I’m here to drive ya home once you’re cleared,” his friend explained.

“I can walk home,” Shouta protested.

“Not after this last round of quirk healing, you can’t,” Hizashi countered.

Shouta tried to argue, but Hizashi wouldn’t budge. Which is how he ended up riding home with the loudmouth, who had thankfully turned down the radio. Shouta sat in silence, staring blankly out the front window and counting down the minutes until Hizashi couldn’t stand the quiet and had to speak up. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You’ll be back on patrol before you know it. Three days isn’t really that long, you know!” he said cheerfully.

“Zashi. I just got a big case. Even sent you a message about it.”

“Oh, right. Well…you could catch up on paperwork! Get that knocked out before you start investigating.”

“We already finished that part. What we really need is feet on the ground.”

Hizashi sighed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t respond for a while.

“Well…Did Nemuri tell you her news?”

Shouta snorted. “She called me and woke me up. What do you think of it?”

“I think,” Hizashi said slowly, “that she has the right idea.”

Shouta nodded, and then the blonde’s words fully registered and he straightened suddenly. “Wait. You’re thinking of teaching too? What about your radio show? You’re just getting that off the ground.”

Hizashi laughed sheepishly. “Well, yeah. I’d definitely need some help. But I was actually thinking about going back to school anyway. I just don’t know where I’d get the money for it, so I haven’t looked into it too much yet. And Nem’s right--it’d be great for after we can’t be active heroes anymore. I might even go back to UA and teach there.”

“Wait, wait, wait. We? Why am I suddenly a part of your back-to-school plan?” Shouta said, slightly alarmed.

“For UA, you are! Nedzu would snatch you up in a heartbeat, if you asked. He’d probably be able to help you with your school expenses and with finding your kiddo, too.”

Shouta snorted. “Yeah, right. Probably. But I’m not desperate enough to go to the rat yet.”

“How long will it be until you are?” Hizashi asked, abruptly serious.

Hizashi didn’t add anything after that, and Shouta couldn’t find a reply. They were silent the rest of the way to Shouta’s apartment.

Chapter Text

Apparently, Izuku had been the only one who really listened to what the police officer had said. There is no such thing as a heroic or villainous quirk. A quirk is just a tool. But ever since the week after Career Day, his classmates had gone beyond just teasing and had started to be almost cruel with his dreams. He’d pulled out his old hero notebook again--he’d managed to open it without crying, finally--but whenever he tried to flip it open, he was always interrupted by one of his classmates.

“Hey, Deku,” they’d say. “Writing in your creepy notebook again? What are you gonna use it for?”

It was a trap, he’d quickly learned. When he said he wanted to be a hero, they’d all laugh at him. It wasn’t ever a nice laugh. 

“Yeah, right. With a quirk like yours, the only thing you’ll become is a villain.”

It made him angry, which made his quirk activate unintentionally. That made him feel like he was playing right into their cruel jokes, but he never missed the flash of fear after they said such things. They were still scared of him, of what he could do, and that hurt worse than the words did. It meant that they believed what they were saying. 

Unfortunately, it no longer stopped when his quirk flared. 

He held the ice pack to his cheek carefully, listening as the upperclassman painted a story about how he stole the other boy’s quirk and then attacked him when he couldn’t defend. His stomach growled, reminding him that he was missing lunch—not that he’d had food to eat, anyway. The Uchidas kept forgetting to give him lunch money or refill his account. 

Izuku looked up as the nurse crouched in front of him. Her eyes were stern and tired. “This is the second time this week, Midoriya. You can’t attack your peers like this.”

“I didn’t attack him,” Izuku said quietly, feeling defeated. He’d said the same thing last time, and the week before when it had happened then too. 

“I know you’re upset with your mother’s death, but this isn’t how you deal with it,” the nurse continued as if he’d never even spoken. “We had to call your foster family this time. Your teacher also told me you’ve lost your recess privileges for the rest of the week.”

She grabbed the ice pack from him and turned away, starting to fuss over the upperclassman. (He wasn’t even hurt. Izuku had accidentally turned on his quirk, but he hadn’t hit him. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself, too upset to process the punch coming his way until he was on the ground, cheek smarting.)

Nobody else tried to speak to him until the door opened again. Izuku looked up, eyes finding Mr. Uchida. He shifted uncomfortably. He was starting to think the Uchidas didn’t like him, but he was hoping Mrs. Uchida would be the one to show up. She at least pretended to be nice. 

“You are such a disappointment,” Mr. Uchida growled. “I expected more from you. We open our home to you, and you repay us by misbehaving?”

Izuku opened his mouth to defend himself, but Mr. Uchida yelled louder. “Don’t look at me, you fiend. I won’t have you stealing my quirk, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku mumbled, even though it wasn’t his fault. “I’ll try to be better.”

That seemed to satisfy the man for now, who huffed and crossed his arms. “I expect you will. You won’t be getting dinner tonight. If I have to come out here again to deal with you, your punishment will be much worse.”

Izuku’s stomach ached at that. “Mr. Uchida, sir, I haven’t gotten lunch, either. There’s no money left in the lunch account.”

“Do I look like I care? You won’t get dinner. That’s final.”

“Yes, sir,” Izuku whispered. He desperately tried to hold the tears back, but a couple still slipped out. He didn’t quite hear his foster’s parting reply, but he knew it wasn’t something nice. A hand roughly grabbed him by his arm and dragged him out of the nurse’s office.

“Get out of here, Midoriya. Go back to lunch. And don’t cause another scene.”

The door slammed behind him. He stared at it blankly for a while, then his shoulders sagged. He didn’t understand what had changed in the past few months, or even in the past couple weeks. Was it just because he couldn’t really control his quirk? But everyone else had trouble controlling theirs on occasion. Even Kacchan accidentally popped a few explosions every now and again. He’d burned his worksheets a couple of times. The only thing that ever earned him was a light “Be careful, Bakugou,” and then he’d be handed a new paper.

If it wasn’t his quirk control that had changed things, then was it his desire to be a hero? Most kids wanted to be a hero, though. They were just so cool. A lot of people liked them because they were popular, but Izuku wanted to be able to save others. Being a hero made the most sense.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was the problem.

He turned away from the closed door, wandering back to the lunchroom. It was loud there, but he ignored most of that and picked his way between the tables to where Kacchan was sitting. When he sat down, the blonde narrowed his eyes.

“You have a bruise on your face,” Kacchan said.

Izuku just hummed in agreement.

“You didn’t have it before lunch,” he pressed.

“No, I didn’t,” Izuku allowed.

His friend must have known that he wouldn’t get any more from Izuku, because he turned away and took another bite of his food. “You don’t have any lunch,” he said instead.

“The Uchidas haven’t refilled my lunch account. They had to call them today too. Mr. Uchida said I wasn’t getting dinner tonight either.”

Kacchan immediately shoved the rest of his bento over. Izuku just stared at it, shocked and a little confused.

“If you wanna be a hero, you need to eat, nerd. I won’t count it as a win if I beat you when you’re half-starved,” the blonde snapped.

A small smile found its way onto Izuku’s face, and he could almost forget the run-in he had just an hour earlier with his friend’s care. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Whatever. Don’t go passing out on me.”

Izuku finished off the rest of the food in silence. He returned quietly to the classroom when it was recess time and used the time to write in his notebook in peace without any of his classmates interrupting with their cruel words.

If he wasn’t allowed to play with the other kids, then he’d spend the time sharpening his mind. After all, heroes weren’t just strong and positive all the time. The best of them could think and make plans quickly. 

Heroes needed to be smart, too. And that was something Izuku could do.

Chapter Text

Kacchan was waiting for him outside the school once he was done with the day and had finished his cleaning chores. It was something he had grown used to by now, but he was still grateful for it.

They didn’t normally speak much as Kacchan walked with him all the way back to his foster house, though Izuku did hold his normal argument that the other didn’t need to walk all the way there with him. (The suggestion was automatically shut down, as usual. Both of them knew that Kacchan was too stubborn to let Izuku walk alone, but the conversation was a habit at this point.) Izuku chatted idly about what he’d done while everyone else was at recess, and Kacchan just listened for a few minutes.

“If the foster-faces still don’t feed you lunch, tell me. I’ll ask the hag to pack extra,” Kacchan said suddenly.

“What? No, you don’t have to do that, Kacchan. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Doesn’t matter, nerd. I’ll do it anyway if you come in again without a lunch. I already told you, I’m not gonna have you passing out on me. I’m not dragging your sorry self to the nurse if that happens.”

Izuku had to blink back tears again, but this time it was for a good reason. He had been so worried that Kacchan no longer cared about him. At the back of his mind, he knew what the reason behind his seeming wake-up call was, but he didn’t want to look at it too closely yet. He settled for a small thankful smile at his friend.

“Hey, so I’m starting to work on my hero analysis again. If you ever want to look at your quirk, I might be able to help you some,” Izuku offered as his foster house came into view.

“Nerd. You should figure out your own quirk before you try to look at mine,” Kacchan scolded, cuffing him over the back of the head. It made Izuku stumble a step. The sting went away as he sheepishly rubbed the spot. 

“You’re right. It’s just kinda hard to practice when nobody likes it.”

“Well, you can start by figuring out how to turn it off and on. Maybe people’d forget about it if they didn’t see it every day.”

It was harsh, but Kacchan had a point. Still, Izuku frowned at him.

They had arrived at Izuku’s house at that point, so Izuku reluctantly said goodbye to his friend. Kacchan just grunted and turned around, but Izuku watched him give a small wave right before he turned the corner to go to his own home.

He headed inside quietly, taking off his shoes and exchanging them for the house slippers. He slid his backpack off his back and was about to step to his room when the sound of voices stopped him. It was both of the Uchidas. Why were they both here? Mr. Uchida didn’t normally beat him back from school. 

It was wrong to eavesdrop, he knew, so he decided to ignore it until one line stuck out to him.

“We need to talk about that Midoriya kid.”

Izuku froze. All plans of ignoring it flew out the window. Carefully he crept closer to the corner so that he could hear them better as worry built in his chest.

“Oh, you got a call from the school, didn’t you? What was it that happened?” Mrs. Uchida asked, followed by the sound of a tea tray being placed on the coffee table.

“They said he attacked an upperclassman at lunch time. Made the other boy spill his tray.”

“I was worried about this. I’ve been trying to keep him busy so he doesn’t have the energy to act out. It seems he’s starting to act out anyway.”

She kept him busy to keep him from “acting out”? She’d told Izuku that it was to keep his mind off his grief. If she was lying about that, then were there other things she had been lying about?

“That’s not what concerns me the most. It’s that boy’s quirk. It stops other quirks, and the homeroom teacher tells me that he keeps using it. At some point, all that power’s gonna go to his head. I don’t want him turning on us.”

“Well, we are getting a nice bonus for taking him in so suddenly, you know. Unless you have something else in mind, I’d like to keep receiving that money.”

“There has been something that’s come up. Rumor mill says that these guys are paying a fine penny to take care of some of the kids in the system. We could reach out to them. See if they’ll take the brat.”

Izuku was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Someone taking care of kids wouldn’t need to pay a fine penny to have them. The Uchidas wanted to sell him. The knowledge made his stomach turn. He had to bring a hand up to his mouth to keep from making a sound that would give him away.

“We definitely wouldn’t have to worry about him that way, but there’s one problem with that.”

“What problem is there? It’s a good solution.”

“That blonde kid’s the problem. Have you noticed? He always walks the boy back here after school lets out. If the boy just disappeared, he’d realize it. I’ve seen him giving our house the stink eye a few times. Got a nasty one, too.”

Izuku held his breath. Kacchan had been the one keeping these people from selling him? If Kacchan was a problem, then surely they wouldn’t do anything to hurt the other boy, would they? They wouldn’t dare try, right?

“Shoot. Probably not the best plan to do that then.”

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. Kacchan wasn’t in any danger. It was fine.

“We…could just tell his social worker that he’s not a good fit next time she drops in for a visit. There’s one scheduled for the end of the week, isn’t there?”

They…didn’t want him. He’d guessed it, but they actually didn’t care about him at all. He nearly turned and ran right back out the door. He’d stopped listening at that point, too busy trying to school his expression back into something that was somewhat normal. He took a few deep breaths that were just on the side of too fast and stuck his shaking hands into his pockets.

His right hand struck paper. Slightly puzzled, he pulled it out and unfolded it. It was Miss Aika’s number.

“My quirk is called Family Connections. If I touch you, I can sense any living relatives and their feelings towards you and how you feel about them.”

Abruptly he was overwhelmed with the desire to have her use her quirk on him again. He had to be sure. She’d said his dad wanted him, but it had been so long since then. Did he still want a son he’d never met? Was Izuku really worth that much to him?

He scrambled through the doorway to the rest of the house, not bothering to hide his presence. He didn’t have a phone, but maybe he could borrow one of theirs?

No, it was a stupid idea. They wouldn’t let him after the conversation they’d just had. He bypassed the both of them, heading straight to where his room was and dumping his backpack on his bed. Then he sought out one of his foster siblings.

“Kaneko, may I borrow your phone for a minute?” he asked the first one he found. She looked at him for a few seconds, then unplugged her earphones and handed it over.

“Don’t mess it up, pest,” she said.

Izuku raced away with it and looked at the number, carefully plugging it into the phone. He hit the call button desperately and brought it up to his ear.

It only rang three times before the line clicked and a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Aika?”

“This is she. Is this one of my kiddos?”

“Mhm. This is Izuku Midoriya.”

“Oh! Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

“I--I just--” He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to sort through the riot of thoughts in his head. “I need you to use your quirk on me again. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart, I can do that. I’ll be over at your foster home on Friday. That’s two days away. Do you think you can wait that long or is it more urgent than that?”

“No!” he blurted out. “No, Friday’s fine. I can wait. Actually, you’re probably super busy. I should have waited until you got here. I’m sorry. You don’t have to use it. I can go--”

“Hey, sweetheart, calm down a bit, okay? It’s okay. I’d be happy to use it. It’s okay that you called me. I just needed to know if you were safe for a couple more days, alright?”

“Oh. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Midoriya. I’ll be sure to use my quirk on you on Friday if that’s what you want. May I ask what’s brought this on?”

“Oh--they--um, I heard the Uchidas talking when I came home from school and--” He sniffed, rubbing at his nose as tears came again. “They don’t want me.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That’s not a nice thing to overhear. I’ll look into better homes for you then, okay?”

“Mkay. Thank you, Miss Aika.”

“Of course, sweetie. Thank you for calling me. I’ll see you on Friday.”

They hung up, and Izuku took a deep breath again, wiping away his tears as they fell. He made sure to keep the phone clean, and once he was done crying he took it back to Kaneko and thanked her. Then he went back to the room where he was staying and made sure all his things were close together. He curled up under his blankets and listened to the sounds of the house moving around him.

He fell asleep like that, unbothered except for his softly growling stomach.

Chapter Text

Shouta was only out for three days, but when he came back he threw himself headfirst into the trafficking case. Hizashi’s words had relit a fire under him, and he’d spent his mandatory rest days looking for bigger apartments online. He’d also gone straight to Tsukauchi to ask about classes for emergency fostering. It was frankly overdue, but he’d been so focused on saving up enough money to support another person that it had been overlooked until now. All the added searching and studying made his schedule busier than it already had been, but Shouta told himself that it would all be worth it in the end, when he had his son with him. When , not if. He refused to give up on finding the kid, even if it took a few more months.

Hopefully a few more months was an exaggeration. It had already been too long for his liking. But at least he’d actually be able to take the kid in soon instead of just vaguely introducing himself and saying, “Hey, I want you, but I can’t take you in right now. You have to bounce around houses for a while yet.” Because saying that would build trust between himself and the kid.

That was all happening in the background, though. Currently, he was staking out yet another location from the list he’d made with Tsukauchi almost two full months ago. There was a frustrating lack of leads for this case, and the part of Shouta’s mind that wasn’t the patient pro hero was screaming at everyone and everything for not moving fast enough. So far he’d only managed to bring in three gang members who had been moving illegal merchandise for someone else, but they didn't have any idea what they were moving or who they were working for. Lower-rung criminals in the big master plan, then. Nothing that gave them concrete info.

It seems like this location was shaping up to be a bust, too. Shouta sighed, deciding to give it a few more minutes before double-checking the windows and doors and leaving to finish his patrol.

A few minutes later, he scaled down the side of the building he’d been watching from and prowled around the perimeter of the warehouse. He expertly avoided the cameras around the street as he crept closer to one of the first-story windows. Carefully, he raised his head and peeked inside.

He saw nothing. The room seemed empty beyond a few old crates.

He hurried to the closest door, still avoiding cameras, and checked the lock. It was an old, simple one. He could pick it in only a few moments. He did so, the soft click audible only to him as he prepared himself and grabbed his capture weapon before easing the door open.

Empty. The whole place was empty.

Shouta took his time searching the entire building, looking for traps or hidden passages or signs of illegal activity. He even opened a few of the old crates just to see if they were really empty. His search turned up nothing other than a few scuffs on the floor. This building had been used before, but not in a while.

He sighed, pulling out his phone to dial Tsukauchi’s number. He was beginning to suspect there was something else going on, but he wasn’t sure what just yet. Nevertheless, this was another location to mark off the slowly dwindling list.

The call connected, and he wasted no time telling the detective that he hadn’t found anything and that he wanted to speak in person. The detective, for once, had already gone home, so they agreed to meet the next day.

“Oh--Eraser, I have a surprise for you. Can we meet at that cafe you and your friends seem to like?”

Shouta hummed, the sound echoing just the slightest bit in the empty room. “You mean my nuisances. I’ll message you a time.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

They hung up, and Shouta took one last look around the building before sneaking out the same way he’d come in, still avoiding all cameras as he left.

He decided to end his patrol there for the night. There wasn’t much else happening at the moment. He could do a bit more reading for his foster license before going to bed.

It didn’t take too long for him to get back home. He locked his door behind him, tossing his keys on the table and draping his capture weapon over the post at the end of his bed. Changing out of his hero costume and into something a bit more comfortable, he went through his utility belt and made sure all his supplies were stocked and in order.

He really did mean to do some more reading, but when he pulled out his wallet his attention was caught on the image he still kept inside it. He’d spent so much time staring at his son, gently brushing his thumb along the gradually fraying edges. He gazed at the tiny flailing limbs and half-hazy eyes again, wanting nothing more than to know about this little life. He wondered what the kid looked like now. It was nearing the time that he’d received Inko’s letter in the first place. Perhaps that meant his birthday was coming up, too. Shouta added that to the mental list of things he wanted to ask the kid when he finally got to meet him.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up to sunlight streaming through his windows and a painful knot in his neck. He groaned, rubbing at the tenseness in his muscles and looking down at the picture still in his hands. Carefully, he slipped it back into his wallet before picking up his phone and sending a message to Tsukauchi. 

They met in the cafe only a few hours later. Sitting at one of the corner tables, coffees in hand, Tsukauchi slid something across the table to him.

“Don’t open that yet. You said you wanted to talk about something last night. Let’s do that before we get to the fun stuff.”

Shouta stared at him for a moment. “Then why’d you give this to me first?”

Tsukauchi shrugged. “Didn’t want to forget it. What did you want to talk about?”

He sighed, slouching further into his chair. “The case. I’ve been to nearly a quarter of our current locations and all of them have been empty. None of them have seemed to have had people in them within the last twenty-four or even forty-eight hours. That’s highly unusual. The times I have brought someone in were coincidence, and it hasn’t happened since after the third location.”

The detective hummed. “I hadn’t quite put that together, but now that you mention it, it’s a little unusual. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking a couple of things. One of them you aren’t going to like.”

“I can already tell I’m gonna need more coffee. Alright, shoot me.”

“There could be some sort of quirk at work. They also could be moving their base of operations. Or, if it’s neither of those, there could be a plant in the precinct.”

All the breath left the detective at once. “Yeah, you were right, I don’t like that. But there’s a chance you might be right. We try to keep on top of cop corruption, but it tends to happen anyway.”

They sat for a while, thinking about that. Shouta finished off his coffee and took a moment to get a refill for himself and for the detective. They talked briefly about dirty cops who tended to abuse their power, but then Tsukauchi seemed to shake himself out of the topic. He pointed to the manilla envelope which was still sitting in front of Shouta.

“You should open that now. And you can’t take it back.”

“What?” Shouta opened the envelope slowly, shooting a suspicious glance at Tsukauchi. “What’s in here?”

He glanced down, then had to do a double-take. It was filled with several stacks of yen and a stapled stack of papers. Pulling the papers out, he saw a list of apartments for sale. He flipped through it quickly. All of them had two or three rooms, with at least two bathrooms and a functioning kitchen. They were all in good neighborhoods with high-end security systems. He flipped through faster, noting that there were several school systems within easy commuting distance to each of them.

“I have a friend who’s got a little more money than he knows what to do with. He happened to overhear some of a conversation about you getting your emergency foster, and I might have mentioned that you were looking for a bigger apartment. He pressed me for more info, and when he learned that you were looking for your son…well, I couldn’t talk him out of it. But, Shouta,” the detective leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table and meeting Shouta’s gaze steadily. “You deserve this break. You’ve been running yourself into the ground to be able to have enough to provide. I know you’ve gotten a bit of a raise lately, but you shouldn’t have to wait even longer to get a better place. This is one step closer to taking your kid home once we find him.”

If it weren’t for his dry eye, Shouta would be crying at the generosity. What was in the envelope was enough to make a new down-payment and cover the first three or four months of rent.

“Tsukauchi…I…Are you sure?”

“Believe me, this didn’t make a dent for him. Take it, Shouta. Get yourself a bigger place. We’re not giving up on this.”

Chapter Text

With the promise that his social worker was coming on Friday, Izuku didn’t bother to pay much attention to what the Uchidas said to him. Now that he knew they didn’t like him, he could see the lack of care when they interacted with him. They never seriously listened to him when he spoke, never took the time to ask him how his day was. It still stung a little, but he had retreated a little into a shell where those feelings couldn’t hurt him as bad. 

He didn’t pay much attention at school, either. They were in their last few weeks of the school year, and they didn’t have big tests yet. Most days passed in a slow drag of crafts and worksheets. He still got picked on, and he had to sit out of recess for the rest of the week, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. (That wasn’t true. Kacchan had to ask him if he was alright at the end of the day. But if he pretended for long enough, then maybe it would become true.)

The rest of the week seemed to drag on for an eternity, but Friday finally arrived. Izuku packed all his things together as discreetly as he could, piling it all together at the foot of the bed he’d been using. There was another little boy who’d moved into the room just a couple days ago, and he looked at Izuku oddly but didn’t comment. 

He rushed out of the house that day, practically running the entire way to school. He didn’t want to stay there any longer than he needed to. But he hadn’t considered that he didn’t really want to be at school, either. And he definitely didn’t remember to grab food before he left. 

There was still a lot of time before classes began. Even if he slowed down, he’d still be there way before he needed to be. So he kept up his pace, deciding to find a small space where he could wait while still being largely out of the way of everyone. 

The space he found was right by one of the back doors. It was rarely used, so he plopped down against one wall and got his notebook out, trying to keep his mind distracted.

It didn’t help all that much. His stomach growled loudly in the empty hall. 

A few staff members came in the door. Most of the teachers ignored him. A couple of the janitors smiled at him. After a while, he stopped looking up at them.

His stomach growled again. And then he heard a voice.

“Is that you, Midoriya?”

He looked up to see the lunch lady, Mrs. Harada, standing in front of him. Her brows were drawn together in concern. He smiled sheepishly at her. “Good morning, Mrs. Harada.”

“Why are you here so early? Did you not get breakfast?”

He slowly shook his head, then rushed on when the concern on her face increased. “I was just wanting to get here early today and I forgot to grab something on my way out, but it’s okay! I’ll be okay until lunchtime today, and Miss Aika is supposed to come after school--” He slammed his hands over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to tell her that!

The older woman just hummed, then reached for something in her bag. She pulled out a wrapped package of peanut butter crackers and handed it to him.

“It’s not much, dear, but it should help you some,” she said.

“Oh--no, no, it’s okay! I really don’t want to take your food! I can just wait until--”

“Take it, dear,” she interrupted firmly. Her eyes were still gentle as she held the package out.

Izuku reached out slowly and took it from her. “Thank you,” he mumbled. She smiled at him.

“It’s the least I can do. I don’t like seeing you young kids hungry. Now, finish those off and head off to class. The first bell will be ringing here shortly.”

She left just as quickly as she had come. Izuku stared after her, frozen, until the door opened again and another teacher walked past him. The first bell rang only moments after they’d cleared the hallway. Spurred into action, he quickly tore open the crackers and scarfed them down, throwing the trash away as he rushed out of the hallway to find his classroom.

The rest of the day passed in what had become the new normal--taunts were thrown at him while the teacher watched, he was shoved around in the hallways, and he had to stay after school for a detention that he didn’t earn. Kacchan liked to wait for him after school--he said he used the time to finish homework--but Izuku didn’t see him when he left. He walked back to the Uchidas slowly, dreading going back but wanting to see Miss Aika. She had promised to be there today, after all.

When he got back, he set his bag down with all the rest of his things and immediately started cleaning the living room. Once it was clean, he went back to the room where he had been staying and double-checked that everything was there. He made sure to look under his bed, where the things he’d taken from his mother’s room were stored. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the scrapbook quite yet, but he pulled out her shawl and placed it carefully in his lap. He ran his fingers over the edges, fiddling with the one loose string that she used to say she was going to fix but never did. She was always so happy when he’d come home at the end of the day. When he walked in the door, he’d be greeted with the smell of cooking rice and her warm voice would call out to him from the kitchen. He didn’t always get a hug from her, but she’d place a snack in front of him every afternoon without fail. She’d try to make plans every few weeks to go somewhere new with him. A lot of the time, they’d just watch a movie together or take a walk through a different part of town. Once they even volunteered at an animal shelter for an afternoon.

He was beginning to forget what her hugs felt like. Her voice was fading from his memory. 

“Hey!” a voice said, jolting him out of his memories. He blinked rapidly, looking around in confusion at the room which was darker than it had been when he’d sat down. He sniffed, running a hand over his tired eyes to find sticky cheeks. Huh. He didn’t realize he’d been crying.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning the bathroom, Midoriya,” the person spoke again. He whipped around to see Mrs. Uchida standing in the doorway, a blank look on her face. “You’ve been in here for too long. Come finish your chores.”

Obediently, he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. He glanced at the time as he went. 4:50 . A seed of worry started to bloom in his stomach. Wasn’t Miss Aika supposed to be here today? She’d promised, but she still hadn’t come. She didn’t forget, did she?

He cleaned the bathroom as best as he could, but it took him longer than usual. He couldn’t stop worrying about where Miss Aika was, and the anxious feelings made his hands shake. He kept dropping the cleaning supplies. 

By the time the bathroom was clean and he’d begun helping with the laundry, he’d begun to believe that she just wasn’t coming. Maybe he wasn’t important enough for her to show up. Maybe he would be stuck with this family that didn’t care for him for even longer. Perhaps he should just unpack his things again and settle in as best as he could.

It was just when he’d decided to do this that the doorbell rang. He noticed the Uchidas exchange a glance before Mr. Uchida straightened his sleeves and went to answer the door.

“Ah, welcome, Ms. Hashimoto. You’re a bit later than we expected. Come on in,” Izuku heard the man saying. The disappointment fled like shadows from a light. She’d come--she’d actually come. Maybe his worrying was for nothing.

“Yes, thank you,” he heard Miss Aika reply. “I’m sorry I’m running so late; there was a situation which came up that required my attention.”

Izuku couldn’t help himself anymore. He ran into the entryway, ignoring how Mrs. Uchida called after him. “Miss Aika, you came! I was starting to worry!”

The social worker looked up at him, immediately dropping to her knees and looking him over. “Hello, sweetheart. Of course I came! I’m sorry for making you worry, though. Have you been doing alright?”

Izuku glanced at Mr. Uchida, noticing that the man was watching him closely. He nodded quickly. “Mhm. I’ve been okay.”

Miss Aika smiled at him, a soft, gentle thing which made him feel safer. “I’m glad, Midoriya. Would you mind showing me to your room here in just a minute? I’ve got a little bit of paperwork I have to pull out.” She wrinkled her nose at that, making him giggle slightly. He nodded again.

“Sure thing!” he said brightly.

She ruffled his hair gently, then stood back up. “So, Mr. Uchida. I have a couple things I’d like to go over with you. It’s all standard procedure, but it is required. We can go over that either before or after I’ve talked with Midoriya.”

“After would be just fine. We have a few things we’d like to discuss with you as well,” Mr. Uchida said.

Izuku led Miss Aika to the room where he had been staying with a little bit of urgency. As soon as they were inside and he made sure the other boy was gone, he turned back to her. She shut the door softly behind her.

“They don’t want me, Miss Aika. I don’t know why, but I know they don’t like me. But you haven’t found my dad yet, or you’d tell me, right? So, so what if he doesn’t want me anymore either? It’s already been so long, and--” He choked on a sob.

“Hey, there, sweetheart. Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” Miss Aika said gently. She reached out slowly for his hands, rubbing soothing circles on them as he cried and tried to calm his breathing. It took a little while, but he managed to slow the tears enough that he could listen to her.

“I know you don’t want to stay here. That’s okay, Midoriya. Do you want to know if your father still wants you? I did promise I could use my quirk again, if you’re okay with it.”

He nodded so rapidly that he got a little dizzy. “Please,” he begged.

She nodded, and then her fingertips glowed pink again. When they stopped, she smiled at him.

“He still wants you, sweetheart. He’s really worried about you, too. Hang in there, okay?”

Izuku sniffed, wiping his eyes and nodding. “Okay,” he breathed.

“Good. Now, I see your things are already packed. Do you want to start taking them out to the car while I talk with your foster parents?”

He nodded. He wanted to leave as soon as he could.

“Alright. I can help you carry some of the bigger things,” she offered.

Between the two of them, it only took one trip outside to get everything in the car outside. He turned to walk back inside, but she stopped him.

“Why don’t you wait in the car while I talk to them? I promise I won’t be too long,” she said.

He obligingly climbed into the backseat, buckling in and settling down to wait. Miss Aika smiled at him again, then walked back into the house. He stared at the front door while he waited, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.

Eventually she came back out, closing the door firmly behind her. He read irritation in the line of her shoulders, and she walked stiffly down the pathway to the sidewalk. He watched her take a deep breath, settling her anger and forcing herself to relax.

She climbed in the car quietly, setting down her clipboard. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked, shifting nervously.

Miss Aika sat back up, turning slightly to give him a small smile. “I’m alright, yes. I didn’t mean to worry you. The conversation I had with them was just…it wasn’t the nicest.”

Izuku nodded his understanding. They pulled away from the house, and Izuku watched as it quickly disappeared in the distance.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, there was a very good reason that Miss Aika was late. Apparently, Mrs. Harada had found her number and called with a concern that Izuku’s foster family wasn’t properly caring for him. She had been worried about him not coming to school with food. More than that, though, she’d called to finalize getting a foster license.

“It’s rare that someone requests a specific child to foster. We usually try to meet those requests if the child is okay with it. Mrs. Harada is new to fostering, but her file says that she’s raised a few kids of her own before. As long as you’re fine with it, I’d like to place you with her,” Miss Aika explained. They had gotten back to an office building, which was where Miss Aika worked. She had led him inside and given him a snack, then asked him to wait while she took care of some paperwork. Izuku was beginning to suspect that her job had a lot more paperwork than it should have.

He considered her offer for just a moment. Mrs. Harada was nice. She greeted him every day at lunch, and for the first while when his account had run dry she pretended not to notice. He didn’t mind the idea of staying with her for a while.

Miss Aika smiled when he told her this. “Alright, sweetheart. Let me give her a call and then we can go over there, okay?”

A short while later, they pulled up to a nice apartment building not far from the school. It was about five stories tall, and a tiny community garden was on the block beside it. There was also a nice little cafe just across the street.

He grabbed his bags from the trunk of Miss Aika’s car, and she helped him carry them up to the third floor. They stopped at a door halfway down the hall, and Miss Aika knocked, giving him a smile. He shifted nervously, but managed to muster up a small smile in return.

Mrs. Harada answered the door a few moments later. “Miss Hashimoto, I presume?” she greeted. “I’ve been expecting you. Come on in.”

She opened the door wider, and Izuku was ushered inside, his social worker following him.

There were guest slippers already laid out for him and Miss Aika. They slipped them on while Mrs. Harada bustled into the kitchen to make tea.

“Have you two had dinner yet?” the lunchlady asked as they came to join her. “I know it’s practically summer, but I made a pot of stew tonight. It’s still simmering on the stove if you’d like some.”

“I’ll have to pass on that offer, Mrs. Harada,” Miss Aika said. “I’m afraid I have some things to do as soon as I’ve finished up here.”

The older woman nodded. “I understand. Midoriya? Are you hungry?”

Izuku startled slightly, not expecting to be addressed so directly. Sheepishly, he nodded.

The two women shared a glance that Izuku couldn’t read. “Alright, then. Why don’t I give you a quick tour and show you where you can set your things? We can get you fed after that,” Mrs. Harada offered.

The tour was quick, and Izuku set his things down in an empty room that had just been cleaned. The sheets were fresh but plain, even though the walls were painted a dark blue.

“My son used to have this room when he lived here, but he moved out some years ago,” Mrs. Harada explained. “We can get you some things to liven up the space if you’d like.”

Miss Aika left after she finished touring, jotting down notes on a paper she kept on her clipboard. She smiled at the two of them and left them alone, but not without ensuring that Izuku was comfortable. 

He ate the stew that Mrs. Harada had given him, and the woman sat across the table and talked to him. She had more rules than the Uchidas, but they were all sensible and set up for his safety.

“I know that we only have one more week of school, but I went ahead and put some money in your account. If you prefer to make lunches, then I can get the ingredients for that. Once summer is here, we can look at doing some things you might like, okay? I tend to work at the cafe across the street until school starts back up, but I can take some time off if there's somewhere you’d like to go. If you go out on your own, I’d like you back before dark. There’s a park just down the street that’s a good place to go. If you like books, we can also go to the library. It’s just a short train ride from here. I’d also like to meet your friends, but you’re allowed to bring them over so long as you let me know before you do.” She paused, thinking for a moment, then continued. “I think that’s most of the big stuff. If you ever have any questions just let me know and we can talk through it, okay?”

Izuku nodded. He didn’t think he would mind staying here for a while. And she had said that he could still see his friends, so he’d have to tell Kacchan about her and see about spending time with him over the summer.

Mrs. Harada offered to help him set up his room. He ended up placing things similarly to how he’d had them at the first house (it wasn’t ever a home, not to him). He went to sleep feeling comfortable.

The last week of school flew by in no time at all. Izuku learned that Mrs. Harada had two sons, both of whom had moved out a few years ago, and her husband had died from a disease when they were still younger. He got to spend a lot of time in the park with Kacchan, and when they weren’t playing he went to the library and read. He had thought about what Kacchan had said about his quirk, and he knew that it really would be a good idea to know just what he could do with it. Emboldened by Mrs. Harada’s easy acceptance of him, he approached her one day and asked if she would help him train it. Apparently, she had a fairly minor memory quirk, and she agreed to help him figure it out. She even offered to take him to give it a name once he had a good idea for one.

The summer passed in a blur of playing with Kacchan, reading, and quirk practice. He figured out how to willingly turn it on and off, like a mental switch in his mind. Apparently when his quirk activated it turned his eyes red, which was something he didn’t realize. It worked if someone was within his sight. But sometimes, it worked even if he couldn’t see someone. He had a feeling he was missing something, but he hadn’t figured it out yet. 

Living with Mrs. Harada was nice, Izuku decided. She was a lot nicer than the Uchidas had been and actually seemed to care about how he was doing. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, kept awake by the aching grief of fading memories, she would sigh softly and walk into the kitchen, returning with some hot cocoa or a cup of tea. She never forced him to talk about it, but sometimes he found himself wanting to tell her stories anyway. She seemed to use food as a source of comfort. It was overwhelming sometimes, but at least he didn’t have to worry about being hungry.

School eventually had to start back up again, and with that came a number of detentions and more bullying from his classmates. Mrs. Harada always looked at his detention slips with a pinched expression, but she never commented on them. She just signed off on them and ruffled his hair, sometimes shoving a muffin into his hands. She never seemed angry about them, but Izuku found he was too scared to ask her.

Things were definitely different, he decided. But even so, he had no idea how he was going to explain this.

He limped slowly through the front door, trying to hold back tears at the stinging pain in his knees and arms. Kacchan had had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon, and apparently that meant that the “attack dog” wasn’t there to defend the “villain.” He’d just wanted to go to the library to return a book after school, but he’d been cornered by three upperclassmen who’d shoved him harshly down on the rough pavement. They’d mocked him and jeered at him, and then one of them had lashed out with a quirk-made blade before he could cancel it. He’d wound up with scraped knees and a gash on his arm, and he had no idea how Mrs. Harada was going to react.

“Midoriya? You were supposed to be home thirty minutes ago. Did something ha--” Mrs. Harada called out, rounding the corner into the entryway and stopping short. Izuku glanced up at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

There was a soft sigh, and Izuku fought back a flinch. Mrs. Harada kneeled down in front of him, gently grabbing his arm and inspecting it. “You don’t have to apologize, Midoriya. Take your shoes off and then head into the kitchen. I’ll go grab the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Izuku slipped his shoes off carefully with his uninjured hand, limping on sore knees into the kitchen just as Mrs. Harada set down a box on the table. She gestured for him to come closer, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. He sat down gingerly, still wary of being yelled at.

But the scolding never came. Mrs. Harada took out a disinfectant and gently began cleaning off his arm and knees, rifling through the kit until she found gauze and bandages. She didn’t speak as she worked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Izuku fought the urge to fidget under her scrutinizing gaze.

It was after his wounds had been cared for and the supplies packed away that Mrs. Harada finally spoke again. “Did they jump you after school?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I know you’re not one to start a fight.”

“But you’re upset,” he sniffed.

“I am,” she admitted. “But I’m not upset with you. I’m upset at the school for not doing anything to stop the bullying, and with society for not seeing your worth beyond what your quirk can do. This world hasn’t been kind to you, and I’m sad because there’s not much I can do to help and angry because you haven’t deserved any of it.”

The tears he’d been holding back spilled over his control and ran down his cheeks. Mrs. Harada reached out slowly to place a gentle hand in his hair, and he couldn’t bite back the sob. She pulled him closer, wrapping warm arms around him, and whispering softly. “It’s okay to cry. Just let it all out. It’s okay. I’ll be right here.”

He listened, crying for all the pain and sadness and anger. Mrs. Harada held him through all of it, staying even when his cheeks were red and hot and his breath was hard to catch. She stayed until his eyes began to droop and he fell asleep feeling safe for the first time in a long while.

Chapter Text

Shouta wasted no time going through the listings of apartments which had been left by Tsukauchi’s mysterious friend. He took a week off work, making appointments to visit as many of the apartments on the listing as he could within that time frame. By the end of the week, he’d managed to narrow down the stack to just five locations. He noted all of them down, making a reminder to look into the specific schools in those areas.

He knew that his friends all wanted him to stay away from work until he had picked a place, but with the weight of the current case he was tracking down and the questionable reliability of the precinct, he didn’t want to let it rest for too long. That thought led to him coming back to work the next Monday, walking straight back to Tsukauchi’s office and receiving a glare from the detective.

“Why are you back already? I haven’t heard that you’ve chosen an apartment yet,” he said.

Shouta sat down on the other side of the detective’s desk. “I narrowed down the list. Didn’t want this case collecting dust,” he explained.

“Well, I hope you at least started packing,” Tsukauchi said almost petulantly.

“Relax.” He couldn’t resist an eye roll. “Yes, I’m packed. I just have to choose between five listings. Can we get onto this case now?”

“Fine, fine,” Tsukauchi relented. “We can look at the case, you workaholic.”

“Great. I have a few ideas.”

“Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The two bickered as Shouta rearranged his patrol schedule. Sansa stopped by at one point, dropping off some files and a cup of coffee, and then taking a seat and watching as plans were made and halfhearted insults were thrown across the table. Eventually, the work got done and the coffee mugs wound up empty. Shouta wasted no time giving his new patrol route one last look before walking out of the precinct and swinging up onto the rooftops. 

The majority of his patrol passed uneventfully. He stopped a few minor crimes and pointed one hungry teenager in the direction of a food pantry. Deciding to take a quick break before heading back to the police station, he stopped at a random roof with a decent view. He pulled out one of his jelly pouches from their pocket in his jumpsuit, settling down on the ledge and sipping at it. The night breeze was cool as it blew through his hair. For a while, he sat and just enjoyed the feeling, looking up at the few stars that could be seen through the city lights. Then he took the time to look down at his surroundings. He was near one of the first locations they’d checked off the list for the major case. The building was actually visible from where he was perched on the roof’s edge. 

Maybe he could swing by and check on it again. Just to see if it was still empty. It wouldn’t hurt.

The building wasn’t empty.

Glass shattered as he dodged another sphere thrown by one of the villain’s quirks. He rolled, popping back up with his quirk activated and sending out several loops of his capture weapon to trip and ensnare. It wrapped around a villain’s arm, and he tugged hard, sending the man crashing into his waiting fist. He ducked under a blow coming from behind, lashing out with a powerful kick in the same motion and clocking the villain in the temple. More glass shattered as something else was thrown, this time not because of a quirk. Shouta ran straight for the last three villains, capture scarf writhing and eyes flashing red.

“There weren’t supposed to be any heroes here!” one of them shouted to the others. “Providence told us it was fine!”

“Well, clearly they--agk!” The man crumpled to the ground in a heap, winded by a knee and then knocked out by the elbow strike which followed. Shouta jumped eagerly on the breadcrumbs of information that had just been dropped even as his expression remained neutral under his goggles.

“You were just unlucky. I happened to be close so I dropped by. Now, are you going to turn yourselves in or do I have to treat you like the rest of your buddies here?”

The last two standing exchanged a glance, then simultaneously ran for the door.

Thirty seconds later, Shouta was slapping cuffs on them and dialing Tsukauchi.

The phone rang twice before the detective picked up. “Hey, Eraser. Whaddya got?”

Straight to the point. Shouta knew there was a reason he got along so well with this specific detective. “I swung by one of the warehouses we had our eyes on a while ago. It wasn’t empty. I’ve got some pickups for you.”

“Great; I’m already out of the precinct. I’ll tell them to send a few more cars after me. Where are you?”

Shouta relayed the location, waiting long enough for Tsukauchi to radio the precinct. Once the man was done, he continued. “I also have some potential info for you. I can tell you when you get here. Or, better yet, once we’re not here anymore. I haven’t cased the building for any surveillance equipment yet.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there in eight.”

“Good,” Shouta hummed, then ended the call.

The process of gathering the criminals was quick and efficient, Tsukauchi waving Shouta into his car to take the statement there away from potential listening devices. 

“They’re working either with or for something or someone named Providence. One of the last three mentioned it. Sounded like a title or something. I didn’t get the chance to get more out of them, but you might be able to,” Shouta explained.

Tsukauchi hummed. “I’ll definitely look into it. I haven’t heard of anything called Providence before. You sure it was meant to be some sort of title? Not like a cast-the-die kind of thing or like karma?”

“It didn’t sound like that to me. Again, I didn’t get much from them. You’ll probably have more luck.”

They were silent for a few moments, both thinking. This case was much bigger than Shouta had thought it would be when Tsukauchi originally called him back to take it. Every step forward felt like a random chance or a stroke of luck rather than the result of hours of research and planning. It was admittedly becoming something which frustrated Shouta.

“Oh, by the way, I had our personal phones scanned for bugs,” Tsukauchi said suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his coat and handing a phone to Shouta. “They were both cleared.”

Shouta took the proffered phone, turning it on and seeing the lock screen of one of his favorite alley cats. He’d passed it to Tsukauchi while they had been shuffling papers earlier, instead just using his work phone. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Yeah. I can take your work phone and get it cleared too. Probably not this week, though. If we do have a leak in the precinct, I don’t want them getting suspicious or catching on when I bring four phones to clear in two days.”

“That’s fine,” Shouta said, then paused. “Four phones?”

“I had them check Sansa’s phone while they were at it. I’ve been working with him for years. Cleared him right after you left. I figured we might be able to use another ally on this case.”

“Mm. Good. Sansa’s fine.”

“You just like him because he has a cat head.”

“He’s competent. He gets the job done.”

“And he looks like a cat.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Well, I’ve picked up a few things from spending so much time around you, grumpy guts.”

“Grumpy--you know what, I’m not even going to touch that. My patrol’s finished for the night. If you need me, call me on my personal cell for now.”

With that, Shouta ducked out of the car, ignoring Tsukauchi’s alarmed shout. He snapped his scarf out, grabbing hold of a lamppost and using it to propel himself in the direction of home.

His phone pinged with a message when he got inside. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed when he read it.

Tsukauchi

I’m going to put child locks on my doors, I swear. You nearly gave me a heart attack swinging out of my car like that

Shouta

Consider it payback for that last comment.

Tsukauchi

You are insufferable, Aizawa.

Chapter Text

Shouta hadn’t been expecting to find anything in the system about a person named Providence, so he was disappointed but not surprised when their search results came up empty. His other guess, that Providence could be a group or organization, would have to be investigated by snooping around the underground. The criminals he’d caught had clammed up at any mention of the topic, refusing to budge an inch, so that route was also a dead end. He’d asked Midnight to keep an ear open for any potential information, but she was a twilight hero so it was unlikely that she’d find much. That meant that unless they wanted to hire an informant, Shouta was going to have to do all the snooping himself during his normal patrol hours. 

That meant spending a few evenings wandering around the shadier parts of town, using his disheveled appearance to his advantage as he played at being one of the homeless population who lived in the shadows of the city. His information-gathering patrols were earlier than his usual ones. That gave him the mornings to work on his foster applications and choose a new apartment. He’d finally narrowed them down and picked one. The schools in the area were good, with accommodations both for disabilities and mental health. It was close to where he liked to patrol, too, though it was also closer to UA than he had been anticipating. He did his best to ignore that thought.

He’d put in an offer for it just the night before, and as he began his patrol for the evening, he felt it buzz in that specific pattern he had set up for a phone call. For a brief moment, he considered ignoring it. He had a patrol to get through. There were extra jelly pouches tucked in his belt that he wanted to pass out. But he remembered the very small list of people who might call, and sighed, pulling out his phone and looking at the number.

It wasn’t one saved to his phone, but he’d become good at memorizing brief snippets of information. It was the apartment complex he’d put an offer down for. So not a phone call he could afford to miss, unfortunately.

He sighed, stepping into a side alley and answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi! Is this a Mr. Aizawa?”

“It is. Is this about my offer on the open apartment?”

The voice at the other end stuttered briefly in surprise but recovered quickly. “It is. I am Tazu Chase, the owner of the apartment complex. I reviewed your application today and I’m calling to set up a confirmation meeting, if you’re still wanting the apartment.”

He appreciated her bluntness, but it took him a moment to process what she was saying. “So I got the apartment?”

“If you want it, yes. It’s yours. I just need to know when you’re available for an in-person confirmation so I can give you the keys and set up some final payment arrangements.”

Shouta’s heart skipped a beat in excitement. “I’d be free as early as tomorrow morning. Any morning this week would work, but not the late afternoons. I work night shifts.”

“Oh, alright! How does tomorrow at 10:00 sound then?”

“Fine. I’ll meet you at the apartment then.”

“Great! Have a good night, Mr. Aizawa. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Shouta hung up, stowing his phone. He fought the urge to smile, then realized that nobody was paying attention to him and allowed a wide, unsettling grin to creep across his face. Getting the apartment made up for the lack of information they’d received on this case. (He was aware that the two were completely unrelated, but at this point he was willing to run with any piece of good news he could get.) He had to take a minute to school his features back into neutrality, fixing his posture so that it held his normal hunched exhaustion. He took a few steps and immediately had to remember to drag his feet more than he wanted to. His expression might not give him away, but his lighter-than-normal steps definitely would if he weren’t careful.

Once he was certain that he wouldn’t blow his own cover, he stepped out of the alley and began to walk around the area, keeping his ears open for any stray conversations.

These types of patrols were always the most boring ones. A lot of the things he heard were inconsequential--plans for future hangouts, workplace gossip, flirting, and personal woes were all unrelated to what he was looking for. Occasionally he’d catch wind of someone looking for hope in the bottom of a glass or worrying about where they were going to find their next meal. He’d point those who were just down on their luck toward support groups or food pantries--places where they wouldn’t ask too many questions. Even more rarely, he’d stumble across some young teen trying to break into some store or a back alley drug deal. Those were actionable. For those ones, it was the work of a moment to step in and stop what was happening. A lot of those people were just desperate, feeling like turning to crime was their only option. It didn’t take much to discourage them. 

It was the last category of information that was simultaneously the most frustrating and a gold mine. These were the tidbits about larger organizations at work, the operation plans that were going to be taking place. Those were the snippets of talk that Shouta really paid attention to, absorbing as many details as possible without alerting the speakers to his presence. But they were also the most frustrating because it was when he had to let known criminals walk away. Of course, it was just so that they could plan raids or interrupt the plans that he’d overheard, and often they were caught then, but it still chafed at a part of him knowing that these people who were involved in some seriously dark things were still walking around until then. 

There were a few people within the homeless population who had figured out who he was. Some of them were willing to give him information if he asked for it, but he tried not to do that unless he had some food to give them in return. 

It was painfully easy to overlook someone who seemed hungry and hopeless. Shouta took full advantage of that fact.

He was just on his way to speak with a small group of displaced veterans when he heard a shout. He spun around just in time to see a child dash around the corner, sprinting desperately away from someone behind them. A terrified sob came out of the child, his eyes wide and darting around desperately. He tried to duck for cover, but whoever was chasing him rounded the corner before he could. The boy looked up, and his fearful gaze locked with Shouta’s.

Shouta didn’t even have to think to step between them and the kid.

The three men slowed when he stepped in, eyeing his loose, lazy stance scornfully. His posture was purposeful, hiding how he was ready to spring into action if the need arose. Behind him, the kid sucked in a stuttered breath.

He didn’t speak yet, instead standing solidly in the center of the alley. The men wouldn’t be able to get around him comfortably to get to the kid, which gave them pause. It was enough time for him to observe them. Two of them were solidly built, clearly used to throwing punches. The third stood slightly behind them, more out of breath than the others. Overall, he should be able to take them down should things get violent. 

He turned his head, keeping the three within his sightline but addressing the kid. “You alright?” he asked gruffly.

He heard the kid shuffle, then a quiet. “Mm, yeah. Are you--I mean, I don’t want to go with them.”

“Do you know them?”

“No. I was going to the house and they tried to grab me.”

“Mm. Alright. Thanks, kid. Don’t go anywhere.” Shouta turned back to the three in front of him, who seemed both stunned and angry that he’d dared to ignore them for five seconds. “I’m going to give you a chance to turn yourselves in, then. I have better things to do than to pick a fight.”

“Get out of here, hobo. This don’t involve you,” one of the men sneered.

“That’s cute. Pro Hero Eraserhead. I’m arresting you for attempted kidnapping. Now, will you come quietly or do we have to do this the hard way?”

The one in front began to lunge, but Shouta’s loose, careless façade dropped in an instant as he leapt into action, eyes flaring red. His capture weapon whipped out past the first man, grabbing the second in its folds and tugging him forward suddenly. He ducked an incoming blow, sweeping his leg out and dropping the first man harshly to the ground. He knocked the man out with a quick kick to the temple.

The second man had recovered at this point, tugging back at the end of the capture weapon around him harshly. Shouta took a brief moment to appreciate the actual intelligence behind the idea before using the momentum of the sudden pull to catapult himself closer. He struck out at the man’s jawline, landing a solid hit which left the man dazed. A second punch made him drop unconscious.

Shouta turned to the third man. The man pulled out a knife, eyes narrowed as sweat began to form on his brow. Shouta grinned his widest, most sadistic smile.

He wasn’t exactly the nicest with people who hurt children.

Even with the knife, the fight didn’t last very long. Within a minute, he had all three of them out and tied up, handcuffs on all three of them a little tighter than they needed to be. Once they were secure and the police were called in, he turned back to the kid.

He was a young boy, about seven or eight. His lavender eyes stared up under a messy mop of gravity-defying hair of the same color. His clothes were old, slightly too big for him. He was also very skinny, even more than Shouta was at his age.

Shouta dropped down to one knee so that he could look at the kid without looming over him. He scanned for injuries, but other than a few bruises the kid seemed fine. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Hitoshi.”

“Got a last name too?”

“Are you really--I mean, you said you were a hero.”

This was the second time the kid had stopped himself from asking a question, Shouta noted. He didn’t comment on it though, instead nodding his head and reaching for his hero license. “I am. I’m underground, though. It means that I work mostly at night and try to stay out of the spotlight. It keeps my identity safer. It also keeps me away from the media. I work better when nobody knows who I am.”

Hitoshi nodded, listening eagerly to his words. He lit up when he saw the license, taking it gently to look at a little closer. He handed it back after a few seconds.

“Shinsou. Hitoshi Shinsou.”

“Alright, Shinsou. I’ve called the police to come and pick these guys up. They’re gonna have a few questions for you just so we can figure out what was going on. I’ll stay with you while they ask you, if you’d like,” he added hurriedly at the light of panic which had begun to bloom in those young eyes. “I just don’t want to leave you out here on your own.”

“O-okay, Mr. Eraserhead.”

“Just Eraserhead is fine, kid.”

“Mkay. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Chapter Text

Izuku found himself slowly settling into the new apartment, getting used to the way Mrs. Harada would bustle around the house cleaning and cooking. He never had to worry about going to school without food, and sometimes he even had enough to share with Kacchan when he couldn’t eat it all. 

School was still another matter entirely. After that day when Kacchan had been gone, it seemed like the entire school was out to get him whenever the blonde wasn’t around. Izuku always had to come in early with Mrs. Harada since she worked in the cafeteria, and he’d quickly found a few good hiding spots for the mornings before classes began. Luckily, his classmates hadn’t seemed to catch onto the fact that he was always there before they were.

He didn’t have that same luxury at lunch.

He’d spend most of his lunchtime with his friend, and he tended to keep the bullies away. But he couldn’t be with Kacchan for the entirety of the day, and now was one of those times.

They’d finished their lunches in relative peace, like always, and then Kacchan had shoved him in the direction of the playground. They had a space in the back where they tended to play before classes began again.

“I’ll meet you out there, nerd,” he said. “Gotta make a stop first.”

Izuku nodded wordlessly, watching his friend for a few seconds as he began walking away towards the bathrooms, then continued towards their normal spot.

He was just beyond the doors when one of his main bullies stepped in front of his path. He paused, steps faltering as another one stepped out next to the first. Both of them were staring at him intently. 

Going back and waiting for Kacchan inside was starting to sound like a better idea than continuing forward. He turned around to do just that, but another few bullies were already there, blocking his way back into the school. His eyes darted back to the front, then to the side, looking for an escape route, but another kid had stepped out beside him, cutting off any hopes that he’d be able to run away. He was cornered. A pit began to form in his stomach.

“Well, the villain’s finally arrived. We were gonna show Bakugou how badly he needs to ditch you, but it looks like he’s figured that out himself,” the biggest bully said, drawing his attention back to where he’d been walking. “He’s left you all alone, and now we get to put you in your place! Maybe if he comes back he’ll join us!”

The pit widened into a gaping chasm, and the breath stuttered in his throat.

The group’s ringleader grinned viciously at him. He had a strength-based quirk, and as he stepped forward he raised a hand threateningly. Izuku tensed, looking around at all the others, tensing further when he saw that they were following his example. He hardly had time to think that he needed to defend himself before his quirk activated, eyes glowing red and hair lifting off the back of his neck.

The bullies moved closer. Izuku lifted his arms defensively. Their ringleader drew back his fist. And an explosion rang out somewhere behind them.

“Get away from Deku, you bastards!”

Explosions pop-popped in Kacchan’s hands as he jumped between two of the bullies and lunged forwards to the ringleader. He faltered as his quirk cut out as soon as he came closer to Izuku, but he adjusted incredibly quickly. The hand he had raised to blast the bully curled into a fist at the last moment and cracked across the bully’s cheek.

“OW! Bakugou, what are you doing?”

“Why are you defending Deku? He’s going to become a villain one day! We have to stop him!”

“Shut up!” Kacchan roared. “You’re more like villains than he is. And you say you want to be heroes? Tch! Heroes don’t just beat up villains. They save people too, and Deku and I are gonna save more people than all of you together will!”

Izuku heard Kacchan’s words, but he was too distracted to really register what he was saying. Kacchan hadn’t stopped his quirk. He’d been surprised, actually, when it had stopped, and Izuku knew that he wasn’t looking at him when the explosions had died. Which meant that he didn’t have to be looking at someone to cancel out their quirk. Except that didn’t sound entirely right? They’d only stopped when Kacchan had gotten close enough, so maybe…

He activated his quirk again, staring at the ground rather than looking at anyone in particular. He focused on the way it felt, trying to see if there was a connection or some sort of sense that he couldn’t necessarily see. And--there! He could sense, very faintly, that there was something affecting the area immediately around him. He turned his quirk off, and the sensation disappeared.

Huh.

“Hey, nerd! You gonna stand there all day?” Kacchan shouted, and Izuku jumped. He looked up to see that the bullies had all backed off, and Kacchan was several steps ahead of him. He squeaked.

“Coming, Kacchan!”

He caught up quickly, walking beside his best friend the rest of the way to their corner of the playground. “Thank you, Kacchan,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I could get out of that alone.”

“Yeah, whatever. Forget about it. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours. Just don’t stop my quirk next time. I almost missed that big guy.”

That stopped him short. Right! He had to share what he’d found out!

“Kacchan, I learned something new about my quirk,” he said.

The blonde stopped short, spinning to look at him expectantly. “Well? You gonna tell me what it is?”

“Yeah. I think there’s an area effect for it. I wasn’t looking at you when your quirk stopped, but it didn’t stop until you got close to me. So I think there’s a range to it.”

“Huh. That’ll suck for your allies. Can you do one or the other?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you cancel the quirks of people in your sight or choose to leave them alone and just cancel the quirks really close to you?”

“I don’t know, Kacchan. I only just found out I could do the close ones without seeing them a minute ago!”

“Mm. Fine. Just don’t go using it on me in combat. You’ll take out my big attacks.”

It wasn’t worded incredibly clearly, but Izuku still caught onto something hidden underneath the blonde’s words. It was his turn to stop short, and he almost tripped over his own feet as his mind stalled. “Kacchan. Being a hero isn’t all about your quirk.”

“Huh?”

“You need to work on more than just what your quirk can do. What if you go up against a villain who can stop it like I can, or against someone who could make it worse? Are you just going to stop and let them win?”

His friend visibly bristled. “Of course not! I never quit! What are you saying, stupid Deku?”

“I’m saying that you need to pay attention to who you are without your quirk. You won’t always be able to rely on it.”

The blonde shouted incoherently, then stormed off. Izuku let him go, knowing that he needed time and space to think. They hadn’t argued hardly at all since his mom had died, but he knew that when Kacchan was angry he needed time to calm down. He’d listen to what Izuku had said, though. He always listened.

Kacchan didn’t walk home with him that day, but it was fine. The bullies left him alone, probably spooked by Kacchan’s attack that afternoon. He unlocked the apartment door, closing the door behind him and sliding his shoes off. He could hear Mrs. Harada’s voice from the kitchen, and he frowned. Usually she would have still been at the school or the cafe across the street. He crept forward softly, fear beginning to creep up his spine. He didn’t think she’d grown tired of him, but the memory of the Uchidas stopped him from being able to say that he was safe with absolute certainty.

“--appreciate it. Mhm. Yes. Yes, thank you. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be in tomorrow afternoon. Yes, you too. Bye.”

His guardian ended her phone call, looking at him with a small smile. “Welcome back, Midoriya. Did you have a good day at school?”

“Mhm. I think I learned something new about my quirk. Do you think I could test it later?”

“Oh, did you? I’d love to help you test it, but do you think you could wait a few days for that? I’ve got a couple things that I’d like to keep strong in my memory right now,” Mrs. Harada asked.

Izuku tried not to let her see how nervous he had suddenly gotten, but he wasn’t sure if he had succeeded. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh--oh, nothing’s wrong that you should worry about right now, dear. It’s just--” She sighed, and it looked like she was debating something before she decided to answer. “My mother was just admitted to the hospital. I’m going to go visit her tomorrow.”

Izuku nodded, some of the anxiety draining away. “Were you going to make something for her?”

“I was! I was going to make some cookies. Why don’t you help me? Knowing how to cook is something everyone should learn. Here, I’ll teach you.”

“Okay, Mrs. Harada.” He put his backpack down and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, coming back out and washing his hands. His foster parent walked him through what she was doing, letting him help with mixing the flour and cracking eggs. She guided his hands as he scooped dough onto a cookie sheet, then watched him do a second sheet on his own. They placed the cookies in the oven, and she handed him the spatula with a smile, letting him lick the cookie dough off of the end.

“Mrs Harada?” he ventured while they waited for the cookies to bake.

“Yes, what is it, dear?” she asked, giving him her attention as she worked on washing some of the dishes.

“I think I came up with a name for my quirk. Do you--well. Mama left some of the forms blank so that I could name it when I understood it better. I wanted…” His voice failed him, a mix of anxiety and grief clogging his throat.

Thankfully, she seemed to understand. “We can schedule a time to finish that paperwork if you’re ready for it. What were you thinking of naming your quirk?”

“Nullify,” he said.

“Oh, that sounds perfect. I’m sure your mother would love it.”

Izuku smiled at her through his tears, thankful for the encouragement. He shyly approached her as she dried her hands and gave her a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Of course, Midoriya. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

Chapter Text

True to her word, Mrs. Harada took Izuku to register his quirk a few weeks later. The whole process was surprisingly fast, taking less than half an hour. Izuku briefly wondered if they just didn’t care very much before remembering the sheer number of people who had to register their quirks. There probably wasn’t time for extensive questioning or testing, so registering his quirk was as simple as filling out a few forms and submitting them while a certified quirk counselor watched. He didn’t even have to show anyone how his quirk worked.

Life continued on in a new normal for the most part. However, Izuku would have to be blind to miss the stress that was growing on Mrs. Harada’s shoulders. His quirk required his vision, though, and he was learning through a combination of bullying and curiosity how to notice things that most people missed. That meant that it wasn’t hard to watch how her shoulders rose gradually higher, then slumped all at once when she thought he wasn’t looking. She was doing her best to still take care of him. She even took the time several nights a week to teach him how to cook. He knew that she would probably tell him that he wasn’t a burden to her, but he stopped coming to her with some of his smaller problems all the same. She had enough going on, he reasoned. It was nothing he couldn’t handle on his own. 

She never made him go to the hospital with her when she went to visit her mother. She’d asked him once, but the very thought of going back there made him spiral, and she never asked again, although she never told him he couldn’t come. Izuku spent those afternoons with the Bakugou family, finishing homework with Kacchan (who had come back after their little argument to jab a finger into his chest and say “I’m gonna be the best hero at fighting without my quirk, Deku. Just you watch me!” with such fierce determination that he couldn’t help but grin back at his friend and agree), and then they’d get Masaru to teach them how to cook or go to Mitsuki to design their hero costumes or just sit and play a video game for a while. 

The rest of the school semester passed in a bit of a blur. Eventually, Mrs. Harada’s mom was released from the hospital, but she was taken to a special care facility afterward. That invisible weight on her shoulders only seemed to grow over time. 

Miss Aika came for a couple visits during the school year, too. She always smiled at him when she came, looking around the apartment carefully and asking questions to make sure he was comfortable and being cared for. By the third time she came, he found himself smiling back easily. 

She always used her quirk on him whenever he asked her to, and her answer never changed. His dad still wanted him. Izuku couldn’t help but be amazed every single time Miss Aika reported that. It had been months, but if anything she said that the feelings she got with her quirk were only growing in intensity. He still had no idea who his dad was, and she didn’t either, but she ruffled his hair and said that his dad must be a tenacious person.

(He had to look up what that word meant later; he rather thought that he might be tenacious too. It was just a little thing, a small connection, but he grasped onto it with both hands.)

One day, there was a villain attack near the school that closed a few roads down. The school shut down early and sent all the students home, and Izuku walked in the door to the apartment earlier than normal.

He wasn’t expecting to see Mrs. Harada sobbing over a stack of papers at the kitchen table.

The door slipped from his grip, closing loud enough that it made both of them jump. She whirled around to look at him, hurriedly wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Oh, Izuku. I wasn’t expecting you to come home so early.”

“They closed school because of a villain attack nearby,” he said, taking a few cautious steps forward. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a sad smile. He instantly felt on-edge.

“I’m afraid not, honey. I--”

She wiped her eyes again, taking a deep breath that shuddered with barely-contained emotion. “My mother’s condition is…not very good. It costs a lot of money to make sure she has what she needs. I’m not going to have enough to give you what you need anymore.”

A chill went down his spine. She was saying…

“You deserve the world, Izuku. I love having you around, but I can’t provide for you and take care of my mother at the same time. I have to--I have to give you back--”

He had to go to another family. She couldn’t keep him anymore. 

He wasn’t expecting that to hurt so much.

Sobs and whispers of “I’m sorry” followed him into the room where he was staying, which was no longer his, which he would have to leave soon.

He hadn’t realized how comfortable he had become here.

Izuku must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke up to a timid knock on his door. He blinked sleepily, vaguely surprised at how dark it had gotten. His lips tasted like salt when he wet them after yawning.

The knock at the door sounded again, so soft and gentle that he felt his heart ache all over again. Mrs. Harada’s voice came through the door. “Izu--Midoriya? I have some food for you. I understand if you don’t want to see me right now, though. I’d like it if you eat at least a little bit, so I know that I normally say not to eat in your room, but I’ll let you this time if you want to. I’ll--I’ll be in the dining room, if you do want to talk or just don’t want to be alone.” There was another quiet sniffle, then the sound of shuffling as something got placed on the ground beside the door. 

Izuku contemplated for a long time in the darkness of the room. He didn’t really feel hungry, but Mrs. Harada had asked, and he knew that she felt better when she could feed someone else. The sharp, bitter sting of betrayal pulsed achingly in his heart at the knowledge that he wouldn’t be here much longer. It felt like she had just given up on him, even though he could hear her sorrow clearly even through the closed door. (Was he actually hearing it or was it just his imagination?)

It wasn’t her fault. He knew that. But he couldn’t help the way he felt.

Eventually, slowly, he cracked open the door and looked down at the food she’d left for him. The sight brought a lump to his throat. Katsudon .

He really, really didn’t want to be alone right now.

He picked up the tray gingerly and brought it with him to the dining room. She looked up at his entry, giving him a wan smile and wiping tears off her cheeks. He couldn’t bring himself to actually meet her eyes. 

Sitting down at the far end of the table from where she was, Izuku picked up his chopsticks and ate his food wordlessly.

Chapter Text

Shouta stood somewhat awkwardly with Shinsou while they waited for the police to arrive. Neither of them seemed particularly inclined to talk, so they didn’t. Shouta double-checked the bonds of the would-be kidnappers and moved them out of the alleyway into the main street, where they’d be easier to pick up. Soon enough, sirens could be made out in the distance, and the flashing lights of the police cars rounded the corner and stopped in front of them.

Shinsou seemed nervous any time Shouta moved too far away from him, and those nerves only seemed to worsen when the police officers appeared. The kid also flinched away minutely from them if they moved unexpectedly. Shouta took note of both of these things and made sure to stay just a little closer to the kid than he needed to. 

The officers loaded the criminals into the cars without issue. Shouta felt himself relax minutely when Sansa approached him and the purple kid beside him carefully.

“Hey, Eraser,” Sansa greeted. “Who’s the kiddo?”

“Sansa. This is Shinsou. Those men were chasing him. Mind giving us a ride to the station? We can give our report there,” Shouta replied.

“Not a problem. I can ask Tsukauchi if he has any snacks available too,” the cat-headed officer offered, smiling gently at Shinsou. The boy didn’t smile back, but his posture became just the slightest bit more relaxed.

They made it to the station without much issue. Shouta kept a close eye on Shinsou, noting his general nervousness increasing as they walked in, but there was no actual fear in the way the young boy looked around. He hummed briefly to himself, belatedly thinking that he should have asked more questions before the police came. Like “ what are you doing out this late?” or “where are your parents?” or “are you safe at home?”  

Or, perhaps, “ why were those guys chasing you? ”

Oh, well. Too late now. He’d have to make sure that those questions got answered during the kid’s statement.

Sansa led them into one of their more comfortable rooms in the station, shutting the door softly behind them. “I would’ve let Tsukauchi take this, but he’s actually taking a day off for once,” he explained, and Shouta raised his eyebrows at that.

“He actually took off? It wasn’t his choice, was it?”

“Nope. We told him we’d forcefully shove him back out the doors if he tried to come in today. I think he wanted to try it anyway,” Sansa said tiredly.

Shinsou let out a little snort of amusement, then jumped slightly like he was surprised he’d made a noise. He looked up at them uncertainly, and Shouta made a conscious effort to not hide the little twitch of his lips into the capture weapon. There was something about that reaction that was mildly concerning, but he pushed it out of his mind when Shinsou relaxed right away.

“Alright, so I’m just going to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight,” Sansa began. “This little device here will record what you say. This is an unofficial interview, so you don’t have to worry about being super formal with us or anything. If you need to stop at any time, just let us know and we can take a break, okay?” The officer waited for the boy to nod, then continued. “I’ll just be asking about what happened tonight. I’d like it if you can answer as best as you can, but if you can’t remember something that’s okay. Now, is there someone you want us to call before we start?”

Shinsou shook his head, then hesitantly opened his mouth. “Eraserhead doesn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to,” he said slowly.

“Are you asking him to stay?” Sansa asked. Shinsou nodded wordlessly, and both of them turned to look up at him.

Suppressing a sigh, Shouta came and sat down next to the boy. “I can stay, then. It’s not a problem.”

“Alright, then let’s get this knocked out,” the officer said. He reached over and turned on the recorder. “This is Officer Sansa Tamakawa, interviewing Hitoshi Shinsou on September 22, 2XXX. It is 11:17 pm, and we are accompanied by Pro Hero Eraserhead. Now, Shinsou, can you tell me…”

The interview went on relatively uneventfully. The kid was late getting home because he got stuck in a closet--which Shouta wanted to investigate further, and he’d definitely be bringing that up again later--and he’d noticed that he was being followed. When he tried to lose the men, they gave chase. He hadn’t seen them around before. He ran for quite a while, not wanting to lead them back to where he was staying (which was incredibly smart.) He recounted how he’d turned a corner into an alleyway hoping to be able to hide, and then how Shouta had stepped between him and his pursuers and taken them all down. 

Sansa clicked the voice recorder off as soon as they were done, slipping the device away carefully. “Thank you for answering our questions, Shinsou. Now how about we call your parents to come pick you up? I’m sure they’d be worried sick about you by now.”

“I’m--I’m actually, uh. I have fosters. Not parents anymore,” the kid managed to say. He had his gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of his shoes, his shoulders curling in defensively. Shouta hadn’t even realized how much of his tension was gone until it all came back.

“Alright, that’s not a problem. We can call your fosters for you if you’re okay with that or your social worker if you aren’t,” Shouta offered. 

“Calling them’s fine,” Shinsou said immediately.

Shouta studied him for a moment, but he still didn’t see anything other than embarrassment in the kid’s posture and expression. Eventually, he deemed the kid’s situation safe enough, even if he still had questions. What sort of guardian didn’t notice their charge still hadn’t come home by midnight?

Apparently, he had nothing to worry about. A young woman answered their call, near frantic with worry and relief when they told her where Shinsou was and that he was unharmed. She told them she’d be there in twenty minutes.

Which led to Shouta sitting awkwardly in the front lobby, keeping an eye on the kid again. Tired purple eyes stared back at him.

“You don’t deal with kids much,” Shinsou commented. It sounded like a question, despite being said as a statement.

“I don’t,” Shouta found himself admitting. “Most kids are asleep when I’m patrolling.”

“You’ve been watching me since the alley, though,” Shinsou said.

Shouta paused, on the verge of denying before he realized that Shinsou was right. He’d been keeping a very close eye on the boy, although he doubted many people would have noticed. He himself hadn’t until it had been pointed out to him.

“I have been. That’s pretty observant of you, kid,” he said.

“Can I ask--uh well…”

“You can ask a question,” Shouta allowed.

“Oh. Okay.” Shinsou shifted slightly. “Why?”

Shouta blinked slowly, trying to determine what the kid meant. “Why have I been watching you?”

Shinsou nodded, and Shouta took a moment to figure out how to reply. He didn’t entirely know himself, but he suspected it had something to do with both his current case and the image tucked safely away in his wallet.

“You remind me of someone I’m looking for,” he eventually settled on.

The kid nodded, a glint of something sharp and intelligent in his eyes. “I hope you find them, then,” he said.

“Thanks, kid. I do, too,” Shouta agreed.

Chapter Text

Shouta had barely managed to finish pouring himself a cup of coffee when his morning was interrupted by frantic knocking at his apartment’s door. He grumbled, annoyed at whoever had so much energy before 10:00 in the morning, and got up to go see who it was when his two idiot friends burst into the room.

“Shou! Good morning! We come with food!” Hizashi exclaimed loudly, just barely not using his quirk.

“And news! We come with news, too,” Nemuri added, already slipping out of her shoes and into the house slippers that had found a permanent residence by his front door within two weeks of moving in.

“It’s too early. I haven’t even had coffee yet,” Shouta grumbled, glaring at the pair.

“Coffee is not a whole breakfast and you know it,” Hizashi said. “Besides, we took the trouble of going all the way to that little bakery you like! We got the little cat cakes for you and everything.”

Shouta eyed them warily. He had half the mind to just kick them out. They only brought the cat-shaped pastries when they wanted to bribe him for something. However, curiosity got the best of him, and he held his hand out with a sigh.

Nemuri squealed, snatching the bag of sweets out of Hizashi’s outstretched hand and shoving it into Shouta’s grasp. They both ignored the blonde’s indignant squawking at the action, instead settling down at the kitchen table. Shouta opened the bag, inspecting the little pastries and carefully taking one out while Nemuri spread out the food they’d picked up. Eventually, Hizashi came and sat down with them, picking up his own food and eating without complaint.

They ate in silence, his friends allowing him to wake up a little more with a fresh cup of coffee. It was only once he’d finished his first cup and started on a second, eyes beginning to brighten as the caffeine kicked in, that they began to update him.

“So what’s this news you felt the need to break into my apartment to tell me?” he asked.

“We did not break in! You gave us a key!” Hizashi protested.

“Mm. A mistake on my part. What’s the news?” Shouta deadpanned. He pretended not to hear Nemuri snorting at their blonde friend’s offended expression. “Obviously it’s something big, or else you’d leave me alone until at least two o’clock.”

“It is!” Nemuri said, straightening up and recomposing herself. “We actually have two pieces of news for you.”

“Yeah! Do you remember that day way back when we all decided to get emergency foster licenses?”

“I do. Didn’t they already get approved?”

“They did, but we might have decided to go a little bit further with them. As a surprise,” Nemuri explained. “We actually just got approved for our full foster licenses!”

Shouta blinked, then stared at them while he processed. It took a good deal longer to get the full license rather than an emergency foster. Because of their status as heroes, an emergency foster just required a few hours of classes and a thorough home inspection. A background check wasn’t included because it was assumed that they were safe due to their occupation in public service. Full foster licenses were much more involved, and they included both a background check and a series of personal interviews in addition to special classes. He had only just gotten his emergency license approved. Granted, he had taken longer to start his classes, but it was still a surprise that they had jumped ahead so far.

The system worked slowly. He knew that. He’d been discovering it himself with how little progress had been made to find his kid. So how had they managed to get approved so quickly?

“I see those gears turning, Shouta. Let us share the other half of the news. Maybe it’ll help things make sense.” Nemuri leaned forward. “Remember when I said I was going back to school? Getting a degree? Well, I was looking around at local schools--just out of curiosity--and there was an opening at UA. So, of course, I looked at it. Got an email from Nedzu just a few seconds later. He offered me a position as a teacher’s assistant until I get my degree, and then guaranteed a spot for me on staff!”

“Yeah! So of course, Nem called me--you were sleeping, Shou, don’t give me that look--and I looked at it too! And I got the same offer! Apparently he’s got a few teachers wanting to retire in the next couple years. There’s a position as an English teacher opening up!”

“You’re both teaching at UA in a few years? Who on earth decided that was a good idea? And Hizashi, what about that radio station you were wanting to start?” Shouta asked, a flurry of confusion and incredulity mixing into his tone.

“Hey! I’ll have you that I’m very good with kids, thank you very much. It’s a persona, Shouta. It separates my work and private life. That’s the whole point,” Nemuri purred. “It’s something you would know if you actually separated the two.”

“Alright, fine. Whatever. Hizashi, the radio station?” Shouta redirected. It was no use arguing with Nemuri; they’d been over that topic several times before. “Last I heard you were just starting to look into leasing a building and staffing it.”

“I actually already started recording a few bits for it! I have about two week’s worth of recording for when I’m not doing a live show, yo. And I’ve already got a rockin’ intern who’s graduating from her internship program and needs a full-time job!” Hizashi said, slipping into his own hero persona out of excitement. Then he calmed back down some, and his voice became more serious. “I know it’ll be a ton of work, but I’d honestly rather be super busy than be bored. It’ll only take me another year or so to get the station up and fully operational. And hey, I’ve actually been thinking about making the station into my hero agency. Have a special call center set up, a few dozen sidekicks to help respond to calls that can be made to a special hotline. It could have a recording studio and that help center and maybe even a few rooms for emergency housing if I can swing it. I’m still working it out.”

Shouta blinked, then blinked again. “That’s…actually not a bad idea,” he said. “You could respond to calls from your station, too, and center your patrols around it. Might help your popularity if you’re seen on the streets after talking about whatever it is you talk about.”

“See! You get it!” Hizashi exclaimed. “And I want to be able to talk about some more controversial issues, you know? I want to be able to actually make a difference. Give some people hope when they need it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shouta agreed. He could see his friend making a huge difference as a positive influencer. Hizashi was like a giant golden retriever: friendly and energetic and able to brighten a room just by being there. Not that he’d ever tell him that.

They fell into a comfortable quiet, and Shouta had just begun to finally relax again when Nemuri set her mug down with a heavy thunk (when did she make herself a mug of coffee?) and stared him down. “So. We updated you on what’s happening with us. What’s going on in Shouta-land?”

“Nothing so interesting. Got approved for emergency fostering. Lots of patrolling. Found bugs in the precinct. Decided to leave them.”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, Shou. You found bugs? Like, actual bugs or listening devices?” Hizashi interrupted.

“Technically, they’re both actual bugs, but in this case I mean the listening devices. Tsukauchi and I found them in his office. There are probably more in the rest of the station. They’re likely linked to this case that we’ve been stuck on for a while. It’s the longest I’ve ever been on a case and it hasn’t been solved. Tsukauchi’s getting a bit frustrated with it. Hopefully feeding the bugs false information will give us a leg up on it,” he explained. 

Truthfully, he was also frustrated with the case. He had built up a reputation of efficiency even in the short time since graduation, and he’d continued that streak successfully up until this particular group. His normal patrols were still carried out just fine, but he felt like he was stumbling in the dark any time he tried to make headway with the trafficking group. He’d even taken to cycling back through some of the older abandoned buildings where they’d supposedly set up a temporary base, but he hadn’t found anything beyond that mention of Providence, which was a couple months ago. He was still trying to hunt down more leads, and in the meantime, kids were still going missing from the foster system.

So, yes. He was frustrated with the case. It still hit a little too close to home and kept him from sleeping on the nights when he wasn’t on patrol.

“Well. You just let me know when you want help covering some extra shifts to hunt these guys down and I’ll open my schedule,” Nemuri offered.

“Thanks,” Shoura mumbled, ducking his head into his nonexistent scarf.

At that moment, he couldn’t be more grateful for his friends knocking down his door that morning. It was much better than being left alone in his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Izuku woke up feeling numb.

It had been two full years today. Two years since the attack, since the day that he’d been left alone, since they’d failed to find his father. Two years since he’d been thrust into the foster system. And, unlike last year, he didn’t have Kacchan around to help him make it through the day.

He stifled a groan which turned out more like a whimper. He didn’t want to go to school today. Not with all the taunts and jeers. Not in this new prefecture, the third school in just as many months. But as he considered the chances of his current foster home caring enough, he realized that he just might not have to.

After Mrs. Harada, he’d wound up in a whole different prefecture, in a home with an abusive husband. His wife had convinced him to take fosters for the money--though she was just glad to have someone else to take his ire. Izuku had been removed when he was arrested, and then shuffled to two different homes in the same prefecture. One of those had required another change of schools as well. If he hadn’t been so lonely as to find schoolwork entertaining, he might have begun falling behind. 

This house was the best one he’d been in lately, though he was starting to lose track of them at this point. The couple here--he couldn’t even remember their names--hardly checked on the three kids in their care. He’d accidentally fallen asleep overnight in the library once and they hadn’t even noticed. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to make it to school, then…maybe they wouldn’t notice he was still in bed…

He stared blankly up at the ceiling for what could have been moments, or minutes, or hours. Time went unmeasured as he tried to forget about why this day was so hard.

He really missed her.

Eventually, slowly, he got himself up and sitting at the edge of the bed. He spent a little more time staring down at his feet. They were cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to put socks on. They wouldn’t feel cold anymore if he did, but that would require standing up and walking two steps to where he kept his bags. It was too monumental of a task. Had he missed school already? He’d probably missed school. His class was probably learning math now. He didn’t think they had any tests today.

Last year, Miss Aika had called to check in on him. Mrs. Harada had bundled him up in blankets and fed him a warm soup. It was nice, but her blankets smelled too heavily of lilacs. They weren’t light and airy like…

He jolted. There was one bag that he never went through, because it was too much. But it had--he had put--

He scrambled off the bed, suddenly frantic, to reach underneath it for the one bag that he’d always shoved aside wherever he was moved to. He pulled it out, yanking it open and staring at its contents.

His mother’s shawl lay on top. It was light pink, handmade, with beige buttons that he couldn’t see but still remembered clearly. The picture book--was it a scrapbook?--was along one side. And nestled on the other side was the bottle of perfume he’d grabbed from her room.

Carefully, reverently, he pulled out the half-empty glass and cradled it between his hands. He fingered the diamond-shaped stopper and watched the way the light glimmered off of the liquid inside. His mind replayed memories of watching his mother get ready for work in the morning--watching the way she carefully put on makeup before grabbing the bottle and shaking it--she always shook it first, even though she said it didn’t actually do anything--and spritzing just a little bit on her wrists and on her neck. It was such a little thing. Just a fragment of what he used to have. The thought brought heavy tears to his eyes.

Still holding the bottle delicately, he shook it twice--just like she used to--and took the lid off. He sprayed just a single pump on his wrist, immediately catching the light fragrance that used to follow his mother around like an airy cloud. 

He shoved his nose into his wrist, suddenly desperate to drink in as much of that scent as he could. What if he never got to smell this again? What if he forgot what she smelled like? Would he forget what she looked like? How she danced around the house when she was cleaning? Would he forget his mother’s smile like he’d already forgotten her voice?

What if he forgot her?

He didn’t want to forget.

Izuku crumpled on the floor, great shuddering sobs heaving uncontrollably through his body. Panic rose up to meet his desperate, aching loneliness. He didn’t want to--he couldn’t--what if he--he can’t--she’s--

A pair of arms wrapped around him, soft and soothing. A voice shushed him gently, and he realized that he’d been mumbling half-formed sentences. His unconscious rocking was stilled as he leaned into the comfort of the hug. “Mama--I don’t wanna forget Mama--” he wailed.

“Shh, it’ll be okay, sweetheart,” the other person said. “I’m so sorry you have to go through all this. You’re alright, sweetheart.”

Eventually, his sobs died down to sniffles. His head hurt and his eyes felt puffy, but he leaned back and looked up at who was holding him. Miss Aika gave him a small, pained smile.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s a rough day, isn’t it?”

Izuku nodded, too emotionally exhausted to do much else.

He wanted to ask what his social worker was doing there, but he didn’t quite have the energy to make himself speak. His finger tapped idly in frustration. He wished there was a way he could talk without having to actually speak. Surely there must be something. Probably more than one thing, actually, and it would be nice for him to know--

The memory hit him out of nowhere, causing him to sit up ramrod straight.

“You’re frustrated with something, Izuku. You’re tapping nonsense again,” his mother said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, then paused curiously. “How can you tap nonsense, Mama?”

“Well, there’s an old form of communication that used a series of long and short taps. Your father had a hard time growing up, so he learned it when he was young. It’s called--”

“Morse code,” he said with the shadow of his mother. “He knows Morse code.”

Miss Aika tilted her head in confusion. “Who knows Morse code, Izuku?”

Izuku turned to look at her, tongue loosened by the excitement of the memory. “My father. Mama said he learned Morse code so he could speak without actually talking. Miss Aika, do you think I could learn--wait, what are you doing here?”

Something pained flickered across her face. “The fosters here called me to come get you. We have to find a new house for you, I’m afraid,” she admitted.

Just like that, the numbness and exhaustion came back. “Mkay,” he mumbled, sagging back into her hug. He clenched his fists briefly, realizing that he still held the perfume and its lid, and gently put the lid back on the bottle. He hugged it to his chest. “Missed school today. S’rry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Just don’t make a habit out of it, okay?” Miss Aika soothed.

He hummed. He could do that. He really did like learning.

“Alright, Izuku. Let’s get your stuff out of here. Is there anything you need to grab from the rest of the house?”

“No. ‘s all right here.”

They got his things out of the house in a matter of minutes, driving away to the next temporary home. Izuku held onto the perfume bottle tightly, his mind focused on its design as he remembered as much as he could about his mother. “Don’t lose hope,” she’d told him.

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be to do.

Chapter Text

Shouta rubbed his temple, trying unsuccessfully to ease the headache that had been building for the past four hours. He heaved a sigh, setting down his empty coffee cup with more force than was necessary and immediately drawing the attention of the arguing police officers. The entire room went quiet within moments. 

“Alright, we’re all going in circles. I’m saying this once, so listen up. Detective Tsukauchi and I have been working behind the scenes on a confidential case. We noticed several months ago that there were bugs planted in his office, and we opted to leave them there in hopes of spreading false information to the perpetrators and finding the one who planted them there in the first place. Yes, we were guessing that there was a spy, or someone on the offenders’ payroll. Yes, we had managed to figure out who it was. No, we did not get to act on that information. Yes, we were wanting him alive, but he is dead now. There is nothing we can do about that. We can’t interrogate a dead man. That lead’s done. So are we going to sit here arguing over nothing or are we going to go out there and do our jobs?”

One lone hand rose, hesitant and visibly shaking. Shouta resisted the urge to sigh again and nodded at the young officer. “When exactly did you figure out it was Yanagida?”

“Tuesday. For those of you unaware of the current time, the date rolled over to Thursday an hour ago. Any other questions?”

There was silence, all the officers around the conference room looking cowed. Good, in Shouta’s opinion. He’d come in early to get ready for patrol only to see the whole station in a panic over finding one of their own murdered a block away. He’d been dragged into the meeting room almost immediately as they all tried to figure out what had happened, and he’d been stuck here for four hours.

Abruptly, he decided that he was done. He stood up. “I’m going on patrol.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tsukauchi tense, then relax. “Alright, Eraser. I’ll wrap up here. I’ll contact you with the next location as soon as I’m done.”

Shouta nodded, glancing one last time around the room before slinking out the door. He dropped his empty coffee cup in a trash can on his way out the door and swung onto a nearby roof at the first opportunity.

It felt good to be free running across the rooftops again. It gave him time to just breathe, losing his worries in the rhythmic pounding of his feet and the whistling of the wind past his ears. The mountains of stress that had been building on his shoulders fell away, reduced to nothing more than dust that the breeze carried. The near-complete fostering classes didn’t matter. His friends pestering him about teaching was no more than a passing thought. Even the relief of the recently-closed Aldera case and the weight of the still-open trafficking case were muted like the city sounds, muffled by the darkness.

Of course, Eraserhead never completely dropped his guard. He was still on-duty. But the night was quiet, with hardly a whisper of crime in the area. He paused at one of his favorite rooftops, pulling out a jelly pouch to snack on. Perhaps it was time to switch up his patrol route again.

He took the time to dial Tsukauchi--when the detective had said that he’d call Eraserhead, he really meant it the other way around. He had no way to tell whether his phone call would jeopardize Shouta if he was trailing someone or trying to concentrate on a fight. It was safer this way, with Shouta calling when he was ready.

“Hey, Eraser. How’s the patrol tonight?” Tsukauchi greeted.

“It’s slow tonight. Not much going on. Might be time to mix things up again.”

“I’ll have the stats ready for you tomorrow. Are you ready for the location tonight?”

Shouta went to answer, then paused. “You know what, let’s mix things up. Give me a random one on the list.”

“Are you sure, Eraser? The list is getting relatively small, you know. There aren’t many more left to go.”

“I’m sure. What about the third one down? I don’t care about the distance. I’ve got the rest of the night.”

There was a pause, then a hum. “Alright. I’m sending you the address. Let me know what you find.”

Shouta felt his phone buzz with an incoming message. He thanked the detective, pulled up the address, and took off.

The location was an old office building. It had suffered damage from a fight several months ago. As far as Shouta knew, it was scheduled for demolition, but nobody had come to tear it down. It had several boarded up windows and large spiderweb cracks covering one whole side of the building. It was clear that the structural integrity was compromised, so it should be empty.

Keyword being should .

There was a flicker of movement on the second floor. Silently, Shouta reached for the gadget on his belt and pressed in a code, calling for a quiet backup and unmarked police cars. It could be nothing, but it could also mean that he had found something.

With backup called, he crept closer, crouching outside one of the boarded-up windows and taking a moment to listen. His patience was rewarded a moment later with a shuffling sound and voices muted by the wood and brick between them.

“When…Specter said he’d…tomorrow.”

“I…late. He should…hour or so.”

It was hard to make out what the exact conversation was. He knew he was only picking up every few words. Carefully, Shouta crept toward the next window. It wasn’t boarded, but it was dark. There was no sound coming from inside. Deciding to take a risk, he angled himself so he could just peek around the edge of the window frame. There was no movement, and he couldn’t see anyone moving around within.

Deeming it safe enough, he cautiously pried open the window and slipped inside.

The old office room was empty, just as he had been expecting. The desk was angled in such a way that it looked like it had been bumped when someone left the room, papers scattered and valuables long gone. There was an old filing cabinet in one corner and a couple of wooden chairs in another. Shouta ghosted closer to the desk and picked up one of the papers scattered across its surface. It was just a simple financial report, listed with the name of the company who used to run from this building. Nothing useful to him.

A door opened in the hallway, and the voices which he had heard previously grew louder. The footsteps came closer. Making a split-second decision, Shouta dashed to the door and hid along one side, very carefully opening it the barest crack, every cell buzzing in anticipation. He watched as two men walked past, still absorbed in conversation. They hadn’t realized that he was there. Good.

Eraserhead came bursting from the room, his capture weapon looping near noiselessly around the first man and pulling him back in one smooth motion. An elbow to the temple knocked him out before the other man had time to react. Several strands of capture weapon shot out to encase him just as quickly as the first attack, and he gave a muffled shout as he was pulled backwards into the knee that came crashing into the back of his head. He fell to the ground with a similar thud, and Eraserhead melted back into the shadows of the room they had just vacated.

There was more of note here. Mostly-packed boxes lay across the room, a variety of materials nestled in straw in the ones that were open. A quick glance around showed him ropes, sedatives, and quirk suppression cuffs. There were also weapons--clubs, knives, and guns, all relatively easy to learn to use, rested in one corner of the room. If he’d had any doubts about who this group was, they were erased by the connotations of what he saw.

He swung back around to face the doorway, running out just as an alarmed shout echoed down the hall. Three more people were running closer, towards the two which he had left, and they all paused when they saw him. 

He didn’t give them time to think.

Barreling down the hall, quirk alight, he rammed bodily into the first while sending his capture weapon out to wrap around the other two. He dodged a punch coming at his face, swinging around and sweeping the legs out from underneath one opponent while simultaneously slamming the other two into each other. He whirled around them all, taking advantage of their surprise and confusion and taking them each down one by one.

He rushed to secure them once they were down. It hadn’t been a quiet fight, and he knew that his cover was blown. Deciding that he didn’t want to stay in one place, he started to sweep the building, going room to room and fighting every villain he came across.

Backup arrived just as he was finishing clearing the second floor. There was a locked door in this hall, heavier than the rest of the building and clearly out of place. Shouta ignored the sounds of fighting around him, focusing on pulling out his lockpicks and making quick work of the lock.

The room inside made his heart plummet. There were three young children held in a cage within. All of them were wearing some form of quirk suppression, and they cowered in fear at his presence.

He lowered himself carefully to sit on his heels in front of the cage. The children whimpered, sounds quickly cut off in fear, and his heart ached. He scanned them quickly for injuries, relieved to see that there didn’t appear to be anything worse than a few bruises or strains. Resting his wrists on his knees, he kept his posture open and nonthreatening, with his hands in plain sight and relaxed.

“Hey, there,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a pro hero, and I’m here to get you out, okay?”

He watched in relief as some of the light returned to their eyes. Their postures relaxed, and the tears dried up into sniffles. The oldest one pointed at the cell’s door, where another heavy lock resided. “You have a key?” she asked, her voice rough from disuse.

Shouta shook his head. “I have something better. Once I have it open, wait just a minute for me before you run off, okay? I need you all to stay with me and listen so I can get you out of here safely.”

He waited for the three to acknowledge him, then grabbed his lockpicks again and fiddled with the mechanism before it sprang open. Still moving slowly so that he didn’t scare the kids, he opened the door and gestured them forward. “Want me to remove those cuffs now or when we get outside?”

“Now, please,” one of them insisted, holding his wrists up.

“Now it is,” he agreed, holding back a smile. “Keep your hands still for me.”

By the time he had all three cuffs off and had begun herding the children back to the door, the sounds of fighting had stopped. Shouta glanced quickly at a mostly-intact window and saw flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the surface. It seemed like the impromptu raid was over.

Sure enough, Tsukauchi met him on the first floor. “Eraser, there you are! What have you cleared so far?”

“First floor’s cleared. They have supplies in five of the rooms. Second floor’s cleared as well. Mostly personal items there. I found these three at the end of the hall. You’ll see it.”

Tsukauchi nodded, going to speak before being interrupted by the oldest kid. “It was just us three left. They took the rest away yesterday. They were in another room, but I could hear them.”

Shouta took in the batlike ears of the girl and nodded. Mutation quirks were never completely nullified by the kind of suppressors they were wearing. Silently, he seethed at the idea of there being more that the heroes were just too slow to save.

The children were whisked away by medical teams as soon as they stepped outside. Shouta stood with the detective, watching as caches of materials were cataloged and brought out. “This is the second time you’ve found this group still clearing out,” the detective commented. “I think it was a spontaneous decision for you the first time, too.”

“It was,” Shouta allowed.

“Do you think there’s something to that?”

Shouta sighed. “Not sure. Once is luck, twice is a coincidence. It’s not enough to be counted as a pattern.”

“Plus, it’s hard to take random choices into account,” Tsukauchi said. He mirrored Shouta’s sigh. “You’re right. It isn’t enough, and it’s hard to replicate the random chance.”

They were silent for a few more minutes.

“All of those children were in foster care,” Shouta said suddenly, the beginnings of an idea forming in the back of his mind.

“How’d you hear that?” the detective asked, surprised.

“Overheard them telling the paramedics. Those three were all from the same house.”

Tsukauchi arrived at a conclusion right before he did. “It could be that there are homes within the system who are tied into this criminal group. A feeder system. That could be a good route to try.”

“It could. It’s a completely different route.”

“It’ll take time to put together,” Tsukauchi agreed.

“Might help if we looked through some of the quirk registry of the kids who have gone missing. See if we can tell what this group is looking for specifically.”

“Could be difficult. There are quite a few kids who run away.”

“Could be worth it, though.” And it could take him one step closer to finding out who his son was. Why hadn’t he thought of looking through the quirk registry before?

“You just love to give me more work, don’t you?” the detective said wryly. “You’re helping me with the paperwork for tonight."

“I--you know, fair. There better be coffee.”

Chapter Text

This was, without a doubt, the worst foster home so far.

Izuku tapped his finger nervously, a series of random dots and dashes that he’d taken the time to learn over the past few months. It was nearing dinnertime, and he’d been good enough that he hoped he’d be able to get some. It was never a guarantee that he’d get the whole meal, though. Some nights he just got the leftovers. Some nights he got nothing at all.

He sighed, eyes closed as he stood from his bed and felt for the bag he’d set at its foot. It was better to keep them closed here, not that having them open made a difference. The thick black cloth around his eyes itched uncomfortably at the reminder, but he ignored it.

The door opened suddenly, and he fumbled the bag he’d been holding, heart leaping in fear. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come so soon. He hadn’t done anything worthy of being punished, had he? The blindfold was still on (not that he could take it off), he hadn’t left his room, he couldn’t see to get homework done, he had no chores other than stay out of sight. But they didn’t need a reason to hit him. He stood stiffly, shoulders hiking up to his ears, muscles tense as his heart pounded, listening intently for the footsteps coming closer--

“You’re in here, brat,” the foster mother growled. “Take the other bed. You’ll get dinner in an hour.”

The door shut again, and Izuku listened closely to the receding footsteps, breath still frozen in his throat. The room fell silent. Izuku’s mind raced. He had a roommate now. There was someone else sharing this room. He couldn’t see them. Were they nice? Would they steal his stuff? Should he expect to go to school with more bruises every day?

There was an awkward shuffling on the other side of the room, then light footsteps leading to the other bed. A bag was set down on the floor, and the mattress frame creaked. Izuku felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. They didn’t seem very interested in him at the moment, so maybe that meant he was safe.

“Um, h-hi,” he stuttered nervously. 

There’s no response. Izuku couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He sat back down on his bed slowly, reaching blindly for the bag he had dropped and hugging it to his chest.

“I’m Izuku,” he tried again. “What’s your name?”

No reply. The other person shifted a little on the bed, but didn’t speak.

“O-okay. Um. I’ll just--I’ll just be right here then,” Izuku mumbled. He curled up in the corner where the bed met the wall, sitting and waiting for dinner. Maybe he could try again after the other person was more settled.

It wasn’t any better after dinner. Whoever was in the room with him completely ignored every attempt he made to talk to them. Eventually, he just trailed off into an uneasy silence. He laid down on the bed, staring into the darkness facing the ceiling, too anxious to fully sleep. He heard shifting on the other side of the room, then a rustle of covers, then nothing.

He didn’t get to find out who the other person in the room was. The foster family kept the blindfold on him until he got to school, where they roughly ripped it from his eyes, leaving him to blink rapidly at the sudden change in light. He squinted at his surroundings, still trying to readjust as they shoved him forward, stumbling through the school’s gates. He should be used to it by now, he thought wryly.

They shoved the blindfold back on him the moment he walked through the door after school, leaving him in the dark again. Thankfully he had managed to finish his homework at the school library before coming back.

The afternoon was spent in awkward silence again as soon as the other person returned. Izuku decided, out of boredom, to practice relying more on his hearing. It wasn’t like he had much choice in the first place, but at least if he pretended he was actively learning a new skill then he could trick his mind into thinking that it was his decision.

He listened intently to the house around him. Floorboards creaked downstairs--probably either one of the foster parents doing chores or one of the other, “better” kids getting to move around. (He wasn’t really a bad kid, right? He didn’t have a bad quirk. It wasn’t villainous. Quirks weren’t good or bad. Just tools. So why didn’t he get to be a normal kid?) The windows rattled lightly--it was a windy day, and he could hear it whistling ever so slightly around the window frame. His mysterious roommate shifted again. There was a quiet sigh, but it sounded…off. Izuku couldn’t place why, but it almost seemed muffled. Or was it--

A loud shout from downstairs distracted him, and he found himself listening intently again to what was underneath him. There were a few more shouts. He thought he heard the clatter of a pan, or a spoon against a pan, and then the back door opened and closed (the back door squeaked when it was opened). He found himself getting more nervous, squirming restlessly as the noise continued downstairs, and his fingers twitched against the bedcovers until he found the hard edge underneath the mattress. He started tapping, somewhat aimlessly, but words began forming out of habit.

NOISE LOTS NOT COMING UP HERE SAFE STILL SAFE CALM DOWN DONT LOSE--

His roommate started shifting, and he ignored the sound until there was a tapping sound that he wasn’t making. YOU KNOW MORSE? 

Izuku sat up ramrod straight. “You know Morse?” he asked excitedly.

YES, the tapping said. NOT VERY FAST YET.

“O-oh. That’s fine. I can’t believe--I mean, I thought you were just ignoring me.” He paused, suddenly apprehensive. “You weren’t just ignoring me, were you? I know I can be a bit much sometimes.”

CANT SPEAK, the reply said, then paused. Izuku was about to talk again when it kept going. MUZZLED. VILLAINS QUIRK.

“There’s no such thing,” he said instinctively, the same way he had told his own thoughts just a few minutes before. “Quirks are just tools. But people sure think they can be bad, don’t they?”

THANK YOU. MY NAME IS HITOSHI SHINSOU.

Izuku broke out into a wide grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Shinsou. I’m Izuku Midoriya.”

I KNOW. YOU TOLD ME THREE TIMES.

“Oh.” He laughed nervously, going to run a hand through the back of his head before being stopped by the blindfold. “Sorry about that. I just got nervous when you didn’t reply. I didn’t know you actually couldn’t.”

ITS FINE. YOU HAVE VILLAIN QUIRK TOO?

“They think so, yeah. I can cancel out other quirks. They’re scared of it, so they blindfold me. I’m not allowed to take it off. Last time I did…” He shuddered at the memory. He hadn’t been able to move for a couple of days, and he’d been sore for a week. He brushed those thoughts away before they could linger too long. “I can also cancel quirks that are within a certain radius of me, not just whoever’s in my sight, so this technically only blocks half of it. Not that they care to know that.”

There was an awkward silence, both of them shifting uncertainly, before another flurry of questions came to Izuku’s mind. “S-so, can I ask--uh, what do you look like? How old are you? You said you had a--well, your quirk must be something mouth or voice-based, right? How long have you--wait, that’s an invasive question, I probably shouldn’t--”

STOP, came the tapped reply, and he closed his mouth with a click and an apology. SORRY. NOT MAD. JUST SLOW DOWN.

“Oh. Sorry. I just haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while.”

ITS FINE. IM TALL. HAVE PURPLE HAIR. MY QUIRK IS --the tapping hesitates, which Izuku understands, and he waits patiently. BRAINWASHING. 

“That’s so cool!” Izuku shouted. How does it work? Is it voice-activated then? What kinds of things can you do? Can you give commands? Are they complex or simple? Can you brainwash multiple people at a time? Do--”

The door of the room slammed open, and Izuku flinched harshly. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to stay quiet, and the screaming foster parent was just a reminder of the harsh consequences. 

The beating he received was far from pleasant, and his stomach ached with the lack of food, but Izuku still went to bed happier than he’d been in a long time, buoyed by the prospect of a new friend.

Chapter Text

THERE HAVE BEEN FEWER ALL MIGHT SIGHTINGS LATELY, Shinsou tapped out.

“Oh, really? He isn’t just in America, is he? I know he goes over there every few years,” Izuku asked, absently fiddling with the cap of his mother’s perfume. 

After finally getting to connect a few weeks ago, the two of them had worked out a bit of a system. They’d figured out that they were going to different schools, so they finished their homework as soon as they could before coming back to the house and accepting their blindfold and muzzle. Once alone in their room, Izuku talked about what he learned and Shinsou told him about recent hero news. They both kept an ear out for their caregivers. As long as they were quiet, they would be okay.

NOT SURE. HAVENT SEEN ANYTHING ONE WAY OR THE OTHER.

“Huh. Weird. Normally people keep track of where he is. Last time we still got a few news reports of him even when he was out of the country. Maybe he’s taking a break? I haven’t even heard anything going around in school, either.”

DEFINITELY WEIRD. There was a pause, then the tapping continued. THAT RADIO SHOW HERO IS STARTING TO GET POPULAR.

“Oh, he is? Good! I’ve heard he picks good music. He also interacts really openly with the people who call in. Apparently he’s wanting to use his radio station as his hero agency. I overheard someone at school talking about it. I think it could be a really good idea, though I don’t know how he’d actually make something like that. He’d have to have other people helping him take calls, and then there’d have to be someone to cover the radio part if he gets called out in an emergency.”

TRUE. HEARD PART OF A SHOW ONCE. 

“Really? Did you like it?”

IT WAS GOOD. WORTH LISTENING TO.

“I think the radio show should boost his popularity too. He’ll probably rise pretty high in the charts next time they do that.”

The tapping paused, and Izuku knew by now that it was a signal that Shinsou was gathering his thoughts, that he’d remembered something but had to think of the best way to spell it out letter by letter. AN UNDERGROUND HERO HELPED WITH A RAID LAST NIGHT. ONLY SAW A COUPLE LINES. WAS ON A NEWSPAPER.

“Really? That’s cool. I haven’t gotten to research underground heroes as much as--”

A shrill scream made Izuku’s heart skip a beat, the hair on the back of his neck rising in fear. He heard Shinsou’s breath hitch. They both dashed for the door. 

They knew a cry of pain when they heard one, and this one was young.

The cries continued as they practically flew down the stairs, Shinsou ever so slightly in front of Izuku and ensuring that he didn’t fall in his haste. Surefooted despite the blindfold, he pulled ahead when they rounded the corner at the bottom and immediately narrowed in on the source of the sound. He heard Shinsou behind him as he charged at the commotion, locating his foster father’s aggressive voice and bodily slamming into him, feeling the way the man’s grip loosened with surprise before he activated his quirk, standing protectively in front of the little girl on the ground behind him. He felt the way she moved away, listening to her quiet sobs as Shinsou helped her to her feet.

“Don’t touch her,” he snapped, keeping his quirk activated. His heart raced in his chest. He was breaking so many rules. He was going to be in so much trouble. He couldn’t let someone else get hurt. He just had to keep the focus on himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the man growled dangerously. Izuku nearly stopped breathing.

He had no way of dodging the incoming fist. One moment he was standing, and the next he was sprawled out on the ground, cheek throbbing. He somehow managed to keep his eyes open, even as he ignored the blackness of the blindfold. He felt the air shift and tried to dodge, but a foot still slammed into his side. He couldn’t help the small whimper at the pain. His eyes closed.

A hand wrapped around his arm and dragged him to his feet, and he barely managed to duck his head down enough to block some of the next hit. Stars burst between his eyelids at the knuckle landing on his temple, and he staggered, dodging the next hit. The one after had double the ruthlessness.

The blows rained down on him after that, too many and too much for him to remember past a blur of pain. He curled into himself and just took it, doing his best to avoid making noise. There was probably shouting involved, but he couldn’t hear the words past the ringing in his ears that had started with the second hit to his head.

At least, he found himself thinking as the beating finally stopped, he had managed to get the girl away from harm.

He hardly noticed when the blackness around him shifted into unconsciousness. When he woke up, he was laid out on a soft surface. He groaned, his whole body feeling like one big bruise. His sides felt like they were on fire. There was a line of pressure around his head, and when he reached for it, a hand stopped him.

“They tightened the blindfold,” a soft voice whispered. “He hit you until you weren’t awake anymore. Why’d you do that?”

Carefully, Izuku reached for the source of the voice. His hand was caught and guided to the top of a little head, where he felt coarse hair and the edges of two large ears. There were tiny little nubs under his palm. A mutation quirk, then. This was the little girl. He mustered up a small smile, ignoring the uncomfortable pulling of a split lip. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“ ‘M okay,” the girl replied. “But you aren’t okay.”

“You’re okay, though, so it was worth it,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”

“Shika.”

“Hi, Shika. Can you tell me where I am?”

“In the attic bedroom with Shinsou.”

“Is Shinsou okay?”

There was a shuffling sound before knuckles tapped gently at his shoulder. “He’s okay,” Shika whispered. “He got me away. She hit him a bit after dinner and didn’t feed him, though.”

Hearing that Shinsou was relatively okay made him lose some of the tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

NOT HURT BAD, Shinsou tapped out on his arm, and more tension left his shoulders.

“Okay. That’s good. Shika, do you have a safe, warm bed for tonight?”

There was a slight sniffle, and the hands still gripped around his tightened. “Can I stay with you? I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Izuku said, then winced when Shinsou punched his shoulder. “...I might be a bit worse for wear right now, but I’ll be okay. Promise. I’ll be fine.”

She sniffled again, but Izuku couldn’t find it in him when she carefully climbed into his bed and curled up between him and the wall. He waited until he could feel her breath even out before letting out a sigh and turning to look towards Shinsou.

WE NEED TO GET OUT, Shinsou tapped.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We need to get this place shut down, too. It was--” He paused, took a breath, and tried to speak again through the lump in his throat. “It was fine when it was just me. I thought, you know, maybe sometimes they were right? Maybe my quirk might be bad? But if they’re hurting--they’re hurting her, too…” The blindfold was starting to get damp, and he threw one arm over it, biting his lower lip to silence himself.

THEY DONT DESERVE IT. MAYBE WE DONT EITHER.

“Yeah,” he whispered, trying to believe it.

The next morning passed in a haze. Izuku barely registered what was happening around him beyond the damp cloth that got pressed to his forehead and the water slipped into his mouth and the fire in his bones. When he finally roused from his sleepy daze, it was to the quiet sounds of morse code and small hands running through his hair.

He went to school the next day with the blindfold still around his head.

WE NEED TO GET OUT, Shinsou tapped to him, two weeks later when the blindfold still hadn’t come off and the muzzle was never removed outside of mealtimes. 

“I know,” Izuku agreed. This house had gone beyond cruelty for them. “But I don’t have a phone, and even outside of the house now I can’t see to find or make a phone call, so I can’t contact Miss Aika--”

WHO IS AIKA?

“Oh--my social worker. She gave me her number in case I needed to call her, and I memorized it. But that doesn’t help when I can’t see a phone--ow! Hey!”

He rubbed the back of his head, where Shinsou had slapped him. IDIOT, his friend said. I CAN SEE. 

“Oh,” Izuku said, then “ Oh. Oh, I’m so dumb! Do you have a way we can get a phone?”

BOUGHT A BURNER LAST WEEK. JUST DIDNT KNOW WHO TO CALL. PLUS CANT SPEAK.

“Shinsou, you’re brilliant. I’ll tell you the number, and you can call her.”

He hadn’t realized just how badly he’d been wanting to talk to Miss Aika until the phone was already dialing, the burner phone held snugly to his ear. He nearly cried when he heard the click of the line connecting.

“Hello? This is Aika Hashimoto,” the familiar voice said, and he couldn’t hold back a sob.

“Miss Aika,” he said through the tears. “ Help.”

Chapter Text

“Izuku? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Miss Aika asked worriedly. 

“It wasn’t that bad, really. We could manage. There are worse places and it was just us, but a couple weeks ago they tried to hit a little girl and we rushed down to help and it really wasn’t okay and they haven’t taken the muzzle off Shinsou and we were stuck and couldn’t call and--”

“Hey, Izuku, sweetheart, I need you to slow down a bit. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” Miss Aika coached over the phone, and it was only then that Izuku noticed the ache in his lungs. He gasped in a deep breath, taking a few moments between his tears to settle his breathing a little bit.

“Sorry,” he sniffed.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line and the sound of a door closing. “Good job. You said you were stuck? And there’s another kid there?”

“Mhm. Yeah, Shinsou’s quirk is voice-activated and they don’t like that so he has a--they have a muzzle on him.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you with Shinsou right now? Are either of you hurt?”

Izuku reached out a hand, and Shinsou took it almost immediately. “Are you hurt, Shinsou?” he asked.

There was a beat. NOT BAD .

“He says he’s not hurt bad right now. Hey, Miss Aika, the morse code came in handy,” Izuku murmured.

“I’m glad to hear that.” There was another moment of shuffling, and then another door closed in the background. “I’m not angry with you at all, sweetheart. I’m glad you finally called me. But, can I ask, why didn’t you call me a few weeks ago when they first tried to hurt--was it Shinsou they hurt or another kid?”

“It was a little girl. Her name’s Shika. She has some sort of mutation quirk. But, um--I didn’tcallbecauseIcouldn’t,” he said in a rush.

“You--you couldn’t call? Why not?”

Izuku took a deep, fortifying breath. “I couldn’t--I can’t see anything, so I couldn’t use a phone. They haven’t taken it off in two weeks,” he admitted softly.

There was a choked sound over the phone. “Alright. Alright, sweetheart. I’m on my way to you now. I’m going to call the police for you though, okay? I’m on my way and we’ll see if we can’t get that house shut down. Will you be safe until I get there with the police?”

Izuku considered this, then nodded before he realized she couldn’t see that. “Yeah. As long as we don’t make noise we’ll be okay. They don’t come check on us after dinner.”

“Okay. You two just stay safe for me. Do you have all your things put together?”

“Do you have your things together, Shinsou?” Izuku asked, pulling away from the phone slightly.

YES. I CAN HELP YOU .

“Shinsou does. He said he can help me finish putting my things together. You’re coming to get us?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I am. I have to get off the phone with you, though, because I need to call the police. I don’t know if I’ll get there before or after they do, but I should be there in twenty minutes. If you need to hide after you’re packed, do you have a space to do that?”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Izuku said, sniffling. He wiped his cheek with his free hand, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Alright, Izuku. Twenty minutes,” Miss Aika promised, and then the call ended. Which was good, because he’d forgotten he couldn’t see to end the call himself.

He reached his hand out again, and Shinsou grabbed it again. OK? he tapped. Izuku couldn't find the words, so he just nodded. GOOD. I CAN HELP YOU PACK.

There was a knock on the front door about half an hour later. Izuku tensed, suddenly nervous. What if Miss Aika didn’t manage to get them out of the house? What if the police sided with the foster family and thought they were “taken care of” just fine? What if they didn’t believe them?

Shinsou shuffled a bit beside him, and then he was being led underneath his bed. He didn’t hesitate to crawl underneath, his friend wrapped around him protectively. He wrapped his arms around Shinsou in return, and it took him a moment to realize that the shaking he felt was coming from both of them. It had to be worse for Shinsou, he thought. He knew that Miss Aika would believe him, at least, even if the police didn’t. Shinsou hadn’t met her, though, so he didn’t know that she was one of the few adults Izuku still felt like he could trust. 

He didn’t have much time to stew on it before there was a commotion downstairs followed quickly by footsteps. They got louder as they climbed the stairs, multiple pairs of heavy feet hurriedly coming closer, and Izuku tensed more. There was a knock at the door, and it slowly creaked open. “Hello? Police here. You kiddos are safe to come out now. We’re bringing the fosters outside right now, and Miss Hashimoto was just a couple minutes behind us.”

The anxiety that Izuku had been feeling eased ever so slightly. Miss Aika was almost here. If she was just a few minutes out, then it might be safe to leave. He very suddenly wanted nothing more than to walk out the front door of the house and never return to it. 

He started shuffling out from under the bed, pausing when Shinsou’s arms tightened around him. For a moment he fumbled in the dark until he grabbed the other’s hand. He squeezed it, trying to convey all his certainty in the subtle motion, and was rewarded when his friend loosened his grip and allowed Izuku to lead them both out from under the bed. He heard a light gasp when the two of them emerged, and then the officer at the door took a step closer. 

“Hey, there. Let’s get you two out of here. We should have something out in the cruiser to get those off,” he said. 

“C-can,” Izuku started, surprised for a moment that the words had left. He hadn’t meant to speak. The air held an expectancy, now that he’d begun, so he swallowed and tried again. “Can we wait for Miss Aika?”

“Sure, kid. Let me just radio in to have her sent up when she arrives.”

He had barely finished the request before there was another set of steps on the stairs--these much lighter and quicker than before. Izuku tracked the noise as it came closer, stepping in front of Shinsou protectively until--

“Izuku? Oh, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.” His social worker’s voice was thick with something he couldn’t quite identify, but she sounded close to tears. The reaction briefly puzzled him, but Shinsou’s tug on his arm distracted him as the strap of his bag touched his wrist. He grabbed his things automatically. Miss Aika took one of his bags from him--which he was quietly relieved about, having been worried about going down the stairs holding both bags--and Shinsou led him out of the room and back through the house. 

As soon as they were outside, Izuku heard a commotion of voices and footsteps. A few radios were also speaking, and he imagined that if he could see there would probably be several police cars around the fosters’ property. He overheard another officer telling someone else to call for other social workers. It seemed like Miss Aika had been telling the truth about getting the house shut down. There was no sign of the foster parents’ voices amidst the noise.

“Alright, squirt, I’m gonna get that blindfold off of your face. That okay?” someone said, and it took a moment for him to realize that the voice was talking to him. He nodded rapidly.

As soon as the blindfold was off, he was assaulted by the blindingly bright lights of the several police cars. He squinted against the light, unaccustomed to it after so long of being in the dark. Even the minimal amount of light that was being reflected off of the low clouds seemed to be too much, and the next several minutes passed in a bit of a haze as he tried to readjust to the new sensory input. He only tuned back in when Miss Aika very gently grabbed his forearm and began to lead him to her car.

“--take him to the hospital. I can make sure we have the paperwork filled out there,” he heard her saying.

Her hand was shaking, he noted distantly.

 Climbing into the back of her car was a familiar motion. He buckled himself in soundlessly, watching as she stowed his bags in the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat. He noted again the shaky grip she had on the steering wheel, but her head was ducked and her eyes unreadable as they pulled away from the side of the street. 

Izuku shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should break the silence. Eventually, he couldn’t keep his worries to himself. “Um--Miss Aika, are you okay?”

Only the practice with using his other senses allowed him to hear the way her breath hitched. She pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in park and then seeming to freeze. Tentatively, he began to reach out for her, worry spiking into minor panic when her shoulders shook with the beginnings of heavy sobs.

“Oh no. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I-I, um, I don’t have any tissues--” he started, but she interrupted.

“I’m so sorry, Izuku! You didn’t deserve any of this! I didn’t know they would do something like--like put that thing on you or your friend! I should have known! I should have vetted them better, o-or there must have been something in their file, and I just missed it! I should have tried harder! And it’s not like you’re a bad kid--I know that, I know it’s just your quirk they not like, but you deserve someone who can take care of you who doesn’t care, and I just can’t find anybody, and--”

Awkwardly, Izuku put his hand on her shaking shoulder. His own eyes welled with tears, seeing the adult he trusted breaking down over something that wasn’t her fault. “Miss Aika, it’s okay. It’s not like anyone at school noticed, either, not even when I had to wear the blindfold there too. It’s not your fault! I think--” He paused for a moment, trying to piece together the thoughts he’d been having for the past few weeks. “I don’t think the things I keep running into will change, no matter where I go. I don’t think it’s a small problem. There are a lot of shallow people who judge by quirks first and personality second. I don’t think they really care to think in another way.”

“That doesn't make it right, Izuku. You have to know that, sweetheart,” Miss Aika said earnestly, wiping her eyes and turning to make eye contact. “The way you’re being treated isn’t right .”

He shrugged. “It isn’t,” he admitted, and for once he fully believed it. “But we can’t change that overnight.”

An idea was forming in the back of his mind. It was stupid, and potentially reckless and possibly dangerous, but perhaps he could find a way…

Miss Aika heaved in a breath, closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself. She opened them again a few seconds later. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have dumped all my worries on you. Your heart is so kind. I don’t want the system to take that away from you.”

Izuku felt his heart warm like sunlight, and then it was fortified with steel beams of determination. “I won’t give up, Miss Aika. My Mama wouldn’t want me to.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then a smile spread across her face. “You’re right. You’ll make it, and you’re gonna go so far.”

He smiled back at her, perhaps a bit more sharply than normal. He wasn’t gonna let any bad houses get in his way of becoming a hero. Plus, he still had a dad out there somewhere. He wasn’t gonna give up on finding him, either. Not even if it took three more years.

They got on the road a few moments later, and he got checked out at the hospital. Thankfully, the blindfold hadn't done any irreparable damage to his vision, although he would likely be light-sensitive for a while. All the other cuts and bruises he had would heal, though not without a few scars here and there. Izuku wasn’t too bothered by it. He’d get scars as a pro, anyway. 

He had to give a statement to the police on how the house had treated him, which wasn’t fun, but he got through it. He felt incredibly drained by the time they got done, though.

“Go ahead and sleep, sweetheart,” Miss Aika told him. “We can figure out where to put you once they release you in the morning.”

“Will you stay?” he asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the too-large hospital room.

He saw as she hesitated briefly before smiling gently. “I can stay. Sleep, Izuku. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Izuku relaxed, smiling at her before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Shouta suppressed a yawn as he got out of the police car. His presence wasn’t exactly required at this particular call, but any call nowadays involving foster care simultaneously caused his heart to ache and his eyes to burn in frustration. 

After that first night, when Shouta realized that the group they were after might be using the foster system to get their hands on children they wanted, he and Tsukauchi had struggled to find the time to further investigate. It had been two months, and while each of them had solved a dozen smaller cases each, it was eating up all their time. 

If he didn’t get to search the quirk registry for his kid, then maybe he’d get lucky on the off chance that the police got called to the house where his son was staying. 

“What’s the situation?” he asked the first officer he recognized. The officer turned to him, not at all put off by his lack of a greeting, and nodded.

“Eraser. We got a call from a kid’s social worker. She told us she’d just gotten off the phone with the kid and he asked for help getting out. She said he mentioned being hurt by the foster parents, and he couldn’t see to make the call earlier. Apparently it got worse when he tried to protect another kid a few weeks ago.”

“What do we know about the social worker?”

“Her name is Aika Hashimoto. She’s got no record of any complaints from the kids she helps. Seems like she genuinely cares for those who get placed in her care. So--”

“She’s a trustworthy source, and wouldn’t call it in without reason,” Shouta finished. He didn’t have the chance to interact with her directly very often, but he trusted her word and her ability to assess her kids. 

“Yes. So we came to investigate, prepared to act on her call. She arrived shortly after we did. There were a couple kids stowed away in a small room upstairs. They had a blindfold and a muzzle on ‘em. The parents were arrested, and Miss Hashimoto took her charge to the hospital. Sansa’s driving the other kid. They left just a minute ago.”

Shouta nodded his thanks, taking in the sight of the sleepy kids who were being led out of the house and the paramedics now checking them over. He could see a few visible bruises on them, but thankfully nothing too severe. None of them seemed overly fearful with the chaotic mess of bright lights and moving people.

“Have the other social workers already been called to pick up the rest of the kids?” Shouta asked.

“Most of them are already on their way,” the officer confirmed.

Shouta grunted his thanks. “I’m going to step inside and see if I can find anything noteworthy. Are all of the kids accounted for?”

“They are, yes. I’d recommend checking the master bedroom or any office spaces. Hopefully you can find something there.”

Without another word, he quietly stepped into the house. He glanced over the plain gray walls and the scratched paint around the doorframes, noticing the dust and lack of toys sitting around the living area. Unhappiness seemed to seep from the floors, and he moved quickly past the front, suppressing a shiver.

The master bedroom was in better condition than the rest of the house. There was an expensive vase sitting on a side table, and the closet was stocked with several very nice suits and dresses. Shouta’s annoyance with the couple grew. It was clear to see where the funds that were meant for the kids had ended up.

He rooted through a few of the drawers in the dressers, looking for anything unusual. He didn’t find anything noteworthy, so he moved on to the desk that was in one corner. There were a few reports spread across the top, most of them complete. A stack of bills was in one corner, some of them still in envelopes. Overall, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Sad. He was hoping for a new lead, but this just looked like a couple who should never have been cleared to care for children when they clearly only cared for the money.

Walking back out of the house, Shouta was quietly pleased to see that most of the children were already gone, having been collected by their social workers. The number of police cars had dwindled, meaning that the couple who had been running this house were on their way to the station. It sounded like they’d be locked up for a while, if the reports of the kids who had called them in were correct. The thought made him viciously satisfied. Anyone who hurt kids deserved whatever pain came to them.

“Eraser! Hey, they told me I could find you here,” a familiar voice called out.

Shouta turned towards Tsukauchi’s voice, mildly surprised at his presence. “Detective. What are you doing out here?”

“I came to check if you’d found anything. Also to grab you to talk once you’re done.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve just wrapped up. Nothing worth noting in the files on the desk. Looks like a classic case of I-don’t-like-children-but-I-like-money.”

Tsukauchi grimaced. “You need a shorter name for that.”

“I have one. It’s called Greed. Classic case of Greed.”

“That’s not any better.”

It was only then that Shouta clocked the way his coworker was shifting restlessly, senses on high alert yet mind seemingly elsewhere. If they hadn’t been working so closely for the past several years, he wouldn’t have noticed it. The detective was doing a good job of hiding it, but he was nervous. All of Shouta’s instincts suddenly flared in alarm.

“What was that talk you were mentioning when you got here?” he said. “Seems like something important.”

“Yeah. Mind riding back to the station with me? We can talk on the way.”

Shouta didn’t have any reason to protest. He wordlessly followed the detective to his car and slid into the passenger seat, masking his concern behind his normal deadpan expression. 

The first few minutes were silent as Tsukauchi stared straight ahead. Shouta gave him room to put his thoughts in order. Whatever was happening was clearly something big enough to be worrisome. In the flashing lights, he saw the furrow in the detective’s brow as his hands clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel.

“There’s something…big that’s come up. Big sounds like the understatement of the year, actually. I need to help with another case. Which means that I’ll temporarily have to be off of this one.”

“We were finally making some progress with it,” Shouta protested, surprised. “This is the longest I’ve ever been on a case. What’s come up for you that’s bigger than this one?”

“It’s not something I can tell you about. The details are even more sensitive than this trafficking group. I’m sorry, Shouta. I really am. As soon as I’m done with this big one, I’ll be back to help you out. This just isn’t something that can wait.”

Sinking further into his chair, Shouta nodded. “I understand. Do you need a hand with it?”

“Actually, the fewer people who know, the better. The one I’m helping asked me to keep it a secret.”

Shouta nodded again. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do on my own. I’ll have to shelve some of the investigative work with the files--that’s more your area--and I’ll hit the streets more. Hopefully I’ll stumble across something.”

They parted ways at the station, the detective heading in to organize the case files for Shouta’s access and the hero leaving to head back home after a quick detour for coffee and cat food. He opened his door with a heavy sigh, putting the keys on the front table and slipping out of his boots. Checking his email one last time, he slipped into the covers of his bed and set an alarm.

His phone pinged with a new message just before he put it down. Frowning, he couldn’t help picking it up, confused as to who would be awake at 3 in the morning and sending him a message. 

Nedzu

Congratulations, Shouta! I have reviewed your application, and you’ve been accepted as a teacher’s assistant for the upcoming school year. Please stop by my office this afternoon to finalize the paperwork. 

What.

Suddenly wide awake, he rubbed at his eyes in confusion. He had never sent in an application to teach. He had barely even considered teaching. Kids didn’t like him. He was too scruffy looking and exhausted to set them at ease, and his deadpan stare was more off-putting than it was comforting. Only Hizashi and Nemuri were crazy enough to believe he’d--

Wait a minute.

He immediately called Nemuri, waiting impatiently as the phone rang. She didn’t answer the first time, so he called again. It was answered on the second ring. “Shouta?” her voice came, thick with sleep. “Why are you calling me at--3:12 in the morning?”

“What did you do?”

“Huh? What’re you talking about? You gotta be more specific. It’s too early for guessing games.”

“I just got a text from Nedzu saying my application was accepted.”

“Oh, that’s great news! I’m glad to hear it.”

“Nemuri. I didn’t send in an application.”

“Of course not, you were dragging your feet on it. I sent it in for you. Told him you didn’t know about it. You’d be great with kids, though.” 

“Nemuri . Why--actually, I’m not having this conversation with you tonight. I’m going to sleep.”

“Good. Go to sleep like a normal person. Who’s supposed to be asleep at 3am. Oh, also, I think Nedzu did something about your foster license, too. Might wanna ask him about that, too.”

“Great. Wonderful. Good night.”

“Good night, Shouta,” she purred, and the line went dead.

Shouta buried his head in his hands. He ignored the ping of the next text his phone got. Perhaps this whole night was just a dream? He resisted the sudden urge to pinch himself. He could feel his breath against his palms just fine. No luck with the dreaming, then. What a night.

Deciding that it really was too late to worry over everything and recognizing that he was absolutely exhausted, he crashed face-first into his pillow. He barely felt the tiny impact of his old cat jumping onto the bed next to him, already falling asleep.

When he checked his phone in the morning, it was to the message that his foster license had been approved as well. 

Chapter Text

Even after a full night’s sleep, Izuku’s thoughts couldn’t help circling around the beginnings of the idea he’d had the night before. The problems he’d been facing, the discrimination, was much too frequent and severe for people who were supposed to be raising kids. They were teaching the kids that your future was determined by what your quirk was. It wasn’t right. And wasn’t it a hero’s job to fight against such unfairness?

A quirk is just a tool. It didn’t matter what someone could do, it mattered what they chose to do. The whole system seemed to want Izuku to become a villain, but that’s not what he wanted.

Izuku wanted to be a hero. He was still a little too young to be doing things like fighting villains, but what was he supposed to do with the injustice he’d seen already in the foster system? Just ignore it?

He couldn’t ignore it. Too many people had already.

The idea he’d been holding onto began to bloom and take form. The problem wasn’t with all of the foster homes--it was just with the ones that put up an act that all was well whenever the adults were involved while beating down the kids in their care behind closed doors. The adults in charge didn’t know which homes were good or bad. They needed someone who would be able to tell them. They needed…

They needed someone on the inside.

Izuku hadn’t been able to keep up with heroes as much as he would have liked to in recent years, but as far as he knew there was nobody with a quirk that would allow them to blend in as a child and bypass that false front that so many of the foster homes he’d been to had shown. Miss Aika’s words kept echoing in his ears-- “I should have known” --and he knew that maybe there was something wrong with that more official side of things, too. But that wasn’t something he could help with at all.

What he could do was be that person on the inside. He could work with the police and the social workers to figure out which houses were good and which ones were showing discrimination. 

This could turn sideways on him so fast. If the homes he was placed in found out, it could turn out so horribly. But, then, it could turn out horribly even if he didn’t do anything special. This last house was proof of that. He shuddered, remembering the still-too-recent feeling of the blindfold tied too tightly around his head and the bruises that hadn’t had time to fade. He’d have to get very smart and very observant. But then, he’d always had an eye for details. 

As much as he hated the blindfold, he worried that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d find himself in one. Nobody outside of the house had even asked him about it. Somehow, a kid wearing a blindfold wasn’t even noteworthy in their current world. He frowned deeply at the thought. At least nothing worse had happened. It would have been awful if he’d lost his vision completely, particularly as half his quirk required his sight.

He wondered how much he’d have to worry about that in the future.

There was a quiet knock on the hospital door, and Miss Aika returned with a doctor in tow. She’d left after he’d woken up to get breakfast. She gave him a smile as she walked in.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m back. Let’s see about getting you out of here. We’ll have to head down to the police station for a minute afterwards, if that’s okay.”

Izuku nodded quickly. That was exactly what he needed.

“Alright. I want to check on your head and eyes again. That okay?” the doctor said.

The examination went quickly. Nothing new was found beyond the bruises and light sensitivity from the night before. Twenty minutes later, he was walking out of the hospital, holding onto the edge of Miss Aika’s sleeve as the social worker walked him back out to her car.

Once they were on the road, he shifted in his seat and spoke uncertainly. “Miss Aika?”

“Yes, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I--I, um, I had an idea?”

“Oh? And what was that?”

He paused, uncertain of how to describe it to her. He debated between getting straight to the point or explaining his thought process. It might be easier, he decided, to tell her how he’d gotten to the idea.

“Well, there’s a lot of discrimination in the system,” he started. She nodded to show she was listening, her brows furrowing. “And a lot of the time you can’t tell if a house is good or bad at first--which isn’t your fault at all! I know you’re trying your best, and they--I mean, the people who--the fosters sometimes hide their real feelings about the kids until after you’ve gone. And there’s really no way to check on that and what their--I guess their motivations?--are until someone tells you. And then it’s really hard to tell if a kid is telling the truth or if they just don’t get along with the family, you know? But, there are some really bad houses out there that look really nice right at first, and they’re still up and running because you, and the police, don’t know better. And you really don’t have a way to--to investigate that because as far as I know there’s nobody who can de-age or shrink themselves to act as a kid to do the investi-investigating, and--”

“Izuku, sweetheart. Breathe,” Miss Aika interrupted.

Izuku sucked in a breath he didn’t even realize he needed, the lightheaded feeling he hadn’t noticed fading after a few seconds.

“Good. Now, I think there’s a point you’re trying to make with these thoughts, right? What are you getting at?” Miss Aika asked.

Forging on ahead, Izuku nodded. “Yeah. Well, I was thinking you can put me in the houses you aren’t sure about, and I can tell you which ones are good or bad. I can be like--like an informant.”

“Izuku,” she said, and her voice was horrified. “No. Why would I do that? That’s incredibly dangerous. You need to be cared for, not put in danger like that.”

“Miss Aika, if there are houses that might be dangerous, then why are they still allowed to have kids?”

His social worker sighed. “Because we don’t have enough evidence to get them shut down and revoke their licenses,” she admitted. “Those houses are a last resort, and I try to get you kids moved out of there quickly.”

“So send me in to get the evidence you need,” he asserted. “I won’t be safe anyway. The world is dangerous, and the system’s not any better.”

“Izuku, I can’t--”

“Miss Aika,” he interrupted. He knew it was rude, but he had to get his point across. “Do you know how many people stopped to help me when I was b-blindfolded?”

She sent him a grief-stricken look, but she must have read something in his expression. “How many?”

“None. Miss Aika, nobody stopped to help me. Even if the house I’m in is safe, I won’t be safe outside of it.”

“But you should be safe inside of it! You need a safe space, Izuku.”

That was true, but…

On a whim, he held out his arm to her. “Can you use your quirk on me again?”

The look she turned on him was beyond confused. The car swerved slightly before she corrected it. “I can when we get to the station. You know I will whenever you ask, but why?”

Izuku didn’t respond, a sudden rush of emotions coming over him. He didn’t know of any way to just stand by while so many kids just like him were being hurt, and if she didn’t let him do this then he knew that the knowledge he had would eat at him unendingly. It had been so long, and his mystery dad had still cared every time that Miss Aika had checked, but what if that had changed? What if he didn’t have that safety in the future? It was the hope he was holding onto--that one day, he’d be reunited with someone who truly cared for him, and he’d be out of the system. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have too much time to think about it because they pulled into the parking lot of the police station, and Miss Aika turned in her seat to face him fully. He held out his hand again, reading the uncertainty and confusion in her eyes as she slowly reached out and activated her quirk. The usual pink glow of her fingertips lit up the car briefly before fading. She smiled at him, a little helplessly, and said, “Whoever your dad is, he’s one of the most persistent people I’ve ever felt through my quirk. His concern for you hasn’t faded at all.”

Izuku nodded, hiding the relief he felt at the affirmation. “That’s my safe place. As long as I know he’s waiting for me, I can keep going. But Miss Aika, I can’t ignore what’s happening. I have to do something.”

She sighed deeply. “Well, let’s go into the station. You have to tell the officers what you’re wanting to do. I don’t like it, but it’ll be up to you and them. They likely won’t agree with it. If, and only if, they for some reason agree, I’ll start making calls to see where we can put you while you learn what you need to to keep yourself safe.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

He grabbed Miss Aika’s hand and dragged her into the station with him, only freezing momentarily when they walked in and he realized he didn’t know where to go. She seamlessly stepped in front of him, still holding his hand, and approached the front desk.

It only took a few minutes to get situated in one of the rooms in the station, and Izuku had to talk about everything he’d seen at the foster home. He plowed through the questions, feeling a bit floaty afterwards but not bad enough that he wasn’t still present. He didn’t allow himself time to fully process everything that had happened, too preoccupied with his plan and question.

“Can I be an informant to tell you which foster homes are bad like this one? The adults put on a fake face when other adults are there, then hit and ignore those of us with “bad” quirks the rest of the time. There isn’t a hero that can shrink or turn themselves into a kid right now to investigate some of those homes. I want to help.”

The police officer stared at him for a very long time, then sighed heavily. “Midoriya, you know that’s not a safe job. You’re too young to do something like that.”

“But who else can do it?” Izuku said, springing up from his chair. “Nobody else has, and nobody can. My friend was muzzled and I was stuck in a blindfold because nobody had said that that house was bad. Miss Aika didn’t know, either. How many other kids like me are there, who are in homes they need out of but can’t speak up?”

“Izuku,” Miss Aika said quietly. “Take a breath, sweetheart. Come sit back down.”

It was only then that he realized his voice had gotten louder, and he flushed, sitting down. He took a few deep breaths, bringing himself back down. Getting worked up didn’t get anything done.

When he was calmer, he looked back up. Meeting the officer’s eyes, he said, “I can’t ignore it. I’m going to do something whether I get help or not.”

There was silence in the office for a very long time. Izuku stared at the officer. He refused to back down, even though his hands had begun to shake where they were braced against the seat of the chair. The officer stared back at him, brown eyes seeming to search for something. Eventually, the man sighed and leaned back.

“Well, if you’re gonna go back out there, maybe we can get you some things. Like a tracker. Or a tiny camera. Or a microphone. Something. There have been kids going missing, and you don’t need to be one of them.”

Izuku felt his heart lift. “You mean I can do it?”

The officer snorted wryly. “Kid, you literally said you’d do it anyway. I’m just making sure you don’t get yourself killed. Or maimed. Or kidnapped. Come to think of it, maybe someone around here can teach you some self-defense. Or how to be covert. Actually--nah, he’d be too busy for that. But, can I make a compromise with you?”

Izuku nodded, willing to listen if he got to do what he wanted.

“Great. When’s your birthday?”

“Uh--July. Why?”

“You’re nine, right?”

“Y-yes?”

“Alright. I’m not letting you be an official informant until you’re ten. Give yourself some time in a few nice houses, let’s learn some things, and we’ll talk about this again when you’re a bit older. Sound good?”

Ten. He could wait until he was ten. That wasn’t that far off.

“Let’s do it,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

With the detective temporarily off the case, Shouta stuck to his word of patrolling more often in the places they’d flagged for potential activity. The first few nights were abnormally quiet, as if the underground was holding its breath for something big. It set him on edge enough that he extended his patrol routes and picked up more shifts in other areas of the city. He knew it was only a matter of time before things began to go south, and he wanted to be prepared for it. 

He was right to be concerned. A few days after he’d taken up his new schedule, the underworld exploded with activity. 

It was as if there was something on the horizon that had every hardened criminal jumping at shadows. It only took a few hours for Shouta to realize that he wouldn’t have the time to do more of his own investigation work--he was far too busy trying to chase down the leads of various tips that had been called in. Most of the time, when he arrived there was nothing there to see. He hardly had time to pause and consider, but when he did…

…It was like someone was laying false trails in an attempt to get away. 

He was not prepared for the sudden silence nearly a full week later, and it had all of his hackles raised in alarm. Which was wise, because the next thing that happened was the underworld exploding in panic. 

After a night of three gang fights, two attempted robberies, one call of domestic assault, and five separate alleyway scuffles, Shouta wanted nothing more than to crash into his bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. He’d even settle for the couch at this point. Perhaps even the rug on the floor, since he didn’t really want to bother with changing out of his hero gear. His eyes burned with a gritty combination of exhaustion and quirk overuse. 

It was probably that exhaustion which allowed him to let his guard down just long enough to be mildly surprised at what came next.

“Give me all your money!”

Shouta couldn’t help but sigh, eyeing the man in front of him who was holding a knife in a shaking grip. Being mugged was a new experience. “Why?” he asked in vague curiosity.

“Because I need the money, man. Why d’you think?”

“No, why did you choose me, of all people, to try and rob? Most people assume I’m homeless.”

“Your nice, high-quality boots say otherwise. Quit stalling and fork it over,” the man said impatiently (fearfully, Shouta quietly noted).

“Alright, let me see what I’ve got,” he said, slowly moving to grab his wallet--which also held his hero license. He kept a close eye on the man, watching for any sign of his fear becoming aggression. “Out of curiosity, why are you out robbing people for a little extra cash? Surely there are better ways to get what you need.” Need , not want, Shouta specified. This much fear spoke of a reason based in desperation. Fear was dangerous--it made people unpredictable.

“It’s not for me! It’s for my daughter! They won’t treat her, but she’s dying!”

Shouta paused, hearing the raw pain in the man’s voice. He could just make out the telltale shimmer of tears in his eyes through the darkness of the alley. It struck a deep chord in him. “Doctors won’t treat a dying patient? Why on earth would they turn her away?”

“She’s quirkless,” the man admitted, so softly Shouta had to strain to hear. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but no one will help her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Shouta said, pushing down a spike of anger. “Quirk status shouldn’t matter for treating a patient.”

“It shouldn’t, but it’s the world we live in, right?” the man said. His guard had lowered, but the knife was still partly raised. “I’d rather be doing anything other than this, but she’s my whole world. I’d do anything for her.”

Shouta’s mind flashed to the photo in his wallet. “I understand,” he said gently. He paused, an idea striking him suddenly. “I may know someone who’d be willing to help.”

The knife came back up. “I’m not falling for it. Just hand over the money and I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s not a trick,” Shouta insisted. He maintained his gentle, nonthreatening tone. “I can stay right here and make a phone call. I can even put my phone on speaker so you can hear the conversation.”

They stared each other down in silence for several seconds. Neither one moved. He watched the resolve begin to falter in the man’s gaze, and then his shoulders fell ever so slightly. “You really aren’t joking,” the man said.

“I’m not,” Shouta agreed.

“Alright, then. Make your phone call. But it better not be the police or a hero, or I’ll use the knife. I can’t afford to be stopped tonight.”

He grabbed his phone instead of his wallet, pulling up a contact he hadn’t used in a couple years. It only took a moment to dial, and he put the phone on speaker and held it up in front of him.

The line connected. “You better be in trouble to be calling me so late, young man. I haven’t heard from you in a long time,” the grumpy voice said without preamble.

“Chiyo,” he greeted. “I’ve got a man with me whose daughter needs medical aid but won’t be treated due to quirk status.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “Whose licenses am I going after?”

Shouta nearly snorted in amusement. “You can go after their licenses after the girl gets help. Are you willing to help her?”

“What sort of question is that? Of course I am. Do you need me tonight or can she wait until morning when we can set up a proper appointment?”

“You’d really help her? But I can’t pay you!” the man interjected.

“You must be the girl's father, yes? Don’t you worry about payment. Helping people is my job as a hero, after all.”

“Hero? Wait--” He spun on Shouta, who simply raised one eyebrow. “You called a hero? You know a hero?”

“Shouta is a hero, sonny. Now, if the girl isn’t dying tonight, then why don’t you bring her by the hospital tomorrow morning? I can be there at 8 am.”

“Sure, Chiyo. I’ll connect you two tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll go home and sleep, Shouta. Heaven knows you don’t get enough of it.”

The call disconnected before he could argue, and he mentally shrugged, tucking the phone back into his belt and meeting the eyes of the other man again. Who was staring at him with wide eyes, having gone pale.

“You’re a hero,” the man said.

“Yes.”

“I tried to rob a hero.”

“Not the best decision, no. You’re lucky I’m not a daylight hero. They’d arrest you without asking questions.”

He gave the man a moment to process, trying to think of what needed to happen next. He probably needed resources for getting back on his feet--if by “trying everything” the man meant spending all he had to help his daughter. Shouta didn’t necessarily want to spend the next half hour in an alleyway. Come to think of it, wasn’t that one 24-hour ramen shop close by?...

“I-I don’t know how I could ever repay you for helping me. Or apologize for--for trying to take your money.”

Shouta waved him off. “I don’t need payment. I do want food, though. There’s a place not far from here where we can go and work out details. I can also share some resources with you so you don’t feel the need to shake people down for cash next time you find yourself in a tight spot.”

He led the man--Takamoto, as he introduced himself--to the shop, and they spent the next hour working through details and two bowls of hot food. 

“Why’d you even decide to try this in the first place?” Shouta found himself asking.

“I’ve never had much money,” Takamoto admitted. “My quirk’s considered weak, and I got a lot of flak for it. My little girl is the brightest spot in my life. When we learned that she didn’t have a quirk at all, her mother walked out on us. It’s actually because of her that I got the job I held for several years. I worked at a shoe store. See, my quirk can make anything I touch permanently waterproof--which is useful for things like photographs or journals--or shoes--but when I accidentally used it on a person…well, I accidentally messed up a couple lives when I was younger, and it came back to bite me. I got fired not long before Kimi got sick.”

“Well, those resources should be able to help you out, Takamoto.”

“I really appreciate it.” The man nodded in thanks. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to repay your kindness? Perhaps there’s something I could use my quirk on? It doesn’t prevent damage from normal wear and tear, but there must be something I can do?”

Shouta was about to deny again, but then he paused. The picture housed in his wallet seemed to be burning a hole into the side of his belt.

He sighed, pulling the wallet out and gingerly grabbing the picture. Staring at it for a moment, he slowly handed it over to the man. “This is the only copy I have.”

Takamoto’s whole expression softened when he looked at the image of the newborn, sky blue cap fixed firmly on his head and hospital bracelet still visible on one tiny arm. He glanced back up at Shouta in understanding. “You’d do anything for your little one too, wouldn’t you?”

Shouta didn’t answer. He didn’t want to have to admit that they’d never met.

The would-be mugger just smiled, something bittersweet lingering at the corners of his mouth, and turned to look back at the picture. “Was this in America?”

“What?” Shouta leaned forward, confused. “Why do you think that?”

“Look here,” he said, pointing. “The letters on the bracelet are from the English alphabet. I’m afraid I never learned to read English--I can only speak a little--so I can’t tell you what it says.”

Shouta took the photo back, staring intently at the little detail he had looked at so many times yet never noticed. Most of what was written was hidden, but he could just make out--

“Zu,” he murmured.

“Sounds like part of a name. He is yours, isn’t he?”

“His mother left before I could meet him.” He straightened slightly, not wanting to look away from the photo but knowing that now was not the time. He held the photo back out, slightly reluctantly. “Did you need to…”

“I already did. You could drop it in a pool and it’d come out unharmed. Really, it’s the least I could do.”

“You’ve given me more than I’ve gotten in years.” The thank you remained unspoken, but guessing by the way Takamoto grinned, it wasn’t unheard.

“Thank you, hero.”

Chapter Text

Shouta combed through the quirk registry for the upteenth time in Tsukauchi’s office. There was nobody in the foster system with a registered quirk name of “Erasure”. Or “Attraction”. This time, he was trying “Cancel” as a key word, but he hadn’t found any plausible results. There were none whose names would have “Zu” when translated to English.

“Maybe I can try 'Void' too,” he mumbled to himself, flipping through a few more names. He checked the time, surprised to see that it was already time to start his patrol, and reluctantly closed down the computer and grabbed his empty coffee cup.

A quiet knock on the door drew his attention. Sansa’s furry head peeked around the doorframe. “Hey, Eraserhead. We got a hit on one of the homes you flagged. We’re about to go search it. Wanna come?”

The cup was discarded on Tsukauchi’s desk. “Lead the way.”

Shouta barely waited until they were in the car to ask questions. “Which home are we going to? What’s the suspicion for this one? Who filed the report?”

“We’re going to the Uchida home. A social worker reported for suspicion of neglect and abuse. The last couple of kids who have gone there ended up as runaways. This is actually not the first time it’s been called in. It was reported almost three years ago, but the flag was taken down before any investigation could take place. It’s not listed in the files whether it was actually inspected or not, but it would’ve gone through Yanagida’s department.”

“He could’ve hidden the complaint to curb suspicion,” Shouta concluded, scowling at the mention of the station’s leak. It still irked him that they hadn’t been able to interrogate the man before he’d been killed. “And the person who filed the original report?”

“Aika Hashimoto. It’s one of the first houses she filed a report on, actually. She was still relatively new three years ago, I believe. There are several on your list that she’s flagged for us to investigate. I’m not sure if that means the system’s corrupt or if she’s just good at finding the bad homes.”

“It’s probably both.”

“You know, you’re probably right.”

Sansa pulled the police cruiser over beside a relatively nice house that had seen better days. Most of the plants in the front yard were dying. There were toys abandoned in the front lawn, some of which had clearly not been touched in a long time. The paint on the shutters was scuffed, and the small white fence around the property was dented and rusting. The whole scene screamed of faded opulence, and Shouta hated how familiar such a sight was becoming.

He followed Sansa as the officer walked up to the door and knocked. There were a few moments of shouting, some shuffling, and then the door cracked open. A woman with tired eyes peeked through the crack. “Can I help you?” she grumbled. She eyed Sansa’s uniform, and Shouta mentally cataloged red flag number one.

“Good evening. I’m Officer Tamakawa. Is this the Uchida residence?” Sansa asked.

“You can’t come in,” she said. Red flag number two.

“We just have a few questions for you. It wouldn’t take up too much of your time,” Sansa said cheerfully.

The woman’s expression didn’t change. “Now’s really not a good time. You can’t come in.”

“Actually, ma’am, we have a permit to search the house. If you would be so kind as to let us in, we can run through our search and get out of your hair,” Sansa continued, maintaining his upbeat tone. Shouta watched her expression flicker briefly in confusion before it shuttered back into exhausted annoyance.

“And who’s your partner? He doesn’t look like an officer.”

“Aizawa. Private consultant,” Shouta said bluntly, silently marking red flag number three. Deflection or stalling--or both, potentially. She was definitely attempting to hide something. “I suggest you open the door.”

Shouta heard the second police car pull up outside the house, and the woman paled slightly. She opened the door reluctantly.

As he trailed behind Sansa, he took note of how the kids eyed them warily. He also noted how much of that distrust was aimed at the woman and her husband, who had come out of the kitchen when they were led inside. The entire house felt tired--the furniture was worn, the kids had a world-weariness too big for their little bodies, and the couple themselves held exhaustion in the set of their shoulders and the weight of their eyes. The last vestiges of happiness and safety had bled away through the floorboards, and only the shell of cold emptiness remained. It gave Shouta a nasty feeling crawling up and down his spine.

He ignored Sansa asking questions about the kids under the couple’s care and the kids who had run away. Instead, he idly observed the house and its occupants a little more. He made sure to keep the couple in his peripheral vision.

At least, ignoring them was the original plan until the man exploded in desperation and surged toward Sansa. Shouta wasted no time wrapping him up in his capture weapon, glare already glowing red and hero persona coming to the forefront. 

“You don’t understand! They were good for nothing anyway--they had no future but becoming villains! At least this way they had some use! We would’ve gone bankrupt if--mmph!”

“That’s enough of that,” Shouta said blandly. “And it’s enough to take you into custody.”

Sansa stepped up to where the man was wrapped up, his mouth now covered with a spare coil of Shouta’s weapon. “Mr. Uchida, you are under arrest for the mistreatment and willful endangerment of minors. Charges may be added or removed based on the findings of our investigation.” The officer glanced at Shouta as he pulled out his handcuffs. “Aizawa, this is now an official investigation. You have free reign to search the house and ask questions as needed.”

As soon as Sansa had the man in handcuffs, Shouta removed his scarf and began walking towards the bedrooms. He trusted the officer to call for backup if he needed it. 

There was nothing of note within the bedrooms where the children stayed, so Shouta moved on rather quickly from there. Plus he was making the children nervous. His appearance tended to do that. It was better to get them somewhere safer as quickly as he could, so he quietly told them to pack their things as he passed them, giving them enough room that they wouldn’t feel cornered as he searched.

The master bedroom had nothing worth grabbing as evidence, either, so Shouta moved on to the office. By the time he got there, however, there were already a few officers inside. Deciding his help was going to be a hindrance more than anything else, he made his way back to the front lawn just in time to see a previously stunned Mr. Uchida attempting to escape custody.

He took off after him, one hand already reaching for his capture weapon. Instinctively, he flared his quirk, and suddenly he noted the man’s wife running beside him, handcuffs in one hand. A perception-based quirk then, he decided, keeping his eyes fixed on her even as he wrapped both of them in his scarf and snapped quirk-suppressing cuffs on both of their wrists. Only then did he allow himself to blink, hair falling back around his shoulders.

“You have no right to detain us!” the woman shouted, squirming uselessly against the bonds even as he (perhaps a bit roughly) pulled her to her feet.

He raised one unimpressed eyebrow. “This is my job.”

“Eraserhead! Thanks. You reacted way faster than we did,” an officer said, jogging up to the downed couple and double-checking their restraints. “We didn’t even notice they were getting away at first.”

“The woman has some sort of perception quirk. I didn’t register her presence until I’d erased it,” he said bluntly. “Keep those cuffs on her.”

Realizing that they wouldn’t be able to escape, the woman started to thrash and shout in frustration. “Just wait until my brother hears about this! You can’t keep us locked up forever!”

“Shut up, Honomi! It’s over! Can’t you see?” the man started shouting back. “Forget about your brother, too. We should’ve never gotten tangled with him.”

“This was your idea, you coward! Now you’re just gonna roll over and die?”

“We’re done, Honomi! Get that? Done!”

Shouta felt his eye twitch. He took a moment to remember where he’d put the aspirin in his belt. There should be a couple pills left, at the very least. Maybe it would save him from the incoming headache.

He handed off the couple as soon as a few more police officers were close enough, returning his capture weapon again to its resting position around his shoulders. They had the situation under control now, he concluded. He was about to go find Sansa and take his leave when he saw one of the officers freeze.

It only took a split second for him to decide that he couldn’t just leave it be. He turned with some reluctance to look at the officer.

“Something on your mind?” he grumbled.

The young man blinked, as if coming out of a daze, then met his eyes firmly. “Mr. Uchida’s sleeve rode up some. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder. I recognized it, though--the Brass Vipers use it as their symbol.”

Shouta resisted the urge to groan. Of course there were gang connections going on.

“You’re completely sure it was the Brass Vipers symbol?” he asked, just to be certain.

“I am,” the officer replied. “I grew up in a rougher part of the city. Gangs and gang wars were pretty common.”

What a headache. However, it was also a lead.

“Great. Pass that message along to Sansa. Tell him that I’ll map out their territory this week and we can plan something if we need to.”

“Of course, sir. Can I ask where you’re going?”

“The ‘sir’ is unnecessary, kid. I have a meeting to get to, and it’s best if I get there early. Much better than being late.”

He only stayed long enough to see the young man nod before sending his capture weapon to wrap around a light pole, catapulting himself to the rooftops. After all, if he was going to start teaching next week, he’d have to be prepared for it. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Chapter Text

“I got to use my foster license last week,” Nemuri said, leaning back far enough that the front legs of the office chair she sat in were off the ground.

“That’s great! I actually got to use mine just a few days ago,” Hizashi piped up. “Sweet little thing named Himi that needed a bed for a couple nights while her aunt and uncle came from the other side of the country.”

Shouta hummed passively, half distracted by the paperwork in front of him. “Nemuri, you’re going to fall out of that chair if you don’t sit up,” he said flatly.

“You worrywart. I’ll be fiiiiine,” she claimed.

They were sitting in the staff room of UA. Even though they were just teacher’s assistants right now, Nedzu had given them their own desks with the rest of the full-time staff. It was a little detail, but it spoke volumes to the permanence of their positions. Shouta had resigned himself to the fact that he now had two jobs, and he would have two jobs until he retired from being a pro hero. The Rat had claimed them all, and there was no getting out of that. He would be annoyed if he wasn’t too tired to bother. As it was, he was too busy trying to decipher the handwriting on the essay in front of him. 

“Hey, Shou, have you gotten to use your license yet?” Hizashi asked.

Shouta set the papers down with a sigh, figuring that he wouldn’t be getting much grading done. “No. I don’t exactly have the time to give a traumatized kid right now. I’m still trying to adjust my sleep schedule.”

Which was true, he told himself. That was all. He ignored the whispering in the back of his mind that watching another child, even temporarily, was too much like replacing the child that should be his. Something about the way his friends watched him told him that that they saw right through his flimsy excuse.

“You ready for tonight?” Nemuri asked, changing the subject.

“Oh yeah, you guys have that raid tonight! Wasn’t that planned super last-minute?” Hizashi said, leaning forward on his elbows. He dropped the pen he’d been holding back into the ridiculous pineapple pencil holder on his desk, apparently reaching the same conclusion Shouta had.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “We got a lead last week on the trafficking group. Found headquarters to a connected gang. It needs to be fast and quiet, or I would’ve seen if you could come too.”

“Nah, I get it. I’m definitely not quiet in a fight. You just let me know if you need some backup, then. I’ll just be at home finishing some grading and getting ahead in my classwork.”

“Getting ahead?!” Nemuri exclaimed, then shrieked as her surprise jolted the precariously balanced chair and sent her tipping backwards with a crash.

“Nem!” Hizashi shouted, on the verge of being too loud. “Are you okay?”

“You’re getting ahead in your classwork? How do you even have the time? Didn’t you just start your radio station too?” their friend exclaimed, ignoring their concern and Shouta’s quiet mumble of “I told you you’d fall.” She sat up as if nothing had happened. “Hizashi, how are you not dying?”

“I honestly don’t know,” the blonde admitted. “I just love everything I’m doing, I guess. It’s so great seeing everyone’s happy faces, yeah?”

“Alright, this is touching, but it’s time to go. Nem, don’t hurt yourself before the raid starts. I can’t find a replacement in such a short timespan. Zashi, actually sleep sometime tonight.”

“Hypocrite,” Hizashi scolded lightly. Shouta ignored him.

“Let’s get this raid over with. Maybe we can get another lead on this ridiculous case and I can finally get it closed.”

He walked out, holding the bag he’d packed while watching his friends bicker. There was little chance he’d be able to actually work on the grading after the raid, but it wouldn’t hurt to bring it home just in case.

Nemuri followed him, slipping into her Midnight persona almost imperceptibly as they walked. “Time to kick some butt, eh? Maybe time to take names while we’re at it,” she said playfully. He side-eyed her grin until she broke into wild cackles. “Come on, let’s get to the station. I wanna rescue some kids tonight.”

Barely two hours later, Shouta slid his goggles over his eyes, tapping the comm in his ear. “Eraserhead checking in. Everyone in position?” he murmured.

“Midnight checking in. Ready.”

“Mr. Brave here. I’m in position.”

“Rock Lock checking in. I’m ready.”

“Shadowstep. Ready.”

“Kesagiriman in position out front. Ready.”

“Lightshaper here. I’m ready when you are.”

“The perimeter is set, Eraser. You’re good to go in.”

Alarms started going off inside the building, and Eraserhead used the chaos of the frontal attack to sneak in the back door. He saw Shadowstep slip through a window out of the corner of his eye before he returned his focus to his task.

His strengths relied on the element of surprise, meaning ambush attacks in open spaces were most ideal. While the inside of a building didn’t count as an open space, it still gave the opportunity for sneak attacks. 

It was always expected that a few lower-level thugs would attempt to flee through the back door in raids like this, and he wasn’t disappointed. Rapid footsteps alerted him of someone approaching right before someone rushed around the corner--straight into Eraserhead’s waiting fist. He made short work of the next three lackeys, snapping cuffs onto their unconscious forms as he kept going deeper into the remodeled furniture store that the gang was using as their hideout.

The layout took him right up to the edge of the fighting on the main floor, and he skirted around it carefully, listening to the calls of his allies as they fought and watched each other’s backs. It looked like they were doing fine, so he kept pushing deeper into the building, keeping his eyes and ears on alert.

“Behind you, Eraser,” he heard, and something whistled overhead as he instinctively ducked. He spun around in a hurry, eyes already blazing red with the use of his quirk and capture weapon whipping out to stop the dagger flung at him. It clattered to the ground and melded into shadows as his opponent came into view.

“Right on time, hero,” the man sneered. “There’s more a’ you than they said, though.”

“We were expected, then?” Eraserhead asked, eyeing the man carefully. He seemed overconfident. His shoulders were set in a firm line, feet placed firmly and certainly. There was a gleam of intelligence in his eyes, but it was matched with a snide grin that said he believed the hero to be inferior. Maybe if Shouta leaned into that, he could get more info out of him…

“‘Course you were. Sh--they said you were comin’. We decided we’d give ya a warm reception.” The grin widened into something bloodthirsty, and the conversation was over.

The man burst forward with one arm pulled back, and Eraserhead met him in the middle. They traded blows for a few moments before disengaging briefly. He took a moment to blink, reassessing his opponent. The man had some combat training, making him more dangerous than the gang members already caught. An upper member, maybe? 

The shadows around the man’s hand coalesced into a wicked looking knife, serrated on one end. He flipped it around, then charged back in.

“You’ll have to tell your superiors that we appreciated the reception,” Eraserhead quipped, dodging the man last second and swinging a knockout kick into the man’s temple. He dropped like a rock, the knife fading into the floor just like the last one had.

It was when he was cuffing the man that he noticed the keys hidden in the man’s pocket. They were different than what the doors of such a place required--which meant that there was something else here.

“Eraser,” Shadowstep’s voice called through the comms. “I’ve found a locked room. Back corner office, first floor. Seems to lead into a basement.”

“I’ll be right there,” he responded. “Just found a set of keys.”

“Picking the lock’s faster. I’ll let you when you get here.”

“Need some backup? The boys have it under control up here,” Midnight asked.

“Sure. Extra set of eyes is good.”

They met at the door Shadowstep had found in only a few minutes, and Eraserhead wasted no time in picking the lock. Midnight swept in as soon as he swung the door open. He followed behind her, leaving the other hero to guard their backs.

The door led to a basement, just as they had guessed. It was dimly lit and anything but empty.

Shouts rang out as soon as the trio came into the main floor. Quirks went flying through the air, and the three of them all dodged out of the way in separate directions.

It became an all-out brawl in moments. Midnight’s whip snapped out in several directions as she puffed handfuls of her quirk into the faces of the men who got too close. Shadowstep’s silent footsteps danced around bodies with the fluidity of the darkness dancing away from light. Eraserhead whipped out his capture weapon in several different directions at once, keeping an eye on anyone trying to sneak up on his allies while cancelling out quirks randomly to throw their opponents off.

It was several minutes later when most of the gang was out, a few running up the stairs. Shadowstep made a move to follow, but Eraserhead waved a hand at him. “Let them go.” He reached up to his comm. “You’ve got four coming up from the basement. They’ll probably try the back door.”

“Copy that.”

“Eraser,” Midnight called urgently. His attention snapped to her immediately. “I found what they were keeping down here.”

He raced to her side, steps faltering as he saw what she was looking at. There were cages lined up in rows, and they weren’t empty.

He had to bite back the too-familiar rage at seeing young children treated like animals. They were dirty and scared, young bodies curled into protective holds, but their fearful eyes tracked the two heroes with flickers of hope.

Shouta lowered his goggles, scanning the rows of tiny figures for injuries, but his steps stuttered at an achingly familiar head of wild hair.

“Shinsou?”

Chapter Text

Izuku ran an absent finger over the cherry blossom necklace hanging around his neck as his other hand fondled the cover of his mother’s scrapbook. He knew that if he lifted his hand, he’d be greeted by the smiling, youthful face of his mother on a beach, wearing a blue and yellow sundress that he never remembered seeing when she was still alive. He’d glimpsed the edges of the image enough times to know that, but he still couldn’t muster up the courage to move his hand from where it hid her face. If he couldn’t see that it was her, maybe he could pretend that it was someone else he used to know.

Not that that logic helped when he knew that it was her. It did nothing about the glimpses of dark green hair he’d catch whenever his fingers shifted, or every time he pulled the book out or put it away. It felt like cowardice, not being able to look at her face, but he just knew that if he met her eyes in the photo he’d end up losing all composure. The guilt of not being able to look wasn’t as bad as the complete breakdown he was sure he’d have if he raised his hand.

He realized, with a deep aching feeling that took a moment to name as resignation, that he hadn’t actually had time to finish grieving her. He’d started, he knew, with the peace which came with being in Mrs. Harada, but then he was thrown back into a constant cycle of moving from house to house, always waiting for when the peace would be shattered into suspicion and violence. So far, that shift had been inevitable. It became a weakness to show emotion in the houses when other people were around. Waiting for the other shoe to drop set him on edge, and there was never enough time between sneaking around to avoid attention and still finding enough food to eat while also finishing homework and avoiding bullies at school. And he was about to throw himself back into that environment. 

Was it worth it?

There was a knock at the front door, then, and Izuku realized with a start that his time was almost up. His tenth birthday had come and gone, and he was going to be put in a new placement that afternoon. He wouldn’t have another chance to look at the scrapbook for a while. 

Izuku looked down at his hand, still covering the front image, and wrestled with his emotions for a moment longer. 

Not looking felt too much like forgetting.

He took a quick breath, steeled himself, and moved his hand. 

For a moment all he could do was stare blankly at the picture of his mom. She was young, smiling, happy. The image captured a moment where joy shone like a radiance around her, love and care aimed at the person behind the camera. She looked lively and carefree. It was an expression he only got to see on her when it was just the two of them--when he’d made her laugh, or they had gone to pick up a special dessert or he tried to sing one of her favorite songs. 

Five years. She’d been gone nearly five years. 

He slammed his hands back over the cover, too overwhelmed to look into it further. He felt robbed, like she was ripped away while he still needed her. But she had been ripped away.

Don’t lose hope. 

He stowed the scrapbook with the rest of the things that weren’t going to be coming with him to the new placement. Miss Aika normally didn’t hold onto things for her kids, but she said that, with the circumstances, she could keep a few things that he didn’t want getting lost or stolen. Izuku had wasted no time in gathering his mother’s old belongings and putting them together.

Officer Mayeda rounded the corner and knocked on the doorframe. “Hey, kid. Your social worker’s here. You ready to go?”

Izuku nodded, standing up and grabbing his bag. He thanked the officer for his help and training. Over the past few months, he’d learned the laws concerning foster homes and the limits of what was and wasn’t allowed. He’d taken the time to learn how to properly report information to the police. They’d practiced dialing Miss Aika’s number without being able to see. Officer Mayeda had even given him his own phone--a cheap model, but something that would help him get in contact with someone if he needed to. He wouldn’t listen to Izuku’s protests, saying that since it was for the case he’d just cover the cost to keep it running. 

By his own request, they had also made a special blindfold for him. Miss Aika had protested loudly, but he reasoned that there was a good chance someone would try blocking his sight again, and if they already had one that was made to fit him then it would be less painful to deal with whatever the homes tried to use on him. It had taken a few weeks for her to cave to that. He knew she was still unhappy about it. 

He paused when he reached the entryway and saw her waiting. “You have glasses,” he said in surprise. And it was true--she had black-framed glasses that he had never seen her wear before. They made her look a bit older.

She smiled at him. “Hey there, sweetheart. I ran out of contact lenses. They’re a few days behind schedule on getting me new ones due to a villain attack about a week ago.”

“Do they do anything fancy?”

Miss Aika laughed. “No, they’re nothing special. Just normal glasses.”

He couldn’t help pouting slightly. “They should make you a pair that does something special. Like your own little support item!”

Izuku followed her out to her car, waving goodbye to the house he was leaving. Miss Aika ruffled his hair as she took his bags to throw in the trunk. “I don’t know if I’d be allowed to have a support item. I don’t typically need one for my field.”

“Well, maybe they can make, like, glasses that can record what you’re looking at. So if you see something you don’t think is safe you have it on video. As evidence,” Izuku suggested.

“You know, that’s a pretty smart idea, sweetheart. Maybe I can look into the laws for support items and let you know if they do something like that.”

Izuku nodded, satisfied both with the conversation and the distraction, and stared out the window for a few moments before another question came to mind. “Where are we going now?”

“Your new placement is with the Yokono family. A teacher at the local middle school had concerns when one of the students came in with bruises that weren’t there previously. They couldn’t find enough evidence for an investigation, though, so while a note was made in the family’s file, the concerns were dropped.”

They drove the rest of the way in relative silence. Izuku fidgeted anxiously before reminding himself to stay still. A flicker of doubt in his mind grew, and he tried to stamp it out. It would be fine. He could do this. It was like being a hero for the other kids without homes.

He couldn’t stop people from dying. Not yet. But maybe he could still protect others.

Chapter Text

Shinsou’s eyes shone as he looked at Shouta. The hero watched as tension began to leak out of the boy’s shoulders. There was a muzzle on him, and Shouta felt a volcanic fury deep in his gut at the sight. 

The boy raised his hands to sign. Let the others out first.

“Do you have an extra set of lock picks?” Midnight interjected. 

Snapping back into work mode, Eraserhead wordlessly pulled his spare kit out of his belt and handed it to her. He didn’t break eye contact with Shinsou as he said, “Start in the back, I’ll start up here. Make sure the kids stick together. Don’t let them go upstairs yet.”

“Got it. I’ll check for injuries too.”

He only waited until he could hear her heels clicking away before continuing to check on the purple-haired boy in front of him. “Any injuries? I can get you out in moments, you know.”

The boy shook his head. I’ve been here the shortest. I’m fine for another few minutes.

“Alright, fine. Knock on the cage or something if that changes,” Shouta acquiesced. 

He wasted no time in checking each child for injuries, calming them, and getting them out of the cages. The middle task got easier after the second child, when word started spreading that these two people were, in fact, heroes. Eraserhead watched as the hope began to bloom in their eyes and postures. He did his best to soften his expression, keeping his movements open and clear while moving as quickly as possible. The kids began clamoring at the bars of their cages, dirty little bodies trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation as they waited impatiently to be freed. Some of them cried loudly, their wails mixing to a headache-inducing cacophony, but others let silent tears roll down their dusty cheeks.

About halfway down the line, the little boy he had just freed tugged lightly at his sleeve. “Mr. Hero, are you gonna let Purple out too?”

Eraserhead glanced down to see the boy pointing back at Shinsou, who was watching patiently from his spot. “Yeah. He asked me to let everyone else out first.”

The little boy tugged insistently at his sleeve again. “But he’s been here longer than me. And he tried to keep the bad men away.”

Dread started to prickle at Eraserhead’s spine. “He told me he’d been here the shortest. Did they hurt him when he tried to keep the bad men away?”

The boy nodded. “They put a thing on his face when he tried to talk, and then they kicked him and hit him some. I think there’s something wrong with his feet now.”

Eraserhead went to swear, remembered he was around kids, and bit his tongue. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.” As he spoke, he finished picking the next lock, pulling the door open wide. He looked around until he saw Midnight moving to another cage. “Midnight!” he called, and she met his eyes. “Can you get the rest?”

“There are only four left here, Eraser. I can get four locks undone faster than you can,” she practically purred.

“Fine. I’ve got to get Shinsou,” he said.

He took off as fast as he could without tripping over young children ( children. In cages. Who puts children--) to get back to the very first cage with the too-familiar face. He pulled to a stop in front of it to see a sheepish-looking Shinsou, hands already raised to sign.

Logical ruse?

“Logical ruse? Really? Where is the logic in the ruse?” Eraserhead scolded lightly, already crouching to pick at the lock. “You said you were the last one here. How long have you been here, really?”

Shinsou’s sheepish expression deepened in embarrassment. I might have been here first.

There was a bark of laughter behind them, and the familiarity was the only thing that kept Eraserhead from lashing out at the sudden sound. “Kid sounds like you, Eraser,” Midnight said as she sauntered up, a herd of children behind her.

“I hope not,” he countered. “I’m not the best role model for personality.”

The lock clicked open, and he wasted no time in gently helping Shinsou out, noting how the kid avoided putting weight on his right foot. Definitely an injury then. “Let me get that muzzle off of you, kid. How bad is that foot hurting you?”

Shinsou warily let him edge around to the back of the muzzle, raising his hands higher while Eraserhead worked at the lock. Ankle might be sprained. Can’t walk on it. Swollen.

“Alright, Shinsou. Any other injuries you didn’t think to tell me about the first time?”

Mostly bruises. And the muzzle. Face hurts.

“Yeah, I’d imagine it does. Thank you for being honest with me.” The lock clicked, and he peeled it slowly off the kid’s face. Shinsou worked his jaw open as soon as the device was gone, wincing slightly as he was finally allowed the movement to do so.

“We’ve got 23 kids here, Eraser,” Midnight informed him.

“I’ve already alerted those topside,” Shadowstep said, coming back to the other two heroes. “There are a few files that the police will be interested in. Looked like a list of buyers too. I’ve got that evidence if you two want to take the kids up.”

Eraserhead nodded, one hand going to the radio in his ear that he’d been ignoring for the past several minutes. “How’s the cleanup up there?”

“There’s a bit of a mess out front, but the back door is clear. A couple of them managed to escape the perimeter. We’ve got Mr. Brave on the chase.”

“Copy that. Coming topside. Have paramedics ready.”

Carefully, he picked Shinsou up, holding the rain-thin boy to his chest. Midnight helped him get another little (tiny) child onto his back, and between the two of them, they herded all the children upstairs, out of the building, and into the waiting arms of the paramedics.

After handing off the two she’d been carrying, Midnight sauntered over to where Eraserhead waited, still standing close to Shinsou while the medics cleaned his cuts and checked on his ankle. “So you recognized this one, Eraser,” she started. “You’ve met before, haven’t you? And no, you don’t get to escape my questions.”

He grumbled, slightly annoyed, but mostly just to maintain his reputation. He didn’t have a persona, he had a reputation, thank you very much, Nemuri. “We’ve run into each other before. He had a run-in with some…unpleasant people." 

“Hmmm. Good thing you were there, then.” Suddenly she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him a couple feet away--just far enough that the kid couldn’t overhear them. “Shouta, the kid’s like a carbon copy of you, but purple. Is he your kid, do you think?”

Pulling up his goggles, Shouta sighed, rubbing at his sore eyes. “No. I don’t think so. Most likely just coincidence. But I don’t trust the foster system with him--not anymore.”

“Do you want to use that emergency license for a couple days?”

Shouta opened his mouth, then hesitated. It would be logical, yes, but something deep inside him protested the notion. He didn’t exactly know how to verbalize it. It was like a betrayal, of sorts, to house a kid temporarily in a room that would never belong to them.

Nemuri must have picked something up from his hesitation, because she gave him a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it, Shouta. It feels too much like you’re replacing your little one, right? I was asking because if you didn’t take him, I was going to.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. Then paused again. “You’re taking him?”

She smirked. “What can I say? The kid’s growing on me.”

“You’ve only just met him.”

“I’m a good judge of character. He’s got sharp eyes. Bet he’s got a razor sharp wit on him, too. Plus he needs a few good, hot meals.” She turned to look back at the boy, and Shouta turned to look too. He was conversing quietly with a police officer, keeping track of the two heroes. When he felt their eyes, he looked up at them, raising one hand hesitantly.

“Alright. I’ll bring some food over for you tomorrow.”

“What! Are you saying I’m not perfectly capable of taking care of a kid?”

“I’m sure you are, but you can’t live on takeout for weeks on end. Ask the kid what his favorite is. I’ll swing by your place after school.”

“Hey, Eraser! Would you come here for a second?” the police officer talking to Shinsou shouted, and Shouta turned to him immediately, leaving Nemuri gaping like an overly dramatic fish at his perceived slight.

“What is it?” he asked as he got closer.

“The kid has some information on the case. I think you’ll want to hear it.”

Eraserhead’s steps stuttered, and he turned all his focus onto Shinsou. “What do you know?”

“They have some guy helping them out. His quirk lets him erase the presence of activity on a small scale. Like a desk, or something--removes fingerprints, makes it look untouched. Except he uses drugs. I’ve seen him inject himself with something. And then he makes it look like whole warehouses have never been used. It lets them move from place to place without anyone knowing about it.”

“So they have someone helping them avoid detection,” Eraserhead summarized.

Shinsou nodded.

“Great. Do you think you can give a description of that person?”

Shinsou opened his mouth, but he was interrupted by a large yawn, and Eraserhead suddenly remembered the time.

“You know what? It’s like three in the morning. Let’s get you settled in for the night, and I can ask you another time. My friend Midnight would like to use her emergency foster license for you. Is that alright?”

The boy stared at him intensely, tension returning to the set of his shoulders. His eyes darted around, searching Eraserhead’s face for something. He must have found what he was looking for, because he only looked at Midnight for a moment before nodding in agreement. 

“Good. Let’s get you out of here for tonight.”

Chapter Text

Shouta closed the door behind him with a soft click, mentally beginning to prepare for his next patrol. True to his word, he’d dropped off some food for Nemuri and Shinsou after school. He’d taken the opportunity to check up on the kid and ask him a few questions related to the case--nothing about what he’d been through, but enough to get a picture for who the heads of the group were. There was no need to traumatize the kid more than he already had been, and recounting everything for an official statement was going to be hard enough. 

He swung by the station on his way to start patrol, and he was just in time to run into an exhausted-looking Tsukauchi returning to his office.

“Oh, hey, Aizawa,” the detective greeted, a half-smile stretching bravely across his face. “It’s been a while.”

“You look awful,” Shouta said bluntly. “Rough case?”

The smile dropped a little. “Yeah. A good friend of mine got really hurt. He pulled through, but it was touch and go for a while.”

“You need a break?”

This got a snort from Tsukauchi. “There’s not really time for that. Too many other cases need my attention. Speaking of, how’s yours going?”

“Got some info from a raid last night. I’ll fill you in after my patrol. Or tomorrow. After you’ve slept some.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Which is why you should listen. If I’m telling you you need sleep, you’ve got a problem.”

“My only problem is that there’s not enough coffee in this building.”

“Well, I can’t argue there.” Shouta shifted, mind occupied with the new info he got from Shinsou and the many papers he still had to grade after patrol. “I gotta run. Catch up with you later. Good to have you back.”

He swung out of the precinct only a few minutes later, the streets flying beneath his feet and heart pounding with the thrill of the night. He reveled in the freedom that only came from roof-hopping, above the eyes and awareness of anyone else who, by chance, was still awake at such an hour. These hours had a way of bringing out the most foundational parts of a person’s being, of revealing the truth of a heart in ways the light couldn’t. It stripped away masks, relaxed others’ guards. The night was honest in a way the day never was.

There was only one other case that Shouta had been told to worry about a few days ago. The police had noticed an uptick in villains dosed on quirk-enhancers, and they suspected the rise to be due to a new source of the drug. As he roof-hopped, he kept a careful eye out for the people passing by beneath him. 

He was only mildly surprised when he managed to catch a handoff in action.

Both of the men startled when he landed near-silently in the alley behind them. He was quick to flash his quirk and wrap them both in his capture weapon, and he wasted no time making sure their hands were empty. It was routine to say the reason for their detainment and page the police. He mostly ignored their complaints as he pocketed the confiscated drugs for later inspection. 

It was only due to exposure that he caught what the buyer said.

“Providence didn’t warn me of this! She said it was safe tonight! You weren’t supposed to be here, man!”

It took every cell in Shouta’s body to keep from reacting visibly. “Oh she did, did she?” he said, speaking in a disinterested tone.

“Oh, sh--oh, he--she--I’ve said too much.”

“You idiot,” the dealer hissed. “Just shut your mouth!”

“Not like you weren’t complaining, too!”

The resulting squabble was promptly ignored until a patrol car arrived and Tsukauchi stepped out.

“I thought I told you to go sleep,” Shouta deadpanned.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been great at listening to that particular piece of advice,” the detective sighed. “What have you got?”

“Drug handoff. They’re cuffed, not searched. Would have required knocking them out with how much they were protesting, and I didn’t feel like being stabbed in the back today.”

“I don’t blame you for that. Anything else to know?”

“Yeah. The buyer mentioned Providence. She’s a person. I suspect he knows more.”

“Great. I’ll interview him at the station. You want a ride?”

“I’ll beat you there.”

“True. Wait--beat me--we’re in a car--”

Shouta didn’t wait to hear the detective finish. He swung up to a nearby roof and started running. 

It was beyond satisfying to see the absolutely done look on Tsukauchi’s face when his car pulled into the precinct and Shouta was standing in front of the doors, not even breathing heavily.

Despite plans to the contrary, he wound up staying at the precinct while the buyer was processed and interviewed. Shouta added to his case file with something akin to glee.

The man’s name was Onishi Doppo. His quirk was called No Trace. It allowed him, when it was enhanced, to hide the recent presence and movement of entire buildings. Objects would remain, but any trace of people would vanish. The necessity of using drugs for that enhancement had caused Onishi some addiction, which is why he was buying more. His quirk accounted for why Shouta had found so many empty warehouses--they needed cleared out first, but the activity from people existing there in the first place had been erased by the time he arrived.

The other important information they got was on Providence herself.

It was a type of foresight quirk, like they had expected--a very powerful one. Onishi understood it as being able to predict the events that were bound to play out. Experience taught Shouta and Tsukauchi one more critical piece.

“It can’t account for random chance,” Shouta rumbled after the interrogation.

“What?” the detective said, half-distractedly. Then the context seemed to click, and he stopped flipping through the notes he’d just taken. “You mean Providence’s quirk. You don’t think it can predict events that happen randomly.”

“Yes. Every time we’ve gotten information on this case, it’s been because we decided to switch plans as a spur-of-the-moment event. It’s all been one coincidence after another. Tonight is just the last one we needed to see the pattern.”

Tsukauchi nodded slowly. “You’re right. It seems we’ve found the weakness, then. Now, the big question is how we plan around a quirk that sees events that are planned.”

“It’s hard to do a raid as a spur-of-the-moment event. Near impossible, even. There’s too much coordination involved. If we go in without a plan, we go in almost entirely blind. We can’t know what we face that way, or even if we have enough heroes to not be instantly overwhelmed.”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Aizawa. We still need to know where their primary base is in the first place.”

“Yeah, but now they can’t hide where they’ve been. Give me that list of locations we started with a few years back. I’ll go through it again. You always thought I needed to randomize my patrol routes more anyway.”

“Ha! I’ll get started on that right away.”

Shouta paused, checked the time, and then groaned. “No you won’t. It’s almost 5:30 in the morning. Go home. Sleep. Actually leave the station this time.”

“Alright, fine, you worrywart. But only if you also sleep.”

“I’ve got school in a few hours and I told them I’d get some grading done tonight. I’ll nap during free period.” He started towards the door again, then stopped--again. “What did you call me?”

“A worrywart? Mother hen. Fussy. Paternal. Bossy--”

“I am not a mother hen,” Shouta interrupted, shooting a glare at the detective. Tsukauchi grinned unrepentantly. “Get out of here. If you don’t go home and sleep, I will find out.”

“Uh huh. Mama bear--”

Shouta shut the door in his face.

Chapter Text

Shouta sat in Tsukauchi’s office, slouched tiredly in one of the chairs by his desk. The detective himself had given up on any form of decorum, sitting with his feet on his desk and tossing a crumpled ball of paper in the air over and over. On the other side of the room, Sansa watched the ball intensely, and Shouta would have teased him for it if he had the energy for it.

“You said Providence’s quirk allowed her to see events happening to a specific location, right?” the cat-headed officer asked.

“Yes, we’ve been over this already,” Shouta grumbled. “Her view being centered on a location means that spontaneous events can’t be predicted. This is why we can’t just plan a raid. There’s nothing spontaneous about raids.”

“Hey, be nice to Sansa. Maybe we’ll get a new idea hearing him repeat it all again,” Tsukauchi scolded lightly. He was ignored.

“Right. There’s too much coordination required for raids to work, so we can’t really do that without her being tipped off and potentially being able to move elsewhere.”

“Hey, at least we did manage to get the location, though I still don’t know how you managed that, Shouta,” the detective pointed out.

They ignored him again.

“It’s not like we could just shift the roster around either. Even if we use heroes that are ready at the drop of a hat, it’d leave several areas vulnerable because you’d be pulling all the underground heroes out of their patrol routes. And it still wouldn’t affect the foresight. She’d see us coming no matter who we invite.”

“Plus you have to coordinate with the police and paramedics,” Tsukauchi tried again.

“We could send someone undercover?” Sansa suggested.

“That only delays the inevitable,” Shouta argued. “Eventually a raid would have to happen.”

“We could try going in as--I don’t know--cats,” Tsukauchi said.

Sansa coughed. The way his eyes crinkled in amusement didn’t fool either of them.

“Unfortunately, cats swarming a villain’s base is even more suspicious than heroes swarming the same place. I don’t even know how you managed to think of something more disruptive than a raid,” Shouta said. 

“Well, we’d have to do something really outside of the box to get around this quirk,” the detective sighed.

“Too bad Eraser can’t just cancel out her quirk right when she goes to use it,” Sansa said.

An idea flashed through Shouta’s head, and he sat up fast enough to make him feel fully awake. “What if we can though?”

“What? Shouta, we don’t know her civilian identity or her schedule. We can’t get you close enough to do that, and even if we could, she’d see you coming.”

“But if quirk suppressants interfere with her vision, we might be able to use that to our advantage. Most of us unders can fight quirkless, but I’d be willing to bet that the villains won’t be used to it. If we can get suppressants into the building, if we can stop her foresight that way, we might have a shot.”

The two police officers were quiet for a moment. “It’s risky,” Tsukauchi said. “A lot of that depends on the specifics of her quirk. Either way, that’ll still take time. We’d have to figure out how to make that happen. It’s not like we could just take them out tonight, unfortunately.”

The detective was right, Shouta knew. Not that he had to like it. But his comment spurred another thought. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, hitting the one he was looking for and bringing the phone up to his ear. Then, on second thought, he put it on speaker.

“Shouta? You never call, is everything alright?”

“How do you feel about busting a trafficking ring tonight without a plan?”

“Sounds like a blast, but I hope you’re bringing more than just the two of us.”

“I’m about to text the teacher group.”

“Fantastic. Yo, want me to swing by Nemuri’s place and pick her up? She’d be down.”

“Sure. I bet she’ll be ready when you get there.”

He hung up, knowing his friends were used to it by now. Tsukauchi had taken his feet off the desk halfway through the call. “Wouldn’t this count as a raid, Aizawa?”

Raising an eyebrow at the return to formality, Shouta gave a slight shrug. “It’s not planned. I only thought of it just now. But a network of teachers who are also pro heroes are going to be willing to throw some punches over mistreated kids. I bet half of them are gonna cancel their plans to come.”

Eraserhead

Who’s down to tear down a trafficking ring tonight?

Vlad King

I kinda already had plans…unless you absolutely need some backup…

Eraserhead

They’ve been stealing kids.

Midnight

Count me in!

Ectoplasm

I can be there. Where are we meeting?

Snipe

Wouldja look at that, my calendar’s just opened up.

Vlad King

I no longer have plans

Cementoss

Do you have an address for us all, Aizawa?

Midnight

Are we meeting at the station?

Eraserhead

Nemuri, Hizashi should be coming to get you in about ten minutes. There’s no plan other than to storm the place. We’ve been up against a tricky foresight quirk, but spontaneity seems outside its perception. I have a location, and I’ve decided I’m not waiting for a plan to get around this quirk another way.

Hound Dog

Ohhh, I’ve got some throats to rip out. I’ll be there, for sure. Just tell me where.

Putting down the phone, Shouta couldn’t help the feral grin stretching across his face. “You might want to call in a few favors. The UA teachers are ready for a fight. That’s eight pros confirmed, and Cementoss is on board, so we can set a perimeter.”

Tsukauchi’s jaw had dropped, but he picked it up with admirable speed. “You are crazy, but this just might work. I’ll grab the car. Sansa, can you call a team of paramedics? Probably--”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know who you mean. I’m on it. I’ll call them on the way. Will we have Recovery Girl there to help us?”

Shouta looked at his still-buzzing phone. “She’ll be there along with Lunch Rush. They’re packing supplies.”

“Great. Send them the address and let’s go. If this works, Eraser, you deserve all the credit,” Tsukauchi replied, already opening the door to his office and leading the way outside. “The three of us will be busy for the next couple hours,” he announced as they passed the bullpen. “If you need something, ask someone else.”

They parked the unmarked police car a couple blocks away from the targeted building, and Shouta messaged the rest of the group telling them to do the same. He pinged the location to Cementoss, then briefly described Providence’s known associates and their quirks. Once that was done, he slid his goggles on and pocketed the phone.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, and leapt away.

The thing about being on the same case for years--the same heart-wrenching, guilt-creeping, too-intimate case which stole the lives away from children, little kids who barely had an idea of their own worth, young ones who could disappear without many people noticing or even caring--is that it left a lot of pent-up aggression in its wake when the conclusion was within sight. Shouta’s eyes blazed with a burning fire as his capture weapon weaved deadly traps around his prey, hair waving around his head like a crown heralding a creature from the depths of the ocean. He tore through ranks of unsuspecting gang members with a savage efficiency, barely registering the way his coworkers supported him and kept the villains from running. He lashed out with pointed knees, sharp elbows, brutal fists, and vicious kicks. A feral growl burned deep in his throat. For just a little while, he reveled in the fear shining through his opponents’ faces. 

It was a relatively large building, but the righteous fury of the heroes had them clearing the first few floors in less than ten minutes. With only one more floor to go, Shouta led the charge up the stairs.

He flew into what appeared to be an office, the door bouncing off the wall where he’d flung it aside. He found only one person inside, and his capture weapon whipped out in a blink to bind the figure within, eyes burning crimson. The figure within struggled for only a moment before seeming to sag in place.

“You seem to have figured it out,” a lilting female voice said.

The pieces clicked instantly. “Providence,” Shouta snarled.

“Yes,” the figure replied. “You came earlier than I expected. It seems the game is up.”

“What part of any of this is a game to you?” Shouta demanded. “Is kidnapping children just a game to be played?”

“In part,” Providence said. “Illegal trading is such a lucrative business, you see, but no business can last forever. I knew you’d come for me eventually. A pity it had to be so soon. It was a pleasure to watch you chase your tails. But, it seems this is the end of it. Such a shame.”

Rage burned so hotly within him that he couldn’t even find a response. Instead, he roughly dragged the figure forward and slapped cuffs on her wrists, tightening them past what was necessary. She winced, but then a sly smile found its way onto her face.

“Ah, it seems I’ve hit a nerve. You certainly look the part of a feral animal. I wonder, once all the fame and glory of heroism is stripped away, if you’re really all that different from any other villain. Perhaps the children here are all the same way.”

“We all make choices,” Shouta growled, registering the way Midnight and Present Mic walked into the room behind him. “The children should be allowed to make theirs.”

“And what is your choice, hero?”

Shouta paused, wondering why he was humoring this conversation, then mentally shrugging. He heard Hound Dog howling at what seemed to be another leader of the operation somewhere nearby. Snipe had stopped firing his gun. Ectoplasm clones swarmed through the hallway, carrying knocked-out thugs down to one central location. The raid was almost over.

He turned back to the woman still bundled in his capture weapon. “To protect the voices of the ones who can’t defend themselves,” he said.

Something almost approving gleamed in Providence’s eyes for the barest moment before it was concealed again. “That is noble of you, hero. You have been a worthy opponent.”

She fell silent after that. Shouta was on alert all the way until he reached the edge of Cementoss’ wall. He watched her closely as Tsukauchi and Sansa loaded her into a squad car that they’d called after arriving. He kept his eyes on her as they got in and drove her away.

He stayed on alert until he received the message that she was in holding at the nearby prison, fully cooperating with the police, and then he sagged.

It was over.

The leaders were captured.

The trafficking ring was done.

All that was left was to find the rest of the kids and get them home.

He resolutely did not think about finding his own among the cages, but it was a thought he could not fully banish from his mind.

Chapter Text

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief as he settled down in the library with a school laptop.

He’d been trying to get away for ages to fill out some information on new heroes. It was hard to find the time around school, cruel foster parents, and reporting to the police. Between everything, he had fallen far behind in his analysis notebooks. He’d even missed the past two Sports Festivals, which felt like a crime. Luckily, he’d managed to finish his homework early and wasn’t expected back at the house for an hour or two, so he had a bit of free time.

Eagerly, he pulled up a website that specialized in hero news. The best way to catch up would probably be to start with what was more recent, then backtrack from there through the database for the older fights. It would take more time and energy to go look for the oldest news, and unfortunately that would eat up most of the time he had available before he had to leave. He nodded to himself as he settled on that course of action, clicking his pen and opening his notebook. 

Then he paused, set a quiet timer to remind himself to pack up, and dove right in.

It had been a quieter week, it seemed. There were fewer articles than normal about hero fights that had happened over the weekend, which is when they normally picked up. Izuku copied down the information he found quickly and began to move back in the timeline. He found the incidents picking up in number a few weeks back, and his rapid pace slowed down as he worked through all the new information on heroes and their quirks, especially as he took the time to reference videos and look up footage of the ones he wasn’t familiar with.

Local Politician Arrested during Human Trafficking Takedown, one article read. He opened it in curiosity, wondering who the person was and what heroes had caught him. He skimmed through the first couple of sentences quickly, then found what he was looking for. “--familiar heroes from UA’s staff such as Present Mic, Cementoss, and Midnight were seen along with a few more shadowed heroes. One such hero, who is being credited with the closing of the case, is an underground hero known as E--”

The laptop lid slammed shut, and he only just managed to move his fingers in time to keep them from getting crushed. There was a large hand holding the computer closed. He followed it up to the sneering face of Kakuzo Oye, one of this school’s primary bullies. The boy’s skin had a rocky texture with a rust-orange tint to it--a unique byproduct of his quirk, Iron. Two of his normal friends flanked him on either side, all three looking at him with disgust and a nasty sort of pleasure.

It looked like research time was up, he found himself thinking with mild frustration.

“What are you doing in our library, villain?” Oye growled dangerously.

For just a moment, Izuku considered pushing back, saying that he had the right to be there and he wasn’t harming anyone. But then he read the look in his classmate’s eyes that said he was just waiting for Izuku to step out of line, and he thought about the actually okay-ish house he was in right now. A confrontation was not worth the risk.

“I can leave,” he said quietly, packing up his bag quickly.

For once, it seemed like the three bullies didn’t feel the need to follow him. Once he was several blocks away, he breathed a sigh of relief, hiked up his bag, and began the trek back to the foster home.

He was a bit surprised to see Miss Aika’s car when he got there. He almost pulled out the phone he’d gotten from the police when he’d started his mission, wondering if he’d missed an important message from his social worker, but the thought of his fosters finding out stopped him. Maybe it was just a surprise inspection. He had no reason to believe they suspected him of working with the police. He’d been very careful when reporting back to them. The fosters had given no sign that they were displeased at all. 

For better or for worse, he wasn’t going to find out by staying outside. He tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack, then walked up the stairs to the door. 

There was soft conversation happening when he stepped inside, but it stopped with the sound of the door closing. A chair skidded across the floor, and one of his foster’s voices called out, “Green Kid? That you?”

He slipped his shoes off quickly, not bothering with the house slippers as he rounded the corner to the rest of the apartment. Both his fosters and Miss Aika were sitting around the kitchen table, and there was paperwork that his social worker was putting back inside her pink clipboard. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly, making sure to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

The same foster parent answered. “You’re not a good fit here. Held onto you until your social could find a new placement. Didn’t want you worrying over not having a roof.”

Miss Aika spoke up then, a bit of a stutter in the beginning as she side-eyed the other. “I’ve--we’ve got a house set up for you. I just cleared it this morning. If you want to pack your things, we can go when you’re ready, sweetheart,” she said.

The way she looked between him and the fosters said that she was unused to his short, direct speech patterns. Izuku was mostly unaffected at this point, and he slid around them easily to get to the room he’d been given. Miss Aika followed him, offering help. He let her come, but most of his things were already packed. They left the house within fifteen minutes.

“They seemed like an…odd family?” she said when they were safe in the car.

Izuku nodded. “They were,” he agreed. “Not awful, though. They need to learn how to work with traumatized kids better. They at least cared some, which is more than some houses.”

Miss Aika made a face at that, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she hummed and tapped a brief pattern in Morse on the steering wheel. Unthinkingly, Izuku tapped back, and then they both blinked at each other and laughed.

SUNSHINE?

MOONRISE.

It was a code they’d come up with together. Miss Aika had learned Morse code with him when he’d picked it up, and they used those two words to check in with each other and make sure the other was okay and ready to move on. Well, mostly Miss Aika used it to check on Izuku. They’d also used it as a sort of SOS call to escape awkward situations. Izuku was incredibly grateful for her taking the time to learn with him. 

“Well, the next house you’re going to is back in the Musutafu district. I have a few concerns about discrimination, so unfortunately I might need to send you in with the blindfold,” she said apologetically. Izuku simply nodded; he was more than used to it at this point. “They say they take tough cases, but they’ve had a few more runaways than what’s considered normal even for that. But! I have something exciting to show you.”

She handed him a small case that was in her center console and encouraged him to open it. Inside rested a pair of glasses that looked just like the ones she’d worn a few times before. At first he was confused, but then he noticed that one of the screws in the side looked just a little different than what he remembered.

“I looked into your idea for support items, and someone in the police field worked with me to get these! There’s a small button I can push to record audio, and it saves on a special app on my phone. I’ll be able to give you a bit more backup this way--make sure the charges stick better,” she explained.

A wide grin stretched across Izuku’s face. She’d listened to him again, and then followed through on his ideas. “I’m glad they helped you with it! And it works?”

“It does. I’ve tested it a few times now.”

They spent the rest of the drive talking about support equipment, and the conversation slowly shifted from her glasses to equipment he’d seen in the few heroes he’d gotten to research earlier that afternoon. The positive glow of having someone on his side carried him through meeting the new foster parents and getting enrolled in a new school.

And then, when he walked into class the next day, his eyes locked with ruby red ones widening in shock. 

Izuku felt like he was going to explode. He could barely wait for the lunch bell to ring, unsure if he wanted to run from the angry glare he could feel against his back or turn to hug his old friend regardless of the inevitable firecrackers. The morning dragged on with a tension that quickly spread to the rest of the class. By the time the lunch bell went off, everyone was shifting in their seats.

The bell had hardly stopped when there was the loud screeching of a chair, accompanied by a loud, “DEKU! Where the heck have you been, nerd?!”

All thoughts of running cut off along with Izuku’s escape route. “Kacchan! It’s, uh, been a while?”

“A while? It’s been four years! You just up and left one day without a word! What was I supposed to think? Clearly you’ve just moved on, huh? Well, I’m gonna be a hero with or without you!”

The years apart hadn’t dulled Izuku’s ability to read between the lines when it came to the explosive blonde. It’s been too long. I was worried about you. Do you still remember me? Do you still want to be a hero?

Izuku smiled at his friend. “I’ve missed you too, Kacchan. I didn’t know I was going to leave the area, but that’s where the house they found was. I’m glad to be back here, though. Have you learned anything new about your quirk?”

Kacchan’s expression hardened, and then softened all at once. “I didn’t miss you, nerd. The hag about tore down the house when I told her you were gone, though. Old man had to stop her from tearing down the school too, but the heroes got to it before she did.”

“Wait, what? What happened to the school?”

“Bunch of teachers got arrested. Something about stealing money. I dunno, didn’t pay attention. Don’t change the subject, Deku.”

Izuku couldn’t help himself. He giggled, then laughed, and then he found himself crying and couldn’t stop. He tried frantically to wipe away the tears and soothe his breathing, but it just wasn’t working. Then he heard a huff and a sigh, and tissues were forced into his hand.

“C’mon, you crybaby. You’re back now. Don’t you dare leave without a word again, you hear? I’ll hunt you down and kill you if you do.”

The sobs turned back into giggles, and then, finally, he was able to calm down. “I promise, Kacchan,” he said. “Maybe I can get your phone number this time.”

Kacchan punched his shoulder. “You better memorize it, nerd. Even if you have to use a phone booth or something.”

The lunch period ended with both of them scrambling to shove food down, already planning to meet up once Izuku learned the schedule for his new fosters to catch up and hang out.

Chapter Text

Izuku asked Miss Aika if he could stay close enough to go to school with Kacchan, and somehow, she’d worked magic to make it happen. He noticed when he saw her that she was a bit less tense than she’d been before, and when he asked she told him that a ring of criminals who’d been stealing foster kids had been taken down. A frisson of fear had gone down his spine at the realization that kidnapping had been a potential danger for him, but he reasoned that he had connections to the police that would’ve helped him more than any other kid who had been taken. For a moment, he almost wished he had been taken, if only to help other kidnapped kids sooner. 

A small explosion went off close to his ear, and he jerked back and reflexively activated his quirk. “Wha--Kacchan!” he whined.

The blonde snorted. “I could practically hear your thoughts from here, nerd. Been calling your name for a while. Our stop’s next.”

That statement brought him fully back to the present. He glanced around, taking note of their surroundings. He and Kacchan were headed to the gym for one last session before the UA entrance exams. 

So much had happened in the first few years of bouncing around the foster care system that the more recent years seemed dull in comparison, Izuku thought. He’d reconnected with Kacchan, and after only a few of the worst houses he’d ever experienced, he’d managed to land in one that was actually fairly decent. He got to go over to Kacchan’s house consistently and meet up with Mitsuki and Masaru. (That had been an emotional first meeting, filled with tears and apologies from the Bakugou family. Apparently they’d been outraged that Izuku had been moved away without a word. They’d begun working towards a fostering license just for him, but the constant traveling for their jobs made it hard to attend classes.) Upon realizing that both of the boys still wanted to be heroes, they took it upon themselves to pay for membership at a local gym so they could train. Izuku had been all but dragged by Kacchan there the first time, nervous of the other people who could show up, but he lost that fear as soon as they stepped into a sparring room. 

The sparring room is where the two friends were headed. Caught up in excitement, Izuku rushed ahead to put his bag down on the benches. “C’mon, Kacchan. Quirk or no quirk today?”

Kacchan put his bag down, moving a little slower, then started a series of warm-up stretches. “No quirks today. Gotta save the power for the exam tomorrow. No chickening out of it, you hear?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Izuku agreed, a wide grin showing off all his teeth in a way that he knew came across as vaguely feral. His best friend met him with a matching grin.

“You better give it your all, cause I’m gonna kill you!” the blonde yelled, and then the spar began.

There was one very large bonus to spending so much time with certain police members. Izuku had been pseudo-adopted by one of the local stations, and the officers took the time to teach him all sorts of interesting skills--most of which were related to knowing how to fight. As he got older, they gave him more tips and tricks, all of which came in handy when he sparred with Kacchan. He dodged and redirected hits, using the bigger boy’s weight and force against him in a series of moves that he was taught, and then moved to pin the boy to the ground. Kacchan was used to it, however, and he kicked out at one of Izuku’s legs, leaving him off-balance just enough that he had to back off from the pin. Kacchan used the opportunity to scramble back to his feet, and Izuku quickly followed only to have his legs sweeped out from underneath him. From there it became a wrestling match.

Izuku lost that round, then won the next two. After that, Kacchan won again twice, and then they decided to call it an early night so they’d be plenty rested for the next morning.

“Make sure you actually wake up in the morning,” his friend grumbled as they packed up and left. He had a towel slung across the back of his neck, and he ran his hands along the trailing ends almost absently. “I’ll set off a flashbang outside your house if you aren’t ready in time. Sure your fosters would love that.”

“Oh, definitely,” Izuku snorted, picturing their faces when they’d be woken by a very loud, very bright explosion. “I’ll be sure to be up, Kacchan.”

Kacchan just grunted--an acknowledgement of his words. They walked a little in silence before Kacchan asked, “Want me to walk you back?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m gonna make a stop on the way.”

“Suit yourself. See ya, nerd.”

“Bye, Kacchan!”

They parted ways, and Izuku headed to a very specific alleyway he’d stumbled across a few months ago. He’d been drawn in by the sound of a distressed meow, and he’d followed the sound until he found a small alleycat who’d clearly been hurt. He had very carefully treated its wounds and gotten it food from a nearby convenience store. The encounter had spurred a memory from when he was still very small.

“Mama, can you tell me something about what Dad was like?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, baby. Let me think.”

“Oh. Okay. But…you said he likes cats, right?”

“Oh! Oh, yes. He would feed strays on his way home sometimes. I actually found a small stash of cat food hidden in one of the cupboards one time. They had a bright pink label. It clashed terribly with his dark clothes--oh, not that he minded that.”

“Did he have a cat, Mama?”

“Not when we met, no. He actually found a kitten abandoned in the rain one night not long after I met him. It was still so young and fragile, he had to wake up every few hours to take care of it. But he has such a soft heart. I don’t think he missed a single feeding.”

Izuku smiled at the memory, pulling out a bright pink can and opening it. Four alleycats came running out of the shadows to twine around his legs, making him laugh softly.

He placed the can down, reaching into his bag to open another one and set it down beside the first. The cats began to eat, and he brushed one hand along their backs as he watched them.

“I take the entrance exam for UA tomorrow,” he told the cats. “I haven’t told my fosters yet, but they tend to turn a blind eye so long as I’m not getting in trouble, which is fine. I don’t think they’ll care where I go to school. Miss Aika hasn’t moved me because they still feed me, and they don’t use a blindfold or anything. We both know by now that that’s one of the better houses for ‘villain’ quirks. Besides, it’s only a few more years before I age out of the system. Miss Aika still uses her quirk when I ask her, and she says that my dad still desperately wants to find me, but I’m starting to think it might never happen.”

He paused with a sigh, hand stilling over the cats’ backs until one of them nudged it in search of more attention. He couldn’t help a fond little smile, temporarily distracted, before he continued talking to them. “I know, I know. My mom told me not to lose hope and I’m not. I just wish things would have worked out a lot easier, you know? It would be nice to actually know more than just a few small facts about my dad. Like, what’s his job? What does he like to do for fun? Does he like hiding? Drawing? Reading? Maybe he does something really wild, like--I don’t know. Is air surfing an extreme sport?”

One of the cats gave him a “Mrrp!” and pounced on a string trailing off his sleeve. He giggled and picked up the offender, whose wide, playful eyes locked with his for just a moment before it batted at the string again as best as it could while being held in the air. Izuku entertained it for a little while, letting it play before setting it down with the other cats.

“It’s getting dark,” he said, rising to his feet. “I better get back so I can go to bed early. I’ve gotta be well rested for the entrance exams tomorrow!”

As he left the alley, he felt the odd sensation of eyes on his back. The sensation vanished again just as suddenly as it had appeared, and it left him wondering if he had imagined it. He barely avoided turning back to look out of curiosity, but he decided to just shrug it off. It was likely just the nerves of the upcoming exam getting to him.

***

Izuku put his school bag down at the foot of his bed, breathing a sigh of relief and soaking in the sun rays coming through the window. The entrance exam had been hard. They’d been fighting robots, which made Izuku wonder how UA managed to get rescue and underground heroes who didn’t have the physical power to take them down. He found himself silently thanking Kacchan for making him do so much training before the exams. He’d spent the first half tearing robots apart with a sharp pole he’d pulled off of one that was already destroyed, and then he’d found an off switch hidden within the paneling and had shifted tactics. He’d given up several points helping other examinees out of rubble or calming them down from panic, but overall he felt like he’d done well. He just had to wait for a week or two to get the results. 

He pulled out his phone--a newer one that the Bakugous had gotten as a birthday gift--and powered it back on. A couple of messages filtered through moments later. One of them was from Miss Aika. He opened it first.

Miss Aika

Hey sweetheart! I have a little bit of extra time to visit this afternoon. I could bring a cupcake for celebration--or consolation, if you don’t think the exam went well :)

Izuku

Hi Miss Aika! I just turned my phone back on. A cupcake sounds nice.

Um. Could you also bring my mom’s scrapbook? I think I want to look at it now.

Miss Aika

Of course, sweetheart. I’ll pick it up before I come. Do you want me to look at it with you?

Izuku

I don’t think so, but could I have you on standby please?

There was a knock on the front door, and moments later Izuku heard a familiar voice coming from down the hall. He hurriedly stepped out of his room, slipping a little on the hardwood floor as he rushed to the foyer.

“Miss Aika!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were coming later.”

“Hey there, sweetheart!” his social worker said. “I wanted to surprise you a bit. I have a cupcake for you!”

“Did you grab the--the scrapbook?” Izuku asked, his voice nearly giving out in the middle with a rush of emotion that he shoved down just as quickly as it had surfaced.

“I grabbed all of it, actually,” she said, smiling a bit sheepishly, and Izuku couldn’t help a slightly incredulous laugh.

“Why? I don’t--why would you grab all of it?”

Miss Aika grabbed the bag off of her shoulder that he now recognized as his own, handing it to him as she talked. “Well, high school entrance exams are a big deal. I thought you might like some of your mom’s things so you could have a piece of her close. I can’t take you to where she is, but I thought I could bring this little piece of her here for you.”

Izuku blinked back tears at the sentiment. Miss Aika’s unwavering support meant the world to him. He took a few hesitant steps forward, then decided that his need for comfort was greater than his need for composure. He came close enough to hide his head against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that she quickly returned. “Thank you,” he whispered, hoping she knew that he was talking about more than just his mother’s things.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, and he knew that she understood.

He held on a moment longer, then let go and pulled his bag closer to his chest. “Um--do you want to look at the scrapbook with me, actually?” he asked.

“I’d love to,” she said. “Do you mind if I talk to your fosters for a few minutes first, though?”

“Oh. Yeah, you can. I--um, I might go ahead and…open it,” he said, swallowing hard.

She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll come join you as soon as I can.”

Izuku brought the bag back to his room, carefully and reverently pulling out the old pink cardigan and the vial of perfume nestled at the top. He hugged the cardigan to his chest for a moment, gathering his courage before he reached in again to grab the scrapbook. He hadn’t been able to confront it for so many years, but now that he was about to enter high school, he thought that he would be old enough to handle it. If he didn’t look at it now, he feared he’d never muster up the courage. His mother’s loss still felt like a deep scar on his heart, and somehow he knew that looking through the book that she’d so lovingly put together would help that scar to heal.

He found himself smiling through tears as he looked at the picture on the front cover. His mom, so young, so alive, smiled back at him. He ran a careful finger over her shining eyes, tracing her green hair as he took in the similarities between the two of them. He’d inherited her hair color, her rounded cheeks, even her eyes. As he took those features in, he also noted where they were different. Her nose was shaped differently, and her hair, while similar in color, was straight where his was messy with curls. She lacked the freckles that dotted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

He went to open the book, then froze. The task, a simple one on the surface, suddenly seemed monumental to him. Opening it meant seeing all the things he’d missed--all the things he couldn’t have. Opening it meant giving up the last fantasies that his mother would come back. 

Opening it felt final. Opening it was a death knoll for the life he could not have.

But, he reflected, she was already gone. She had been for a long time. Opening the book would do nothing to bring her back, but it would do something to help him remember her.

He took a deep breath and opened the pages.

The first picture was of his mom in a cap and gown, flanked by the Bakugous and holding a certificate of graduation. Izuku couldn’t make out all the words or see much of the background, but his mom’s cheeks were flushed pink with either joy or embarrassment. There was another picture on that page of just her, and another on the next page that had clearly been taken by Mitsuki, who had her face squished against his mom’s so that they both fit in the frame. In all three pictures, his mom was smiling so brilliantly that he couldn’t help the one that stretched across his face in return. She looked young, but she also looked happy.

There was a brief sentence typed into the bottom of the page, explaining the celebration of graduating and then hinting that there was a surprise in store. Curious and drawn in to the pictures, Izuku flipped the page much easier than he had the first time.

The next page showed an early dawn scenery, the details hard to make out. The city fell away quickly, and the next page was filled with a single photo of a sunrise over the ocean. There were only a few clouds, and palm trees edged the bright colors at each corner like a frame of their own. The water sparkled in reflected hues of orange and yellow. Izuku couldn’t help the little gasp at the sight, taking in the beauty of the detail. He flipped eagerly to the next page, ready to see more.

His mom was wearing the same sundress that was on the front of the book. There were several candid photos of her, and he stopped to wonder at each one, wiping tears away on his sleeves. He hadn’t realized how awful his last memory of her was--seeing her covered in dust, bruises and scrapes everywhere, machines beeping at the side of her bed--until these new images began to slowly fill his mind where the old one was. His heart seized at the thought even as it healed, and he turned the page again.

There was something different on this page, he saw right away. A series of photos showed his mom waving at whoever was behind the camera, as if asking them to join her, and then there was someone new there with the faces he already knew. It was a young man, messy black hair pulled back in a half-bun hairstyle that his mom had worn frequently. His eyes were tired, but they were soft around the edges. Izuku could just barely make out some pink on the edges of his ears. His lips were drawn into a tiny smile, but he wasn’t looking directly at the camera. His eyes were on Izuku’s mother.

Izuku blinked, then blinked again. An inkling of recognition seeped into his mind. Could this be the person they were looking for? Was this his father?

“Miss Aika?” he called, limbs shaking for a different reason than grief. “Miss Aika, could you come here, please?”

There were hurried footsteps, and then his social worker came into his room. “What is it, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Look at this picture,” Izuku said, pointing at it without looking up. He felt the brunette come closer to look over his shoulder. “Do you think this might be…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish, but she understood anyway. “It could be, Izuku. It very well could be. I think this is the biggest lead we’ve had in--well, maybe ever. Do you mind if I take a picture of it?”

Izuku shook his head, practically shoving the book up to her. “Please,” he said. “My mom didn’t talk about him much, but she said he was kind, and it’s been ten years and he still wants me, right? I want to meet him.”

Miss Aika took a photo of the scrapbook, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It’s good that you found this, then. It might take a few weeks yet, but I think having this picture is a huge step. We may actually be able to find him now.”

Izuku grinned, ignoring the fresh wave of tears on his cheeks. “Well, it’s been so many years already. What’s a few more weeks compared to that?”

Miss Aika laughed and gave him a hug. “You sit tight then, sweetheart. We’ll start looking right away.”

Chapter Text

Shouta groaned as he slapped at his alarm to silence its incessant beeping. He rubbed his eyes with the other hand, laying still for a moment in the quiet of the morning before dragging himself out of bed. This time of year was always busy now that he was a teacher, with the entrance exams right around the corner. There was so much work to do, setting it up and planning the logistics. Thousands of applications had to be reviewed, and hundreds of invitations needed sent out in reply. Background checks had to be run for each applicant, and then test papers needed to be prepared and looked over. The teachers had to know where they were needed at what times, and then know what jobs they were expected to do. It was a lot of work, and Shouta still wasn’t sure how Nedzu managed to do most of it on his own. Maybe the rat just never slept.

Unfortunately, Shouta did need sleep, but it was something he was used to not getting enough of. He shambled into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, then stopped by the bathroom while it was brewing. When he came back out, he poured himself a cup, downing it rapidly and ignoring the way it burned his tongue. He poured himself another and sipped it much slower, taking the time to savor the taste and the caffeine gradually waking him up. 

He didn’t linger too long, however. There was still too much to do. He refilled Jelly’s food and water bowls and went back to his room. It only took him a few minutes to change into a clean uniform, and then he was on his way out the door, fresh jelly pouches shoved into their pocket on his belt.

He didn’t have a class this semester, so Shouta was in charge of a lot of the prep work for other teachers. He spent the day making sure passes and papers were in the right places, double-checking maps, and coordinating with Majima to make sure the bots were functioning properly.

When Nemuri came sauntering up to his desk after lunch, he just sighed. He knew that walk. She needed something. 

“What is it?” he asked bluntly before she could speak.

“Shouta, darling, can’t I just say hi to one of my favorite people?”

“You could, but you never do. I know you want something.”

“Boo, you’ve ruined the fun,” she said, heaving a sigh as she flopped into the chair next to his own. “I need someone to pick up Hitoshi this afternoon. I’ve had a meeting pop up that I can’t reschedule.”

“Isn’t he old enough to walk home by himself?” Shouta couldn’t help but ask, internally grumbling at the looming sensation of his naptime being cut short.

“He is, yes, but having someone walk with him gives him peace of mind. He’d never actually say anything, of course, but he’s always on guard when he has to go somewhere alone. Plus, with the entrance exam two days away, he’s been working himself up. I have to physically drag him away from studying or training, and he really deserves a bit of a break.”

Shouta heaved a resigned sigh. There was no real chance of him saying no, and it seemed like his friend knew that. Before he could even open his mouth, her smile had grown into something playful yet genuine.

“Thanks, Shouta! I really appreciate it,” she said.

“I haven’t even agreed yet,” he grumbled.

Nemuri just laughed. “No, but you were going to. Don’t even bother denying it. I know how much you like spending time with Hitoshi. And hey--you should take the opportunity to go to a cat cafe or something. Get both of you to chill out with some cats.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he admitted. “I might do that.”

A few hours later, he was watching a head of purple hair run anxiously out of school, and that maybe became an instant definitely in his mind. He intercepted the ball of teenage nerves deftly, scruffing the kid’s backpack and collar to halt his movement. Hitoshi let out an undignified squawk, squirming to see who had grabbed him before relaxing. “Uncle Shouta!”

“You should pay more attention to your surroundings,” Shouta commented mildly. “You’re pretty stuck in your head right now.”

He let go of Hitoshi’s backpack, and the boy rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit nervous about the entrance exams. I know I might not get into the hero course right away, but I won’t have the chance if I don’t pass the academic exams to at least get into gen ed.”

“You have a backup plan if you don’t pass the hero exam, then?”

“Mm. Students from other courses can transfer into the hero course if they do well enough in the sports festival. I had to do some digging to find that, but--hey, home is the other way.”

Shouta hummed approvingly as Hitoshi followed at his heels, confusedly gesturing back over their shoulder at the intersection they’d just passed. “Good, you’re paying attention. Nemuri told me you needed a break, and she’s right. You’re going to worry yourself to death before the exams at this rate.”

“The exam is in two days, though! I have to make sure I know everything. I have to pass, Uncle Shouta.”

“And you’ll work better if you’re well-rested. Your mind and your body need to take breaks. Which is why we’re going to spend at least an hour here,” Shouta said, opening the door to his favorite cat cafe. He watched Hitoshi’s eyes get wider, and the kid said nothing as he ducked under Shouta’s arm to hurry inside. Shouta had to suppress a chuckle.

After paying for an hour for both of them, he took a seat next to his honorary nephew, who already had three cats begging for his attention. Shouta picked up a gray long-furred cat and settled it on his lap. The cat, Feather, settled down with a rasping purr, used to Shouta’s attention by now.

Despite having booked the time to relax, Shouta couldn’t help the way his mind was spinning. There was still a lot of last-minute prep to do before the exams two days away, and he had a patrol to fit in that night as well. He wasn’t completely looking forward to having a new batch of students who were full of themselves, believing their powerful quirks would let them sail smoothly through life. Perhaps his new class would surprise him. It hadn’t happened yet, but that didn’t mean it never would. Besides, this year there was a chance that Hitoshi would be in his class, so he’d at least have one student he couldn’t expel. He’d seen enough of the gremlin’s drive and potential to know that he’d be able to make it as a hero.

That line of thought drew his mind to another child--one he still hadn’t met, despite the time that had passed. His son should be about the same age as Hitoshi was, and that meant he might be applying to high schools. There was a bit of despair that tinged the edges of his thoughts now when they turned to his unknown son. It had been ten years, now--ten long, agonizing years of finding next to nothing. Was the boy even alive? Would he want anything to do with the father who had been absent for so long? As much as Shouta dearly hoped a connection could still be made, he knew that the longer it took, the smaller that chance became. It was becoming more and more clear that he wouldn’t be able to find his kid on his own. In fact, he’d probably tried to do it all on his own for too long. Owing the Rat a favor was better than not knowing what had happened to his kid. He’d have to approach after the entrance exams and see if Nedzu would help. 

“I didn’t know you mumbled, Uncle Shouta,” a voice cut through his thoughts, and it was only then that he realized he’d been so lost in his head that he’d fallen back into the habit of muttering, one hand up by his mouth to mask some of the sound and words.

He dropped his hand, feeling his ears burning with embarrassment, and cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t tend to do it much. Mostly trained myself out of it. Didn’t want the sound to ruin covert operations.”

Hitoshi hummed, nodding as he considered that piece of information. Shouta could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Makes sense,” the kid agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it before, but there’s…” He trailed off, brow furrowing in thought. And then he proceeded to stare at Shouta blankly for several minutes.

Just when Shouta started to get concerned, Hitoshi blinked rapidly a few times. The haze of thought cleared from his eyes, and he made eye contact with Shouta again.

“Sorry,” he said. “You do a few things that seem familiar to me, but I don’t know why I think that. There’s probably someone I knew who did things you tend to do. The mumbling reminded me, but I don’t remember who I’m thinking of. It’s probably not anything important.”

“Huh,” Shouta replied flatly, unsure of what else to say. Thankfully, Hitoshi knew him well enough by now to not be offended by the lackluster reply.

There were a few beats of silence, and then Hitoshi shuffled a cat higher up in his arms and buried his nose in its fur. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me about the entrance exam?”

“Even if I were allowed to tell you, I wouldn’t,” Shouta said. “At this point, you know everything you’re going to know. And if you don’t make it into the hero course right away, I know you have a backup plan. You applied for general studies as well. If you don’t make it in, we’ll help you. You know Nemuri will be proud of you even if you eat it in the exam, so long as you do your best.”

The boy shifted, a shy smile barely visible in the upturned corners of his mouth lightly obscured by cat fur. “Thanks, Uncle Shouta.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.”

The rest of their time passed in comfortable silence. Shouta got to watch as the tension slowly eased out of Hitoshi’s shoulders, a lightness returning to his expression. It was good to see him so genuinely relaxed. Shouta still remembered the wary, suspicious kid he’d run into on patrol years ago and the always-alert eyes looking for a trap when Nemuri had first taken him in. He and Hizashi had visited frequently for the first few weeks, and they were both there the first time something Nemuri said made the kid laugh. They knew then that Hitoshi would be okay. Nemuri filled out the paperwork to adopt him almost immediately after that, and she’d told them several times since that it was the best decision of her life. 

Eventually, however, the time with the cats had to come to an end, and Shouta had to return the kid to his friend. Hitoshi grumbled, some of the anxiety returning to him, but Shouta noted with satisfaction that he walked with a lighter step than he had when they’d first arrived. 

Patrol was largely uneventful that night, but Shouta’s mind wouldn’t stop running through the whole circuit of the city. Thankfully, he managed to keep all his ramblings internal, but by the end of the night he didn’t even bother to stop by his apartment. He walked straight into school as the sun was beginning to break the pre-dawn darkness and went directly to Nedzu’s office.

The Rat, predictably, was already there when Shouta arrived. He was pouring two cups of tea as the door opened in front of Shouta, who didn’t even pause as he came to settle in front of the wide desk.

“Good morning, Shouta!” Nedzu greeted cheerfully. “It is unusual to see you here so early in the morning. Sleep is something which you dearly lack, but there is clearly something on your mind that is more important to you than your meager hours of rest. Why don’t you have some tea and tell me why you’re here instead of catching a few hours of sleep after your patrol?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Shouta was going to share his thoughts anyway. He obligingly took a sip of tea and skipped straight past the formalities. “I have a bit of a favor to ask that I should have come to you about years ago.”

“Oh? What sort of favor would that be?”

“You know that I was…close with Inko Akatani around graduation.”

“Indeed, though close is a bit of an understatement, is it not?”

Of course the Rat already knew that. Shouta suspected as much. “She disappeared before I could…well, she disappeared. I got a letter from her several months later telling me that we’d had a son, and then she showed up in the newspaper obituaries a few years after. I’ve exhausted every avenue I could think of, but I haven’t been able to find the kid.”

He paused to breathe, taking another sip of the tea. It had been a long time since he’d said most of that out loud, and he was surprised at how much it still hurt. He shoved those emotions back into the box where they belonged in the back of his mind before he continued.

“The kid should be around high school age this year. After the entrance exam, I’d like your help trying to find him. I--” Shouta would never admit the way his voice cracked, would deny the stinging in his eyes, would ignore the way his throat ached as he spoke. “I can’t do it on my own.”

Saying the words out loud broke the dam that had been holding back all the feeling of inadequacy. He had spent years trying to avoid the fact that he was not enough on his own, not for this. His heart whispered that if he wasn’t enough to find just one child, one person who needed him, how could he be enough to help anyone? He couldn’t be trusted to be a good father if he hadn’t even been around for fourteen or fifteen years. He couldn’t be trusted to be a good teacher if he couldn’t be reliable for someone who needed him to be steady. He couldn’t be a good hero if he hadn’t been able to reach out through the rubble, to save the one person who believed in him first, to keep her from leaving, to take down that ring fast enough to keep so many kids from getting hurt--

“Of course, Shouta. This is something you’ve been trying to do for years, isn’t it? I was waiting for you to come to me and tell me you needed help. There’s no shame in that, you know.”

“There is in how long it took for me to get here,” Shouta replied, a bit miserably.

“Perhaps, but that is not what is important. What’s important is that you’re here now. I’d be glad to help. I haven’t begun looking into it yet, but now that you’ve asked I can go over what you’ve already learned and see what I can pull up with my own sources.” Nedzu started typing something on his computer, paws flying quickly over the keys. “While the entrance exams are most pressing, I’d be happy to read through your personal investigation notes and assist where I can.”

The subtext was clear despite the offer. He responded according to that subtext rather than commenting on something as uncomfortable as his emotions. “I’ll compile what I have in an email and send it to you today.”

“Very good! I’ll be sure to look for it. Now, I believe your sleeping bag is still where you left it under your desk. I expect you to at least get four hours of rest before you try to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. If you find it to be difficult, I’m sure Chiyo would be more than happy to assist.”

Shouta stood up, inclining his head. “I wouldn’t want to bother her. I’ll just find an empty classroom for a while.”

“Of course. You won’t be disturbed. See you tomorrow! I’ll be in touch.”

With that cheery yet ominous dismissal, Shouta left the room. He swung by the staff room to pick up his sleeping bag--it was, in fact, where Nedzu had said it was--he found the nearest unused classroom and turned all the lights off, curling up in one corner in the yellow monstrosity. 

What followed was a fitful five hours of rest, consistently interrupted by worry and vague flashes of nightmarish scenes. Eventually he dragged himself back to his feet to go help with the last preparations for the next day. He let himself be pulled through the motions for several hours, assisting his coworkers and double checking security measures. It was well past the normal time for school to let out by the time all preparations were complete.

Shouta began to swing his way home, exhausted but marginally more at peace with himself, when he recognized where he was and decided that he could afford a slight detour. It had been a few days since he’d stopped by, especially since he’d readjusted his patrol route and no longer came through the area at night.

He approached the alley from the roof, already pulling a tin of cat food out of one of the pouches of his uniform. He glanced down to check the label in the fading light, then looked back up just in time to see movement at the mouth of the alleyway. His eyes snapped in that direction as the edge of a backpack disappeared from view. For a moment he considered following out of curiosity before logic caught up to him and he decided against it. Instead, he peeled his eyes away from the alley’s mouth and dropped down to the ground below. 

One of the cats was instantly winding around his feet, and he looked down at it only to stop in surprise for the second time in under a minute.

The cats already had two cans of the exact same food he held unopened in his hand.

Chapter Text

Nedzu held no love for the human race.

Of course, that was no secret, not after he’d brutally torn down the lab where he’d been held and experimented on. Not after he had fought so viciously against the HPSC to be recognized as a Japanese citizen. He had gathered enough blackmail material during that venture that the HPSC was scared of him, scared of what he could do. This worked in his favor, of course, when they suggested he take an open position at UA. He’d let them think they’d won that particular round of mental chess, and he’d accepted the position readily.

They did not need to know that he had wanted control of the prestigious school anyway, and they’d just given him exactly what he’d desired.

Nedzu had many grievances with humans, but the young of any species were always more impressionable than the adults. The kinds of changes he wanted to make would have a negative impact and be short-lived unless he started the work slowly, building up a more gradual change over time. The best way to do that, he decided, was to leave an impression on the young. And children picked up so much of their worldview from school.

What better way to change a nation than to change the generation, and what better way to change a generation than to change what they learn in school?

Of course, there would not be much challenge--or much actual change--in picking up any old school to run. The benefit of UA specifically had to do with its reputation. As the top hero school in the country, UA produced high-caliber graduates year after year. The statistics involved in such prestige also meant that smaller schools tended to follow whatever changes UA would make--to whatever capacity they were able, at least. Few schools had the funding that UA did. With smaller schools picking up on whatever the premier school in the country did, that would mean that Nedzu had his paws on shaping the next generation of heroes and leaders while also pushing the bounds of social stigmas beyond the school’s four walls. 

That would mean absolutely nothing if there were no results, but Nedzu had never been too worried about that. He hand-picked his staff very carefully from the ones who had come through UA’s wide gates with a deep, burning passion for change. They were always the ones who had experienced discrimination in the past--the ones with hurt mixed with fire behind their eyes, the ones who didn’t just want to protect the world, but wanted to change the world. 

Shouta had been one of those students. He held so much fury towards the world that at first Nedzu hadn’t considered him as a potential ally, but then the first Sports Festival had come around and the little spitfire of burning rage had turned around and shown so much drive and passion. That is what made Nedzu look closer, and it was only then that he realized the rage was hiding a deep hurt . 

Shouta had been transferred to the hero course, and then that fury had been tempered by friendship, and Nedzu suddenly saw someone he wanted to guide and nurture more than any other student in the past. He saw a child that had been wronged by the world, and instead of turning his back he’d buried his hurt and reached out a hand to help another that the world had forgotten. 

Nedzu had been there when Shouta made his first friends, when he lost one to a tragic death, and when a beautiful soul had seen past the cold exterior to the carefully guarded, caring heart. He’d kept a distant eye on the child-turned-adult as he’d started his underground hero career. 

Shouta, of course, had not kept in contact, and Nedzu did have a school to run. He respected that unspoken request for space, but that didn’t mean he would never check in with previous students. When he judged the time right, he had subtly placed job openings for teaching positions for them to find, and he sent them more info as soon as they took the bait. It was only a matter of time for the two of them to drag Shouta into a teaching position as well.

Nedzu may have hated humans, but children were treasures. Children were to be protected. And Nedzu looked after his own.

It had taken him longer than he would have liked to look over Shouta’s research notes. Hiring All Might as a teacher for the next year had come with extra drama with the HPSC that had taken too much time to resolve--mostly due to the Commission dragging their feet. Now that that had finally been taken care of, he had some time before orientation to sit down and get started.

With a fresh cup of tea ready to go, he sped through the evidence that Shouta had collected and began pulling up resources of his own. The name change was the first thing he tackled, piecing together enough to see that the company Inko had used was somewhat shady--probably part of the reason they went out of business, as he found several ties to villains who had similarly seemed to drop off the grid. Unfortunately, while her personal name change was incorrectly filed and therefore lost, and her new name should have pinged as falsified records in the system, her son’s name would have been completely legitimate. Whatever name was written on the birth certificate would be his name within the Japanese citizenship roster. 

After flagging the legal company for further investigation, Nedzu began to move on, then stopped when he noticed the time. He sighed and put those research notes away before pulling up the roster of incoming students. He liked to review them one last time before seeing their smiling faces on the first day of the new school year. It helped him pinpoint possible issues and concerns. He took a bit of extra time looking through 1-A’s roster, knowing that Shouta would not review the files until about a week into the year. The hero never wanted to form opinions based on past judgements on the students and preferred to make inferences himself. There was also little point in reviewing the files of students he deemed unfit for heroics. 

Nedzu sat up as a particular file caught his eye. He recognized that particular shade of green hair, those green eyes. His quirk allowed him to pull that information from the recesses of his memory, helped by the fact that he’d just spent an hour or so looking into the particular person that shade of green reminded him of. Izuku Midoriya, huh? 

He nearly scrambled to read through the young boy’s file, mind quickly putting pieces into place and assembling the complex puzzle within mere moments. Foster child, mother died unexpectedly about ten years ago, no father listed. He dug deeper into his sources, connections being confirmed and reinforced. He couldn’t help the manic laugh that sprung out of him as he finished his tea.

For now, he had an orientation to lead, but if Shouta hadn’t figured it out after classes Nedzu would just have to tell him that he’d found Shouta’s son.

***

Aika Hashimoto had been a social worker for twelve years now, but she’d never been as frustrated by a case as she was with this one.

She’d learned early on that not every family was as wonderful as it appeared to be. She’d met countless children who felt nothing but fear towards their parents, parents who were indifferent towards their children, and even people who tried to claim a kidnapped child as their own. It was inevitable, with her quirk and bleeding heart, that she’d wind up helping families in whatever way she could. 

Social work was hard, both physically and emotionally. There were far too many broken families and broken children. There were never enough good people to help the children. People were so quick to judge based on quirks and social standing. The first time Aika had sent a child to a home that had hurt them based on their quirk status, she’d cried for hours.

And it just. Kept. Happening.

Normally, she tried to divide her time as equally as she could between the many foster cases she was working (too many--there were always too many--) so she could make sure all of them received the love and care they lacked. Izuku’s case, however, had drawn all her attention.

She’d never been in charge of one case for so long, but there was good reason for it this time. As many times as she used her quirk, the feelings of longing, tenacity, and fragile hope had never faded from the bond. It was shocking to her at first--she’d felt the emotions of one family member fade into apathy toward another after only a few months apart. Izuku, it seemed, was just like that--a rare, beautiful soul who was bursting with love for everyone, even those he hadn’t met or those that had wronged him. And there were so many people who’d wronged her sweetheart.

Aika sighed as she looked back at the photocopied picture in her hand, using the other to brush aside her hair. The pink streak came untucked from her ear again, and she did her best to ignore it as she pored over the open file in front of her. She’d been over the same information a dozen times just this past hour, but she’d reviewed it enough before to have it all committed to memory. The image Izuku had found in his mother’s old scrapbook was the first new information they’d gotten in years, and there was something vaguely familiar about the young face staring back at her.

Her hair fell back into her face yet again, and she huffed out an annoyed breath. Finding a hair tie was a good excuse to take a brief break before she tried to figure out where she’d seen the man in the photograph.

She stepped into the bustling police station where she’d been staying, waiting for the results of a different case to wrap up. A few officers looked up and smiled at her, and she smiled back, scanning the room for one particular face. When she found it, she wasted no time walking over.

“Hey, Sansa,” she greeted.

The cat-headed officer looked up from his desk at her arrival. “Oh, Hashimoto, hello. What can I help you with?”

“Just Aika is fine, you know,” she said good-naturedly. He grinned, unrepentant, and she nudged his shoulder. “Do you happen to have an extra hair tie on you? Mine broke this morning.”

“Sure, let me see what I have,” he said, already reaching into the top drawer of his desk. “Don’t you normally carry spares in that blocky clipboard of yours?”

“I do, but I gave my last one away last night. I haven’t had a chance to stop by the store yet.”

“Ah, a predicament, then. Here you are.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed the offered hair tie, setting down the paper in her hands to gather up her hair. Her practiced fingers deftly split the larger mass into three sections in preparation to braid.

“Hey,” Sansa said. “What’s this?”

Aika blinked, a bit surprised. She hadn’t quite registered that she’d brought the file with her. “Oh. That’s one of my cases. I’ve been trying to find this kid’s father for ten years now. That photograph is the first big lead we’ve had the whole time, and we just found it in a scrapbook a few weeks ago.”

The officer had leaned further over the file, picking up the picture as if in a trance. “There’s no way,” he breathed. “I can’t believe this!”

Aika froze, hands halfway down her hair as she formed the braid. The words registered to her slowly, and then all at once. “Do you know who that is?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. This looks like a younger version of Aizawa. You know, he’s been looking for a kid for a while too. I--I can’t be sure, though. Let me--”

Aika watched as Sansa scrambled for his phone, dialing a number without taking his eyes off the photograph. She couldn’t hear the words of whoever answered, but their voice sounded tired.

“Hey, could you come out here for a minute? I need you to come look at this picture and tell me who it reminds you of.” There was a pause where the other person answered. “What? Oh, no no. No prank here. Just--I don’t want to influence your opinion before you get here. I promise it’s important.”

After another moment, the cat-headed officer put the phone down and turned back to her. She found her fingers had unfrozen at some point, and they toyed with the now-in-use hair tie while she waited. “Who was that?”

“That was my friend Tsukauchi. He’s a detective here. I believe you’ve met him before.”

Even as he’d been saying the name, a face had come to the forefront of her mind, and she was nodding before he’d stopped speaking. “Yeah, I’ve worked with him a couple of times. Does he--”

“Alright, Sansa, what was so important you had to bring me out to see it? I was just looking through patrol routes for Aiz--”

The tired-looking detective was interrupted by Sansa shoving the picture in his face. “Look at this. Tell me what you see.”

Tsukauchi grabbed the paper bemusedly, pulling it away from his face. He made eye contact with her and smiled in greeting. “Hello, Miss Hashimoto. Good to see you again.”

“Do you recognize the person in that photo?” she blurted, a tad unprofessionally. She felt her cheeks heat up moments after. “Uh, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

But the detective had already looked down at the picture, and he held up a hand to stop her. She watched his expression shift between confusion, recognition, surprise, and disbelief. “Where did you get a picture of a younger Aizawa? He hates cameras.”

Relief coursed through her, swift and staggering. “It’s from one of my cases. I have a young boy who’s been looking for his father for years, and we just found this picture a couple weeks ago. It’s the first real lead we’ve had. You know who that is in the picture, then?”

Tsukauchi let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “Yeah, this is the spitting image of Shouta Aizawa, or Eraserhead around here. And that’s Inko with him, I’m sure of it. You said this is one of the kids in your care? How long have you had them?”

“It’s been ten years now,” she said, hope billowing up inside of her until she thought she might burst from it. “His mother died in a villain attack, but there was no father listed on his birth certificate. We’ve been trying to reunite them for ten years.”

“The timeline adds up,” Tsukauchi said. “Sh--Aizawa’s been looking for his kid for ten years. I tried to help him back when he first realized the kid was alone, but there was an issue with the mother’s name-change paperwork and the trail went cold. We haven’t gotten anything else except a couple letters in the kid’s name. His hospital bracelet was written in English, and we picked up a Z and a U from it. Aizawa has a picture he keeps in his wallet. I can ask him to come here right away!”

“Wait, Tsuka,” Sansa interrupted. “It’s the first day of school today. He’s got a new class. We’ll have to ask him to come after. Don’t tell him what it’s about, either, because he’ll be distracted for the rest of the day.”

“It’s the first day of high school for Izuku, too. I was planning on asking him how it went after, if I had the time. Do you think it’s a good idea to bring them both down here?” Aika asked.

Tsukauchi stopped to think for a moment. “I don’t know--you said Izuku?--I don’t know Izuku, but Aizawa will want to verify the picture. He’ll probably want to meet Izuku right away afterwards, though. What’s Izuku like?”

“Too mature for his age,” Aika admitted ruefully. “Incredibly smart, too. He’s the one who came up with the idea for my glasses. He’s such a sweetheart, but he’s been mistreated far too much because of his quirk. He wants to be a hero more than anything.”

“Oh my word, it’s like a carbon copy. I’m texting Aizawa,” Sansa said, pulling out his phone again.

“Tell him we have a huge lead and maybe a breakthrough,” Tsukauchi said, leaning over Sansa’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t respond by ten minutes after school lets out, I’m calling him.”

Caught up in the excitement, Aika pulled out her phone as well. “I’ll let Izuku know we might have found something. I can go get him if I need to--just as soon as I get sugar into a better home than she’s in now.”

“Which one is sugar again?”

“Shika’s her name,” Aika provided. “She’s being re-homed with a hero. I think it’ll be a good fit for her.”

“Good. I can’t wait for Aizawa to get here this afternoon. He’s been waiting for so long for this.”

Aika smiled widely, elated that the case might finally come to a happy close. After so much time spent waiting, their hope was close to paying off. She could think of no one who deserved it so much as Izuku. 

Soon, she told herself. Just a few more hours. They were almost there.

Chapter Text

Shouta laced up his boots with a sigh, mustering the energy to leave his apartment. Yet another school year was about to begin. Yet another class of hero hopefuls were coming to be taught. He couldn’t help but wonder how many dreams he’d have to crush today. Last year’s class certainly hadn’t instilled much confidence in the upcoming generation.

Hopefully his son would be better, he thought absently as he swiped his keys off the front table. He hadn’t had a hand in raising him so far, but he remembered Inko and her kindness well enough. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe that some of her empathy was passed down to the boy. Shouta quietly found himself hoping that their son had gotten more of her qualities than his own. He hadn’t been the best role model growing up--suspicious and distrustful, bitter, and depressed until he’d finally fought his way into a hero course. Not qualities he wanted to pass on, really.

Heroics was more than it appeared to be in the media coverage. There was more to it than just fighting. There was collaboration and teamwork--a necessity for survival, both personally and for the civilians who needed help. At its core, heroics was a job made to help people having the worst day of their lives. It was grueling, cruel work sometimes. Shouta had learned that the hard way, and he never wanted another person to step unprepared into such a dangerous, demanding field without fully understanding the risks. He didn’t want to lose another young life because they were reckless and thought they could handle everything on their own. He wouldn’t lose a student to their own hubris.

Perhaps he was being too harsh on this new group of students, though. He swung up onto the nearest roof and started making his way to school as he thought. There had been a few examinees who had gotten more rescue points than villain points. He was sure he’d wound up with some of them in his class. Those few might be dreams he could nurture instead of kill. There was no guarantee that they’d be cut out for this sort of lifestyle, but if they could pause long enough to lend a helping hand to a competitor then maybe they could at least think past their own self-interests enough to have potential.

He landed lightly a block away from the school. It was early enough that students had yet to start arriving, but the most dedicated ones would start showing up in the next five or ten minutes. He walked inside unimpeded and headed straight for 1-A’s classroom. Once he was there, he picked up the basic files on each of his new students. He’d wait to read through the full files until they’d lasted a week, not wanting to meet them with the bias of previous teachers to color his perception. The basic files would have their names, quirks, and any immediately relevant medical history. Usually that was enough for him to be able to form basic mental profiles of their personality and potential. If there were any red flags, he caught them within the first few days. Often by the time he’d gotten to their full files at the end of the week he’d already pieced together most of what would be in them, and he’d rarely been wrong about his observations. It was a skill he’d worked hard to cultivate in both of his professions.

As was usual, he took the files to the teacher’s lounge in order to read through them with a fresh cup of coffee. He managed to flip through the first few at a decent pace, paying particular attention to their names, quirks, and scores in the entrance exam. 

Of course, he’d only gotten through seven of the files when that year’s biggest headache burst through the door.

“Good morning, everyone!” Toshinori Yagi boomed, far too loudly for the early hour. “Who’s ready to shape young minds into great heroes?”

“Shut up, Yagi,” Shouta grumbled. “You’re too loud.”

The big buffoon, thankfully not in All Might form, stuttered. “I--um--well, isn’t it--I don’t--”

“Sheesh, Shouta, cut the big guy some slack,” Nemuri said, sauntering over to sit on the arm of his chair and lean over his shoulder. He buried his face further in his capture weapon. “He doesn’t know better yet.”

“I’m--sorry, what do I not know better? Is there a rule about being quiet in the teacher’s lounge that I missed?” the big man said, thankfully at a much lower volume. He glanced around the room furtively, as if looking for a list of rules.

“Nah, not really. But Shouta here shouldn’t be bothered with loud noises before he’s had a chance to wake up all the way. Bad idea to upset an underground hero, you know,” Nemuri explained. She set down her cup of coffee to point at a detail on the file in front of him. He mentally filed away the ADHD and possible dyslexia diagnoses for further investigation.

“But…isn’t he best friends with Present Mic?”

“Hey, even I know not to bother him before his third cup of coffee,” Hizashi piped up, coming back from changing into his hero costume. He set his jacket and bag down by his desk. “Only made that mistake once, yo. It doesn’t matter how fast you are, Shouta’ll be faster and not awake enough to recognize you as friend and not foe, you got me?”

“I--I apologize. I will try to be quieter. I have to admit it’s a bit of a habit for me, though,” Yagi admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Then a thought seemed to occur to him. “How should I know how many cups of coffee you’ve had, though? Isn’t that hard to tell?”

Shouta was a bit gratified at the way the rest of the teachers all responded together, “He’s on his second.”

“I…see,” Yagi replied in a voice that said he did not see at all.

Sighing, Shouta drained his cup and stood to get another. “Seems like today’s starting earlier than I planned. I’m going to head down the hall. If someone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be in class when the bell rings.”

He should at least have time to match names to the seating chart, if nothing else. Any other information could be gathered either during the assessment test or at the end of the day. He downed his third cup of coffee, grabbed his puffy yellow sleeping bag, and headed to his favorite hidden alcove. 

He should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to make it there without interruption.

“So you really do use that yellow monstrosity. Uncle Hizashi wasn’t lying.”

Shouta felt his shoulders sag, torn between amusement and annoyance. “Hitoshi. Good morning to you too. Shouldn’t you be going to class?”

“It’s just down the hall. I guess I have to call you Mr. Aizawa now, don’t I?”

Shouta had to use all his underground hero training to keep a straight face instead of grimacing the way his adopted nephew did. “During school hours, yes. You’ll get used to it.”

“You mean we’ll get used to it,” Hitoshi fired back, unrepentant.

“Go to class, gremlin.”

“Yes, sir.” There was a spark of humor in Hitoshi’s eyes, and Shouta knew that he’d been caught. Thankfully, the boy just smirked and continued on down the hallway. Straight toward 1-A. Oh boy. He flipped quickly through the files in his hand until he found the one he was looking for. Sure enough, Hitoshi was in his homeroom class. 

…He didn’t know why he was surprised by that. He’d seen that Hitoshi had managed to squeak by in the exam. He’d gotten an excited phone call when it was confirmed. Perhaps he’d just had too much on his mind to fully process what that meant.

By the time he got to his alcove and checked the time, there were only five minutes before class began. Not enough time to properly review the files, but he started to skim through them anyway, paying particular attention to their names and seating order. He memorized it all as quickly as he could, crawling into his sleeping bag and beginning to inch toward the door.

He arrived to raised voices and several students out of their seats. Iida was standing with one arm raised, apparently arguing with a blonde boy, who was standing with clawed hands but with his focus directed away. A girl with short brown hair--Uraraka--was cheerfully introducing herself to Hitoshi, who was standing with wide eyes and an expression which those close to him could read as shocked and overwhelmed. There was a green-haired boy with one hand on the blonde’s arm--that must be Bakugou--and the other held up toward Uraraka and Hitoshi, as if he’d been a part of that conversation but was now trying to do damage control. As soon as Shouta’s attention was on him, his eyes snapped towards the door. Hitoshi also seemed to realize he was there.

Shouta took in all of the information in an instant, then spoke up, his voice cutting through the other conversations. “If you’re just here to make friends, then get out. This is the hero course, and time is precious. It took most of you over eight seconds to realize I was here.”

He stood up, unzipping his sleeping bag and continuing to talk as he did so. “You can call me Mr. Aizawa; I’m your homeroom teacher. Now, your gym uniforms are here by the podium. Come get yours and change. You have ten minutes to meet me out on the front lawn.”

He turned around and walked out, seeming to pay no attention to the students he left behind. In reality, he waited deliberately by the door. It was incredibly stupid to leave twenty teenagers unattended for more than a few minutes at a time. Once they started following him out into the hall (with faces full of confusion, but much quicker than last year’s class to heed his words), he set a deliberate pace towards the locker rooms so that they could change. It would do them no good to get lost while trying to follow his directions, and while he could freely admit to having a sadistic, chaos-enabling side, he wasn’t completely heartless.

Once he was outside, he couldn’t help but replay the moment in the classroom over and over in his mind. There was something familiar about the green-haired boy. Something about the gestures, the kindness in his eyes, the way he assessed Shouta. But he knew for a fact that he’d never met the boy--Midoriya, according to his files--before. Why, then, did he seem so familiar? What was the sense of deja-vu his mind conjured when he looked at his new student? Maybe the boy reminded him of someone he’d met before, or someone he’d once known.

He didn’t have the time to chase that thought before students started arriving on the lawn. Todoroki and Iida were both out first, followed rather quickly by Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou. For once he wished they’d have been a little bit slower to arrive, but he couldn’t actually begrudge them their speed. It would serve them well moving into the future. He shelved the idea of familiarity for the moment, refocusing on the group as they began trickling outside in twos and threes. 

At the ten minute mark, he double counted his mental tally to see that all twenty of his new students had managed to make it out--barely, in the case of Ashido and Kaminari, but they were all there. Impressive. He was careful not to show any emotion on his face, instead straightening ever so slightly to better project his voice over the chattering teenagers.

“Now that you’re all here, we can begin,” he started, and was gratified at the way the talking stopped and all eyes focused on him. “This is the quirk assessment test.”

There was, as expected, an outcry of confusion and concern. Shouta shot those down quickly, watching their expressions closely as he explained. “Due to how UA is set up, I can run my class however I see fit. We don’t have time to waste on pointless ceremonies. By knowing your limits, I can gauge your potential as heroes. Bakugou, what was your farthest softball throw in middle school?”

“Seventy-one meters.”

Shouta tossed a softball at him, and he caught it handily. “Try using your quirk. Anything goes, just stay in the circle.” He gestured vaguely to the circle drawn on the pitch, and the blonde-haired boy grinned sharply at the challenge. He took a few moments to stretch, then blasted the ball away with an explosion and a growled shout of “Die!”

There were gasps of surprise and awe as the ball hit the ground at 706 meters, which he showed the rest of the students. “If I know what your capabilities are here, I can know what they’d be in the field.”

“Whoa! This looks like fun!” a voice said, and Shouta’s head practically snapped in that direction.

“Fun? I have three years to shape you into heroes. You think this is all going to be fun and games? Then let’s make it a challenge. I will total your scores for these tests. Whoever comes in last will be deemed to have no potential and will be expelled.”

This time, the outburst was much more expected, several students shouting on how it wasn’t fair. However, another voice broke through the noise before Shouta could respond.

“Of course it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, is it? There are attacks of all kinds--avalanches and floods, villains damaging buildings, adults hurting kids, people being killed--every single day. Families are torn apart every day, people face discrimination every day. So no, it isn’t fair. It isn’t gonna be. But it’s our job to fight against unfairness. Who else will if we don’t? We have to stand up for justice, and we can only do that if we are willing to push ourselves to the brink of our capabilities. Life isn’t fair, so we have to make it fair,” Midoriya claimed, eyes burning with a fire of hurt and passion. Determination in spades. It brought to mind an even stronger sense of deja-vu, a feeling of being on the brink of understanding--

He pushed it away, grinning wildly at the response. “Exactly. Show me that you aren’t here by mistake. Show me that you’re willing to work for your spot. Show me your limits. Go beyond, plus ultra.”

The response he got was eyes full of determination and drive. Good. His grin got just a touch more genuine, not that the students would know that. He’d already buried his face back in his capture weapon.

They started with the softball throw, and Shouta diligently took notes as they went by seat number. He was pleased to see that several of the students were willing to think outside the box with their quirks, pushing themselves and encouraging each other to do better. He could already see bonds beginning to form, even though it was only the first day. Clearly they had risen to the challenge he’d given them.

Everything was fine until Midoriya stepped up to the plate. He stood for several moments, considering. There was something clearly calculating in his gaze, and Shouta allowed him to think through his strategy out of sheer curiosity. The boy’s quirk was listed as Nullify, but Shouta hadn’t gotten to read the description so he had no idea how it worked. He wondered if he was about to find out.

“Mr. Aizawa, you said anything goes, right? I just have to stay in the circle?”

“Yes, Midoriya. Anything goes,” Shouta confirmed, curiosity burning.

Vaguely he heard muttering behind him. “Don’t do it Deku, don’t you dare do it, don’t you--”

The muttering was cut off as Midoriya suddenly whirled and pitched the ball straight at Bakugou, who instinctively blocked with an explosion and a much louder shout of “--dare! DEKU!”

The device in his hand pinged, but Shouta was too busy watching as Bakugou charged at Midoriya, palms sparking and then fizzling out suddenly before Shouta could activate his quirk. Midoriya was grinning, but his eyes were glowing red and his curly hair was floating and suddenly Shouta felt like he was looking in a mirror and all the pieces clicked together in an instant.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the sound that left him, but the next thing he knew he was standing right in front of his student, drinking in the details he had never seen but recognized all the same. Midoriya had Inko’s coloring, her bright smile, her rounded cheeks, her wide eyes. He had Shouta’s own sharp jawline, messy hair, and pointed nose. He traced the freckles on the boy’s cheeks with his eyes, matching the features to the image held reverently in his wallet and seeing all the ways they lined up. He watched as those green, green eyes moved from confusion, into recognition, into hope.

Shouta felt fire burning bright in his own chest as he cautiously reached for the boy’s cheek, hovering but not quite touching. “Zu?” he whispered hoarsely, tentatively, hopefully. He heard the way the boy’s breath hitched, a disbelieving smile breaking across his face before he was crashing into Shouta, arms squeezing around his middle as Shouta’s own arms came around the boy--his son’s--shoulders. He buried his face into the soft curls, a few tears battling against his dry eyes as the pieces fell into place with a hug that was fifteen years delayed. It felt natural and right in a way nothing else had. It felt like a breath of warmth after a long winter night. It felt like home.

“Dad,” he heard Zu--Izuku--say, muffled by his jumpsuit. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I am,” Shouta confirmed. “I found you. I finally found you. I’m so sorry it took so long.”

There was a sniffle. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

He didn’t have any words for that. Instead, he just tightened the hug further, wrapping himself even more firmly around the boy that he’d spent so long yearning for. He drank in the moment, nothing else mattering except the warm body held in his arms and the feeling of completion and homecoming. 

That is, until the moment was broken by an awkward cough, and Shouta suddenly remembered he was supposed to be running a class. By the way Zu--Izuku, he knew his name now--tensed, he had suddenly remembered their audience as well. 

They broke apart reluctantly, Izuku wiping at his eyes and Shouta subtly trying to do the same. Bakugou, who was still standing right next to them, spoke up then. “Don’t tell me Hobo here is your dad, Deku.”

Izuku laughed, still wiping at his eyes. “Kacchan! I won’t say anything, then.”

“Holy f--sh--uh, cow! Midoriya, you--I can’t believe it! It was you the whole time! I knew he reminded me of someone and I can’t believe it was you and we’re here and--Oh. Uh. I’ll fill you in later?” Shinsou said, pausing in his excited rambling when he noticed both Shouta and Izuku staring at him in confusion.

“Y-yeah, sounds good,” Izuku said. 

“Speaking of catching up later,” Shouta said, and attention immediately turned back to him. “Are you good to continue class, kid? We can meet afterwards to talk through everything, or we could postpone class for now and get everything all sorted.”

He watched as Izuku grinned brightly at the thought of meeting up, and the boy wiped the last of his tears away with determination. “No, we’re already here. It wouldn’t make sense to make everyone else wait to finish their assessments. Let’s keep going.”

Shouta dug his face out of his capture weapon just long enough to flash a small smile at his son, then turned back to the rest of the class. He cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, and then decided to pretend like none of that had ever happened. “Right, then. You heard him. We still have an assessment to finish.”

There were several shouts of complaint and curiosity--nothing overtly negative, he was pleased to note--and he held up one hand to stop it. “I can’t give you any information right now. Frankly, a lot of it is personal. If you stay in my class, there’s a chance you might get to learn more later, but even that is no guarantee. Secrets are common in hero work, and you have to learn both how to keep them and how to trust the heroes around you even if they can’t share everything with you. Now, let’s get back to it.”

And even though there were a few discontented grumbles, the students jumped back into the tests with even more passion than before. Shouta couldn’t help the way his eyes kept flicking back to that head of green, and he met that verdant gaze several more times as the tests continued. He noticed the way several of the students glanced between the two of them, clearly putting their own theories together but thankfully staying quiet about it. 

Well, he’d found his kid. This year was going to be anything but boring.

Hopefully the spare room wasn’t too much of a mess. He’d have to clean it out.

What a wonder.

Chapter Text

Izuku hiked his bag higher onto his back, staring at the wide UA gates in a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Somehow it was even more imposing the second time, now that he wore the uniform of a hero student. 

He’d only passed, in his opinion, by sheer dumb luck. Who knew that rescue points were going to be awarded for helping people? Maybe that was what made the exam slightly less biased, but he didn’t think the miniscule effort for inclusion was worth the several minutes of sheer panic he’d felt when he first heard they were going up against robots. 

He hadn’t gone completely without combat points, but that was--again--down to luck. It had taken him a couple of minutes to disable the first robot, and it was only because he was close enough that he managed to find an off switch within easy reach if the robot hadn’t noticed him coming. He proceeded to use his hard-won stealth skills to turn off several more, but the combined seventeen or so points wouldn’t have been enough to pass on their own.

He hadn’t told Kacchan that he’d gotten so few points in the exam. If Kacchan knew he was applying to other hero schools, Izuku had a feeling the blonde would follow him, and he didn’t want his friend to miss out on going to the best school in the nation. He’d been alone before, and a hero school was only three more years. It would be worth it for Kacchan to be able to grow. Besides, Kacchan was going to go limelight and become one of the best heroes. Izuku would likely end up underground, where his quirk could give him an advantage. Or maybe he’d become a police officer, if being a hero didn’t pan out. He’d worked with several of them already. They could probably help him figure out how to go down that route.

He’d fallen out of his chair when he’d gotten the letter and learned he was in class 1-A.

“Hey, I recognize you! Looks like you made it in too! Are you going to go in?” a cheerful voice said from behind him, and he turned to see the bubbly girl he’d helped during the entrance exam running up to him. “I was running a bit behind this morning, and it’d be super awkward to be late for the first day! Why don’t you come in with me and we’ll see if we can find each other’s classes?”

Izuku blinked at her blankly for a moment before his thoughts and awareness came rushing back to the present. “Ah! I hadn’t even realized I’d been standing here so long! We better hurry!”

The girl nodded and fell into step with him at a quick pace. “I’m Ochako Uraraka, by the way! I’m looking for class 1-A. What’s your name? Are you in the hero course too? I know I saw you at the exam!”

“Oh. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m in 1-A too!”

“Oh, yay! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy we get to be classmates! You know, I never got to thank you for your help at the entrance exams. I kinda overused my quirk and I was still pretty out of it there at the end…”

Izuku found himself waving his hands in the air before he could even think about it. “No, no need to thank me! I just couldn’t leave you to get crushed, you know? I’m just glad you’re alright! Besides, if anything I should be thanking you for helping me clear a path away from the main street. I’m not sure we would’ve avoided the zero-pointer otherwise.”

“No, really, I insist! I don’t wanna think about what could have happened if you hadn’t been there!”

“Well-uh-let’s just call it even!” Izuku declared, his voice definitely several octaves higher than normal with embarrassment. It had been a long time since anyone had thanked him for anything, especially someone his own age. 

Uraraka giggled a little, then nodded. “Sure! We’re even, then! And look—this is our classroom!”

She had pulled the door open and walked in before Izuku was prepared, and he flailed uselessly in the hallway for a moment before following her inside. 

“Somei, hah? You must think you’re better than everyone! I’m gonna have fun knocking you down a peg!”

He really should have stayed in the hallway.

“You would threaten me? Your own classmate?”

“Hey, wait--I know you!” A chair screeched, and a tall boy with wild purple hair stood up, long strides carrying him in towards Izuku. Not recognizing the other, Izuku gave him a brief pained smile and rushed to try to do damage control with Kacchan, who was moments away from springing to his feet.

“Sorry--just--Kacchan! Don’t threaten our classmates on the first day of school!”

“Deku! Your sorry tail finally made it in here. I’m not sharing my notes with you this year!”

“Hi! My name is Ochako Uraraka! What’s your name?”

“I’m--uh--Hitoshi. Shinsou. Um. Yes.”

“Do you know Midoriya? Is that who you were talking to?”

Oh, there were already too many conversations happening. Izuku had one hand held up to Uraraka (and Shinsou? Why did the name Hitoshi ring a bell?) and one on Kacchan’s forearm. His nerves must have been showing on his face because Kacchan hadn’t pulled away yet. He opened his mouth to reply to his old friend, ready to diffuse the hotheaded argument--

There were eyes on him. He turned around to look at the doorway, following the sensation down to the ground. Vaguely he saw Shinsou’s attention also snap to the door. Dark eyes locked onto his, an exhausted face peeking out of a large yellow…was that a sleeping bag?

 “If you’re just here to make friends, then get out. This is the hero course, and time is precious. It took most of you over eight seconds to realize I was here.”

The class instantly quieted. Izuku briefly shuddered at the annoyance in the man’s tone.

The man, who Izuku was assuming was their teacher, began to stand and unzip himself from the--it was a sleeping bag--speaking as he did so. “You can call me Mr. Aizawa; I’m your homeroom teacher. Now, your gym uniforms are here by the podium. Come get yours and change. You have ten minutes to meet me out on the front lawn.”

Mr. Aizawa turned and walked right back out the door. The classroom was frozen for several moments. It was Shinsou who broke the shocked silence. He nudged Izuku’s shoulder gently. 

“Better get going. Time’s ticking.”

The taller teen walked quickly to the front of the room, and Izuku found his feet following before his mind had fully caught up. He was too busy thinking about the dark gaze of their teacher. He knew for a fact that they’d never met, but there was something oddly…familiar about the man. Something recognizable in the exhaustion under his eyes and the slope of his shoulders, in the tone of his voice and the sharp attention to detail. Maybe some of that was something he’d seen in the police officers he’d interacted with.

They all followed their new teacher down the hall as he walked past the locker rooms, then hurried to change and began heading out. Izuku found himself walking with Kacchan and Shinsou, who had hurried to catch up and walk beside him.

“Hey,” the teen started. “You didn’t seem to remember me back in the classroom. Which, uh, now that I think about it you probably wouldn’t. Not by sight or, uh, you wouldn’t know my voice. Just--uh, do you think we could talk a bit after…whatever this is?”

“Where the heck do you know Deku from, Eyebags?” Kacchan practically snarled, but Izuku could hear the defensiveness behind it--the warning and the threatened feeling all wrapped into one. He was quick to level the blonde with a deadpan stare.

“Probably foster care, Kacchan. There were a lot of houses and a lot of other kids.” He turned back to his new classmate. “Sure, that sounds okay. M-maybe we can meet up after classes? We don’t seem to be going to orientation…”

Shinsou snorted, but didn’t reply. The three of them reached the field only a moment later, and the rest of their new classmates began to trickle out behind them.

He could admit that he zoned out for the next few minutes, busy observing each new group of students that came out of the building. He noted the physical quirks he could see and theorized about the ones he couldn’t begin to guess. He zoned back in just in time to catch what they were doing and watch Kacchan blast a softball into oblivion. Which, of course, meant that he was fully present to hear the comments about this being “fun” and then feel the subsequent shiver of fear at the announcement that whoever came last would be expelled. 

He was taken aback by the outcy of unfairness. Looking around, however, he realized with a pang that the ones raising their voices had never experienced the cruelties of the world. They'd never had to worry about whether their guardians would care enough to feed them, or if their teachers would turn a blind eye to abuse, or wonder if a hero would actually save them in an attack or just choose to let them find their own way to safety. He was talking before he realized he'd opened his mouth. “Of course it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, is it? There are attacks of all kinds--avalanches and floods, villains damaging buildings, adults hurting kids, people being killed--every single day. Families are torn apart every day, people face discrimination every day. So no, it isn’t fair. It isn’t gonna be. But it’s our job to fight against unfairness. Who else will if we don’t? We have to stand up for justice, and we can only do that if we are willing to push ourselves to the brink of our capabilities. Life isn’t fair, so we have to make it fair.”

He could see how his words resonated with those around him. Suddenly, there was a spark that had been kindled for the exam, and his teacher’s words only fanned that flame into a raging fire. Caught up in the wave of determination, he tackled each challenge head-on, looking for ways to improve his scores. Of course, his quirk did nothing to help him beyond sabotaging his classmates, but he never even entertained the thought for all that it did pop into his head. This test was about using all the tools available in your toolbox, and taking his classmates’ abilities would do nothing to aid him beyond leveling the playing field--which wasn’t the point. It wasn’t until the ball throw that he felt he had the opportunity to move ahead.

“Mr. Aizawa, you said anything goes, right? I just have to stay in the circle?”

He looked steadily at his teacher, who gazed evenly back. His expression was impassive, but Izuku had long since learned how to read the subtlest details to gauge mood. The man was curious. He affirmed his original instructions, and Izuku looked back down at the softball in his hands with a small grin. He sent a mental apology to Kacchan before spinning on his heel and throwing it with full force at his friend.

The resulting explosion was expected. So was the angry yell of his name. So, too, was the way Kacchan charged at him, palms sparking. There was no real harm behind it, Izuku knew. Kacchan was expecting his quirk to stop working before he could get to Izuku. They’d trained together enough to pick up on the slightest details of each other’s postures and unspoken commands. Izuku was quick to follow through on what his friend expected, and the explosions stopped as his eyes glowed with the power of his own quirk.

What he wasn’t expecting was the shocked sound of his teacher. He wasn’t ready for the way the man practically teleported to him, dark gaze boring into his own, searching for something. He wasn’t ready for those eyes (such familiar eyes) to scan his face, a glimmer of hope steadily growing in their depths. But the longer he looked, the more the insistent feeling of familiarity pressed on him until it was too loud to ignore. He knew this man. He’d seen those eyes before, lit up as they were with something other than exhaustion--with something bordering on love. The longing in those eyes was familiar in a way he’d never seen anywhere else except in his own gaze. 

And then it all clicked. The photograph. The person standing next to his mom on the beach, dark hair pulled half-up and looking at her rather than the camera. He mentally followed the details of the man’s jawline and nose in the picture, observed the way his eyes had softened ever so slightly, and saw a mirror image in the hero standing before him. They were one and the same.

He was in no way prepared for the soft near-whispered “Zu?” or the calloused hand hovering near his cheek, but it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Mama, did you pick my name all on your own?”

“Where is this question coming from, dear?”

“Kacchan was saying that his parents argued over his name, but Auntie Mitsuki let Uncle Masaru’s name win when he was born.”

“Hmm, I remember that. I think she always liked the name Masaru picked out over her own, but she was too stubborn to admit it.”

“So, Mama, did you pick out my name?”

“I did, mostly. Your father mentioned that he liked the Z sound in a name once, so I looked for names that had a Z in them.”

“And I do! I’m ZUUUUku!”

She laughed, picking him up and tickling his sides. “You are! My little Zuuuuuu!”

Izuku crashed into the black-clad arms, which came around to catch him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All the years of waiting, of hoping, came crashing in all at once. He knew this man, even if they’d never met.

“Dad,” he said, trying and failing to bite back tears. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

Those warm arms tightened. “I am,” his teacher--his dad--said. “I found you. I finally found you. I’m sorry it took so long.”

But in the comfort of the moment, all the waiting was worth it. There was nothing that could measure up to how Izuku felt, so he said, “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

The arms tightened again, his dad’s face pressing further into the top of his head. The message was clear. I won’t let you go again. Izuku just responded in kind, caught up in the feelings of safety and comfort and home. Years of stress and fear began to melt off his shoulders as he drank it all in, floating in joy and ecstasy.

At least, until someone cleared their throat, and they remembered there was a class happening.

Izuku did his best to compose himself, responding to Kacchan and Shinsou in turn, still hardly able to believe what had just happened. But there was no point in figuring everything out right that moment--they’d waited at least ten years to meet, so they could wait a few more hours now that they’d found each other. He told his dad--his dad!--as much, and class continued on.

But he couldn’t stop the way his eyes gravitated toward the older figure, whose eyes followed him just as frequently. He couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. He couldn’t wash away the euphoria.

He’d found his dad. His dad had found him. Nothing else mattered. He finally felt like he was home, and that’s all that was important. Everything else could be figured out later.

He was all too happy to follow his newfound dad away after the assessment test was over. He couldn’t help the way he pressed into the man’s side, not wanting to be further apart now that he was finally here. 

Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Miss Aika about his first day of school!

Chapter Text

Izuku thought the euphoria would never fade completely from his system, but the end of the school day brought his usual nerves back in full force. Finding his dad and knowing who his dad was were two different things. Clearly, the man was a hero--only heroes were employed as teachers at UA--but he wasn’t one that Izuku was familiar with. Did he still like cats? What did he like to do when he wasn’t at work? Did he have trouble sleeping, like Izuku did? Did he enjoy games or puzzles, or would he rather sit and watch a TV show? Or maybe he liked to go hang out with his friends. What were his friends like? Would they like Izuku? 

Izuku slowed down as his thoughts continued to swirl around. Did his dad have a family? Would he be intruding? Would they even want him?

Did his dad even want him?

He shook that thought off almost instantly. Between the years of Miss Aika using her quirk and the hug they’d shared during the quirk assessment, he knew that he was wanted. Which was still a little strange, actually. His dad was a complete stranger who knew nothing about Izuku but still wanted him around. It was more than almost any of the foster homes he’d passed through could say.

As he considered all of this, he realized that he wouldn’t know the answers to most of his questions until he had the time to ask them. It would be a bit like making friends--except he hadn’t made new friends since that one boy he shared a room with when he was blindfolded all the time. Huh. He wondered where that boy had gone. Hopefully he was somewhere better now.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, nerd?”

Izuku came back to reality to find that he’d stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. He couldn’t help the embarrassed squeak he let out, and he could feel the way his cheeks began to burn. “Sorry! Coming, Kacchan!”

“Tch. You’re lucky you have me around. Bet you don’t even know where the teacher’s lounge is, do you?”

Izuku opened his mouth to answer, but before he could a shadow fell across him, and a finger tapped a brief rhythm on his shoulder. HEY, his mind had translated before he’d even recognized it as Morse code. “Mind if I steal you on the way to the teacher’s lounge? I happen to be headed that way myself. Was hoping we could talk, unless you want to wait on that,” a smooth voice said, and Izuku turned to see that Shinsou had caught up to them.

He heard Kacchan grumbling, but he ignored it in favor of smiling at the taller teen. “Sure, that would be nice. I really feel like I should know you, Shinsou, but I just can’t put the pieces together. Do I know you from foster care? I mean, I spent a lot of time blindfolded, so, sorry if we did and I just don’t recognize you! I’m normally pretty good at remembering voices, though--you know, with the whole not-seeing thing I worked on learning through other ways, which--not the point right now. But, yeah, I mean, if you--”

He was cut off by a hand across his mouth. He frowned at Kacchan as Shinsou snorted. “Shut up, nerd,” his friend scolded. “I’m not picking you up if you pass out from forgetting to breathe.”

“Me, neither,” Shinsou said, amused. “But you wouldn’t recognize my voice. I…wasn’t exactly allowed to speak a whole lot. You made me really good at another form of communication, though.” He reached out to Izuku’s shoulder again, tapping another rhythm that Izuku’s brain automatically began to translate. IM TALL. HAVE PURPLE HAIR. QUIRK IS BRAINWASHING.

It clicked instantly. “Hitoshi!” he nearly screamed. Then a jumble of words tried to come out all at once, and Izuku just buzzed in place while his brain tried to sort all of them out. But, instead of saying the “I miss you!” or the “It’s good to see you!” or even the “How have you been?” that he wanted to say, what actually came out of his mouth was “You are tall!”

Kacchan erupted into laughter. He threw his head back, slapping Izuku’s arm as he brought his hands around to grab at his stomach. Shinsou (Hitoshi!) just stared, deadpan, and blinked slowly. Izuku felt his face getting warm all over again, but the only sound he could manage was a squeak.

“That’s such an astute observation, Mido. I am truly impressed. Whatever shall I do with your brilliance?” Hitoshi drawled, still maintaining an impressive deadpan expression. Izuku relaxed with a chuckle. The sarcasm from his friend was familiar, and he opened his mouth to retort when he felt someone else materialize behind him.

“You’ll leave it in my capable hands,” the person said, and Izuku was surprised at how quickly he’d come to recognize that voice. He turned to look up at Aizawa (his dad!) as the man came to a stop beside their little group. “I’m surprised you made it through a day of classes, kid,” he said, addressing Izuku directly. “I would have thought you’d want to get everything sorted out right away.”

Izuku grinned sheepishly. “I did! I mean, I do. But, I, uh, didn’t want to miss class? And I wanted to get the syllabus from everyone! It seemed really important to know what we’re doing in each class and what kind of assignments and I knew it was a short day anyway and I’m sure everyone wanted to go home afterwards and--”

“Yeah, the nerd has no idea what happened in class today,” Kacchan said bluntly. Izuku turned a betrayed look on his friend and punched him in the shoulder. Kacchan just flashed a vicious grin and shoved him back. “He better not get used to copying my notes, ‘cause he won’t be doing it all semester long.”

And just like that, the feeling of betrayal was gone, replaced with the warmth that came with the knowledge that his all-but-brother had noticed that Izuku wasn’t fully present and had taken notes for him. He beamed and said brightly, “Thanks, Kacchan!”

“You should take that sunshine and follow your dad, Mido,” Shinsou said with a snort. “He’s been just as impatient as you to get to the end of the day. Bet he hasn’t told his friends yet.”

“Shut up, Shinsou. I have a reputation, you know,” Aizawa said flatly.

“Yeah, that was thrown out the window as soon as you charged at one of your students to offer a hug,” Izuku’s friend deadpanned. “We’ve seen beyond the veil now. School’s strictest teacher is actually a big softy. What a headliner.”

His dad grumbled something under his breath, glaring at Shinsou without any real heat. He turned suddenly and gestured to Izuku. “Come on, kid. Let’s go get everything settled before the gremlin goes destroying my reputation any further.”

Shinsou laughed as Izuku turned to follow his dad, confused but feeling his chest fill with something light and bubbly. The earlier worries were pushed to the back of his mind for the moment, and a few steps later he stepped up to walk beside the dark-haired man. He glanced up with a grin, and Aizawa looked down at him as well. The lower half of his face was buried in the scarf around his neck, but Izuku still caught the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

“There are a few meeting rooms in the teacher’s lounge,” the man said. “I figure we both have a lot of questions, and we’d be able to talk there for a while without interruption. Well,” he paused, thinking for a moment, “at least after Nem and Zashi calm down.”

Before he could stop himself, Izuku was already asking a question. “Who are Nem and Zashi?”

“Nemuri and Hizashi. They’re my friends, but don’t tell them I called them that. They’ve been helping me look for you. They actually got their foster licenses with me, just in case we ended up finding you in the system. They’re loud, but mostly harmless.”

They arrived a few seconds later, and Aizawa pulled his face out of his scarf long enough to flash Izuku a devilish grin before he all but kicked the door down. Izuku heard at least three people scream, but Aizawa was already sauntering into the room.

“Nem! Zashi!” he said, voice laced with something commanding that took all the heat out of the room. Izuku just stared, flabbergasted. He wanted to learn how to have the attention of a room so completely like that! His dad looked powerful, every inch a pro hero, despite the exhaustion and messy hair.

“It wasn’t me!” Present Mic yelped. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it, Sho!”

“Shouta, darling, what’s with the aggression today? Is something wrong? Do we have to hide a body? What’s with the kid?”

Izuku eeped at Midnight’s attention, hiding behind Aizawa while his racing mind tried to connect the dots. His dad was friends with Midnight and Present Mic?! His dad’s friends were pro heroes?!

Wait a second. His dad was a pro hero!

And he was very right. His friends were loud.

His dad turned around halfway, meeting Izuku’s eyes. One hand came up to the edge of his scarf, and he surreptitiously tapped out, YOU OK?

Caught between elation and relief, Izuku almost forgot to reply. He just barely managed a nod, and then there was a hand held out towards him, hesitant but inviting.

How could he not take the hand he’d waited so long to hold?

“Take a good look at the kid and tell me who he reminds you of,” Aizawa said. 

“Tell me you didn’t just kidnap a child, Shouta,” Present Mic said, a nervous chuckle following his words.

“I did not kidnap a child,” his dad replied. “Yet.”

Present Mic squawked, but Izuku ignored it in favor of observing Midnight, who was staring intently at him. She tilted her head slightly, brows furrowed, and slowly opened her mouth. “Shouta. Shouta, why does your student look like Inko?”

“Good eye, Nem. Found my kid.”

Izuku nearly laughed at the dumbfounded expressions on the two heroes. He settled for a hesitant squeeze of the hand still holding his, which was returned instantly. Then one long finger tapped the back of his hand: once, twice, thrice…

At the third tap there was a deafening screech, and Izuku’s quirk activated on instinct. Present Mic’s voice cut out to silence, but Midnight didn’t stop. The third hero in the room--was that Snipe?!--dropped his stack of papers.

Aizawa held up his hand, and the noise quieted down. “You can drop your quirk, kid,” he said quietly, and Izuku complied, blinking and feeling the pressure in his eyes dissipate. Then his dad turned back to the rest of the room. “I know you all have a lot of questions. If you are patient, we might be able to answer some of them. For now, I’ll offer you this: This is Izuku. He’s my son. We still need to talk a few things through, so if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to use a conference room. Don’t bother us.”

Izuku only held his laughter in until the door closed behind him, still thinking of the dumbstruck expressions they’d left behind. He kept laughing as he sat down on one of the comfortable couches in the room, and then all the emotions of the day caught up to him until there were tears streaming down his face.

“Kid? Kid, what’s wrong?” his dad asked, eyes wide and hands reaching out uncertainly. His dad, Izuku’s thoughts echoed, and another round of tears began to fall. All the same, he reached out one hand to grab hold of one of the ones hovering near him.

“You’re really here,” he said. “You’re here, and I’m so happy, but I’m also so mad because it took so long!” 

Aizawa’s expression softened, and he moved to sit next to Izuku and gently pulled him into his side. Izuku went easily, soaking in the positive affection. “I’m really here,” he agreed. “I’m so sorry it took so long. I went to the police department a few days after I saw that Inko had passed to look for you, but they said there was some sort of error with the paperwork. She’d changed her last name from Akatani to something else, but the name change wasn’t recorded.”

This was news to Izuku. He wiped his eyes and looked up at his father, searching for truth in the obsidian gaze. “Her surname used to be Akatani?” he asked.

Aizawa nodded. “It was when I knew her. What’d she change it to?”

“Midoriya,” Izuku said, and he could help a little giggle when his dad glanced up at his hair and then at his eyes. “I know, it’s really on the nose.”

“More like in the hair,” his dad said, and Izuku laughed again, nodding in agreement. “We kept looking for you, kid, but we never managed to get more than a few crumbs of information. I tried to search the quirk database several times--actually, what is your quirk called?”

“Nullify. I can nullify the quirks of anyone in my line of sight. It also has a sort of five-foot zone around me where they’re cancelled out, too.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Izuku pulled away from the hug he’d stayed in to look up at Aizawa. The man’s expression was far away, his eyes slightly wider than normal in what appeared to be disbelief. This was confirmed only a second later.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I looked up every version of ‘cancel’ or ‘erase’ except nullify.”

“Wait, really?” Izuku gasped. “Does your system not sort by synonyms?”

“No! It doesn’t! I can’t believe it. I would have found you so much sooner if I’d looked for the right word in our system.” The man huffed, shaking his head.

Izuku grinned wryly. “Maybe you would’ve. But you’re here now, and that’s what really matters. You never gave up on me.”

Aizawa softened, and he reached out to place one hand firmly on Izuku’s head. “I’m here now,” he agreed. “I never gave up hope that I’d find you one day.”