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Chapter Text

Aizawa woke to the thundering sound of the washing machine coming from downstairs. He turned in his bed, grumbling as he slapped a hand across the bedside table in search of his phone. It flashed to life underneath his thumb, blinding him momentarily, before he blinked, wincing at the time. It was three in the morning. 

Without waking up Yamada, who slept soundly next to him, Aizawa pushed himself up from the bed, running a hand down his tired face, hoping to chase away the exhaustion that never wanted to leave him. It was becoming a common occurrence for something to drag Aizawa out of his slumber. 

At first, the move to the new house did help. It was a fresh start. Bedtime was no longer haunted by a man in a suit. Eri slept soundly in her own bed. Shinsou was in his by eleven. And Aizawa moved from the couch and slept by Yamada’s side, stealing his husband’s warmth as they draped themselves over each other. 

It was looking hopeful.

And then on the third night, Shinsou woke up screaming. Aizawa snapped awake at the first cry, scrambling to his kid’s room, a knife he had no memory of grabbing in his hand. He kicked down the door to find Shinsou fighting with his bedsheets. And then the screaming started anew when Shinsou woke to his door crashing into the wall and a figure standing in his doorway with a knife. 

Thankfully, Yamada was able to calm everyone down. Though, Shinsou refused to sleep that night, and Aizawa spent it tossing and turning, the sound of his son screaming echoing inside his mind. 

He remembered Yamada soothing him, speaking in a low voice as he ran his hand up and down his back, “Sleep. We can start fresh in the morning.”

But things only got worse.

Stepping down the stairs, Aizawa could hear hushed voices coming from the laundry room. 

“Will Daddy be mad?” Eri’s sweet voice filtered through the door.  

“Why would he be mad?” Shinsou’s deeper voice followed hers. 

“I dunno.” The childlike way in which she said it would have made Aizawa smile a few months ago. Now, he wanted to make sure Eri knew he’d never be angry or upset at her. He stopped in his tracks, hand on the handle as he listened. “Daddy looks upset all the time now.”

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried to shield Eri from how he was feeling, pretending that everything was okay, that things would get better. But somehow, children always had a knack for understanding difficult situations, especially someone like Eri who was mature beyond her years, and yet a child all the same.

Perhaps, he hadn’t been doing a great job. He prided himself on hiding away his emotions, having the skill to keep everything locked down until he found the right moment to let it all fall out. But even behind his stoic façade, Eri had seen right through him. 

“He’s not upset with us…” Shinsou said, although he sounded anything but convinced by his own statement. “He’s just…”

“Sad?” Eri piped up, her voice quiet like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say the word aloud. 

There was a pause.

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think he’ll be happy again?” Eri asked. 

He shouldn’t have been listening in on his kids. He didn’t need to eavesdrop on them. The trust between them was fragile and broken, and he was losing bits and pieces of it with every passing day. He didn’t need to lose more of it. 

But he couldn’t help but wait for Shinsou’s answer. Some part of him needed to know what Shinsou thought. 

“I-.” Shinsou paused. “I really don’t know. I think Dad’s durable. Like he should have been dead years ago, but the stubborn bast-…uh, but he won’t go down. Like a cat that’s used all its nine lives, and yet keeps returning home each time.” Shinsou let out a huge sigh. “But…this time it’s not just Dad.”

Now was the time Aizawa needed to knock and open the door, but again, he stayed where he was, forehead pressed against the wooden frame as he closed his eyes and listened, his heart breaking with each word Shinsou said. 

“I don’t know if I’m that durable, you know?” Shinsou gave a weak chuckle. It sounded wet. 

“You’re sad too,” Eri said with all the wisdom of a six-year-old.

Shinsou made a jolting sound like he’d been shocked. Like he realised what he had said. 

“Ah, I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you,” Shinsou gave another forced laugh. “I should go change the sheets. And you should go to bed before Dad catches us up.”

Aizawa retreated, resigning himself into the kitchen and sitting down along the island like he’d been there all along and not listening to them. When Shinsou and Eri opened the door, he realised how unconvincing he looked. 

The pair froze, eyes wide and faces pale. Eri stumbled back into Shinsou’s legs before realisation dawned on her. Shinsou narrowed his eyes over the lump of bedding in his arms. 

Sitting in the dark was hardly a wise choice.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, the stool screeching underneath him as he stood. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt sheepish under the scrutinising eyes of his children. It wasn’t logical. He was twice their age, and yet he could feel his skin tingle with unwelcome nerves. 

“Daddy? Why are you awake?” Eri was the first to recover, and hopped over to Aizawa’s side, clinging to his pant leg. 

“The better question is why are the pair of you up?” Aizawa quirked an eyebrow up at her.

“We’re changing the sheets,” Eri said in a matter-of-fact way, pointing to the bundle in Shinsou’s arms. 

“I see.” Aizawa turned to look at Shinsou, who continued to hide behind the bedding, his glare focused on the floor. But Aizawa could still see the dark circles under the kid’s eyes. He wondered if he was asleep before Eri came to him, or whether he was already awake, plagued by his nightmares. Regardless, the last thing the kid needed was another sleepless night.

“Here.” Aizawa stepped forward, arms outstretched. “I’ll finish changing the sheets. You-.”

“No.” Shinsou snapped his attention to him. “I can do it.”

Aizawa paused.

“Kid, you need to sleep. Go back into bed, and I’ll finish changing Eri’s sheets.”

Shinsou hugged the bundle tighter to his chest.

“It’s no big deal. I can do it. I know how to change bed sheets.”

An irritated, sleep-deprived part of him wanted to just take the sheets from Shinsou. The more logical part of his brain told him that it was like trying to take a bone from a possessive dog. All he’d do was get bit. 

“Hitoshi-.”

He felt it before he knew what was happening. A sense of white taking over his entire body. He didn’t know how to explain that. A colour washing over every sense, but that was exactly how it felt like. It was neither warm or cold, neither inviting or full of dread. It was just empty like he suddenly existed and yet didn’t. 

Slowly, his vision came to him. It wasn’t quite right. The edges were fuzzy, and everything moved like it was made of static. He could see the top of Eri’s head out of his peripheral vision, but he couldn’t move to look at her. He could only stare at Shinsou’s blurred figure, before the kid dipped from his view, skirting past him.  

Shinsou didn’t hold him for long. Within a couple of minutes, Aizawa felt his consciousness return to him like a snapped rubber band behind his eyes. 

“Daddy?” Eri was still with him, watching with wide, curious eyes. “’Toshi went upstairs.”

Aizawa dragged his fingers against his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. Shinsou’s confidence in his quirk only grew when he first moved into their household. Extending his training into the house allowed Shinsou to use his quirk like any other person. It was a part of him, and Aizawa wanted to allow the kid a safe space to flex his quirk outside of U.A’s walls. It took time. Years of trauma didn’t vanish over a handful of weeks. But slowly, the kid’s confidence grew, and so did the number of pranks. Whether it was using it against Yamada in the morning, so he’d be first in the bathroom; or whether it was making Aizawa give Eri a cookie when he had said no. However Shinsou used it, Aizawa encouraged it. 

But now was different. The kid wasn’t simply using his quirk to harmlessly sneak an extra sweet to Eri. Instead, he used it to push everyone away. 

“Are you angry?” Eri asked. “Are you angry at Hitoshi?”

“No, I’m not mad.” Aizawa ran a hand down his face. “Come on.” He plucked Eri up into his arms and she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist, settling her head against his shoulder.

“You look mad,” she said quietly.

“I’m just…worried.” 

“Because Hitoshi’s sad?”

“Yeah.” Aizawa rubbed his hand up and down her back as he climbed the stairs. “I worry about the both of you, and sometimes that makes me sad.”

Eri sighed against him. 

“Sometimes I’m sad too.”

Aizawa almost slipped on the next step as she spoke.

“Did you have another nightmare?” He asked, carefully. 

She shook her head.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Aizawa nodded as he reached the landing.

“How come you woke Shinsou up instead of me or Hizashi?” He asked, trying not to sound accusatory. 

“He was already awake,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. “And you were asleep.”

Aizawa held back a sigh. Logically, it was true. But he’d rather Eri come get either Yamada or himself, than disturb Shinsou, no matter if he was awake or not. Aizawa wanted to be there, to know if his kids were suffering or needed him. He didn’t like being in the dark, the only one kept out of the loop. 

“Is the reason you go to Hitoshi one of your secrets?” Aizawa whispered as he opened his bedroom door. Yamada was still fast asleep- he hadn’t moved a muscle. 

Eri nodded again before Aizawa climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around her to keep her on his chest. He settled down and pulled the blanket over the both of them. Eri slid down to his side and buried herself there. 

“Can I know the secret?” He asked, running a hand through her hair. 

Eri stayed silent, her little fingers plucking at his shirt. 

“But it’s a secret,” she said, her voice sounding torn.

“Okay.” Aizawa took a deep breath. “But if you want to tell me later, you can, okay?”

Eri nodded.

Aizawa continued to run a hand through her hair as he closed his eyes, willing his mind to let him have at least a few hours more of sleep. The soft sounds from Eri shuffling and her gentle breathing smoothed him, and soon he found himself tilting into sleep, the edges of his consciousness edging away.

“Dad?”

Aizawa opened one eye, sleep immediately vanishing. 

“Mmh?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Aizawa turned so they were facing each other, Yamada’s back against his. Eri placed her feet against his knees, her toes curling into his trousers absentmindedly. 

“Do you want me to get you a story book?” He mumbled.

“…Can you sing to me?” She whispered, her eyes glued to his chest. 

“Sing?” Aizawa grimaced. “I’m not really a great singer.” He wasn’t known for his vocal talent; he could only hold a tune when he was too drunk to notice it being off when they went karaoke with the other teachers.

“Please.” Eri looked up at him with the biggest eyes possible, knowing full well he couldn’t resist them.  

“Okay.” And with a sigh, Aizawa turned onto his back and shifted up until he was pressed against the headboard. Once he was settled, he patted his lap, and without a shred of hesitation, Eri climbed into it until she was snug in Aizawa’s arms. She was too old to be held like an infant, but Aizawa did it away, smoothing a thumb over her temple as he held her close. 

“What song do you want?”

“The one Papa always sings to me.” 

“Ah, okay.” It was an English song that Yamada said his own parents sang to him when he was a child. Aizawa didn’t know the name of it, but if he knew the tune because he sometimes hovered by Eri’s door when Yamada sang her to sleep, then so be it. 

His voice wasn’t perfect. It was more of a mumble than anything else. But as soon as he started, Eri sighed, her whole body relaxing into his chest.

He mostly hummed along with the tune, singing the odd English word he knew. Eri didn’t seem to mind the missing lyrics as she fought against her drooping eyelids. 

“Just like me, they long to be close to you.” A warm smile took over him as Eri finally slumped in his arms, her face buried into his chest. He continued to hum the last few lines, watching as Eri slept.

“I didn’t know you knew that song.”

It took all of Aizawa’s training not to jump at Yamada’s voice.

“Fuck, ‘Zashi.” Aizawa hissed.

“Sorry,” Yamada snorted, and if Aizawa squinted in the dark, he could see Yamada’s moustache tilt upwards into a smile. “Another nightmare?” His features softened as he shifted closer, pressing his cheek against Aizawa’s thigh as he looked up at Eri.

“I don’t know. She said she didn’t have one, but Shinsou was cleaning her sheets when I woke up.”

Yamada’s sigh was soft against Aizawa’s leg.

“…Hitoshi brainwashed me again,” Aizawa confessed, though his voice was barely audible. He didn’t know why he felt shame flood through him. He didn’t know why he felt like the world was pressed against his shoulders at the thought of Shinsou using his quirk against them. Maybe it was because Shinsou was so reluctant to use his quirk on them at first, terrified of the repercussions, and now did so, so freely. Or maybe it was the fact that Shinsou had never used his quirk on his previous fosters, no matter how much they tortured the kid, and yet Aizawa could count the number of times Shinsou had brainwashed him on two hands in the last month.

“He’s probably just nervous about going back to school tomorrow,” Yamada said.

“Today,” Aizawa corrected. “He doesn’t have to go.”

“He knows. But he’s probably looking forward to a sense of normal again. That’s why you’re going back, right?” Yamada’s eyes were barely visible in the dark, but Aizawa hid away from the gaze anyway.

“I can’t leave the students in Toshinori’s care for too long, or they’ll never learn anything,” Aizawa jested, though it was flat.

“Shouta, baby, look at me.”

Aizawa turned, leaning towards the sound of Yamada’s voice.

“You can take as much time as you need,” Yamada said. “No one expects you to be okay.”

And he knew that. He knew no one was expecting him to jump back on the horse, as the saying goes. No one expected him to be gallivanting off rooftops and saving civilians. As he had told every single one of his students, a hero needed to save themselves before they can save others. It was a lesson that most kids didn’t understand. They didn’t need saving. Why would a hero need saving? But there were always a handful that understood, that sat at their desks with wide eyes, staring at Aizawa in a new light, like he’d opened a door for them they didn’t even know was locked.

But Aizawa didn’t need saving. He didn’t have time, even if he did. Those kids back at U.A were waiting for him.

“I need to.”

“I know,” Yamada sighed and gently rubbed Aizawa’s leg. “Just…just remember that you can stop. You can stay home with me and Eri. Hitoshi will probably follow your lead, despite how angry he is with us, he still looks to you for guidance.”

Aizawa shuffled down the bed until he was lying on his back with Eri on his chest. He spread out his arm, an open invitation, and Yamada moved into the space, settling his head on Aizawa’s bicep. They lay in silence, listening to Eri’s quiet breaths. If Aizawa listened hard enough, he could hear Shinsou shuffling about in his room across the hallway.

“Do you think he hates me?” Aizawa asked, the question slipping out before he could even think of stopping it.

“I think he hates himself right now.” Yamada didn’t even hesitate.

It wasn’t really an answer to his question. But he didn’t need Yamada to lie to him. Shinsou made sure to show every single emotion. The aloof, tired long-off stare that was almost iconic was lost to a sea of angry and pent-up expressions.

“But he knows you love him, and that’s all that matters right now.” Yamada kissed Aizawa’s bicep, his moustache tickling along his skin.

“We should go back to sleep,” Aizawa mumbled, closing his eyes without looking at Yamada. But his husband said nothing as he snuggled closer, almost burying himself into Aizawa’s side, his fingers twisting Aizawa’s shirt.

With Yamada and Eri by his side, Aizawa fell asleep within minutes.

-

Shinsou was already waiting in the car for Aizawa when he woke up. 

“Morning,” Aizawa said, climbing into the driver’s seat. Shinsou barely even looked his way aside from a small glance out of the corner of his eye. 

Nothing more was said as Aizawa pulled out of the driveway. Normally their car journeys were quiet when Yamada or Eri wasn’t with them. It was time to just be without having unnecessary noise. It was comfortable. And provided Shinsou space to think, allowing the kid to come to him if he needed to. 

But this was tense, like there were a stranger sitting next to him. Half of him felt like he needed to say something, anything to the kid, but every word that came to his mind was forced and heavy. Small talk never came easy to him. 

Either way, Shinsou was turned away from him, staring out of the window, his head resting against the glass.

He looked older like the past month aged him twenty years. The way his eyes were half-lidded as if he could barely hold them up. The sleepless nights left him with dark circles and bloodshot eyes. His hair flopped over his face; his usual style had been missing since their return from the hospital. 

But at the same time, when Aizawa looked at him, he saw the same boy who had come to him after The Sports Festival, determined to prove to the world they were wrong about him. He looked both so young and so old at the same time.

Finally, the pair pulled up outside U.A gates, and Aizawa flashed his I.D as they were let inside. 

“You ready?” Aizawa asked as he parked, turning to look at Shinsou. The kid was in the same position, but Aizawa could see how furrowed his brows were and the tightness in his jaw. “Kid, if you don’t-.”

Shinsou opened the car door and slammed it shut, storming towards the main building, his bag slung tight over his shoulders.

Aizawa watched him before the kid vanished through the doors. But he didn’t chase after him. He’d see him in homeroom, but he knew Shinsou would do everything in his power to escape him.  

He pressed his head against the steering wheel and took a long, calming breath. Today was a new start. The beginning of going back to the way things were.

He only moved when he spotted the first of the students making their way into the school, casting curious looks in Aizawa’s direction, though none of them were brave or stupid enough to come near. Some things never changed.

Stepping out, Aizawa made his way to his homeroom. It was a little early, far earlier than he normally arrived, but the last thing he wanted to do was step foot into the staff room. At least his students would stop badgering him on his absence with one look of his quirk. The same couldn’t be said about his colleagues, especially Kayama and Toshinori. 

Like always, when Aizawa entered his homeroom, Iida was already in his seat. He straightened upon seeing Aizawa, his eyes shining with curiosity and the urge to speak. 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him as he went to the podium, wondering if his sleeping bag was still tucked underneath it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Iida squirm in his seat.

“Yes, Iida?” Aizawa asked without looking up from where he had ducked down, looking for his sleeping bag. 

“I just wanted to welcome you back, Sir!” Iida stood, the chair screeching. 

“Sit down.” A headache was already thumping, and it wasn’t even eight-thirty. But he couldn’t help the warmth in his chest at the gesture. “And thank you, Iida.”

Aizawa pulled out his sleeping bag as Iida sat back down. He watched as the Class President cast a worried look to Shinsou, who sat at the back of the class with his head buried in his arms. Iida looked back at Aizawa with a lost, worried look, like Aizawa knew what to do. But Aizawa shook his head and simply climbed into his sleeping bag. He didn’t want to corner Shinsou where he couldn’t escape.

Settling down into the corner, Aizawa planned to nap until homeroom. But like all things peaceful, it was ruined by the sound of children. 

The door opened to a rush of students, who froze at the sight of him. They stared at him, and he stared back, unblinking. And then, their shock vanished, and was replaced by bright smiles.

“SENSEI!”

Aizawa didn’t even get a chance to stand before he was caged against the wall by a barrier of children. 

“Sensei! Are you back now?”

“Where did you go?”

“Welcome back!”

“Is Present Mic coming back too?”

“Are you teaching us today?”

“That’s enough.” Aizawa let his hair climb up and his eyes sting as he glared down at their eager expressions. It did nothing to diminish the twinkle in their eyes, but they clamped their mouths shut and at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sit.”

“But Sensei!” Ashido whined, her face screwing up into a childish pout. “We missed you!”

“Sit,” Aizawa ordered again, his voice strict. And with a lot of grumbling, his students did as they were told. 

All aside from Yaoyorozu, who stood quietly in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Yes, Yaoyorozu?” 

“We all just wanted to welcome you back.” And out from behind her back, she presented him with a flask. It was black in colour, and sleek. Aizawa smiled as he saw how the lid curved into two matching cat ears. “I hope Phantom Black Tea is okay.”

Aizawa blinked as he took the flask into his hands. That warmth from earlier came back and he felt as though he had drunk the whole thing already.

“Thank you,” he said, hiding his burning cheeks into his scarf as he caught the rest of his students grinning in his direction. 

“See! I told you he’d like it!”

“Only because Momo gave it to him!”

“Duh! She’s his favourite!”

Aizawa’s hair lifted ever so slightly, his quirk faintly burning, but the effect was enough for the class to fall silent. 

Aizawa thanked Yaoyorozu once again and told her to take her seat as he took a sip from the flask. It was sweet, with an earthy taste to it. He took another sip and let the warmth wash over him. 

And then he noticed Yaoyorozu pause by Shinsou’s desk. There was another flask in her hand. At first, Shinsou didn’t move, staying with his head buried in his arms. But when Yaoyorozu placed the flask onto the desk, the kid turned, his tired eyes blinking owlishly at the flask before turning up to see Yaoyorozu. She smiled at him without saying a word and went to her desk behind him. 

His hell class was loud and obnoxious and were far too nosy for their own good, but they were good kids. Truly future heroes.

“Okay.” The room turned to him, all focused and ready. “Tell me what I’ve missed.”

Thankfully, they had calmed down since exploding, and let Iida retell how their training had been progressing under Toshinori’s hand. 

It was then that the bell rang, and the man himself showed up at the door. 

“Ah! Good morning, Aizawa.”

“Toshinori.” Aizawa nodded a greeting. 

“It’s good to see you back! I was struggling to keep up with them without you.” Toshinori smiled, though it wasn’t his signature All Might smile. Instead, it was something far truer, and warm, like he was actually glad for Aizawa’s return.

“I’ve heard contrarily. It seems you undervalue your teaching skills,” Aizawa said as he began to leave. He hid his smirk behind his scarf at Toshinori’s wide eyes. “Thank you for looking after them.” 

“Of course…”

Aizawa glanced back at Shinsou, who was still tucked into his arms. He hesitated, only for a moment, but with a wave, Aizawa retreated. As much as Toshinori could make a fool out of himself, the retired hero wasn’t without his merits. He trusted him with his kids. 

Much to his class’s disappointment, he wasn’t going to be with them for their training session today. He was stuck with the rat during the morning; a meeting that Aizawa was not looking forward to. And with Nedzu being hush hush about what it was about, Aizawa feared the worst. 

“Aizawa!”

Aizawa turned to Toshinori’s voice as he popped out of his class. 

“Yes?”

“About Shinsou….” Toshinori stalled, mulling over his words. “He wants to take part in today’s exercise. I was just wondering if you agreed. I don’t know the details of what happened, other than the vague email explaining your absence from Nedzu. But I know whatever happened couldn’t ha-.”

Aizawa held up his hand.

“If the kid wants to join, let him. There is no reason to keep him from joining his classmates.”

Toshinori stared at him, all wide-eyed.

“Are you sure?”

“You won’t be able to stop him, either way.” 

“I don’t want Shinsou to injure himself if he isn’t ready.”

“Sometimes the hardest lessons are learnt when doing something before you are ready.” Aizawa sighed. He’d already had this fight with Shinsou. The kid wasn’t even supposed to start school until the end of the month, but Shinsou was more stubborn than Aizawa himself. 

And as a parent, Aizawa wanted nothing more than to make sure Shinsou was happy and wouldn’t get hurt. As a teacher and a mentor, he knew that falling was inevitable. That the real lesson was on getting back up, learning why you fell in the first place. 

“Just keep an eye on him for me.” 

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

Two beady eyes stared unblinking at Aizawa over the rim of a mug. He stared back, keeping his expression neutral, despite the urge to squirm under Nedzu’s gaze. 

“How are you doing, Shouta?” Nedzu asked, his voice calm and pleasant.

“Fine.”

“And Hizashi?”

“Fine.”

“How about little Eri?” 

“Fine.”

“And if I ask about Hitoshi?”

“Fine.”

Nedzu smiled as he placed his mug down.

“I have had the pleasure of knowing you a long time, Shouta.” It was through a twitch of a whisker, or the swish of his tail that Aizawa knew how Nedzu expressed himself without human features. Now his eyes were wide, and his nose pointed straight at Aizawa, sniffing. 

“We are fine.”

“If anything changes…”

“You will be the first to know.”

“I’m glad.”

“You didn’t call me in here to discuss pleasantries,” Aizawa said, trying to keep himself from sounding clipped.

“The wellbeing of my staff is important to me, Shouta. And so are those who are under U.A guardianship, whether they be a student or a civilian.”

Aizawa took a long breath through the nose.

“After the USJ incident, you came back to school rather abruptly.  Scaring many of the first years as you shuffled down the corridors.”

Aizawa didn’t know whether to smirk or roll his eyes. A few broken bones were hardly reason enough to sit on sick leave. The school, after all, was rather dramatic with his return, citing that he should be resting and recovering from his injuries. Several of his colleagues gave their concerns, even Nedzu had called him into a meeting just like they were sitting in now. Though, their efforts were in vain. Aizawa stayed, ready to teach the next generation of heroes despite how the students stared and scurried at the sight of his mummified self.

“Are you sending me home?” Aizawa asked, narrowing his gaze.

“I am simply asking if this is where you should be.”

“I am already here.”

Nedzu raised his mug to his muzzle and took a long, thoughtful sip. The rat was known for his dramatics, and Aizawa willed himself not to lean forward, impatient for the reason he was stuck in his boss’ office instead of teaching his students.

Finally, Nedzu set the mug down with a careful paw, the porcelain silent against the wooden desk.

 “The Hero Public Safety Commission have called for an assessment on you.”

A flush of heat crawled over his skin. He felt a typeof bitterness in his stomach, twisting and turning into something ugly. His relationship with the Commission was symbiotic, at best. They needed heroes, especially those willing to crawl through the city’s underbelly, and he needed a licence to do so. He would hardly call it a peaceful partnership; Aizawa tended to pull on the leash, toeing the line between what was expected of him as a hero, and what needed to be done. His personality, after all, wasn’t made for being a poster boy. He’d leave that for the daylight heroes.

As long as they left him alone, and he did his job, Aizawa didn’t need to worry about the Commission breathing down his neck. (Aside from when it concerned his student’s exams).

But it was true that the Commission were sticking their nose into U.A’s dirty laundry since the rise of the League of Villains. The slightest hitch and the Commission were raising red flags. It didn’t help that the League’s attention seemed to be focused on his hell class, thus thrusting him into the spotlight too.

“What?” Aizawa barely kept the anger in his voice down. “They think because I was captured, I can’t do my job as a teacher?”

“An assessment regarding guardianship over Eri.”

And it was like everything at once ceased to exist. It reminded him of being under Shinsou’s brainwashing. The world vanishing until he was left with only the vague sense of something being wrong, but not able to do anything against the floating feeling inside his head.

“My…guardianship?” His voice barely came as a croaked whisper.

“Due to your abduction by a villain, they feel as though you are no longer suitable to care for young Eri.”

The weight of Junichiro’s hands were on Aizawa’s shoulders, his fingers curling into his muscles, the tips of them blistering hot. Aizawa’s entire body shuddered at the sensation, chasing away the ghost of Junichiro’s touch.

“I have assured them that she is safe and well in your care, but they are worried that you are too much of a target for villains.”

Aizawa felt something inside his chest sink into his stomach.

“What can I do?” He asked, weakly.

“We present a case, justifying our reasoning that Eri continues to be your ward.”

Aizawa ran a hand over his face and squeezed at the tension growing in his taut jaw.

“She’s a child.”

“I know.”

“If they remove her, she won’t understand.”

Aizawa felt pressure burning behind his eyes.

“And what of Hitoshi?”

While fostering Shinsou didn’t mean they needed to jump through hoops with the Commission, Shinsou’s care still fell under the Japanese government. Neither of his children were yet legally his. He had intended to discuss adoption with the kid during the break; The papers for Shinsou’s adoption were abandoned in his desk draw. He didn’t think he could take them out anymore.

“They didn’t mention removing Hitoshi from your care.”

Relief didn’t come like Aizawa had expected it to. Instead, his stomach filled with dread.

“So, one child is safe in my care, but not the other?” Aizawa narrowed his brows at Nedzu.

It was clear what the Commission wanted. It was a fear that never fully rested inside Aizawa’s mind when he first took Eri as his ward. Eri had a powerful quirk, one that Aizawa had never seen before. It was a looming shadow over the Hero world. A quirk that had been transformed into a weapon against heroes. But in turn, it could also be a quirk used against villains…or those who opposed the Commission. Thankfully, Eri had no control over it and without Overhaul’s quirk, there was no one to make sure that those in charge of Eri’s care wouldn’t become victim to her quirk, rewound back until they ceased to exist. All aside from Aizawa.

It was the reason she came into his care. But he didn’t know how long that reason would keep the Commission away. With the League becoming bolder, and the Commission being understaffed, Eri’s quirk would be an easy way to defeat the villains. One little girl hardly mattered compared to the millions of lives at risk if the League ever launched a full-scaled attack.

But it mattered to Aizawa. Eri deserved to be happy.  

“They’ll use her as a weapon,” Aizawa said.

“It is what I fear.”

Aizawa felt the instinctual desire to be near his children, as if the threat of the Commission would snatch her away if he wasn’t there to protect her.

“They will take her if they want her. Regardless, if I’m fit to be her father or not.” They didn’t need Junichiro’s actions to govern their own. Aizawa had been targeted by villains his entire career. A hero always had enemies. U.A even had a suspected traitor within their midst, something the Commission knew about. And yet, they handed Eri to them.

“Indeed. But they haven’t demanded that we hand over Eri to them. They still fear her quirk, as much as they still wish to use it. They are probably still discussing whether to remove her or not. However, if we can convince them that Eri is too much of a dangerous variable to them, and that her needs will be better met within our care, then I believe we can win this case against them.”

“But they aren’t calling U.A into question.”

“No. That is true. Which is why I scheduled their assessment for today.”

“Today?” Aizawa blinked, paling.

“Well, they asked when you were returning to work, and I said it was unclear when you would return. They really wanted to meet with you though since they are short-staffed. If they couldn’t meet today, then we would have to wait until Thursday. Which no one wanted. So, I sent them to your apartment instead. I didn’t want to keep them waiting.”

“The apartment. Sir, I- we don’t live there anymore. We moved.”

Nedzu’s eyes squeezed closed into a smile. 

“Oh dear, did I send them to your old address?”

Aizawa paused. His mind whirled. And then a maddening grin took over his face, one he tried to hide behind his scarf.

“Thank you.”

Nedzu said nothing and simply took another sip of his tea. 

“Eri has been a delight to both staff and students alike. I trust you to look after her, Shouta.”

“Yes, Sir.”

--

After meeting with Nedzu, there was still time to catch the end of Toshinori’s lesson with his hell class. Realistically, there was no point attending. He didn’t want to undermine Toshinori’s teaching, the retired hero had fully emerged himself into his teaching role, studying and learning how to become a better teacher for their students. Plus, he didn’t want to distract the kids with his presence, even he could see how much the kids had missed him.

But there was a part of him, some deep parental instinct, that needed to check on Shinsou. He knew the kid was safe within U.A’s wall. He was surrounded by nineteen other hero students that could protect him if the need arise. And Toshinori, despite no longer being the titular All Might, would fight until his death for those children.

Shinsou was safe. He was with his friends. He could protect himself. Aizawa didn’t need to worry.

And yet, Aizawa found himself walking into the USJ, hands shoved into his pockets, posture easy and relaxed as he searched over the heads of students, looking for that familiar mop of purple hair. Most of the class stood at the edge of the pool area, watching their other classmates practise water drills. He saw several of his students swim back to the shore with a dummy in tow.

“Rescue  training?” Aizawa asked as he came to stand next to Toshinori, who turned with a sheepish look as though he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Ah, Aizawa. I didn’t think you’d be finished with Nedzu so quickly.”

“I avoided most of his lecturing.”

“He does like to talk.” Toshinori laughed, and Aizawa had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. As if you’re one to speak. But then Toshinori’s expression turned serious, his bright blue eyes bearing down on Aizawa, deep with worry. “I know it isn’t any of my business, but is everything alright? Is there anything I can help with?”

“You’re right. It isn’t.” Aizawa turned towards the class, ignoring Toshinori’s hurt expression. It was true that they were perhaps closer than they were when Toshinori first joined U.A’s staff. And Maybe after a few drinks, Aizawa would confess that they were somewhere along the lines of friends, but that didn’t change the fact that Aizawa’s personal life was his own. Toshinori didn’t need to poke his nose into it. The idiot would only try to help, and Aizawa didn’t need the bumbling oaf making things worse.

“Sorry.”

Aizawa continued to look away, watching as Ashido helped Uraraka out of the pool, the girls giggling as they heaved their dummy out with them, the doll whistling as it pushed out air in a faux breath. And then the pair got to work, tipping the doll onto its side, expelling the water inside it.

He moved away from them, scanning over his students until he spotted Shinsou. The kid stood at the edge of the pool, his eyes large as he stared at the water. Midoriya was treading in the deeper part, turning back to Shinsou, frowning up at him, concern easy to see in those large, green eyes. After all, Toshinori and Midoriya were peas in a pod, both eager to help, and ready to butt into other people’s business without asking first.

After a moment of hesitation and a look of dread, Shinsou slipped into the pool and swam after his classmate. He wasn’t a graceful or strong swimmer. Before coming to live with Aizawa and Yamada, the kid couldn’t even doggy paddle. It was only after Aizawa decided to teach Eri and invited Shinsou to come along, did the kid confess that he couldn’t swim. After spending most of his childhood and teen years in foster care, he hadn’t had the chance for lessons.

He learnt fast, but he was no fish to water.

“He’s doing well,” Toshinori said next to him.

“Hmm?”

“Shinsou. He’s more reserved than usual, but I can see he’s ready to get back to learning.”

Aizawa only hummed in response. Determination alone was one thing but watching as Shinsou struggled to flip the dummy onto its back, he saw what was truly driving the kid. Desperation. The thought of falling behind, of not being good enough, proving to the others that he wasn’t a villain were all born out of stubbornness, but also a need to reach beyond what others thought of him. Shinsou had once called it a selfish dream, but Aizawa cut that weed of a thought out. It wasn’t selfish to dream for yourself.

And if there was a kid that deserved their dream to come true, it was Shinsou.

But desperation made people stupid.

Shinsou’s head dipped under the surface.

Aizawa stepped forward, tugging at a loop of his capture weapon. Toshinori moved, instincts directing him in time with Shouta’s movements, even if he didn’t know what he was being directed towards.

“What is it?”

Aizawa kept his eyes peeled on the water. Shinsou surfaced, eyes wide. And then quietly, he went under again.

“Call the students in!” Aizawa moved, thrashing into the water, throwing a loop of his weapon towards Hitoshi. But the cloth flailed in the air useless before dropping, sinking below the surface. Aizawa could only watch it disappear, as Hitoshi gasped, breaking through to the surface, hands clawing at the air as if he could grab it and pull himself out of the water.

The sandy shore of the USJ pool vanished beneath his shoes and was replaced with white bathroom tiles. The water warmed between his thighs, the heat stinging against his skin as it grew hotter, bubbling at the surface. He could still see the shape of Hitoshi as he sunk, fingers grasping just above the surface. But Aizawa couldn’t move, his legs locking into place, seemingly melting as the heat of the water boiled him alive.

“I’ll punish the little bitch so hard, he won’t even know what day it is.” A ghost of a voice snarled into his ear. The weight of two large hands hooked onto his shoulders, pushing, shoving him down onto his knees with a splash.  “He’s ruining everything.”

He gasped, but he couldn’t breathe in another mouthful of air. It was like it was drowning above the surface of the water, his throat closing in on itself, refusing to let any air into his lungs. He clawed at the tiled floor, blood clouding the water pink from his fingertips. His body jerked, his ribs expanding, making way for air that just won’t come.

Something large reached for his cheeks, tilting his head up and pulling his chin away from where it was tucked against his chest. Hands. He could feel the callouses on their finger. They were the mark all heroes had.

“Aizawa, can you hear me?”

He recognised the voice. It was low, soft, and there was a hint of an accent that wasn’t Japanese. A tang of something foreign. He lifted his eyes and found two startling blue ones shrouded in shadow staring back at him.

“All Might?”

“Are you back with us?”

Aizawa blinked, and then pushed his lank, wet hair out of his face. Around him, he could see several of his students watching with concerned expressions. Aizawa blinked again and pulled his face away from Toshinori’s hold.

“Why am I wet?”

He turned back to his students. They’d been back to the USJ many times since the League’s debut, but he was sure that he wasn’t the only one that got a chill up his spine every time they stepped foot into the place. Doing a head check helped ground him. As long as the students were safe, then he-.

There were only eighteen students. He counted again. And again.

“Where’s Hitoshi?” Aizawa swung his gaze up at Toshinori.

“He’s gone to the infirmary. Bakugou is with him.”

Aizawa pushed himself up onto unsteady legs.

“Aizawa, slow down.”

Aizawa pushed Toshinori’s hands away as he stumbled forward, his students parting around him. He only made it a handful of steps before a looming figure stood in his path.

“Aizawa. Stop,” Toshinori ordered. It was the same way All Might spoke to villains. “You need to stop.”

“I need to check on Hitoshi. I’m fine.”

“You froze.”

Aizawa glared up at the man. He didn’t freeze. Heroes didn’t freeze. That instinct was cut out of them. He wasn’t some helpless animal trapped within the blinding lights of an on-coming car. Any fear that came from facing a villain only served as a rush of adrenaline. He didn’t freeze.

“Move.”

“Is this really the example you want to set for your students?” Toshinori nodded towards the huddle of students, who were watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes.

“As if you’re one to speak,” Aizawa growled.

“Exactly. I’ve made this mistake. It doesn’t end well, Aizawa.” Toshinori laid a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder, grounding him. Months ago, Aizawa would’ve shrugged the hand away. Heck, months ago, Toshinori wouldn’t have dared offer any sort of comfort to him, especially not in any physical form. But he let the hand stay.

“Hitoshi-.”

“Is with Bakugou and Recovery Girl.”

“What happened? One minute you were running towards Shinsou, and then you froze like the kid had brainwashed you.”

For a dreadful moment, he wondered if Hitoshi had brainwashed him. But time didn’t stop, cushioned by Hitoshi’s quirk. Instead, it was like his mind couldn’t decide where he was. The second he heard Hitoshi gasp for air, everything blinked back to when Junichiro held Hitoshi under the tub, the water boiling around them. If he thought hard enough, Aizawa could still feel the heat slap against his face.

Aizawa turned back to his students, who were nosily watching. He caught Midoriya adverting his gaze, cradling his arm.

“What happened to Midoriya?”

Toshinori sighed at Aizawa’s misdirection.

“When the class realised what was happening, Midoriya was the closest to Shinsou and went to save him. Unfortunately, in Shinsou’s panic…he bit Midoriya.”

“It doesn’t hurt…” Midoriya said quietly, still unable to look Aizawa in the eye. In comparison to Midoriya's usual injuries when it came to his arms, the wound only looked mildly inflamed and sore.

Aizawa sighed as a ran a hand down his face. It was only their first day back.

“Go see Recovery Girl once she is done with Hitoshi.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to Toshinori.

“I think…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “That you will be running this class a little while longer without me.”

Toshinori gave him a warm smile.

“Take all the time that you need, my friend.”

--

He heard his kid before he saw him, which is something Aizawa had hardly said before. Shinsou was by default a quiet person, though Aizawa suspected his years growing up in foster care caused Shinsou a lot of mental scars, ones that even a loving home couldn’t fix. Not that Shinsou let Aizawa shoulder those scars with him. Aizawa had read through the kid’s file, but as per usual when it came to kids like Shinsou, there were too many red flags for a single kid. It was all bogus, and he relied on his own judgement to evaluate the kid. However, the root of every flinch, or sleepless night, or bruise was something Shinsou kept buried. Getting the kid to open up, to open up the wounds that had long scarred was something almost impossible.

So, it caught him by surprise to hear the kid speak. His voice was barely a mumble, a low timbre that made him sound like he didn’t want to speak in the first place. And yet, as Aizawa waited outside the USJ’s infirmary room, the kid kept talking.

“-panic like that. Was real stupid.”

Bakugou only grunted in response.

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know?”

“Tough,” Bakugou barked. Aizawa could almost imagine the scowl on his face, his feet kicked up on the hospital cot. 

“Didn’t think you cared about me.” 

“I don’t. All Might sent me to keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Shinsou snorted, impatiently.

“You almost drown because you panicked like an idiot while swimming. So yeah, you need a babysitter.” 

Shinsou huffed, and Aizawa heard as he slumped back, the headboard of the cot hitting the wall. 

“Whatever. Fine,” Shinsou said.

The pair fell silent then. It was thick and heavy. It was the perfect time for Aizawa to step in. But for the life of him, he couldn’t move.

It was irrational to stand outside the room, eavesdropping on his son’s private conversation, one that he knew Shinsou would never have with him. He wondered if Shinsou would have told him before their capture. He doubted it. The kid was tight-lipped before then, but Aizawa never hesitated to stay by his side, silently letting Hitoshi know he was there without judgement. But now? A part of him knew he wasn’t welcome by his side now. That the title of protector and father had shifted into uncertainty. The territory that he was once so comfortable in was now bedded with cracks and broken glass, that every step was somehow the wrong one to take.

So, he waited until one of them spoke again.

“I get it, you know?” Bakugou said softly, almost as if he didn’t want Shinsou to hear him. 

“What?”

“I get it.”

“How could y-.” At first, Shinsou snapped, his temper getting the better of him before it simmered. “Oh.”

It’d only been a few months since Kamino. 

“Yeah, oh.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I ain’t here to talk about mushy feelings and all that shit, but for what it’s worth, I get it. And I know it fucking sucks.” 

“I…” Shinsou’s voice broke. “Do you know…?”

“All I know is that you got taken by a villain."

How Bakugou knew was a mystery, though the kid was known for eavesdropping. Aizawa didn’t know whether or not to be proud of Bakugou’s stealth. Though, he concluded that once again his class were far too nosey for their own good.

Shinsou made a small sound before what he said next punched a hole in Aizawa's lungs.

“I opened the door to him.”

Deep down Aizawa knew Junichiro hadn’t broken in by force. After all, the door was open when arrived home.

“I didn’t think.” Shinsou sucked in a hard breath. “I was so busy making sure Eri was having fun, I just opened the door like an idiot. It’s my fault.”

Bakugou said nothing, aside from letting out an exhausted-sounding sigh, the chair creaking as he leaned back in it.

“How…how do I-?”

“Move on?”

“Yeah.”

Bakugou sighed again.

“I don’t know. After Kamino, I beat the shit out of Deku.”

“You what?” A shocked laugh escaped Shinsou.

“Snuck out after curfew and punched him around a bit.”

“Did it help?”

“What? You already bit him, you want a round two?” Bakugou barked, laughing. It sounded thick with malicious glee.

“I didn’t realise it was him,” Shinsou mumbled, though Aizawa could hear the amusement in his voice. 

“He almost drowned trying to save you!” The laughter built until it was so loud that it seemed to bounce from the walls, the same as Bakugou’s explosions. Aizawa guessed that everything the kid did was loud. “His stupid face when he went under.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Like fuck it’s not!”

Shinsou chuckled, the sound muffled as if he tried to hide it. It died off, but the sound was warm, like the last dying embers of a fire. He sounded content. 

“Thanks.”

Bakugou snorted. 

“Don’t mention it.”

“Are you being literal?”

Aizawa could imagine the pointed look Bakugou was giving Shinsou. 

“Your old man should be here soon.” There was a knowing note to Bakugou’s voice. 

Aizawa waited a couple of seconds, not wanting to seem like he was eavesdropping, but there was hardly a natural way of entering the room. And it was evident when he opened the door, that neither Bakugou or Shinsou were surprised to see him.

Shinsou flushed when he realised, and brought his knees to his chest, burying his head into the crook of his arms. He looked awfully small sitting on the bed.  

“Good. I can finally go.” Bakugou stood, and without a single glance back, he left.

And then it was just them. 

"Hitoshi-."

The flinch was expected, but either way, it tore at Aizawa. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

Shinsou’s head swirled around at him then, eyes wide and mouth open. His chest rose with a hard breath before it fell again as he searched Aizawa, his eyes flicking over every inch of his face, searching. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Shinsou’s jaw snapped shut.

“Then let’s go.”

Shinsou gingerly climbed off the bed and followed as Aizawa led them back to where he had parked the car. 

It wasn’t surprising that their day was cut short. If he was being honest, he expected it. But he thought they’d at least make it to lunch. 

The car ride home was the same as in the morning. Shinsou curled up into his seat, glaring out at the world as it passed the car window. Aizawa sat in silence, his knuckles white against the wheel as he fought for words to say. 

But in the end, nothing was said as Aizawa pulled up at the house and turned off the engine. Without the noise from the engine, all was silent. Achingly so. And yet, Shinsou didn’t move to get out. Instead, he bunched himself into a tighter ball, his hands gripping his uniform trousers with shaky fingers.

There was a night when Shinsou first went on patrol with Aizawa, where the kid sat in the same position with a pinched brow and a taut jaw. It was a simple mistake, but the villain got the upper hand for only a second and punched the kid. He left him with a black eye, a bloody nose, and a considerable amount of anxiety.

Aizawa had taken Shinsou to what ended up being their favourite greasy fast-food shop. It was Americanised, and Aizawa doubted every single ingredient put into those patties, but there was nothing better than a sloppy, questionable burger after a bad patrol.

He remembered ordering the kid’s food and placing the foiled bun into his hands. Shinsou had looked up at him with those large, confused eyes like he didn’t understand why Aizawa was rewarding him instead of delivering the world’s most intense lecture. Aizawa had only shrugged at him before tucking into his burger. The lecture came, of course, though it was done the next morning once the adrenaline had died down and Shinsou had a clear mind.

Aizawa wished he could take Shinsou there now, hoping that those greasy burgers would mend everything stale between the pair of them.

“Hitoshi-.”

Shinsou flinched, but he didn’t turn towards Aizawa. Instead, he glared out of the window with a glazed look.

“Are you going to lecture me?”

Aizawa sighed and leaned back in the car seat, clicking the seatbelt free.

“No,” Aizawa said softly. “I shouldn’t have rushed us both.”

“I wanted to go.”

“Would you have gone without me?”

Shinsou sat tight-lipped. 

“I should have realised we weren’t ready.”

“You mean I wasn’t ready.”

“I mean that we should take the next few days off.”

“I want to go back to school.” Shinsou’s shoulders curled up around his ears. “I don’t want to sit in my room all day.”

“…We could train at home?” Aizawa suggested, hesitantly.

It was then that Shinsou turned to him with wide eyes.

“Hitoshi-.”

But then he was gone, slamming the car door shut, the house keys strangled in his grip as he tried to shakily open the front door. 

Aizawa followed him.

“Here.” He laid a careful hand over the top of Shinsou’s and pried the keys from his clenched fist.

The door opened easily under his steady grip. 

Shinsou wasted no time scrambling up the stairs and into his room, the door banging against the frame. 

“Hitoshi?” Yamada’s voice came from the open living room. 

“Yeah, it’s us.” Aizawa shrugged off his shoes and capture weapon.

Yamada rounded the corner and leaned against the wall. His eyes swelled with worried warmth.

“Rough first day?”

Aizawa went to him and laid his head on Yamada’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Loud was usually a word Aizawa would’ve used to describe his family. Or perhaps even chaotic. Busy? It was something he often thought about but couldn’t quite put his finger on the right word. There was never a dull moment, especially not with Yamada stirring the pot, winding up the kids into excitable levels of hyperactivity. 

But the house was silent aside from the clinking of plates and the swill of water in the sink. Yamada wasn’t even humming as he washed the dishes. The radio was off. And Eri was tucked into a pile of blankets on the sofa, a plushie held right to her chest. Shinsou hadn’t left his room all night. 

Aizawa never thought he’d miss the noise.

“You’re quiet,” Aizawa murmured as he dried a plate, his hip close to Yamada’s as they stood side by side, but not quite touching. 

“Hmm?” Yamada didn’t even look up from the soapy water. 

“Hizashi?” Aizawa turned to him then, eyes fixed on his husband, and the sight broke his heart. Usually, his husband’s jaw was smooth to the touch, the only bit of facial hair he’d allow to grow was his signature moustache. But now his face was rough with light blonde stubble, that was more than a day’s worth. Worse were the dark circles under his eyes that Yamada usually covered with makeup, but now they looked untouched and heavy, rivalling even his own. 

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but Aizawa blanked at what to say. 

“Me?” Yamada gave a quiet chuckle. “I’m just tired, love. Really tired.” The wan smile dipped before vanishing. 

Aizawa moved before he could even think and pulled Yamada by his hips until his forehead touched Yamada’s.

“I’m sorry.”

Yamada sighed and closed his eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“You told me to stay home, and I didn’t listen.”

Yamada let out a breathless laugh.

“I’ve been married to you for eight years. I know you’re a stubborn bastard who has to do things his own way.”

Aizawa let a smile tug at his lips. 

“Sorry.”

Yamada hummed and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. Aizawa ran his hands up to Yamada’s waist, and squeezed, hoping it came across as reassuring. Yamada leaned into him, allowing Aizawa to hold some of his weight. 

“Do you really think they’ll take Eri away from us?” Yamada whispered, his eyes opening with a faraway look. 

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He’d always lived his life rationally, forever someone who never let optimism cloud his judgement. Shirakumo was always the one dragging him along, pushing his head up when the days felt a little too long and blue. He always allowed Aizawa to see what was beyond his own expectations. But Shirakumo was gone now. 

Yamada brought his hands up until they covered Aizawa’s, slipping his fingers between his.

“I’d rather give up being a hero than lose her,” Yamada said, staring straight into Aizawa’s eyes. 

“What about Hitoshi?” 

Yamada hesitated. Because Aizawa understood exactly what Yamada was implying. Theoretically, he’d do the same. He’d give the world for his kids, but he couldn’t abandon one for the other. But running away with Eri wouldn’t solve anything. Being hunted down by the Hero Commission was no life for a child, and Eri deserved a normal childhood. 

“I could take them aboard?” Yamada suggested.

“You know they’d just send heroes after you. And when they catch you, you’ll be branded a villain for the rest of your life. We’d lose her forever.”

“So, we just hand her over?” Yamada hissed, stepping back. 

“No. Of course not.” Aizawa snapped. “But we have to be rational-.”

Yamada huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Aizawa’s voice was dangerously close to a growl.

“Fuck being rational, man! Fuck the Hero Commission. Fuck being a hero if it means we lose out on what we’re even fighting for!”

“Keep your voice down.” Aizawa glanced over to the open living room, but Eri hadn’t moved from where she was napping.

Yamada’s whole body shook as he took a large breath, squeezing his eyes tight. Aizawa moved into his space, his hands a ghost over Yamada’s, not quite touching but the gesture was obvious. 

“I won’t let them take her,” Yamada said as he opened his eyes, his expression a stark difference from his usual bright self. Though, it’d been a while since Aizawa saw that. Everything recently had been echoes of exhaustion, and fake smiles to fool the kids. 

“We may not have a chance, ‘Zashi.” 

“So, you’ll protect her from villains but not the HPSC?” 

Something hot stirred in his chest.

“That’s not fair.”

Yamada turned away and braced himself against the kitchen counter. 

“What are we going to do?” 

“We go to bed, wake up in the morning, make the kid’s breakfast-.”

“You want us to pretend everything is okay?” Yamada whipped around, his voice shrill. 

“No. But there’s no need to worry the kids yet.”

“So, we hide it from them?”

“Hitoshi has enough on his plate. And Eri…I’ll tell her when I drive her to the meeting.”

“That’s cruel, Shou.”

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat.

“If tomorrow is her last day with us…I want to make sure she’s happy.”

Yamada made a pained noise as he buried his face into his palms. 

“Come on.” Aizawa blinked back his own tears as he collected Yamada into his arms. 

“She’s just a baby.” Yamada gasped, his whole body shuddering under Shouta’s palms. “They’re both just babies.”

Aizawa fought back the sob in his throat. 

“I know.” 

Life had really dealt an unfair hand to both of his children, and Aizawa wasn’t sure if there was ever a chance to change that. While life was tipping into chaos with The League hunting down heroes, and Shigaraki’s location still being a mystery, Aizawa had fought so hard for a sense of normality for his family. He wasn’t one for fuss or big plans, but it was the little things that made life special, or so he thought.

He wanted his family to remember the nights they spent playing board games, laughing over silly rules while Yamada lost every round. He wanted every bedtime story to lull Eri into a peaceful sleep where nothing could hurt her. He wanted Hitoshi to grow into the promising young hero Aizawa saw in him. He wanted Yamada to wake up every morning, bright and full of that joyous energy Aizawa craved. 

But now…it felt like every corner they took just drove them into a dead end. That those little moments were held at gunpoint and Aizawa couldn’t stop the trigger from being pulled.

“Come on.” Aizawa pressed a kiss into Yamada’s head. “Let’s go to bed. We can sort all this in the morning.”

But neither of them moved, still clinging to each other as though if they let go, the other would drift away. 

“I don’t think I can lose them again,” Yamada whimpered, his voice muffled by Aizawa’s shirt. “I can’t.”

“Hizashi, we won’t lose her. Even if she doesn’t grow up in this house, we’ll still be her dads,” he murmured softly. “That won’t change.”

Yamada shook his head.

“I promise.” Aizawa ignored the roll of tears on his cheeks and dried them in Yamada’s hair. “Please come to bed.”

Yamada pulled back with a thick-sounding sniffle and wiped at his red eyes with shaky fists. 

“Gimme a sec. I need to take Eri to bed. We’re almost halfway through ‘The BFG’. She won’t sleep without a story,” Yamada said. It was something special the pair of them did together. Their little time in the day where it was just the two of them. Aizawa only filled in when Yamada was stuck at work or had over-used his quirk and sounded like a rusted tin can on a string. 

“Okay. Don’t let her make you finish the book.”

“That was one time, and it was ‘Yukochan and the Daruma Doll’. She loves Yokuchan!” Yamada blubbered through a laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s go. Big day tomorrow. Let’s go!”

And with a marching rhythm, Yamada strode into the living room and gently lifted Eri into his arms. She woke with the tiniest of grumbles before snuggling into his chest, her quiet voice asking for a story before bed. Aizawa watched as the pair went up the stairs. 

After finishing the rest of the dishes, Aizawa followed them up the stairs. Eri’s door was still open, though he didn’t hear Yamada’s storytelling. He poked his head through and felt his heart melt at the sight. Yamada was curled around Eri, and she was nestled into him like a human shape Ying-Yang. 

Though, it was evident from the lack of snoring or heavy breathing that Yamada wasn’t asleep. 

“Hizashi, come on. You’ll break your back sleeping in her bed,” Aizawa whispered into the room.

Yamada opened his eyes and stared at Aizawa. Eri’s ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ nightlight shone shapes and colours across the room, usually all wonderful and bright. Now the soft blue light only drowned a sorrowful gaze over Yamada’s face. 

With a hefty sigh, Yamada unfurled himself from Eri and tucked her back under the covers, pressing a long and loving kiss to her temple. 

“I hope she had good dreams tonight,” Yamada whispered as they closed her door, but left a sliver of it open so Eri knew they were close by. 

“Hopefully she’ll dream of Snozzcumbers,” Aizawa joked, earning a tired smile from Yamada. But it dipped when the pair saw Shinsou’s dinner still sitting outside his door. 

“Should we check on him?” Yamada asked.

Aizawa almost said yes, but there wasn’t any light sneaking out from underneath Shinsou’s door. And while that wasn’t any indication that the kid was asleep, Aizawa didn’t want to risk it. The kid barely had enough sleep as it was. 

“Let him rest. We’ll just make sure he has a big breakfast.” Aizawa took Yamada’s hand and led him into their room. 

Silently, the pair slipped into their bed after changing into their nightclothes. Hizashi turned to him, his face close to Aizawa’s, sharing the same pillow, their noses almost touching.

There was nothing to be said as they both drifted to sleep.

--

It was usually Yamada who woke up to an empty bed in the middle of the night, but tonight, Aizawa found himself with a cold spot on the other side of the mattress. 

He rolled onto his side and outstretched his hand, lingering in the space where Yamada should have been. Normally, he would wake if Yamada so much as moved in his sleep, but he couldn’t remember seeing his husband leave the room. 

Yawning, Aizawa dragged himself out of bed. Yamada didn’t need Aizawa to come rescue him from whatever nightly torment had kept him up, or neither of them would get very much sleep if they did that every night. Being heroes meant that most nights were spent wrestling with nightmares that didn’t bare repeating, even to a lending ear. 

The landing was still dark, and there were no lights poking out from underneath Shinsou or Eri’s door. Either way, he opened them silently, finding them both fast asleep; Eri cocooned in her pastel yellow sheets, with a hundred plush teddies keeping her company; Shinsou was on his front, legs and arms outspread like a starfish, snoring lightly. 

A warmth washed over Aizawa as he closed Shinsou’s door. Despite how their relationship was rocky at best, and he was sure Shinsou held some resentment towards him, Aizawa couldn’t help but smile at how much he loved his children. It was ridiculous given how he’d only known them both for a little over a year, but he couldn’t now imagine his life without them. It caused a pang of worry in his chest at the thought of how quickly he could lose both of them. He shook the feeling away as he climbed down the stairs. If he let the thoughts linger, he’d be awake all night, and his job right now was to gather Yamada and bring him back to their bed. 

The glow from the tv led him to where Yamada was curled up on the sofa, a sleepy expression on his face as he watched some black and white American movie. Aizawa didn’t understand it, but whenever Yamada couldn’t sleep, he always found him watching a film long before their time. He said something about how the corny romance eased the busy thoughts inside his head. 

Aizawa preferred start his day early by being productive. There were always plenty of essays that needed marking. 

But he couldn’t deny the soft look on Yamada’s face.

“Is it a good one?” Aizawa asked quietly as he approached. 

Yamada only raised his arms, not taking his eyes away from the screen. Laughter rumbled in Aizawa’s chest as he went and tucked himself into Yamada’s arms, his ear pressed against Yamada’s chest. Long piano fingers spread through his curls, and Aizawa felt Yamada sigh, his ribs deflating as he relaxed back into the sofa. 

Neither of them said anything, basking in the glow from the TV, letting the actors’ voices fill in the silence. Not that Aizawa understood a word they were saying. His English wasn’t as good as Yamada’s, and the film was so old that there weren’t any Japanese subtitles to help him along. But he listened as he closed his eyes, blissful with Yamada’s fingers in his hair. 

Something wet dropped onto the top of his head. Aizawa blinked when another hit him. He shifted, looking up at Yamada, who was no longer watching the movie, and was instead staring into the darkness of the house, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“‘Zashi?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re crying.”

“I know,” Yamada whimpered.

Aizawa sat up between Yamada’s legs and braced himself on his knees. 

“I’m okay. It’s just a sad film.”

Aizawa turned to the movie where the characters were laughing, drinking with friends, the music preppy and alive.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Your English isn’t great, remember?” Yamada sniffled.

And what could he say to that? There were those who thought Aizawa was the stubborn one in their relationship, but the truth of the matter was that they were both rigid and bull-headed. Whether one was more stubborn than the other was a matter neither of them could figure out. 

Yamada let out a wobbly breath before he smiled, a pitiful thing that wasn’t believable in the slightest. 

“I’m okay.”

Aizawa reached forward and took Yamada’s hand into his. He loved those hands. Loved every freckle, every scar and painted nail. There were a million things he could say about every inch of Yamada.

And yet, he couldn’t find the words now. He felt shy. Stupidly shy. It wasn’t like when they were kids, whispering that they liked-liked each other. Instead, the words were almost too much. Like if he said them, he’d stumble and make things embarrassing. 

Though, he was saved from himself as gentle music from the movie drifted into the room. Aizawa recognised the song as the actors began to sing about sleepy nights.

“Hizashi…” 

Yamada blinked at him, his lashes wet and heavy over his eyes. 

“It makes me happy.”

Aizawa leant forward and rested his forehead against Yamada’s. While his English was subpar, he understood the lyrics with a sense of nostalgia. It was a song he had learnt over eight years ago. One he had dance to with Hizashi, in a hall surrounded by their families and friends. 

“Dance with me,” Aizawa whispered, closing his eyes.

A sob like laugh broke from Hizashi, his bottom lip wobbling. 

“Please.” Aizawa opened his eyes and gently pulled on Yamada’s hands, guiding them both onto their feet. Silently, he brought their bodies together, sliding his own hands over Yamada’s waist. 

At first, Yamada stood there as Aizawa began to sway them side to side, lingering with his eyes downcast at his feet. Nerves tingled in his stomach as Yamada didn’t move. But then, slowly, he raised his arms around Aizawa’s neck, his fingers sending a shudder down his spine as they played with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

It was perhaps ridiculous to be dancing in the living room while the rest of the world was asleep. But Aizawa couldn’t imagine anything else as Yamada rested his head against Aizawa’s shoulder, his breath tickling against the bare skin of his neck. He brought his lips against Yamada’s temple and lingered there, pressing a kiss on the spot, one he never wanted to stop giving. 

It had been a long time since they had danced like this. Or danced at all. After all, he didn’t pride himself as a good dancer. He was too stiff, too unsure to lead, and fumbled too much to be led. Yamada always laughed at him, calling him a duckling as he tried to remember where to put his feet, even though all they did was sway. 

And yet, despite Aizawa’s foal-like stumbling, Yamada melted against him, huffing a happy sigh as he closed his eyes, letting Aizawa guide him. 

The song ended with soft notes before the movie faded to black, the scene cutting to the next act. But they didn’t stop, letting the lull of domestic dialogue wash over them as Aizawa continued to hum the tune into Yamada’s hair. 

“I miss you,” Yamada whispered.

All Aizawa could do was press another kiss into his hairline. He didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t say that he was still there because they both knew that was a lie. Aizawa had barely held Yamada since the day he woke in the hospital. The only time they seemed to touch was glimpsed little moments in the middle of the night when the nightmares became too much. He couldn’t even remember the last time the pair of them had made love. It felt like years ago. 

Yamada pulled back then and gazed up at Aizawa, eyes dark in the dim light of the room. And Aizawa couldn’t resist the instinctual urge to kiss him, to lose himself in his husband’s touch. It was like all the time they’d been kept apart came rushing at once, and Aizawa needed Yamada. 

They clashed together, the soft moment between them ending as a sort of hunger took over. Aizawa was panting when they pulled away. Yamada’s lips looked swollen and wet as he ran his tongue over them. It was will alone that stopped Aizawa from shoving Yamada against the wall, crowding his husband with busy hands.

However, Yamada had no restraint as he went to his knees, fingers already tugging at Aizawa’s sweats.

“’Zashi.” Aizawa growled as Yamada slipped a hand between his legs. It was happening too fast. Too hurried. It reminded him of when they were younger, inexperienced and greedy for every single touch without knowing how to make it feel good.

Yamada found the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue.

“W-wait!” Aizawa buried his hand in Yamada’s hair, pulling until his husband looked up with almost black eyes. “We can’t-.” Yamada’s hand didn’t leave from where his thumb was sliding up and down his cock. “The kids!” Aizawa couldn’t help but buck into that hand. He was almost disappointed when Yamada let go.

“Oh.” A bright blush spread across his cheeks as he pulled himself back onto his feet. Aizawa quickly tucked himself back into his pants, ignoring the ache at being confined. An awkward moment passed them, before Yamada began to giggle, the smile infectious. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Aizawa said breathlessly. He stepped forward then, and suddenly felt taller than Yamada as he guided him back until he hit the back of the sofa. “We don’t have to stop.” He could see the rise and fall of Yamada’s ribs as he desperately tried to hide the effect Aizawa had on him. “Just not here.”

Wordlessly, Yamada led him upstairs and to their room. Aizawa felt his heart pounding inside his chest as he followed. They wasted no time as clothes were thrown onto the floor, and they stumbled, encircled around each other, onto the bed. Yamada landed with a quiet ‘oof’ as Aizawa straddled over him, his stomach flipping at the sight of Yamada. Scars decorated his body; one dipped just above by his collar bone, snaking up towards his throat, (a close call that led to his directional speaker). Aizawa ducked his head there and followed the white trail, sucking, biting, kissing along his husband’s jaw. He let his hands wander, pinching, prodding along Yamada’s sides, earning a shudder of breath in response.

“That’s not fair,” Yamada gasped, wiggling away from Aizawa’s calculating touch. Aizawa only chuckled, his voice rumbling, his lips still pressed against Yamada’s throat. “Cheat.”

He moved down then, nipping at a pink nipple before sinking lower, his tongue following the curves of Yamada’s toned stomach.

It’d been too long since the last time he’d gotten a taste of his husband, and as he inched closer to Yamada’s navel, he could feel himself harden at the thought.

“Shou-!” Yamada slapped a hand over his mouth as Aizawa busied his own, swallowing the length of his husband’s cock in one solid slide on his tongue. Yamada’s hip bucked into his mouth, despite how hard Aizawa’s fingers dug into the flesh, trying to pin them back to the bed.

“Keep-.” Yamada buried his fingers into Aizawa’s hair, tugging at the roots, pulling Aizawa further onto him, his cock pushing against the back of Aizawa’s throat. He moaned at the push, gagging before pulling back with a choked breath. He took another breath through his nose before sliding down the length again, his nails gentle against Yamada’s thighs, a feathered touch that caused Yamada to tense under his fingers. “Shou.”

The sound of his name swept through his stomach and straight to his cock, causing a dribble of cum to hang over the bed.

A long slow suck brought a yell from Yamada’s throat.

“I’m gonna-. Up! S-stop!” Yamada’s hands tugged at his hair, pulling off his cock with an audible pop. Yamada panted below him as Aizawa sat back on his haunches, licking the taste of his hand from his lips.

“Fuck, Shou.” Yamada smiled up at him before dragging him down, kissing him. “Grab the lube.”

Aizawa almost dove for the lube in the bedside draw before he sat between Yamada’s legs, uncapping the tube.

“What are you doing?” Yamada asked, sitting up, intending to grab the tube from him.

“Can I fuck you?” Aizawa asked, shuffling on his knees, his cock pulsing, eager despite the nerves in his stomach. He didn’t understand why he was nervous. While it was usually him on his back and Yamada on top, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t switched before. But now, he could feel his anxiousness swirl inside his stomach.

It was Yamada’s warm smile that settled his stomach, causing the butterflies there to become ravenous once again. Yamada settled back and spread his thighs, his smile turning into an almost feral grin as Aizawa’s throat went dry at the sight.

He warmed the lube between his hands before squirting some onto his fingers, the tube making a miserable spluttering noise. Yamada let out a breathless laugh before it turned into a whimper as Aizawa’s fingers pressed against his hole.

Slowly, Aizawa pushed a digit in, fighting against the fog in his mind as Yamada’s cut-off moans were buried under his palm. Part of him wanted to rip away Yamada’s hand and listen to every groan and whimper, but logically he knew there was a reason for Yamada stifling his voice. The kids were only a bedroom away.

Sliding in a second finger had Yamada squirming against him, his hips pushing down, driving the finger against his prostate. Aizawa had to hold back the urge to squeeze in a third finger. Instead, he curled two fingers against Yamada, rutting against the air as Yamada’s thighs shook.

“Shou.”

“You ready?”

Yamada spread his thighs further apart and threw his head back against the pillow as Aizawa pulled out his fingers. Aizawa would be a lying man if he said he didn’t watch as lube leaked from Yamada’s hole. He wanted to taste it, to lick along Yamada’s rim, but Yamada’s legs were already wrapping around his waist, pulling him in.

Heels knocked into Aizawa’s back as he guided himself in, dragging a guttural groan as Yamada’s heat surrounded him.

“Fuck,” He leaned forward, taking Yamada’s mouth and kissing him deep and slow. Yamada rolled his hips, desperately urging Aizawa to move. He could already feel his orgasm building, groaning every time Yamada’s walls squeezed him.

He could barely hear Yamada as he babbled breathlessly, his head tossed back, fingers clawing at Aizawa’s back and he drove in, harder. He shuddered as Yamada’s quirk slipped loose, shaking the walls before his own quirk flared to life, snuffing out the sound. What he would give to hear Yamada’s words now.

Yamada swung his head up to meet his gaze, his skin glistening in the streetlight sneaking through the window. He clasped a hand behind Aizawa’s neck and pulled him in, his hot breath against Aizawa’s as they gasped at each thrust.

“I love you.”

A shot of something cold tingled through his spine as his hips jerked forward, quicker, harder. Yamada’s nails clung to his neck, biting into the skin; He could feel the warm trickle of blood as it curled around his throat.

His orgasm pooled at the bottom of his stomach, the pressure building with each shove into Yamada. The bed beneath them creaked, but the sound of his panting drowned out the sound like cotton being shoved into his ear drums.

“Shouta!”

Aizawa pushed on. Driving into his husband. Hands desperately clawing at the bedsheets as Yamada arched into him. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he dropped his quirk, the room settling into a hazy blur.

“S-slow down!”

He was almost there. He hadn’t felt the curl of an orgasm since before Junichiro had taken them hostage. The desire to let his husband fuck him had dried up the moment he felt Junichiro’s lips on his. He couldn’t even rut into his own hand, his cock limp and lifeless no matter how much he wanted to cum.

“Shouta! Stop!”

Aizawa needed this. Needed to stop the feeling of Junichiro’s hands haunting him. He needed to forget that night when Junichiro touched him, his tongue against his skin, his words slipping into his ears. He needed to stop his dreams of conjuring up the what-ifs, of Aizawa pinned underneath him, helpless to save himself.

“SHOUTA!”

Yamada’s quirk was like a punch to the face. It whipped his head back, his mind blanking as the world turned dark for a second. Blinking, he sluggishly brought his head around to face Yamada, who was staring at him with wide, pained eyes. Aizawa stared back, feeling blood tickle from his pulsing nose.

“Get out of me,” Yamada’s voice was strangled.

Aizawa pulled out with a wince, his dick limp and lifeless in his hand. But that wasn’t what caught Aizawa’s attention. Instead, it was the blood smeared there.

Horror took over him.

“Hizashi.”

“It’s okay,” Yamada hissed painfully as he pushed himself from the bed, his legs wobbling as he grabbed his night-gown.

“…I didn’t…” Aizawa’s stomach dropped as twin beads of blood coursed between Yamada’s legs.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Aizawa climbed off the bed, but Yamada held up his palm, halting him in his step.

“I just-.” Yamada shook his head, his bottom lip trembling despite how hard Aizawa could see he was fighting it. “Just give me a moment to clean up.”

Yamada locked the ensuite door behind him.

Chapter Text

The door to the bathroom seemed to shrink. One second it was in front of Aizawa, and the next it was retreating into a black void. He understood that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. The door was exactly where it should’ve been. Distantly, he could still hear the desperate attempts of Yamada trying not to cry, sniffling and hiccupping in the bathroom.

And yet the door only got further away.

The hero in him fought against the fog invading his brain. It was ingrained in him to keep fighting, to abandon the instinctual urge to freeze when something traumatic lay in front of him. It was a matter of life or death when out in the field. It was a lesson he taught every one of his students, to battle against the animalistic nature of their minds, to fight even when they were terrified. It was the only thing that would save them in the end.

But Aizawa continued to sink, falling into the darkness.

Until-.

“Dads!” Shinsou burst through the door, slamming it against the wall. Wrapped around the kid’s neck was his capture weapon, a strip of it strangled in his clenched fists as he crouched into a fighting position. His eyes were wild as he searched the room, darting to each dark corner, looking for the threat that was only in their memories. “Where is he? Dad!”

Aizawa froze, his tongue fat and useless in his mouth as he stared at Shinsou. Faraway, he could hear the sound of someone crying, a loud, high-pitched noise that clearly belonged to a child. The sound grew louder and louder, fighting over Shinsou’s yelling.

The bathroom door opened, and Yamada stepped out, holding his robe close around him with a bewildered look on his face.

“What on eart-.”

And then the expression dropped as Yamada’s bloodshot eyes glazed over.

The crying intensified.

“Dad! What’s going on? Dad!”

Something shifted in the fog, and Aizawa for the first time in however long he’d been sitting on the bed, could think clearly. Silently, he let his quirk flash to life, cancelling Shinsou’s quirk in seconds. Shinsou whipped around as though he was about to fight with an enemy, only to watch as Yamada stumbled back against the wall, blinking away Shinsou’s brainwashing.

A headache began to ache behind Aizawa’s eyes. He dropped his quirk, letting his hair fall limp around his shoulders as he rubbed against his eyes until he could see shapes and colours behind his eyelids. Almost blind, he reached for his discarded clothes and silently slipped them on.

“Pa?” Shinsou hesitated, a pink flush over his cheeks at the realisation of what he had walked into. “I..-.”

Yamada looked around before his focus found Eri, sitting in the doorway, crying into her balled fists. “Eri?” Yamada limped over to her and plucked her up into his arms. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Hitoshi pushed me,” Eri blubbered, her little fists curled around her mouth, trying to muffle her cries.

“Hitoshi!” Yamada turned to Shinsou, who backed up, pressing his capture weapon against him like a child with their favourite blanket.

“I…I thought-. I heard you yelling. I-I didn’t mean to. I was trying to protect her.”

“By pushing her?”

“She was in the way.”

“Hitoshi!”

“She was!”

Eri began to cry again.

“You can’t push her, Hitoshi. She’s six!” Yamada cradled Eri against his chest, her face squashed against his shoulder.

“Exactly! I needed to make sure she wasn’t going to get hurt!”

“Well, a good job you did there, kiddo.”

“Stop yelling,” Aizawa begged, but his voice was barely more than a rough grumble.

“It’s not my fault! You were shouting! I thought you were in danger!”

“You run if you hear us shouting! You don’t come running headfirst into danger and push your little sister over!”

“I have to protect you!”

“We don’t need protecting!”

Aizawa pushed his forehead into his palm and squeezed against the way his brain seemed to pulse with each shout.

“You did before!”

“Hitoshi! It’s not-.”

“Enough!” Aizawa snapped.

The pair fell silent as they turned to him, eyes wide.

“Shou-.”

“Dad-.”

“I said enough!” Aizawa barked, panting as his headache blinded him momentarily. “For five seconds, shut up!”

They obliged, but he knew it wasn’t due to him asking. While he was strict with his students, and many of them had been at the end of his ire, it had been a long time since he had raised his voice at his family. No relationship was without its problems. He and Yamada were no strangers to fights, but they were rare, and they de-escalated long before they could shout at each other. He couldn’t remember a time when he had shouted at Shinsou like this. Orders during patrol were not the same, nor were the lengthy sharp lectures he had given the kid in the past. And Eri…he had never yelled at her before.

And it showed as her eyes filled once again with tears. She stared at him with a wobbly lip.

Yamada looked no better with a pained expression across his features, holding Eri close as if to comfort himself just as much for her.

Shinsou nervously pulled at his capture weapon, the metal material cutting into his fingers as he held on too tightly.

And Aizawa felt his lungs squeeze at the sight of them. Suddenly, he was weightless as he drew in a shaky breath that did nothing but make him choke. The room warmed, and a bead of sweat trickled down his face and fell from the tip of his nose. A sickness curled in his stomach, and he did his best to swallow down the feeling, but it felt as though it was still in his throat, climbing up ever so slowly.

“Shouta…” Yamada set Eri down and took a step towards him.

But Aizawa didn’t let him come close. Instead, he pushed past him and fled down the stairs until he was flinging the front door open and stepping out into the night. The cold crisp air did nothing for his lungs, despite how heavy he was breathing.

He carried himself to the end of the driveway, and halfway collapsed onto the edge of the curb, bending over so his head was between his knees. A single light was glowing from one of their neighbour’s houses, a sliver through the curtains, but it shined so brightly it stung against Aizawa’s eyes. He tilted his head until his hair fell around him, blocking out the light. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tingling feeling inside both his chest and head.

For five seconds he just needed nothing.

Time passed him inconsequently before he came back to himself. The air was cold against his damp cheeks. His stubble felt itchy, and he realised he’d been absentmindedly scratching, the skin a little sore. He groaned as his ribs ached similar to how they felt whenever he landed on a roof with bad footing, stumbling into a brick way so hard his bones rattled.

“Fuck.” Aizawa let out a shaky breath as he ran a hand down his face. Tonight hadn’t gone at all how he had planned. It was a far cry from falling asleep at a reasonable hour to ensure a full fun day come morning. It was meant to be a happy memory for Eri if she did end up leaving their care, one where she could remember her time with them fondly. Now it was ruined, and the only thing she would probably remember would be Aizawa shouting at her.

The idea of going back inside, of seeing their shocked, hurt face was almost impossible. Even more so knowing he was the reason for adding more pain when they already had enough to shoulder. A part of him wanted to wait out on the curb, despite how cowardly it seemed. But a gust of wind ripped through his pyjamas, sending a chill through his entire body. His elbow ached at the sudden cold.

He felt like a dog with its tail between its legs as he slinked back into the house after being in the metaphorical doghouse. The house was quiet when he entered. The lights were off, but it was early enough in the morning that the first touches of daylight were slipping through the curtains. A part of him wondered if the rest of the house were asleep, tucked away in their beds long before Aizawa even thought of returning to his own. He wondered if Yamada had changed the sheets and slept on fresh new ones, trying to ignore the blood stains on the dirty ones. With Eri’s bed wetting and now this, they were going through far too many spare bedsheets, that the spares would soon need spares.

Whether it was his own mind endlessly filling his head with nonsense worrying, or if he was too focused on trying to be quiet, Aizawa almost missed the light snoring noise coming from the sofa as he crept through the living room.

“We’re down here,” a soft voice said in the darkness, somewhere in front of the sofa where Aizawa couldn’t see. Aizawa froze, his heart leaping at the sudden noise, but calmed when he recognised it was Yamada.

“What are you doing downstairs?” Aizawa asked as he ventured over to the living room, mapping his way around the moving boxes they still hadn’t put away. He stopped at the sight in front of him.

A futon was laid out where the coffee table was supposed to be, and the other piece of furniture was shoved to the side. It seemed like every pillow they owned in the house was propped up against the sofa, and a number of quilts and blankets were thrown together like a nest. Yamada was in the middle, in a new pair of fresh pyjamas, leaning against the pillows. There was little evidence that he had been asleep before Aizawa had snuck in; his glasses were still perched on his nose, and his hair was neat in its hair tie.

However, what drew Aizawa’s attention were the kids fast asleep on either side of Yamada. Eri’s cheeks were still reddened by dried tears, and her thumb was jammed into her mouth; a habit that was recently new and only seemed to happen when her nights were really bad. Her other hand was loose on Yamada’s pyjama shirt, her fingers curled around the material.

Shinsou lay with his back turned from Yamada, but for once, his face was soft and relaxed, nothing like his recent taut jaw and furrowed brows. For a foolish moment, Aizawa wanted to smooth his son’s hair back, a gesture he knew Shinsou liked but never voiced. He didn’t know he could miss an action so much.

“How come you’re down here?” Aizawa whispered, standing at the edge of the futon.

Yamada said nothing at first and instead pulled Eri closer, tucking an arm around her back and almost scooping her into his lap. Aizawa waited for Yamada to respond, a bubbly feeling brewing inside his stomach the longer his husband took.

“Hizashi?”

“I’m tired, Shou.” Yamada scooted down until he was flat against the pillows.

He waited again, but Yamada only closed his eyes.

“Okay.” Aizawa swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He only managed to take one step back before Yamada opened his eyes; they almost seemed black in the dim light. But what Aizawa could see was the furrow on his brow.

“Shou, lie down.” Despite how quiet his voice was, Yamada had a bite to his tone.

“But-.”

“Lie down.” Yamada nodded to the space next to Shinsou, who was none the wiser, blissfully asleep to the exchange happening over him.

“Hizashi, I can’t. Tonight-.”

“Was awful. I know. Trust me, I know.” Yamada sighed. “But I’m tired. You’re tired. The kids are finally asleep for once. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

“I hurt you.”

“Please.”

Silently, despite the burning in his eyes, he obeyed, stepping over Shinsou and lying down on the sofa. Yamada frowned up at him from the floor.

“I don’t think sleeping next to the kid is a good idea.” Especially not after shouting at him.

Yamada reached up and took one of his hands. He didn’t squeeze or run a smoothing thumb over his knuckles, instead, he simply held onto his fingers, almost rolling them gently between his own.

“I know I said I wanted to sleep, but I don’t want you stewing up there all night.” Yamada wouldn’t look him in the eye and only focused on his calloused fingers. “But we talked after you went outside. He still loves you, you know? The kid worships you.”

Aizawa wanted to take his hand out of Yamada’s and curl it against his chest as some sort of weak defence against what Yamada was saying.

“We all do.” Yamada patted his hand before letting go, snuggling down into the quilts and pillows, almost drowning himself and Eri in them. “Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning. Goodnight, Shou.”

“Goodnight, Hizashi.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa woke with a weight on his chest, and it wasn’t a metaphorical one. No, instead, his daughter was flat out asleep on his ribs, her horn digging into his jaw, and drool soaking his shirt. 

There was nothing more wonderful to wake up to. 

He guided a hand through her hair, smiling as she nuzzled into him, making a warm sleepy sound. 

“Sorry,” he whispered fondly, watching as her face smoothed out once again in sleep. 

Yamada was gone from the futon, and if Aizawa listened close enough he could hear the sound of the shower running upstairs. 

Thankfully, Shinsou hadn’t run away to his room. He was still asleep on the futon, his body turned horizontal and pressed against the sofa as if he wanted to get closer to him.

That parental feeling of wanting to hold his kids washed through him, but he didn’t want to wake Shinsou, nor did he think he’d appreciate it, regardless of if they were getting along or not. Shinsou was not a morning person. 

So, instead, he held Eri closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

Despite how the past few weeks had been awful, Aizawa wanted time to stop at that second. He wanted to forever hold his daughter as she drooled on him, and to have his snoring son close by, while listening to his husband sing off-key in the shower. It was perfect in its own Yamada-Aizawa way.

But time did pass, even as peaceful as it was. Though, he only noticed it as the sound of soft feet came from behind him, before Yamada leant over the sofa, his hair still damp from the shower. He was dressed in casual sweatpants and an old t-shirt; one of Aizawa’s old shirts that had a hole in the armpit.

Aizawa looked up to find Yamada smiling at him, his expression warm and lazy. This close he could see the freckles on his nose.

“Morning,” Aizawa mumbled, his throat suddenly dry.

“Morning, love.” Yamada bent over the back of the sofa and kissed for cheek. “Breakfast will be ready in fifteen. Wake the kids for me. We’re all going to eat and talk together, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Aizawa croaked.

“‘Kay.” Yamada kissed his cheek again before waltzing off into the kitchen, humming a merry tune.

It left Aizawa a little winded, a little like he was still dreaming. As if last night had never happened and was one terrible nightmare. But the futon in the living room was evident enough that it had happened. 

Yamada was ignoring it. 

But he did as he was told as he ran his hand through Eri’s hair.

“Eri, it’s time to get up.”

Eri whined before trying to hide under the blanket. While normally Eri was a morning person, the same could not be said if she had been woken up during her sleep. A tired six-year-old was never a fun thing to deal with.

“I know, mornings aren’t my favourite either.” He lifted the blanket and found two blinking eyes staring up at him, still drowsy with sleep. “Morning.”

Eri pouted at him before she climbed up his body and snuggled down into the crook of his neck. She let out a mumbled greeting.

“Okay, a couple more minutes.” Aizawa chuckled, pressing Eri closer. 

If someone had told him that he would become far touchier come his thirties, he would have ignored them completely. While he still wasn’t overly fond of being smothered by people touching him, he had never felt that way when it came to his kids. Every time Eri held his hand to cross the road, or climbed into his lap for midday naps, or clung to his pant leg when she became nervous, it sent a warm, proud feeling through his chest. The amount of trust and love she gave to him was almost too much, and yet he held her every time, comforting her as best as he could. 

He didn’t know he could love someone that much. 

Though, his love for her didn’t extend to allowing her to sleep through the day, despite how tempting it was.

“Eri, it’s time to get up.” Aizawa rubbed circles into her back, smiling once again at the miserable noises she made. But even with all the grumbling, she refused to budge from her sleeping spot. Aizawa sighed dramatically. “Oh well, I guess Hizashi will have to make breakfast all by himself.”

That did the trick.

With a gasp, Eri pushed herself up on Aizawa’s chest.

“He’s making breakfast?” She asked, her expression bright, as though she hadn’t been fast asleep two minutes ago. 

“If you hurry, I bet he’ll let you help him.”

Eri clambered over him and Shinsou, almost trampling the kid, before toddling off in search of Yamada, an excited spring in her step.

“Eri,” Aizawa called out, softly.

She turned, her head cocked to the side.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” And without any hesitation, she blew him a kiss with an exaggerated smooching sound that she clearly learnt from either Mirio or Yamada.

He couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled from him as he caught the kiss, causing Eri to giggle before she ran off into the kitchen. 

He never understood how little kids had so much energy in the morning. 

The opposite was true of teenagers. 

Aizawa turned towards his own, looking down on Shinsou, shocked to see two lilac irises staring up at him. A blush spread across Shinsou’s face when he realised he’d been caught. 

“Morning,” Aizawa said, softly, hoping that his mere voice didn’t scare Shinsou away. “Sorry if Eri stepped on you.”

“She didn’t,” Shinsou mumbled, turning into his pillow.

“That’s good,” Aizawa said, feeling awkwardness fall over them. “Hizashi is making breakfast if you feel up to it.”

Shinsou nodded, eyes still downcast.

“You weren’t hungry last night?” Aizawa asked.

“Sorry.”

Aizawa wanted to sit up and move closer, but this was the most relaxed the pair had been since the move.

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for.”

“I pushed Eri over last night.”

“Okay, other than that.” Aizawa gave a small chuff. “Kid, never apologise for how you heal. As long as you’re not hurting other people, then you’re okay.”

“I wasted food. And I’m making you worried. I hear you and Pa talk about me.”

“Even if the last few weeks hadn’t happened, then we would still worry about you. It’s what parents do. We worry.”

Shinsou let out a half-baked bitter laugh. 

“Guess I’m not used to parents worrying about me.”

“We know,” Aizawa said. “We love you, whether you’re worrying us or not. You’re our kid.”

Shinsou looked up at him then, searching every inch of his face for the lie. Aizawa stared back, challenging him to find it.

“And if anyone should be apologising it’s me. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok-.”

“It’s not. I promised myself that I would never be the type of parent that shouted at their kids. You’ve had enough shitty parents to last you both a lifetime, you don’t need one more.”

“You’re not shitty.”

Aizawa sat up then and patted Shinsou’s head. 

“Thanks, kid.”

Shinsou leaned into the hand, almost sighing at the touch. Aizawa gently ruffled his hair, causing the already messy bed hair to spring up in all directions. 

He forgot how soft Shinsou’s hair was.

“Come on, you lazy boys! Eri and I have done all the hard work, the least you can do is be at the table!” Yamada called from the kitchen, parroted by Eri. 

Aizawa pulled Shinsou up from the futon before the pair sat at the dinner table, where a feast of sausages, pancakes and every sort of breakfast food was laid out.

“Eat up! There’s plenty for seconds.” Yamada busied around the table before planting a kiss on Aizawa’s cheek, before moving to kiss the top of Shinsou's head. 

Eri proudly sat on her chair, piling pancakes onto her plate, and smothering them with syrup.

“She’s going to be high on sugar later,” Aizawa mumbled as Yamada slipped him his coffee. 

“At least she’ll go down easy for a nap.” Yamada teased before sitting down next to their daughter as she devoured her pancakes. 

Aizawa poured himself a bowl of “Mighty-O’s” and added a few more tablespoons of sugar to the hoops. 

“Now who’s gonna have a sugar high?”

“I’ll have some eggs to balance it.” Aizawa reached over and slid two eggs and a slice of toast onto his plate.

Yamada rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

Quietly, the rest of the table begin putting their desired breakfast onto their plates; Eri poured herself a glass of orange juice, only tipping a small amount onto the table; Yamada had a bit of everything on his plate, letting nothing go to waste; Shinsou only had a single slice of dry toast to go alongside his coffee. Aizawa had to hold back the desire to add more to his plate, but he knew Shinsou needed control over what he ate, and interfering would only stop him from eating what was already there.

And it’d been a long time since they’d all sat together at the dinner table at breakfast. He didn’t want to ruin it, despite knowing that what happened last night needed to be discussed.

Aizawa took a large breath through the nose as he set his mug down.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I should have never yelled at the three of you.” He turned to Yamada. “And I should have communicated better with you about how I was feeling.”

Yamada reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“We both should have communicated better. I wanted to forget about our conversation after dinner and didn’t think about how rushing us would make it worse.”

Aizawa squeezed his hand back as Yamada sighed heavily. They both turned to the kids, who were staring with wide, curious eyes. There was a stripe of blush along Shinsou’s cheeks, no doubt knowing exactly what they were talking about.

“And maybe sorry for talking about this right now.” Aizawa rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s okay. It’s healthy to be open about…” Shinsou nodded his head in place of the word he didn’t dare say, awkwardly diverting his gaze to look anywhere but at them.

“Sex?” Eri asked.

“Eri!” The three of them chimed before doubling over the table, laughing hard.

“How do you know about sex?” Yamada wiped the tears from his eyes.

Eri looked at them innocently with no clue as to why they were laughing.

“Auntie Nem,” she said simply.

“Oh my god!” Yamada doubled over again, trying to smother another giggle.

“I’m going to kill her,” Aizawa grumbled, despite the smirk on his face.

“We’re not going to have the sex talk now, are we?” Shinsou asked, a hint of worry in his eyes. “I think Eri has another ten years before that’s a worry.”

“Thirty,” Aizawa added.

“Thirty?” Yamada shrieked.

“Yep.”

“Shou! That’s excessive!”

“It’s not. Perfectly normal. And besides, we need that talk with Hitoshi first.”

“Nope.” Shinsou got up from his chair. “Nope. I don’t need it.”

“’Toshi! Don’t go. It’s normal-. Wait, why don’t you need it?”

This time three sets of eyes turned to Shinsou, whose face was a brighter shade of pink. He paused, looking at them like a deer in headlights.

“Bye.”

And then he was off, power walking into the living room instead.

“Good job, ‘Zashi. You scared him off.” Aizawa chuckled, watching as Shinsou settled onto the sofa, grateful that the kid hadn’t escaped into his room.

“It wasn’t me! It was Eri!”

“Is sex bad?” Eri asked, causing another round of laughter.

“Yes.”

“No.”

The pair answered at the same time.

“Shou!”

Aizawa chuckled as he stood, collecting the leftovers, and putting them away for later.

“Don’t listen to him, baby. Shou’s just a grump!” Yamada collected Eri from her chair. “Now! I think we deserve to have a good day for once, huh?” Eri nodded at him, unsure. “Exactly! So, everyone get dressed, we’re going to have an action-packed day!”

Yamada busied over to the open living room and patted Shinsou on the head. Eri mimicked him, patting Shinsou too.

“That means you too, mister. Up! Up!”

“Can’t we stay home in our pyjamas all day?” Shinsou asked, ducking as Yamada tried to swat him playfully.

“No!” Yamada gasped, sounding far too dramatic at nine in the morning. “We are going to go have a fun adventure outside as a family.”

Shinsou let out an annoyed noise that only teenagers could make before flopping onto his belly, smothering his face into a pillow.

“Shou, I want the pair of you awake and dressed in one hour. Capeesh?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure,” Aizawa said, plopping down onto the sofa as Shinsou made room for him by his feet.

“Good. I don’t want to come back in and find the pair of you napping.”

“That was one time.”

Yamada made an affronting noise before whisking himself and Eri away to get changed.

All the noise and dramatics, though it was all play, felt normal. Like it was a taste of what came before all the mess with Junichiro.

“Do we have to go?” Shinsou asked, though his voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy Hizashi’s antics.”

“Pyjamas days are way better.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.” Aizawa grabbed Shinsou’s foot and gave it a wiggle. “Come on, before he cracks down on us.”

Shinsou gave a playful kick as Aizawa stood up, the kid’s foot still in his hand and began to drag him from the sofa.

----

An action-packed day with the Yamada-Aizawa household usually meant two fast-asleep kids, and Aizawa barely hanging onto consciousness on the drive home. True to his word, Yamada had crammed the day full of every family fun event they could fit in twelve hours.

The morning, after they got dressed, was spent at the beach, enjoying the cold, nippy air of spring. They didn’t pack their usual beach bag with buckets and spades, but instead used the time to collect pretty rocks and shells as they walked along the coast. Eri got a little teary when they had to leave the shells behind, but Shinsou distracted her when he spotted a cat sitting on the dock, happily allowing the kids (and Aizawa) to pet it.

After the beach, they found themselves at Musutafu Aquarium. In their entire time of having Eri, the pair had never taken her to any sort of zoo or aquarium. It had never crossed their minds that she probably had never seen a fish up close before other than the times she went to the pet shop with Aizawa. But the fish at the store could hardly compare to the multiple giant fish and sharks that swam all around them. Eri’s face lit up as she watched a tiger shark swim in front of the glass.

Most of their day was spent there; giggling at the penguins that followed Shinsou as he walked around the exhibit, intrigued by his hair; having to console Yamada after spotting the eel garden, adamant that they were worms poking their heads up above the sand. They finally left with a giant shark plushie that was almost double the size of Eri (that Aizawa was stuck carrying back to the car).

And finally, their day ended with a trip to the local arcade, where they wasted their money on silly games and cheap hotdogs.

As soon as the kids climbed into the back seat, they passed out, exhausted from a day of fun. Aizawa tried to stay awake, listening to the rain as it hit the roof of the car, watching as the world passed by. But it was hypnotic, especially with the neon lights from towering buildings bouncing off the wet roads, giving a warm glow to the night. The air condition blasting in his face didn’t help either, and he found himself dozing with his face pressed up against the window.

It was Yamada’s quiet chuckle that brought him from the tipping point of sleep. It was soft, almost as if he was laughing to himself, amused by something only he knew. 

“What’s funny?” Aizawa mumbled as he sat up, pulling his hair out of his face. 

“All three of you are out.” Yamada nodded back to the kids.

Shinsou had moved to the middle seat and had his head balanced on top of Eri’s. Eri was tucked into him as far as the seatbelt would allow, almost curling herself into his side. Aizawa smiled at the sight.

“Thanks for today, Hizashi,” Aizawa said, his voice ever so soft against the sound of the rain.

“Hmm? What for?” Yamada was a good actor, able to charm every single one of his guests on his radio show. But he didn’t fool Aizawa. He couldn’t even try. He could hear the worry in his voice, like he knew what Aizawa truly meant. But Aizawa indulged him.

“Every time I fuck up, you somehow find the perfect way to fix it.”

Yamada glanced at him before turning back to the road. 

“You say that like it’s a common thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Yamada snorted, though it wasn’t an amused sound.

“You know after fifteen years, you haven’t changed one bit since school.”

“I’m taller.”

This time Yamada laughed before quietening himself, so he didn’t wake the kids.

“I’m being serious, Shou.” Yamada hissed playfully, jibbing Aizawa’s side with a pointy finger. 

“So, am I.” Aizawa patted his hand away. “Concentrate on the road.”

“What I mean is that you still doubt yourself. You always think you’re not good enough, only to prove yourself wrong in the end.” 

Aizawa sunk down further into his seat until the seatbelt was cutting into his neck.

“Look at Sushi! Without you, he would’ve died if only me ad Oboro had to look after him alone.”

“I don’t think it's fair to compare the kids to a cat I only had to take care of for a few weeks. I have to raise them for the rest of their lives.”

“Shou, I love you. So much. But you’re one of the stupidest people I know.”

Aizawa huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t pout at me. Listen.” Yamada slapped Aizawa’s knee. “Those kids depend on us. So much of their lives are in our hands, and that terrifies me sometimes. I think about what happens to them if we fuck up. What if we ruin their futures? What if they resent us for it? It’s so much sometimes that I used to wonder if we should be parents at all. But then, we have days like today."

Yamada nodded towards the backseat.

"Look at them, Shou. Happy kids sleep like that. And if I could do this every day, I would. I mean, did you see Eri when that shark swam past us? I thought she was going to find a way into the tank with it! And Hitoshi finding that keyring with his name on it. Shou, I almost melted over how stupid excited he got.

But we can’t always have days like today. Sometimes we have those normal, boring days where we go to work and school. And sometimes we have shitty days like yesterday. But despite all that, don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“I’m just worried I can’t take care of them. I keep failing my students. I keep failing as a hero. And now I’m failing as a father and husband. You’re the one who did all this today, not me. I’m not good at this stuff.”

Aizawa was shocked to find a lone tear running down Yamada’s cheek.

“Is that what you really think?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Yamada shook his head before using his shoulder to wipe away the tear.

“Shouta. I really want to hit you right now.”

Aizawa snorted.

“No, I mean it. No one is allowed to be mean about my husband, including himself.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not. I know you think you’re no good at this father stuff, but Eri held your hand all the way around the aquarium. And ‘Toshi challenged you to that dance machine at the arcade! Which I’m still offended by, by the way.”

“I’m sure he just wanted an easy win.”

“Either way. If those kids didn’t love you, if you weren’t a good father to them, they wouldn’t gravitate towards you. You do more for us than you realise.”

“You’re laying it on pretty heavy, Hizashi,” Aizawa grumbled, wishing he could hide inside his capture weapon.

“Good.” Yamada slapped his knee again. “And I’ll say it as many times as it takes! Mark my words!”

“Okay, okay.” Aizawa raised his palms up into a mock surrender, smiling as Yamada shrieked. “But do it quietly, or you’ll wake the kids.” Thankfully, the pair were still asleep, leaning heavily on each other.

“They are out for the count.” Yamada smiled.

Neither of them said a word as Yamada drove them home. It was peaceful as the rain began to pitter out, the dark clouds clearing to make way for a dark, night sky above them. It wasn’t until they were pulling into the estate, with Aizawa half dozing again, did the silence break.

“Who’s that?” Yamada asked, squinting as the headlights flashed against a figure sitting on the curb outside their house.

Aizawa snapped awake, leaning forward in his seat, tugging at the seatbelt, mistaking it as his capture weapon.

A pair of wide, golden eyes peeled up as the headlights fell on them. 

“Kaminari?” Aizawa slumped back against the seat, trying to calm the way his heart pounded inside his head.

“Oh boy.” Yamada pulled into the drive. 

Aizawa turned to wake the kids, only to find Shinsou awake and staring at Kaminari with terrified eyes. 

“Kid, you don’t have to see him.”

Shinsou swallowed as he looked at him, his fingers struggling to undo his seatbelt. He sucked in a quick breath before it spiralled into a million short bursts of panicked breaths. 

“Hitoshi,” Aizawa said, softly, like he would towards a spitting kitten.

“What?” Shinsou snapped, his voice sounding strangled.

“Breathe.”

Shinsou gasped as if remembering how to suddenly do so.

“I don’t-. Dad.” Shinsou shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Okay. Stay here.” Aizawa unbuckled himself and got out of the car. Kaminari jumped up onto his feet and scrambled over with a sheepish look on his face. “Kaminari, what are you doing here?”

“I brought Hitoshi his schoolwork.” He dove into his bag and pulled out several sheets of paper. “I also got Momo to write down some notes for him since my writing is, uh, well, not-.”

“Eligible? I am aware.”

Kaminari chuckled, though it was anything but real. Aizawa pitied the kid, just a little.

“Kaminari, Hitoshi gets his schoolwork sent to him online.”

“Oh. I-.” Kaminari’s face bloomed into a bright red colour. 

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. Teenagers.

“How did you even get into the estate? It’s gated, and for heroes only.”

“My auntie lives here.”

“She’s a hero?”

“She’s the Live-Wire hero Electric Shock.”

Aizawa had briefly heard of her. If he remembered correctly, she had debuted right before he had graduated U.A; she was a fairly successful hero, someone in the top 100. 

“And the school gave you permission to leave the grounds?” Aizawa asked, knowing the answer. There was no teacher or hero escort around, and Nedzu wouldn’t have allowed Kaminari to visit this late in the night without cause. Missing schoolwork was hardly a good enough reason. “Well?”

Kaminari looked down at his shoes as he scuffed one against the pavement.  

“I’m sorry,” Kaminari mumbled.

Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your Aunt’s house, and let the school know where you are.” And give Yagi a piece of his mind for letting one of his students vanish under his supervision.

Kaminari’s gaze snapped up.

“But I-.” He turned towards where Shinsou still sat in the car. Unfortunately, Yamada’s car had blacked out windows, hiding the kid from view. “I really want to see Hitoshi. I came all this way.”

“Kid.” Aizawa squeezed Kaminari’s shoulder. “He isn’t ready yet.”

Kaminari pouted, his eyes filling up with tears.

“I miss him.”

Aizawa could understand that. Despite living together, and today being an exception, he too missed the relationship he and Shinsou once had. He missed Shinsou awkwardly standing in the doorway, bouncing from foot to foot, wanting to ask for help, but unsure how to approach, only to jump when Aizawa invited him into his office, homework in hand. He missed sparring. and watching the smile Shinsou got when he understood and accomplished a move he had previous struggles with. He missed those late-night chats, where they drank overly bitter coffee and ate sweet treats, talking about whatever came to mind.

“Kaminari.” Aizawa started walking and nodded for the kid to follow. Reluctantly, after casting a longing gaze towards where Shinsou sat in the back of the car, Kaminari followed him into the streets, trudging along with his eyes locked onto his feet.

“Man, this is embarrassing.”

Aizawa said nothing, allowing the space for the kid to speak his mind.

“Hitoshi must think I’m a creep waiting for him outside his house!” He waved his hands around as he talked. “I mean, who does th-.” Kaminari stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he stared up at Aizawa in horror. “Mr Aizawa…I didn’t think-.”

“It’s fine.” Aizawa held back a wince at the reminder of Junichiro waiting at his house for him all those weeks ago. “What’s on your mind?”

Kaminari sighed again, almost knocking into Aizawa as his body seemed to slump on itself. Aizawa righted him up.

“Mr Aizawa?”

“Mmh?”

“Do you think Hitoshi will ever speak to me again?”

Aizawa paused and considered his words. In all honestly, he didn’t know. Shinsou lately was an anomaly he couldn’t figure out. What he thought was the correct way to handle things with his son, always turned out to be wrong and further pushed a wedge between them. 

“You really like him?” Aizawa asked.

“Yeah! Of course! He’s super funny and dry. He’s really kind, even if he tries to pretend he’s all cold and distant. And I’ve never met someone who wanted to be a hero as much as he does. Like I wanna be a hero, and all that, but it’s like…” Kaminari pondered his neck words.

“Like he needs to be a hero.” Aizawa finished.

“Exactly! I just love that about him.” Kaminari gave him a blazing smile before it fell, his cheeks blooming red as realisation hit him. “Oh god, you’re his dad.”

Aizawa chuckled, snorting as he reached out and ruffled Kaminari’s hair. 

“You ain’t the first kid to talk about their crush with me, Kaminari.” 

“But your Hitoshi’s dad! It’s different! It’s so uncool!”

“I won’t tell anyone if that makes you feel better?”

“It doesn’t,” Kamianri sulked, looking ultimately pathetic. 

While Aizawa didn't know if Shinsou would ever want to rekindle his relationship with his ex-boyfriend, and he didn't want to lie to Kamianri, giving the kid a small bit of hope wasn't cruel.

“When I was your age, I lost a friend of mine. He died trying to save people, and yet I wasn’t able to save him.”

Kaminari was staring at him as they walked, his eyes wide as he listened.

“It took me a long time to move on.” A part of him didn’t think he was truly over Oboro, but he didn’t need to burden Kaminari with the weight of his grief. “It changes you going through something traumatic like that. I isolated myself. My grades dropped. All I cared about was training to become the best hero I could be, so I never had to watch another one of my friends die. In doing so, I pushed them all away. I had no one left to protect in the end.

I won’t allow that to happen to Hitoshi. I won’t let him make the same mistakes I made. But he still needs time to heal first.”

Kaminari dropped his gaze as he toyed with his bottom lip.

“My mom said the same thing. Said I should make sure I’m okay first before making sure everyone else is okay.”

“Wise words.”

“It makes my brain hurt.”

Aizawa chuckled with a soft breath.

“How are you holding up?”

Kaminari shrugged before grinning.

“Can’t keep me down, you know? Always ready to throw myself at more action.”

“Sometimes throwing yourself into action means avoiding the problem.” Aizawa arched an eyebrow at him.

“My mom said that too.”

“What else did she say?”

“Like worrying mother sort of stuff.” Kaminari smiled. “She spoiled me rotten after I got checked out from the hospital. I got a new skateboard. I sent a pic of it to Hitoshi, but he didn’t reply.” Kaminari’s shoulders slumped. “But maybe if I gave him my old board, he’ll come to the skatepark with me?” He looked up at Aizawa hopefully.

“Maybe,” Aizawa said, though he was sure the kid would accept the gift. “In time.”

“Yeah, I know. Give him space. I should probably replace the wheels first before I give it to him.”

Aizawa smiled as Kaminari talked to himself. He was glad Shinsou had someone like Kaminari waiting for him.

He dropped the kid off with his aunt, who was none too pleased to see her runaway nephew, before walking back home.

A squeal of laughter greeted him as he opened the front door. He followed the noise to find Yamada carrying Shinsou over his shoulder, bouncing the kid up and down as he tickled him. Shinsou was crying, laughing through choked noises as he fought against Yamada, his face bright in delight. Eri was fluttering around them, giggling as Yamada made a fool of himself.

“I’ve defeated the big bad purple wolf, Your Highness! He won’t ever steal your cookie again!”

“Pa! Put me down!” Shinsou cried out between the hysteric laughter.

“Never!”

“She doesn’t even like oat cookies!”

Aizawa leaned against the living room wall, smirking at the carnage. Tomorrow would likely bring an end to all the happiness they had garnered over the year as a family, but he let himself enjoy what he had while he had it, even if it was just for a moment.

Chapter Text

Aizawa didn’t know how long he stood in Eri’s doorway, watching the kid sleep. She hadn’t made a single peep all night, clinging to her shark plushie; the thing almost took up the whole bed, keeping Eri on the edge. Several photos were already stored in his phone, favourited into the kids’ album. He always teased Yamada about the thousands of photos he had of the kids, but if Aizawa was being honest, he probably had far more than his husband. On the nights when he couldn’t sleep but didn’t want to leave his bed, he’d flick through the album, smiling at the memories of when he took the photos. 

He wondered if the ones he had taken tonight were to be the last ones of Eri.

It brought a stinging feeling to his eyes, one he let build until there were tears rolling silently down his cheeks. 

It hardly felt fair to give him guardianship over him, a role he was originally reluctant to take, only to snatch that responsibility away too soon. Deep down, he’d always known that the Hero Commission would come knocking on his door, like some fairytale bad wolf, and take Eri away from him. She was powerful and far too valuable to waste on simple things like being part of a family. The wonders they could do with her, the lives they could save. It was a miracle they had ever given her to him in the first place.

“Dad?”

Aizawa jumped, whipping around to find Shinsou standing in his doorway, looking just as shocked to see him. His hair was wet, glued to his forehead; there was a ring of sweat along his collar. 

“Nightmare?” Aizawa cleared his voice before quickly wiping at his cheeks, hoping it didn’t look like he’d been crying. 

Shinsou ducked his head as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t speak and instead nodded, bringing his shoulders up to his ears. 

“Hot chocolate?” Aizawa asked, a part of him hoping that Shinsou would say yes. He knew if he asked about the nightmares too soon, the kid would retreat into his room. The hot chocolate was simply bait and something comforting all at once. 

“Uh…” Shinsou shook his head, his lip stuck between his teeth. 

“That's okay.” Aizawa kept his voice soft, hiding any sign of hurt. 

“I mean-.” Shinsou swallowed, and then he looked up, his eyes wide and so young. “I want one, but I need a shower first.” 

Hope bloomed in Aizawa’s chest.

“Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Aizawa walked past Shinsou, ruffling his hair, holding back a wince at how soaked with sweat it was. 

It didn’t take long for Shinsou to shower, standing at the edge of the stairs, in new pyjamas and damp hair. 

Aizawa nodded to the hot chocolate waiting for him on the coffee table, sipping his own, trying not to seem eager to have the kid sit with him. 

Shinsou shuffled into the room and curled into the corner of the sofa, plucking his mug up from the table before taking a small sip. Instantly, the tightness in his shoulders vanished. It almost looked like he was about to fall asleep, his eyes closing as he let out a gentle sigh of contentment.

“Good?” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou nodded, taking another sip. 

And Aizawa couldn’t ask for more. This, being in the same room without arguing, was enough. He almost wished his mug would forever be full.

It only broke when Shinsou set his mug down and curled his knees into his chest, and rested his head on his crossed arms. He looked at Aizawa side-on.

“What was yesterday about?” Shinsou asked.

“What do you mean?” Aizawa set his own mug down.

“A big breakfast with all our favourites, a day full of fun activities, allowing us to buy whatever we want.” Shinsou crossed his feet over themselves, a nervous habit he didn’t even seem to know he was showing.

“We’ve taken you on trips before. And always buy you two whatever you want.” 

“Not like this.” Shinsou’s eyes darted down. “Some of my foster families used to do the same. They’d take me to the zoo; the park; whatever was close to their house. They’d spoil me rotten. It’d always be so much fun. It made me feel like I finally found my place.

And the next day, my social worker would come to pick me up.”

Aizawa waited silently despite how wet Shinsou’s eyes were. 

“They made sure my last day with them was good, so they didn’t have to feel guilty when they gave me up.”

“Hitoshi, that’s not what yesterday was about.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve done this thing way too many times to miss the signs.”

“Hito-.”

“So, where is she going?”

The bluntness of his words was like a punch in the gut. Aizawa swallowed hard.

“The Hero Commission are investigating my ability to care for Eri. There’s a chance she may not come home with us today.”

“Today?” Shinsou’s head snapped up, his voice sounding wounded as he stared. 

“Yeah, kid. Today is her last day with us, potentially.”

“So yesterday really was…”

“It’s not out of guilt. We don’t want Eri to go, but we wanted to make sure that she had something good before god knows what happens to her.”

Shinsou’s chest shuddered as he practised a deep breath. 

“You’re not going to let them take her, right?” Shinsou asked with large, pleading eyes. He suddenly looked younger than his seventeen years.

“I’m going to try everything in my power to stop that.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

“Then…kid, I can’t just kidnap Eri if they decide I’m unfit to keep her.”

“We could.” Shinsou sniffled and buried his head into his lap. 

Aizawa shuffled closer and patted his shoulder, before drawing him in close. Shinsou allowed it, slumping into Aizawa’s arms. 

“Hizashi said the same thing, but we can’t keep her on the run forever. She deserves better.”

“We are better. She deserves to stay.”

“It’s not my decision.” Aizawa sighed, holding onto Shinsou. The kid didn’t shake, or sob like Yamada had hearing the news. But he could hear the odd sniffle and hitched breath as the kid leaned into him. 

“Does she know?”

“No. I…don’t know how to tell her.” Aizawa was infamous for being straightforward, never waffling or avoiding the brutal truth. But Shouta, the person he was inside these walls, never wanted to be that sort of person. While it was part of his personality, sometimes being a father outwon any ability to get to the point.

He didn’t want to upset Eri. He didn’t want to listen as she cried while he drove them to the Hero Commission. But he didn’t want to spring it on her either. He didn’t want to break the trust she had in him. 

It was a decision that ultimately meant breaking her heart, or breaking her heart and her trust in him. 

Neither option felt like the right one, even though it was inevitable one would play out.

“You should tell her before she leaves.” Shinsou piped up, lifting his head from his knees. His eyes were bloodshot. “Trust me, it hurts worse not to know before you leave.”

Aizawa wondered how many times Shinsou had been in Eri’s shoes. He wondered how many foster parents truly wanted Shinsou to have a good day before he left, but the gift felt hollow. He wondered if any of them truly did love the kid, or was he exactly what the kid used to think about himself; a simple paycheck. 

With that in mind, Aizawa reached forward and took his son’s face into his palms. He caught a runaway tear with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry.”

Shinsou’s bottom lip trembled. 

“You okay?” Aizawa asked, knowing the answer would be a lie.

Shinsou nodded, scrunching up his face as he sniffled between two heaved breaths. 

“She’s my little sister.”

His voice tore in two, cracking until Aizawa was barely able to hear the last word. 

Aizawa felt his own jaw tense as he fought against his own emotions, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. He smoothed his thumb over Shinsou’s cheeks, wishing he could wipe away the kid’s exhaustion hanging under his eyes. Shinsou leant into the touch, watching Aizawa’s every facial tick. He didn’t know this time what the kid was looking for. 

“Can we sleep down here again?” Shinsou asked, finally pulling out of Aizawa’s hands. 

“Sure.” Aizawa stood, petting Shinsou’s head before fetching the multiple weighted blankets in the basket. “Settle down.”

Shinsou listened, taking up the entire sofa with his spindly legs, and shoving a pillow under his head. Aizawa gently laid the blanket over him before settling down by the kid’s feet, pulling his own blanket over his legs. Shinsou untucked his feet and laid them over Aizawa’s lap.

The pair fell into silence, and for a moment Aizawa thought Shinsou had fallen asleep.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you’ll let her say goodbye.”

Aizawa patted Shinsou’s calf.

“I promise.”

—-

Aizawa woke and he swore his neck would forever be stuck in the same sore position forever. Groaning, he rubbed the back of it, squeezing his fingers against the muscles there. 

“You two look comfy.” 

Aizawa jumped, snapping his eyes towards the sound. 

Yamada was sat in the love seat, his legs crossed under a blanket. A cup of something hot was balanced on his lap. He smiled when Aizawa’s eyes met his, but it was wan, a little too tight to be real. There was a little worried wrinkle creasing his forehead. 

“Shit, Hizashi.” Aizawa hissed half-heartedly. He glanced down to find Shinsou awake, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “Kid?”

He made a noise to indicate that he was awake, but he looked anything but. 

“You okay?”

Shinsou nodded, and buried his face into his pillow, cutting off the conversation.

“You told him,” Yamada said.

“He figured it out.” Aizawa settled a hand in Shinsou’s ankle, hoping his presence grounded the kid.

“Smart kid,” Yamada chuckled, though there was no humour to it. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’ll wake Eri up, and then I’ll tell her that…the truth. I’ll tell her the truth.” Aizawa took a long breath. “And then we say our goodbyes.”

“That’s it?” Yamada’s voice warbled.

“Nedzu emailed me the details. The meeting is at nine.” 

“Shit.” Yamada squeezed a hand over his mouth and jaw, hiding the way his lips twisted. “Shit.”

“I’ll go make breakfast. You hungry, kid?” Aizawa got up and look down at Shinsou.

Shinsou only shook his head, refusing to surface from the pillow.

“I’m not hungry either,” Yamada commented.

Truth be told, neither was Aizawa. The thought of food in his stomach felt wrong. He didn’t think he’d be able to keep anything down if he had to leave Eri at the Hero Commission.

With the potential bad news, he knew Eri wouldn’t eat either. She’d be too worried to eat.

“Okay,” Aizawa said. “I’ll go wake her.”

Yamada nodded, looking solemn in his chair. Shinsou didn’t even respond. 

Eri was still fast asleep when Aizawa entered her room. A mountain of plushies were strewn across the floor like a minefield of stuffed rabbits and cats. Though, the shark plush from the aquarium was snug in the bed, taking up most of the space and almost pushing Eri from the mattress. 

He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, simply watching as she slept, unaware of what today would bring.

Normally, it was Yamada who woke Eri up. Or in reality, Eri woke up whenever she heard Yamada start his day. She would spring from her bed and follow him into the kitchen, eager to help out with breakfast. Yesterday must have really tired her out if she was still fast asleep, even with the sun slowly peaking through the material of her curtains.

Aizawa wished he spent more mornings like this.

“Eri.” He reached over and gently shook her foot.

Eri curled her foot towards her body. 

“Come on, Eri.” Aizawa chuckled, grabbing her other foot and giving it a wiggle.

That too curled up and out of reach. 

A small giggle came from under the covers. 

“I guess Eri must still be asleep.” Aizawa teased, poking his finger along her side. 

She giggled again.

Aizawa grabbed her ankles and dragged her towards him until she was dangling upside in his grip. A squeal of laughter burst from her as she hung upside down.

“Daddy!” She reached toward him, a bright smile across her face as she laughed.

“Are you up now?” Aizawa asked, smiling right back at her. 

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“I am! I’m awake!” Eri shrieked with laughter before Aizawa flipped her around and sat down with her in his lap. “That was really silly.” She panted, still grinning.

“It was, wasn’t it?” He chuckled breathlessly, smoothing her hair out of her face. There was a crease where she had slept hard against the pillow, and there was sleep in her eyes.

“Come here.” He pinched the bottom of his sleeve and wiped away at her face, smiling as she leaned forward to help. “There you go, I can see my brave little girl now.”

Eri blushed at the compliment, her smile turning soft as she fiddled with his shirt. 

There was no longer a reason to delay the news. He needed to tell her, and she needed to know.

He would rather fight a losing battle than tell her. 

“Eri.” He swallowed hard, fighting as his voice croaked.

She looked up at him with those large, trusting eyes.

His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep a pained noise back.

“I have some bad news.” He sat her back a little so she was resting just before his knees.

“Okay,” Eri said, a little unsure.

“We need to go to a meeting today. Just the two of us.” He could see how confused she was, but she still clung to his words, waiting for the next one. “It’s to see if you can stay with Daddy and Papa.”

Eri pondered for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed just a little.

“I can’t stay?” She asked.

“They might decide that it’d be best for you to live somewhere else.”

“Can I tell them I want to stay with you?”

He took a shuddering breath. 

“Yeah, you can, baby.” He ran a trembling hand through her hair. “But they still might decide to give you a new family.” 

“I don’t want a new one.” 

“I know, but you never know, you might like them more.”

Eri’s eyes filled then.

“No. I won’t.”

Aizawa pushed back his own tears, letting the news settle over her. 

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” 

She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his middle as far as they would go.

“Can I bring my shark?” She asked, her voice so small.

He couldn’t help but let out a blubbering laugh.

“Yeah, you can bring your shark.” He reached over and held the shark out to her. “Does he have a name yet?”

“Red.”

“Why red?”

She pointed to his teeth. 

“He has the same teeth as Red Riot.”

Aizawa grinned, though it was wobbly. 

“Come on. Hizashi and ‘Toshi are downstairs.”

He stood and settled her against her hip, where she buried herself into his side, holding onto her shark with her other hand.

“Do Papa and ‘Toshi know I’m going?” Eri asked meekly.

He wanted to tell her there was a possibility that she wouldn’t be leaving them, but he didn’t want to give her false hope. He didn’t want to be cruel, only to leave her behind in the end. 

“Yeah, they do.”

Eri said nothing to that, as Aizawa climbed the bottom of the stairs and carried her into the living room. 

Yamada looked up when they entered the room, his bottom lip trembling when he spotted Eri. Shinsou hadn’t moved from his spot, curled into the sofa with his face pressed into a pillow.

“What do you want for breakfast? You can have anything you want. Even apples.” Aizawa tried to smile for her, but Eri simply hid her face in his neck. “Okay.” He rubbed her back.

“When-when are you guys leaving?” Yamada asked, his knee bobbing.

“Half an hour.” Aizawa looked toward the clock. He really had left it last minute to tell Eri. He was glad he let the kid lie in, but now he wished he had woken her up and spent more time with her. 

“Oh.” Yamada deflated. “That’s really soon.”

Eri squirmed in Aizawa’s hold until he let her down. She ran to Yamada and climbed into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Oh, baby.” Yamada’s voice broke as he held her, rocking her side to side as he pressed kisses into her hair. 

“I don’t want to go,” Eri whispered as if she could convince Yamada to let her stay. 

“I don’t want you to go either.” Yamada let out a stifled sob. “But think of it as an adventure.”

Eri shook her head.

“You know, you’ll always be my favourite little listener, no matter where you go.”

“What about Hitoshi?”

Yamada let out a wet chuckle.

“And Hitoshi. You’re both my favourite little listeners.”

“And Daddy?“

“Daddy is a big listener.”

Eri looked up at Aizawa as if to check. And then she turned to Shinsou, who was still curled into the sofa, but he had removed himself from the pillow. His eyes were red and lifeless as if he wasn’t really present. But then he blinked, turning to look at Eri, sensing her staring at him. He opened his arms.

Eri climbed down from Yamada’s lap and into Shinsou’s. The kid squeezed her tight.

“I’m sorry,” Shinsou whimpered.

“But you didn’t do anything?” Eri sat back, her eyes wet, but she still didn’t cry.

“I’m still sorry.” Shinsou gazed lovingly at her. 

“I’m sorry too.” Eri nodded back, causing Shinsou’s lips to tremble.

“If anyone gives you any trouble, you call me and I’ll beat them up, okay?” 

“But that’s not what heroes do,” Eri said, sternly.

“But big brothers do.” Shinsou poked her nose. “And no one messes with my kid sister.”

Eri giggled, pushing Shinsou’s hand away. 

“Promise me you’ll call me if you’re ever in trouble.” Shinsou held out his pinky.

“Pinky promise.” Eri looped her pinky around his before Shinsou pulled her in for another hug, his eyes squeezed tight as twin tears ran down his cheeks.

When he eventually let go, Eri turned to Aizawa.

“Can I go say bye to Deku and LeMillion?”

Aizawa’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he forgot Eri’s attachment to the two younger heroes, but time had gotten away from him. He hadn’t really thought of them through his own grief. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I don’t think there’s enough time.”

“Oh.”

“Midoriya’s probably in class, but we can leave him a video message?” Shinsou asked, taking Eri off his lap, ready to go fetch his phone. Eri nodded solemnly before taking Shinsou’s hand as he led her upstairs. 

It was then that Yamada pushed himself onto his feet and crossed over to Aizawa. He said nothing as he buried his face into Aizawa’s shoulder. Aizawa wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry,” Aizawa whispered.

Yamada only sighed into him, and Aizawa pretended his silence didn’t sting. 

They parted when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Shinsou’s eyes were bloodshot as he solemnly followed Eri.

“Did you leave Deku and LeMillion a message?” Yamada asked, quickly wiping at his eyes. 

Eri nodded, biting her bottom lip.

“What if they don’t see it?” She asked. “They’ll think I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“They’ll get it,” Yamada said, “and they know you’re not mean like that.”

Eri didn’t seem convinced. 

“Can they come visit me?” 

Aizawa didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t even know if he was allowed visitation rights. Though, he highly doubted that would stop Midoriya; despite wanting to be a hero, the kid broke a lot of rules.

“You’ll have to ask,” Yamada said.

“Come on, let’s get our shoes and coats on.” 

Eri struggled to tie her laces, even though she had never had problems before. It took twice as long before Aizawa could even unlock the front door. Though, he didn’t mind. Sometimes shoes were difficult. Or at least, he allowed Eri to pretend they were.

“Okay, big hug!” Yamada grabbed Eri before she could even move, squishing her against his chest.  Eri didn’t squirm or shriek like she usually would but instead held on as tight as he little fists would allow. Yamada pressed a hundred kisses all over her face. 

He didn’t let go of her.

“Hizashi.”

Yamada suppressed a sob as he pulled Eri back, giving her the biggest smile he could muster. 

“You won’t forget me, will you?” Eri asked.

Yamada’s smile broke. 

“Never, baby. Never.” 

It didn’t seem to satisfy Eri as she went to say her goodbyes to Shinsou. 

Yamada moved to Aizawa and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Bring her back to us, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

Eri didn’t fuss as Aizawa buckled her into her car seat, nor did she cry when he shut the car door. She just stared out of the window, watching Shinsou and Yamada as they waved.  Aizawa reversed out of the drive, watching as Yamada almost collapsed onto Shinsou from the rearview mirror. 

“Should I put some of your music on?” Aizawa asked, happy for once to listen to Eri’s Disney tunes.

“No, thank you.” Eri let her head rest against her car seat, focusing on the unicorn patterns printed on it.

“You sure?”

Eri nodded. 

“Okay, let me know if you change your mind.” 

For once, he didn’t really know how to handle driving in silence, especially not with Eri. She loved chatting away, telling Aizawa all about her day or favourite show. And if Yamada was in the car, then the pair would belt out all the Disney classics. She had yet to see all of them, but she had fallen in love with the singing mice and cats. 

Pulling into the car park of the HPSC, Aizawa almost missed the turning, slamming on the brakes a little too quickly, his old car rattling and spluttering.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Daddy. You’re distracted.”

Aizawa chuckled.

“Yeah, Daddy is a little distracted.”

He put the car into park and turned off the engine. 

“Come here.” Aizawa unbuckled Eri before carrying her to the front seat and settling her into his lap. He smoothed a thumb over an apple cheek, smiling as Eri leaned into the touch. He looked over every detail of her face, from the bright red flecks in her eyes; to the way her nose slightly curled up; or to the gapped-toothed smile she gave him. If today was the last day he got to hold her like this, he wanted to remember every part of her that made her his kid.

“Are you okay?” Eri asked, her white eyelashes blinking away the tears that gathered in the corner of her eyes.

“I love you.” The words rushed out of Aizawa, all be it broken and croaked. “So much.”

It was then, and only then, did Eri’s tears finally break through and rolled down her cheeks.

“Even if you won’t be my Daddy?”

“I’ll always be your dad, kiddo. Forever and ever.”

“But Mommy got rid of me, and she’s not my mommy anymore.”

Aizawa took Eri’s face into his palms. 

“Listen to me. You are my kid. Nothing changes that. And I am your Dad, and nothing changes that. Understand?”

Eri shook her head. 

Aizawa’s hands shook before he pulled her in, rocking her in his arms.

“I’m sorry you don’t understand.” He didn’t know how to explain the differences between Eri’s biological mother and himself. How could he explain to a child that there was a difference between the two of them when in the end Eri was left without a parent? 

"I don't want you to leave me behind," Eri whined, her words muffled in his shirt.

A shuddering breath broke through Aizawa. He felt his body curl around Eri, as he fought not to sob in the middle of the HPSC car park.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, holding Eri, but when he felt the kid slump against him, her body leaning towards his warmth even in her sleep, he knew they needed to move.

“Eri, wake up.” Aizawa pulled her back and brushed the tear stains from her cheeks. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

Eri rubbed her little fists against her eyes before sagging back into Aizawa’s chest.

It was a sign as blatant as if she had said it out loud. He had spent enough sleepy nights after calming Eri down from a nightmare to know what she wanted by the action.

He said nothing as he got out of the car, carrying Eri in his arms, her head tucked over his shoulder. It wasn’t hard to ignore the long stares as he walked into the building, and towards the meeting room, the receptionist instructed him to go to. To the outside world, he was stone-faced and walking like a man ready for revenge, and not one gripped by guilt and sorrow. He wondered if Eri could hear the way his heartbeat only seemed to get louder the closer he got to the meeting room.

“Ready?” Aizawa whispered.

Eri shook her head.

“Me neither.” He gave her one last squeeze before entering.

Two heads turned to him. One was an older woman with ash blonde hair and a stern expression. He’d only met her a handful of times as a hero, and only a few more time as a teacher. The President of the HPSC didn’t bat an eyelash as Aizawa stalked toward her.

The other figure smiled with recognition, his wings fluttering as he came to meet them halfway.

“Eraser! And little Eraser. Fancy meeting you two here.” Hawks smiled, extending a hand that Aizawa didn’t meet.

“I’m not here for pleasantries. Let’s get this over with.”

If Hawks was offended by his blunt attitude, it didn’t show. The number two hero simply smiled as if there wasn’t a single worry in the world. But then his gaze fell on Eri, and the smile dipped ever so slightly.

“Why don’t I keep Eri company while you two chat?” Hawks shoved his hands into his pockets; it reminded Aizawa of when Shinsou tried to hide something from him, but also didn’t want to let on how worried he was about said problem. Sometimes seeing Hawks all over the news, smiling and laughing at all the dangers that came his way, it was hard to remember that he was only a kid, someone barely in their twenties.

“Eri.” Aizawa rested a hand on her back. “Do you want to go with Hawks?”

While he didn’t really want Eri to leave his side, he didn’t want to upset her during the meeting. Keeping his cool was going to be difficult.

Thankfully, Eri pulled back from his neck and took a cautious glance at Hawks, who smiled with a short wave.

“Hey.”

Eri gave him a small wave back, still clutching her shark in the other hand.

“Why don’t the pair of us go colour for a bit, yeah? You can bring your shark friend”

“Daddy, will you come too?”

“I need to stay here for the meeting, remember?”

Eri frowned.

“You won’t leave without saying goodbye?”

Aizawa allowed himself a second of heartbreak before he schooled his emotions.

“I promise.” He set her down and combed her hair behind her ears. “You stay with Hawks, and be a good girl, okay?”

Eri looked between the two heroes before she reached for Hawks’ hand. The young pro baulked a little, his eyes going wide as he stared at the conjoined hands before smiling, a wing coming around to guide them out of the room.

“Shall we?” Aizawa nodded to the President.

“This decision isn’t one I’m making lightly, Eraserhead.”

“No. I can’t imagine it’s very easy to take children away from their families.” Aizawa sat himself down and waited for the President to sit opposite him.

“Eraserhead, what we want is to make sure Eri is safe.”

“She is.”

“We both know that is not true. You were targeted by a villain and held hostage for multiple days. Eri was included in that. What if he learnt of her quirk and sold her to the League?”

“He was not affiliated with them.”

“That you know of. If he were still alive, we could have verified that ourselves.”

Aizawa’s jaw ached as he gritted his teeth.

“I had no choice.”

“We are not here to question the killing of Junichiro Nakano. We have already passed our judgement on that issue, and there are no charges against you, nor do we intend for any disciplinary action.”

“And yet, you’re taking my child away from me.”

“Eraserhead, must I remind you that Eri is not your child? She was simply put into your care as that was the most viable option while her quirk was untested. You must have known she would not be in your care forever.”

At first, Aizawa had thought that. His spare time was spent at U.A, teaching the next generation, and when he was not there, he was patrolling the streets. He had very little time to care for a young, traumatised girl. Even with the help of several of his students, he found the balancing act of hero and father far more difficult than had anticipated. There was once a time when he couldn’t wait to hand Eri over to her next guardian. He had never wanted to be a father before, and apparently becoming one had soured it.

Though, those feelings hardly lasted. The first time Eri slept through the night without a single nightmare left him reeling with pride. The first time she held his hand as they crossed the road made him far giddier than he expected from himself. The first time she called him dad had him vowing he would live up to that title.

Legality had nothing to do with whether she was his child or not. She was his, and no one could argue otherwise.

“I’ve bought new shoes for her when she outgrew the first pair I had gotten her. I’ve learnt how to braid hair in a million different ways just to make her happy. I’ve drawn so many bubble baths I’ve lost count of how many bottles we've gone through. Do you know how many times I’ve picked her up after she’s scrapped her knees? Or how many times I’ve held her as she cried herself to sleep?”

“The point-.”

“The point is I’m that child’s father, despite the choices made here today.”

The President only sighed as if Aizawa was a problem child in a classroom.

“Eraserhead, we cannot guarantee Eri’s safety with you. Her quirk is far too dangerous. If the League were to somehow get a hold of her.”

“I would hunt them down before they could lay a hand on her.”

“If they got a hold of her, it would spell the end of Japan as we know it.”

“We end the fight before it can begin.”

“Without knowing the location of Shigaraki, then ending this war is impossible. We will simply be cutting off heads while another grows back in its place.”

“Then we keep cutting until we find the right one.”

“It is not that simple. We are on the losing side, Eraserhead. You have seen the devastation the fight between All For One and All Might caused. We cannot allow this to happen again by allowing Eri to become their weapon.”

“So, you make her yours instead?” Aizawa snapped.

The President paused for a second before schooling her features.

“Eri’s quirk would be an asset to us.”

“She is a child.”

“A child that can stop a million more dying by the hands of Shigaraki.”

Logically, it made sense to sacrifice one to save the many. One life was hardly worth saving if it meant a million more died in their place. But that one life was everything to Aizawa.

“No.”

“No?”

“Eri is a child. She deserves no part in this war.”

“I think a teacher at U.A is hardly one to speak on preparing children for war.”

Aizawa snorted in disbelief and shook his head.

“I train them to keep the peace. But they will only do so after they graduate. I will not purposely put them in harm’s way. No child belongs on the battlefield.”

“You do not get to deci-.”

The doors to the meeting room burst open. If it wasn’t for the sound of small shoes against laminate floors, Aizawa would have reached for his capture weapon. He turned and saw Eri bounding towards them with a serious expression on her face. A piece of paper was gripped hard in her hand.

She stopped before them, her eyes jumping between Aizawa and the President, her arms swinging by her sides nervously.

“What have you got there, Eri?” Aizawa asked.

“A drawing.” She took a step forward, and then another. But it wasn’t towards Aizawa. No, instead she kept creeping closer until she stood in front of the President, and then trusted her drawing into her face. “For you.”

The President gingerly took the drawing and turned it around so she could see.

“It’s of Daddy and me.” Eri pointed at the rough doodles that hardly resembled people. “And that’s Papa. And that’s Hitoshi, he’s my brother.” She continued down the line of figures. “And that’s Auntie Nem. And LeMillion. And Deku.”

Unexpectantly, The President held onto the drawing, studying it as if it was some secret document.

“I want to stay with them,” Eri said, rolling onto her toes and heels. “Please.”

“Eri.” The President put the drawing down. “Currently, it isn’t safe for you to stay with Eraserhead.”

“But I want to.”

“Sometimes, we don’t get what we want.”

“I do with, Daddy.”

Aizawa couldn’t help the amused snort that escape him.

The President glanced his way before turning back to Eri. It was obvious that the woman hadn’t had much experience with children, especially if she thought she could win an argument against a six-year-old.

“Listen, Eri. There are some really bad people in the world, and we’d like you to help us stop them.”

“Like Deku and LeMillion?”

“Yeah, like the heroes that saved you.”

Eri pondered for a second. Aizawa wanted to interrupt, knowing that the President wasn’t telling the whole truth to his kid. There was no way she understood the gravity of what they were asking of her. But then-.

“No, thank you.”

The President blinked down at Eri before looking to Aizawa, who only shrugged back. He couldn’t explain the thought process of a six-year-old, even if he tried. He had given up on understanding them a long time ago.

“I don’t want to be a hero.” Eri pointed to the drawing. “Hitoshi does though. He and Daddy train a lot, and I don’t like how sweaty they get. I don’t want to be sweaty.”

Aizawa barely suppressed a chuckle. Shinsou did like to hug Eri after training, laughing as she screamed and squirmed to get away from him.

“I’m going to be a vet when I grow up. Or work with sharks at the aquarium,” Eri said, proudly.

“Eri,” Aizawa called out and nodded for her to come to him. She did, climbing into his lap as he scooped her up. “You heard her answer. And here’s mine.” With one hand, Aizawa fished out his hero license. “I retire.”

“What?” The President rushed to her feet as Aizawa stood.

“If I lose Eri, then I no longer wish to fight. After being held hostage, I find my trauma is keeping me from fulfilling my duty as a hero. As you said, if I cannot keep a little girl safe, then it is foolish to expect me to keep an entire city safe.” Aizawa hoisted Eri onto his hip. “Come on, kiddo.”

“You cannot take her out of here, Eraserhead.”

“Watch me,” Aizawa said, marching towards the door. “And it’s not Eraserhead anymore. Good luck fighting Shigaraki without my quirk.”

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. It was so loud, he almost didn’t notice Hawks standing in the doorway, pretending to be out of breath.

“Sorry everyone, she got away from me. Little kids are fast. I couldn’t keep up,” Hawks said with a dramatic flare, and a wink sent Eri’s way. She giggled and hid her face into Aizawa’s shoulder. “Oh, leaving already, Eraser?”

Aizawa nodded, giving a slight bow as he walked back to his car. He couldn’t believe what he had done. It almost felt surreal. Any moment, he expected a million heroes to warp out from the walls and arrest him. But no one came to stop them.

It was almost a blur as he strapped Eri back into her car seat, and double-checked that the straps were done right. He didn’t even realise the moment he had sat down in the driver’s seat. He felt almost breathless as his heart finally settled.

“Is Daddy in trouble now?” Eri asked.

Aizawa let out a choked chuckle.

“Ah, maybe.”

“Uh oh.”

This time he laughed.

“Do I get to stay now?” Eri asked.

Aizawa winced. While technically, he had theoretically kidnapped his own daughter, he couldn't keep her forever. It was only a matter of time before the HPSC would come after them. He had done the exact thing he had told both Yamada and Shinsou they couldn’t do.

“Maybe. If I’m not in too much trouble.”

“You can just say sorry.”

“I don’t think sorry covers this, kiddo.”

“Sorry covers everything.”

A tap on the window made the pair of them jump.

“Hey!” Hawks stood outside the car with a familiar shark plush in his hand.

Aizawa opened the door.

“My shark!” Eri made grabby hands towards her toy. Hawks didn’t waste any time leaning over the passenger seat to give it to her.

“I don’t know how to take care of a shark, so it’s best he goes home with you.” Hawks teased, earning a shy giggle from Eri.

“Thanks,” Aizawa said.

“Thank you, Mr Hawks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And then Hawks flicked out his wrist and held something white and plastic between his fingers. “And you can’t be forgetting this.”

Aizawa reached out for his hero license.

“They reconsidered?” Aizawa asked, cautiously.

“They’re considering it.” Hawks lowered his voice. “It seems they’re more concerned about losing your quirk than gaining Eri’s.”

“But they’re letting Eri stay with me?”

“It seems like,” Hawks said. “Though, it’ll probably come with a million favours.”

“I can deal with that.”

Hawks barely hid his grimace, but Aizawa didn’t care. He’d work himself into an early grave if it meant keeping Eri.

---

Eri could hardly contain her giggling as she stepped into the house. She wanted to surprise Yamada and Shinsou, but it was almost impossible for her to stay quiet.

“Shh, or they’ll hear you,” Aizawa jokingly chastised.

“Shou?” Yamada’s voice sounded rough, like the man had spent the entire morning crying.

“Yeah, it’s us,” Aizawa said as he and Eri took off their shoes.

“Us?” Yamada came around the corner and stopped in his tracks, his hands flying up to hide his quivering lip. “Eri?”

“Daddy says I get to stay!” Eri flung her arms open and ran into Yamada.

“What?” Yamada shrieked, laughing as he spun Eri around. He only stopped after several rotations, his expression hopeful but guarded. He looked at Aizawa with pleading eyes. “Shou?”

“It’s true. There’ll still be a lot of discussions, but we think it’s going to fall into our favour.”

“Are you serious?” Yamada asked, his voice wobbling.

“Yeah, Eri’s here to stay.” Aizawa smiled, full teeth.

“Oh my god!” Yamada threw Eri up into the air and caught her. “You get to stay!”

“I get to stay!”

“Oh my god, you get to stay.” And then Yamada sunk to the floor as a sob broke from him. He squeezed Eri close.

“Don’t cry, Papa.”

“They’re happy tears, right Hizashi?” Aizawa said, feeling his own eyes burn. He may have already cried on the drive back home.

Yamada nodded, hiccupping between breaths.

“Why don’t you go let Hitoshi know the good news?” Aizawa said.

“He’s upstairs. Napping,” Yamada wheezed.

“Okay!” Eri scrambled up the stairs without a single glance back. No doubt happy to pounce on an unexpecting Shinsou.

“How?”

Aizawa turned to Yamada.

“How did you convince them?”

“I gave them my hero license and told them good luck against Shigaraki without me.” Aizawa shrugged, grinning just over the tip of his capture weapon.

“God, Shouta.” Yamada laughed between the last of his sobbing as Aizawa helped him up from the floor. He wasted no time grabbing Aizawa’s face and smacking a kiss against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Aizawa kissed him back, though far more gently.

“You brought her back to us.” Yamada’s face crumbled again.

“’Zashi, don’t start crying again,” Aizawa joked as his own vision blurred.

“I can’t help it.”

Aizawa placed another kiss against Yamada’s cheek, laughing as the sound of joyful screams echoed from upstairs.

Chapter Text

Aizawa woke with a kick to the stomach. Lurching awake, he grappled to cover his stomach before realisation hit him. Groaning, he rolled over, using his back as some sort of shield against his six-year-old. The kid was all feet. Shifting and kicking out in her sleep.

He was already a light sleeper, and Eri tested that every time she slept in their bed.

But he wouldn’t complain. Especially not now. After the day they had, Eri wanted nothing more than to sleep with her dads. Neither of them had the heart to say no.

Of course, they had invited Shinsou, but the kid stated he was far too old to sleep with his parents, despite doing so for the past two nights downstairs.

Teenagers. Aizawa huffed before curling into his pillow, today’s event leaving him rung out like an old stray cat. All he wanted was to cocoon himself in his blanket and not leave his bed for days.

But just as he was about to slip off into sleep, he heard the sound of footsteps going down the stairs. 

While it was normal for someone to always be awake at any given hour in this household, especially since the nightmare had become worse for all four of them, Aizawa didn’t like the idea of leaving Shinsou out there without any support. So, with a grumble and far too much inner complaining, he rolled himself out of him, wincing at how cold it was outside of the blankets. 

He followed the sound of Shinsou, yawning as he made it down the stairs and towards the laundry room, where he could hear the kid shuffling about.

The kid must have sweated through his sheets.

Without thinking, and being far too sleep-deprived, Aizawa opened the laundry room door.

“Hitoshi, leave the sheets, I’ll do them-.”

It wasn’t the way Shinsou spun to face him with large, terrified eyes that made Aizawa pause. Nor was it the way the kid’s breathing picked up, almost sounding like he was still trapped in a nightmare.

It was the strong smell of urine.

“No…” Shinsou stumbled back, his entire body trembling as he pressed up against the wall. 

Aizawa raised his palms slowly. 

It did nothing to help the way Shinsou’s breathing rattled. The kid was wheezing. 

“Hitoshi.” Aizawa kept his voice calm. He didn’t need to scare the kid any more than he already looked. 

Shinsou shook his head, palms flat against the walls.

“It’s okay.” Aizawa didn’t move forward. It didn’t take a genius to understand the fear in Shinsou’s eyes. How many times had the kid woken up, terrified from nightmares only to find himself without any comfort? How many times did Shinsou suffer at the hands of a ‘parent’ whenever he did something ‘wrong’?

There were too many scars for someone his age. The ones on his face, thin white lines across his nose and jaw seemed to almost glow from the bulb hanging above them, despite how much they had faded over time. 

“Kid, it’s okay. I’m not angry. Do you understand?“ Aizawa held out a hand.

His only response was a pained whine as Shinsou flinched back, scrambling to hide in the corner. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay right here. I’m not going to come closer. I’ll stay right here.”

Aizawa swallowed hard, wishing that he had some way of calling Yamada without startling the kid. There wasn’t a hint of recognition in those violet eyes staring deer-like at him.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Aizawa asked, lowering his hand, hoping Shinsou would follow the movement. 

Slowly, the kid obeyed, his knees wobbling, all but giving out on him as he slid down the wall. 

“Good.” Aizawa knew how to handle a panic attack. He’d seen thousands in his line of work. He’d been there when Shinsou had them in the past. He held the kid, coached him through his breathing, and wiped away tears.

None of them were as bad as this. 

“Hitoshi, I’m just going to come a little closer, okay?” 

He only moved a single step, but it was enough for Shinsou to leap back with a startled cry, flinging his arms over his head, shielding himself from Aizawa.

And all Aizawa could do was stare, his body freezing at the terrified glaze in Shinsou’s eyes. He felt sick. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Aizawa swallowed hard against the thump in his throat. “It’s okay.” 

Slowly, Aizawa lowered himself so he was sitting a few steps away from Shinsou. The kid didn’t lower his arms, and instead curled his body into itself and turned to the side, unconsciously shielding his vital organs.

“I need you to just listen to the sound of my voice, okay?” He had no idea if Shinsou was listening to him, the look in the kid’s eyes too far away. But he kept talking. “Do you understand, kid?”

Shinsou didn’t even look his way.

“Take a deep breath.” Aizawa inhaled in demonstration, hoping the kid would copy him. 

For a few seconds, Shinsou didn’t react, his breathing continued to hitch and stutter. But Aizawa took another breath, breathing in deeply through the nose.

“Come on, one big breath.”

Shinsou gasped, fighting to hold the breath. 

“Another one.”

Shinsou nodded, his eyes squeezed tight as he inhaled, his ribs expanding. It came out as a rush of broken air.

“Slowly. Nice and slow.”

“M’sick,” Shinsou mumbled, his face turning pale.

Aizawa stood, ignoring how his knees protested and cracked at the speed at which he stood, and reached for the first thing he could use. It was an old bag, a spare for a hiking trip they never took. He knelt beside Shinsou and unzipped the bag.

Shinsou gave him a weirded look before his whole body lurched forward, and he was scrambling for the bag, vomiting into it. 

Aizawa pushed Shinsou’s hair out of his face while rubbing circles into his back as the kid shook, silently sobbing as he gagged. 

“Let it up.” 

Shinsou groaned as he curled over the bag, choking on the acidic taste in his mouth as he spluttered into the bag, his stomach empty. His ribs spasmed under Aizawa’s hand. Fat tears were running down his face, curling on the tip of his nose. 

“ F’ck .”

“It’s alright.”

Slowly, the trembling tampered off, but he didn’t move, clutching onto the bag in front of him as he caught his breath. 

Aizawa ran a hand through the kid’s hair and squeezed the back of his neck, rubbing a thumb across the nape. 

“How are you feeling now?” Aizawa asked.

With a slow blink, Shinsou turned to him with a dazed expression, a chunk of sick on his chin. Aizawa grimaced at the mess before he leant forward, and dabbed the edge of his sleeve at Shinsou’s face. Shinsou didn’t fuss, nor pull away, and instead closed his eyes as if the effort of staying awake was almost too much. 

“Come on, let’s get you off to the floor.” Aizawa smoothed circles on Shinsou’s back, slowly moving his hands under his armpits, waiting for any indication that the kid could stand. “I can carry you?”

Shinsou frowned. His body taut.

And then his eyes snapped open, wide and fearful at Aizawa.

The moment Aizawa saw recognition in those white pupils, he knew something was wrong.

“Get off me,” Shinsou snapped, shoving Aizawa off him with an elbow to the ribs. 

Aizawa fell back against a shelf, wincing at the blow. Shinsou scrambled from the room, his bare feet slapping against the tiled floor.

“Hitoshi.” Aizawa pushed himself up after him.

“Leave me alone.” Desperately, the kid wrapped his arms around his trembling body as he stumbled around the kitchen, looking like he’d never been in the room before, everything unfamiliar and foreign. 

“Kid-.”

A plate smashed near Aizawa’s feet.

The pair stared at each other. Shinsou glared, while Aizawa watched with wide eyes as the kid reached for another plate on the drying rack.

Aizawa stood there in shock. The kid had never lashed out like this before. 

“Hitoshi…”

“I said leave me alone!” Shinsou threw the plate, though it went wide, shattering against the wall behind Aizawa. 

And then the kid went wild. Plate after plate, the kid smashed every piece of china he could grab.

Aizawa didn’t move. Not even as one clipped his shoulder. He just watched as Shinsou broke everything around him.

It was only when Shinsou yelped, and a streak of red cut along Shinsou’s cheek, did he move.

He went straight for his kid.

Shinsou gasped when he realised, stumbling back, blindly reaching for another plate. 

Aizawa grabbed his wrist.

“ Enough .”

“Let go!” Shinsou bucked, throwing himself away from Aizawa. 

“Stop this.” Aizawa grabbed Shinsou’s shoulder and shook the kid. “You’re hurting yourself!” 

“Let me go!”

It felt like whiplash against his brain as Shinsou’s quirk ripped through his control. He felt himself being pushed away, hands desperately tugging at his clothes as Shinsou slipped, crashing onto the floor with a pained cry.

Aizawa couldn’t move, only watch as Shinsou heaved himself onto his hands and knee, a wounded noise trembling out of him. 

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caused Shinsou to freeze.

“Hitoshi?” Yamada’s voice warbled in Aizawa’s mind. “I heard something break. You okay, little listener?”

Shinsou only wheezed in response. 

The kitchen lights flicked on. 

“Shouta?” He could hear the confusion In Yamada’s tone. “‘Toshi? What’s going on? What’s with all the broken plates?”

Shinsou shook his head.

“Kiddo?” Yamada finally came into view. His husband glanced his way, his eyes burning with worry and concern before he turned to the kid. “Hey, want to tell me what’s up?”

It was a mistake. One that with their hero training, he should have noticed straight away. But sometimes, being a dad dulled that instinct. 

Yamada didn’t even see it coming.

Shinsou whirled around with an animalistic snarl, launching a fist straight across Yamada’s cheek.

The quirk’s hold snapped. Reality slammed into his mind. He felt control again.  And yet, he felt lost at sea, unable to move towards the scene in front of him.

Yamada was sprawled on the floor, a hand cupping his cheek as he stared up at Shinsou, his eyes wide and tearful. 

The noise Shinsou made bordered on pained and anguished. He looked just as shocked as Yamada, staring at the bruise already blooming across Yamada’s face.

“Hitoshi-.” Aizawa gaped, disbelief hard in his chest.

Shinsou’s attention snapped to him. He paled. His eyes watering.

“I didn’t-.” His voice came out strangled. His head whipped back around to Yamada before it came back to Aizawa. The kid was trembling.

Aizawa knew what Shinsou was about to do, and yet, he was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything to stop him.

Shinsou bolted. 

Aizawa only moved when the front door slammed, the noise almost shocking him from his frozen position.

“Hizashi.” Aizawa knelt next to his husband and removed the hand cradling the spot. “Are you okay?”

“Go get him.” Yamada shrugged him off, his voice tight and strained. 

“But-.”

“Go get our kid.” Yamada shoved at him then, while still refusing to look him in the eye. “Go.”

A drunk-like feeling washed over Aizawa. He didn’t remember leaving the house. Nor did he remember putting on his shoes, or grabbing Shinsou’s trainers and coat. He didn’t remember starting up the car or driving through the winding streets of the estate.

It all passed him in a blur. One second he was in the house, and the next, he was in the car, eyes peeled for a certain mop of purple hair. 

The only thing on his mind was how much he had let Shinsou down.

All this time and Aizawa had failed to see what was right in front of him. Looking back, it was obvious that something didn’t add up about Shinsou’s late-night laundry. He had respected his children’s boundaries. He had respected that secrets could and would be shared between them, something about that sibling bond that was more trustworthy than one with a parent or adult. 

But Aizawa realised he should have pressed them both. He should have questioned why Eri had always come to them in the past when her nightmares had become too much, where recently she had gone to Shinsou, seeking comfort from a source that was once untapped.

It wasn’t like Eri not to come to either himself or Yamada after a nightmare. It had taken time, but the kid knew there was safety in their bed, that no bad dreams could hurt her there.  

No, it wasn’t like Eri to hide those sorts of things from Aizawa or Yamada.

But it was exactly the type of secret Shinsou would keep from them. 

“ Fuck !” Aizawa slammed his hand against the steering wheel. 

Scanning the streets, Aizawa’s heart pounded inside his head. Shinsou wasn’t a stupid kid, he wouldn’t leave the estate, not even in a panicked state. And the area was gated and had a hero guard at all hours. They wouldn’t let a kid without shoes and a coat, and one clearly in distress walk out into the streets in the middle of the night. It meant that Shinsou was hopefully still close to the house. 

But still, the idea of Shinsou alone and afraid twisted something inside Aizawa’s gut. When he had taken him in, he promised the kid safety and a guarantee he would never be scared of home again.

He never thought he’d break that promise. He never thought he’d have to see that terrified look in Shinsou’s eyes directed at him. He never thought his son would cower from him. 

It only led Aizawa to wonder how Shinsou really felt about him and Yamada. Did Junichiro break Shinsou’s trust in them? Did the kid have any in them to start with? 

Aizawa shook his head clear from the thought clawing through his mind, hoping to take root as something ugly and soiled. He knew, deep down, that Shinsou trusted them. The kid had put his faith in them during the court case with his foster parents. He allowed them to help him at his most vulnerable.

He let them smother him with love where he had none; he let them heal him when no one had done so before; he let them fix all the broken parts of his life until he felt whole again. 

Aizawa didn’t think Shinsou even knew how brave he had been during that time. How remarkable he was for letting go of that control and letting Aizawa and Yamada take the reins. 

He hoped the kid would allow him to do that again. 

It didn’t take long for the headlights of the car to find a lone figure huddled on the curb, their head buried into their knees.

Aizawa stepped out of the car, bringing the jacket and shoes with him. 

The kid was shivering, his red fingers clinging to his bare arms, almost clawing at them as if they could keep the heat in. 

“Here,” Aizawa murmured, wrapping the kid’s jacket around his shoulders. He knelt down next to him and took Shinsou’s cold feet and guided them into the shoes. Shinsou allowed himself to be handled, his eyes focused on a spot on the road.

The only response he got was a sad little sniffle. 

Aizawa sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. The night was a cold one, but there was hardly any wind. The air instead nipped at Aizawa’s nose, no doubt turning it a blistering pink. 

Small talk wasn’t something either of them was good at, nor did they particularly enjoy it. But the moment felt too quiet to just let be. Even the streets were quiet, without a single car or even a stray cat patrolling the streets. 

“The car’s nice and warm,” Aizawa said. “Come on.” He rubbed a comforting hand on Shinsou’s back, grateful that the kid didn’t flinch at the touch. 

Thankfully, Shinsou got to his feet and let Aizawa guide him to the car, curling into his seat once the door was shut behind him.

Aizawa allowed him a moment of silence as he drove. Though, he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking quick glances at him as if to make sure he was still there. Sometimes, Shinsou could be so quiet that Aizawa couldn’t even hear him breathe. He was like a ghost. 

Aizawa hated the idea of why Shinsou kept himself quiet when upset.

He slowed the car as he approached the drive, the headlights climbing up the walls, shining against the front door.

Shinsou seemed to shrink into himself at the sight of it. Or perhaps, it was the idea of Yamada waiting beyond it. 

The kid strangled the seatbelt around his shoulder, pulling at it like it was his capture weapon, ready to unfurl himself out of danger.

Going back inside the house now would only end in further heartbreak. The kid wasn’t ready. If they pushed him, he’d self-destruct.

“Sorry.” Aizawa reached over Shinsou, and opened the glove compartment. It was full to the brim with junk. “I always keep it here for emergencies.” Digging through the pile of old letters, a pair of socks that had fossilised, a spare knife, and far too many empty jelly packets, Aizawa found his old flip phone.

Aizawa: Taking Hitoshi for a ride. Be back soon. 

Yamada: 👍

It wasn’t the text he was expecting from Yamada. Not when the man usually blew up his phone with thousand of emojis and a million kisses. 

He pocketed the phone. Dealing with Yamada would have to come once he pulled Shinsou out of his own head. 

So, with the plan in action, Aizawa pulled out of the drive, reversing out into the street before leaving the estate. Shinsou watched him, his brow pinched like he was thinking too hard, before slumping against the window.

The kid’s interest only peaked again when they drove down through the sketchier side of the city. Aizawa's hunting grounds, so to speak. And in turn, they were Shinsou’s, even if he hadn’t been patrolling them for very long.

They pulled into a small street still alive with business. Patreons lined the street, smoking, eating, and laughing as they stumbled from bars. It was the exact place he shouldn’t drag a teenager to. 

Aizawa parked the car.

“You can stay in the car?” Aizawa unbuckled himself

Shinsou turned to him before glancing at the shop behind Aizawa. He took his seat belt off and followed Aizawa inside.

At the sound of a chiming bell, a rowdy voice bellowed at them.

“What do you call this, Eraserhead?” A large man, with the head of a hyena, yelled from behind the counter, while wiping his hands in his apron. “Thought you’d gone and finally kicked the bucket!” He nodded to Shinsou. “Hi, Mindjack.”

Shinsou gave him a quick wave, almost hovering behind Aizawa.

“Two burgers, Sal.” Aizawa leaned against the counter. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Pay me back?” Sal barked a laugh. “This guy goes missing for weeks, only to show up hoping for free food.” Sal turned to Shinsou, corralling the kid into the conversation. “Your old man is something else, kid.”

“And two cans of Panda Pop.”

“Robbery! And you’re meant to be a hero! Bah!” Sal turned around, throwing his hands up into the air before getting to work on the grill.

The shop was full, with numerous occupants dwelling in the booths, most of them half asleep over a cup of coffee. He recognised some of them, and they certainly recognised him. A large number of them gave a short wave or nod in his direction, while others quickly ducked their heads as if they could hide from him.

But he wasn’t on duty, and there was no crime in eating a deliciously greasy burger and burnt coffee at two in the morning. Whatever business was between them, Aizawa let it be. No thug was worth catching tonight.

Instead, he turned away from the patrons, opting to simply lean against the counter, watching as Sal cooked. The smell alone was making his stomach growl, and he wasn’t hungry five minutes ago.

But no one could turn down a Sal burger. Was it by far the most questionable burger there was? Yes. But was the egg slightly overcooked, and yet somehow still have a perfect yolk? Was the bacon crisp and taste far too salty? Did the bun fall apart with the first bite? The answer to all those was yes, and yet, Aizawa came to Sal’s with Shinsou every Friday night after patrol.

It felt almost nostalgic to be back, despite that they still weren’t on patrol yet. But Aizawa would take that feeling either way. He could see even the tension in Shinsou’s shoulders slowly start to melt away.

“Two burgers. And two cans.” Sal plopped the wrapped buns and cans in front of Aizawa with a miffed expression. But then he smiled, a wide toothy feline grin, at the both of them. “On the house.”

“Sal-.”

“Don’t argue with me, Eraser. My shop, my rules. Now I better see you back on the streets soon, or I’ll ban you.” He snorted and crossed his arms in defiance at Aizawa, before winking over to Shinsou. “Not you, Mindjack. You’re free to come in anytime, but your old man will have to stay outside.”

That broke a small smile out of Shinsou.

Aizawa took the goods with a huff, almost cradling them in his arms.

“Thanks, Sal.”

“Eraser, take care of yourself. You look like shit.”

Aizawa laughed, almost dropping one of the cans. He gave a curt nod before ushering Shinsou out of the shop and back into the car.

“Hold these.” Aizawa passed the goods over to Shinsou as he started the car.

Shinsou held the burgers close, sighing as their warmth melted his frozen fingers.

Aizawa didn’t drive far, but sitting outside Sal’s was an invitation for trouble. Some of the patrons wouldn’t be able to resist coming to poke at Eraserhead like a child tugging on the tail of a temperamental cat.

He pulled up in an empty parking lot and turned on the overhead light. He took his burger and can from Shinsou, unwrapping the greasy thing before taking a large messy bite. Grease drooled down his chin, which he quickly wiped away with his sleeve.

“Nothing beats Sal’s,” Aizawa said around the food. 

Shinsou gingerly picked at the wrapping.

Aizawa took another bite of it with an exaggerating moan. 

It did the trick, and Shinsou slowly unravelled his burger. He eyed it, watching as melted cheese stuck to the paper, before taking a small bite. And then to Aizawa’s surprise, the kid took an even bigger one.

“That good?” Aizawa chuckled.

A flush of pink bloomed across Shinsou cheeks as he chewed, washing it down with his can. 

“Yeah.”

Aizawa smiled at his voice before they are in silence. Licking his lips, Aizawa picked at the dressings that fell out into the wrapper, crunching on a shred of lettuce that he used to mop up the burger juice. Greedily, he thought he should have ordered another burger for himself, but he didn’t want to push at Sal’s hospitality. One burger would have to be enough. 

Shinsou still had half of his burger left before he dropped it back into the wrapper.

“Do you feel better?” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou pondered, a thoughtful frown crossing his face before he shook his head. 

“What’s on your mind?”

The kid placed his burger on the dashboard before drawing his knees into his chest, turning so his body faced the window. There was nothing to see out there. And for a moment, Aizawa thought Shinsou wouldn’t answer him, and they’d be driving back home without any resolution. 

“I’m scared.”

It was a mere whisper, almost too quiet. But it was enough to jolt something in Aizawa’s chest.

“Scared of what?”

Shinsou’s reflection gazed at him, his eyes welling. 

“Me.”

Aizawa paused. 

“Hitoshi. What do you mean?”

A pained noise escaped the kid. It was a sound Aizawa never wished to hear again. Twice in one night was enough. 

“I keep fucking up.”

“You haven’t-.”

“I have!” Shinsou snapped. “I hit Pa. I didn’t mean to, but I-.” The kid gasped in a ragged breath. “I still hit him. I’ve never-. I didn’t even hit my old foster father.”

“It was an accident.”

“But I still did it! I still hurt him.” Shinsou whirled on him, the whites of his eyes wild and scared. “My old foster father beat me, but I never fought back. I let him.” 

Shinsou‘s bottom lip trembled.

“But I hit Pa.”

Shinsou wrapped his arms around himself.

“And I’ve brain washed you. I want to use my quirk for good, but I used it against you. I just-.” Shinsou looked up at the roof of the car, blinking against the tears pooling in his eyes, looking so incredibly lost. “I couldn’t let you find out...”

Shinsou’s throat bobbed.

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

His entire body spasmed as if something inside of him fought to get out, but Shinsou held it back, biting down on his lip, his arms tightening around himself.

“All I’ve ever wanted is to be a hero, but all I’ve done is hurt people. I got Denki shot. I made Eri cry. I-I wet the bed like a stupid fucking baby.”

“Kid…” Aizawa’s voice almost failed him, the words sticking to his tongue. He reached forward and tried to take Shinsou’s hand in his, but the kid flinched, pushing himself against the car door. “I’m not going to hurt you, ‘Toshi.”

Shinsou shook his head.

“Dad, I let Junichiro into the house,” Shinsou admitted.

“I know.”

 Shinsou glanced at him, shame, guilt, fear all easy to see on his face.

“I didn’t know it was him. I didn’t think. We were having fun, and I forgot not to answer the door. I thought it was Pa. I thought he forgot his key.”

Tears spilled over Shinsou’s cheeks.

“I thought it was Pa. It’s all my fault.”

And then, like a giant wave, the thing Shinsou was holding back came rushing out all at once. A terrified childlike sob.

“How can I be a still be hero?”

Aizawa got out of the car and ran around to the other side where he opened the passenger door.

Shinsou turned to him, his fists balled against his eyes as he cried. 

“Come here.” Aizawa reached forward and pulled Shinsou into his arms. The kid all but collapsed into his chest, almost knocking them both onto the pavement. 

The sound of his kid wailing tore through Aizawa as he wrapped his arms around him.  

“Let it out.”

Shinsou’s chest heaved, his lungs dispelling oxygen far too quickly. It was like an earthquake shoving at the comforting hand Aizawa rubbed up and down the kid’s back.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry!” 

Aizawa squeezed his kid tight, hoping that without words he could pour his love, his pride, his soul into Shinsou, because if he spoke, if he let a single word breach past his lips, he would fall with him and nothing could stop the cry he would wail. 

But even with the grief raging inside Aizawa, his very being wishing to echo Shinsou’s sorrow, he held steady, a hand buried in Shinsou’s hair, and the other a strong presence between the kid’s shoulder blades. 

Though, silently, unknown to Shinsou who had buried himself in Aizawa’s chest, twin tears ran down Aizawa’s face. He was human, and his son was breaking in his very arms. He allowed this sliver to sneak past. 

“I want-I want to be a hero so bad, Dad!” Shinsou sobbed, “I want to help people, but all I do is hurt them!”

Aizawa throat seized. He buried his own sob into Shinsou’s hair. No pain compared to the words Shinsou spoke in that moment. Not the USJ; Not being at the mercy of Chronostatis. Not even watching that slab of concrete smash against Shirakumo.

He was helpless in those moments. So utterly useless. They were out of his control.

And yet, now, he felt pinned to the spot, his body frozen as Shinsou broke in his arms.

How long did Shinsou suffer alone while he was only a room away? How long had Shinsou harboured those thoughts while Aizawa gave him space ? How long did he allow himself to fail his son?

“Hitoshi.” The word came out hoarse, nothing more than a croak of syllables. He pulled Shinsou back, his own face crumbling at the sight of watery, red eyes staring down at him.

“You.” He cupped Shinsou’s face in his palms. “Are a hero.”

Shinsou tried to wrench his head back, shaking it side to side.

“ No. ”

“Yes.” He held Shinsou’s chin and guided him back. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, the kid met his gaze, his bottom lip trembling.

“Hitoshi, you saved my life that day. If you didn’t turn back, I think he would have killed me. And possibly Eri too. You saved us.”

Shinsou sucked in a broken breath.

“But I let him in.”

“It was a mistake, but it’s not your fault.”

A whine escaped Shinsou.

“But-.”

“But nothing. You could have listened to me and kept running, but you didn’t. You came back.” He held Shinsou’s gaze. “Do you understand how brave that is? Do you have any idea how brave you are?”

“I’m not brave.”

“You knew he wanted to kill you, and you still came back.”

“Of course, I did. You’re my dad.”

Aizawa took a trembling breath.

“You amaze me every single day, kiddo. Without you, I don’t think I would have survived all that.”

Fat tears rolled down Shinsou’s cheeks as he looked at Aizawa with doubt and hope rolled into one.

“I’m not acting very heroic like, though.” He sniffed.

“Trauma makes people act irrationally.”

“I’ve been a jerk.”

“No one expects you to be okay.” Aizawa paused for a second as Yamada’s words washed over him. A moment of clarity hit him as he stared into his son’s eyes. “I’m not okay.”

“What?” Shinsou blinked, confusion furrowing his brows. “But you’re always okay.”

Aizawa let out a sigh as he guided a thumb gently under Shinsou’s eye. The bags there were far too bruised.

“I’m not-.” Aizawa took a deep breath. How could he explain this? How could he tell Shinsou all the secrets he didn’t even want to admit to himself? “Hitoshi, the moment I saw that man with a gun to your head-.” The image of Shinsou’s beaten face and a flash of metal scorched into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them, watching as Shinsou leaned forward, concerned.

“My job here is to look after you. To keep you safe,” Aizawa said. “I vowed under law to protect you.”

Shinsou watched him studiously.

“I failed to do that.”

“Junichiro wasn’t your fault-.”

“No, but the rest of it is.” Aizawa shook his head. “Kid, you should feel safe enough to come to me, regardless of why. I should have realised something was wrong.”

“But that’s not your fault! I didn’t want you to know.”

“Hitoshi.” Aizawa took Shinsou’s hands and squeezed them tight. “I should have known. The signs were there. I just-.” Aizawa looked for the words. “I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of failing you.”

Tears welled in Shinsou’s eyes as he squeezed Aizawa’s hands back.

“I don’t think you have.”

Aizawa desperately reached forward then and pulled Shinsou into him. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear those words.

“I’m sorry,” Aizawa mumbled into Shinsou’s hair.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

By the time they got back into the car, Shinsou was shivering, picking at the leftovers of his burger, but not really eating it. His eyes looked sore, and his cheeks were flushed, but the tension in his shoulders was almost gone completely.

Aizawa didn’t push him. Not everything could be fixed with a single conversation. Though, it seemed like lately a lot of their talks happened in this car. 

It was only when they passed through the estate gates did Shinsou unfurl himself from his curled form.

He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves, picking at the spots that had unravelled over time by nervous fingers. 

It didn’t take a genius to know what was turning inside that head of his.

“Hizashi isn’t going to be angry.”

Shinsou's lips straightened into a scowl.

“He might be upset, but not at you.”

“Then why would he be upset?” Shinsou grumbled.

“He’ll be upset that you were hurting so much, kiddo.”

Aizawa glanced at Shinsou to find him glaring at his hands like they were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

 “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t be angry. I would.”

“Because he is an adult, who understands you and how you react when you’re upset.”

“I’ve never hit him before.”

“No, that was a surprise, but-.” Aizawa paused, wondering how to phrase his next sentence. “Everyone has different ways of dealing with their emotions. Hizashi understands you sometimes have difficulties controlling yours.”

“You’re making me sound like Bakugou.”

Aizawa snorted.

“Now you’re exaggerating. You didn’t blow up the house.”

A small smirk curled at the corner of Shinsou’s mouth. 

“Thanks,” Shinsou murmured.

“Kid, you never have to worry about us being angry at you for something you can’t control. You’re healing, we’re all healing. It’s normal to sometimes be out of your depth.” Aizawa reached over and squeezed Shinsou’s shoulders. “Just know you can come to us, no matter what. We will never think less of you.”

A flush burnt across Shinsou’s face.

“Okay.”

Aizawa gave him a small smile before pulling up into the drive. Yamada was sitting on the front doorstep. His head shot as the headlights shone on him.

Inside the car, Shinsou tugged at his seatbelt the same way he did with his capture weapon, threading his fingers through his material as though he could unfurl it and swing away from his troubles.

“It’s going to be fine.” Aizawa unclipped his seatbelt and got out.

It took a second for Shinsou to follow, smothering his worried expression under a blank one. Though, there was no mistaking the tightness in his jaw, or the way his fingers clawed at the end of his sleeves, hiding his hands. 

Yamada took a step forward, his brows turned upwards into a worried expression, but he stopped, halting in his step when Shinsou hid behind Aizawa. Tired green eyes looked up at him, almost pleading.

“Kid.” Aizawa took a step to the side and guided Shinsou in front of him, squeezing his shoulder. He could feel Shinsou trembling under his palm.

Tears were already spilling down Yamada’s cheeks as he watched Shinsou, his face crumbling at the sight of his kid almost cowering before him.

“’Toshi,” Yamada whimpered as he opened his arms, keeping them low and non-threatening. “Come here, baby.”

Despite how Shinsou’s entire body stiffened at Yamada’s voice, it was like he was being drawn in, his legs taking wobbly steps towards Yamada. It seemed to take the kid forever to reach Yamada, but when he did, he reached for him with quivering fingers, curling them into Yamada’s pyjama shirt as though it was a lifeline. Yamada wrapped his arms around him, cradling him as he whispered into his ear.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” Shinsou croaked. “I didn’t-. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh. I’m okay. It was an accident. It’s okay.” Yamada was almost rocking Shinsou side to side as they stood in the doorway of their home. “Are you okay?”

Shinsou’s chest quaked with a shaky breath before he shook his head.

“Alright, we can fix that.” Yamada nodded to himself before placing a long kiss into Shinsou’s hair. “We can fix that.”

“I’m sorry,” Shinsou’s voice warbled as his shoulders began to shake again. He didn’t wail like he did in the car park. He didn’t make a sound aside from the odd sniffle. Silently, he wept into Yamada.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.” Yamada pressed another kiss into the kid’s hair. “I’m just worried about you. I love you, Hitoshi.”

Shinsou’s body shuddered before he buried his face into the material of Yamada’s shirt, muffling the pained sound that escaped him.

“I love you too.” 

It was Yamada’s turn to take a shaky breath as he blinked away the tears that were already falling. He looked up at Aizawa, his eyes so full of warmth and sorrow.

And he understood the feeling. Hearing those four words, even after what they had let Shinsou suffer through felt like too much, but enough all at the same time. It was a gift they didn’t deserve and yet needed all at once.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

At the sound of Yamada’s voice breaking, Shinsou pulled back, his eyes once again red and puffy. His attention rolled over to the bruise on Yamada’s jaw, his own tightening against his emotions at the sight.

“It’s alright.” Soft fingers guided Shinsou’s gaze away.

Shinsou shook his head, biting down on his lip.

“Kiddo, it’s fine.” Yamada gave him a wobbly smile.

“I hit you.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been punched when someone’s panicking.”

Aizawa moved closer, knowing exactly what incidences Yamada was referring to.

“Do you know how many times I’ve accidently hurt Shou after screaming myself awake from a nightmare?”

Shinsou looked up at him with young, tired eyes.

“This tooth.” Yamada pointed to one of his incisors. “Shou knocked it out one day during a panic attack. Didn’t even realise until I was already at the dentist.” Yamada smiled over at Aizawa as if the memory was both somehow fond and awful at the same time.

“But-.” Shinsou tried.

“Nope.” Yamada took Shinsou’s face into his palms. “You made a mistake, but it’s okay. I understand. And it’s okay.”

A torn sound wept through Shinsou as he wiped at his eyes, pulling himself back from Yamada. It took everything for Aizawa not to rush forward and hold him. It was confusing for the kid, he understood that. Every little thing he did wrong in the past was met swiftly with violence.

Being loved was difficult.

“Hitoshi.” Aizawa moved in front of Shinsou and bent down, so he was eye to eye with the kid. “You’re not in trouble. We aren’t upset about how you reacted-.”

“You should be,” Shinsou snapped before reigning himself in with a wet shaky breath. “Sorry. I…I don’t know why you’re comforting me when I’m the one who hurt you both.”

Aizawa shared a glance with Yamada before turning back to the kid.

“Okay then.” Aizawa tapped Shinsou’s chin so the kid would meet his eye. “What punishment should we give you?”

“Shouta.” Yamada hissed.

“What?” Shinsou hiccupped.

“You want to be punished?” Aizawa cocked an eyebrow. “Then what punishment do you see fit? No Tv? No hanging out with friends?”

Shinsou blinked, confused, his eyes fluttering back and forth between Aizawa’s own.

“Would that help?”

“Shouta, hang on-.”

“Will it stop your anger issues? Will it stop you from lashing out next time? Will it help with the nightmares?”

“Okay, Shouta that’s enough.” Yamada reached forward and put a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder. But he wasn’t done yet. Not quite.

“Instead of punishing you, how about we help you instead?”

Shinsou swallowed hard before ducking his head.

“Which do you think is the better option?”

“Help,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“Okay. Then let us help.” Aizawa stood up straight. “Let’s go inside.”

“It is a little cold out.” Yamada pretended to shiver as he wrapped an arm around Shinsou and led them all inside.

Shrugging off their jackets and shoes, the three went to the living room where Yamada curled into the corner of the sofa, tugging Shinsou with him, keeping him under his arm.

Aizawa noticed three abandoned mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. They were far too cold to drink now. He moved them aside and sat down on the coffee table, in front of the pair.

The kid looked pitiful tucked under Yamada’s arm, sniffling every time Yamada ran his fingers through his wild hair.

It was Yamada who broke the silence between them.

“I think we should talk about therapy again,” he said.

They both noticed how Shinsou flinched at the word, burying himself further into Yamada’s side.

“Shouta’s right, baby. He might’ve been a little blunt about it-.” Yamada levelled him with a look. “-but I think it’s time for you to get more help than we can provide.”

It hadn’t been the first time the pair mentioned therapy to the kid. When he first moved in, they suggested it only to be rebutted and have the door slammed on them. 

“I-.” Shinsou’s quiet voice was muffled as he buried his face into Yamada’s side.

“We can’t hear you, kiddo.” Yamada slowly coaxed him out of his hiding place. “What did you say?”

Shinsou’s gaze swung back between the both of them before settling on his hands. 

“I don’t like talking about that sort of stuff.”

“We know.” Yamada smoothed Shinsou’s hair out of his eyes. “But you’re carrying a lot of weight on those shoulders, kiddo.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything, Hitoshi. You can pick what you discuss,” Aizawa added.

Shinsou bit his bottom lip in thought, before he turned to Aizawa with wide, helpless eyes.

“Have you gone before?” he asked carefully.

“Yes,” Aizawa said. “Even at your age.” He added when Yamada gave him a look to continue. “I went after the USJ too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not something I advertise. I can sympathise not wanting to talk about feelings and what scares you.”

Shinsou’s frown deepened.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we find you another outlet,” Aizawa said.

“That sounds like a lot of trouble.”

“Kid.” Yamada patted Shinsou’s knee before wiggling it. “We’d do anything to make sure you’re happy.”

“…I know,” Shinsou said tentatively.

“So, how about it?” Aizawa inched forward on the table, leaning to catch Shinsou’s eye.

“Will you come with me?” Shinsou asked, tentatively.

“I’ll wait outside every session.”

---

After Yamada made them all another cup of hot chocolate, Shinsou finally retreated to bed. Once the kid was out of sight, Yamada slumped against the sofa, burying his face into his hands.

“We really fucked up this time, Shou.”

Aizawa made an agreeing sound, looking down at the rug beneath his feet. No parent was perfect, and there was no right way to raise a child. They were human, and mistakes happened. But it never got easier watching their child suffer, especially if it was at their hands.

“How does he even trust us at this point?” Yamada whined, his words muffled into his palms.

In a melancholy way, Aizawa knew the reason why. The kid barely knew what support looked like from guardians. His past was full of parental failures; What was one more?

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise…” Aizawa murmured.

“What?” Yamada snapped with a wet sniffle.

“Obviously, I don’t want the kid hurting. But he still trusts us, he’s allowing us to fix this for him. He knows he can come to us now, no matter what he does.”

“Shou, that’s not a good thing.”

“It is. It’s a chance to do right this time.” Aizawa reached forward and took Yamada’s hand. “We knew taking him in would be difficult. Being a teacher to a bunch of rowdy teenagers is completely different to fostering a traumatised boy.

Junichiro just….he made it worse, but we always knew the kid had issues that needed to be tackled. We allowed him time to settle before we addressed them. We should have helped sooner.”

Yamada made a snotty sound as he wiped his hand across his nose.

“He’s just a baby, Shou,” he whimpered. “We should have noticed him hurting.”

Aizawa nodded. There was no ignoring the fact that they had missed the signs that Shinsou was suffering more than they could see.

“We didn’t. There’s no changing that.” Aizawa squeezed Yamada’s hand. “So, we do exactly what we told the kid. We help fix it.”

Yamada nodded, though his face began to crumble again.

“Can you sit up here with me?”

Aizawa slotted himself next to Yamada and pulled the man into his side, letting Yamada bury his head under his chin. It had been a while since they had sat like this, with Yamada almost in his lap, holding on as he silently cried.

Perhaps he had missed how much Yamada was hurting too.

And even worse, maybe he hadn’t noticed how much he needed help too.

“Hizashi…I think we both need to go back to therapy,” Aizawa mumbled, his chin bumping into Yamada’s head as he spoke.

“I already go.”

“No.” Aizawa took a steady breath. “I mean together.”

“Oh.” Yamada sagged against him. “We probably do need it.”

“We definitely do.” Aizawa smiled weakly, earning a small chuckle from Yamada.

“We’re a little fucked up, huh?” Yamada turned so he was looking up at Aizawa. And despite how the night had played out, despite the discussions of hurting and therapy, there was love in those eyes as he stared at Aizawa. It melted something inside him.

“A little,” he mumbled before leaning in and gently kissed his husband. Yamada made a quiet breathy noise as they kissed, letting his entire weight sink into Aizawa.

When Aizawa pulled away, he found Yamada’s cheeks wet again.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, his voice quiet as he kissed Yamada’s cheek.

“I hope you know how special you are to me,” Yamada whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I wish I could tell you.”

“Me too.” Aizawa kissed him again, seething that Junichiro took something so simple and yet powerful away from them. He yearned to hear his husband say those three words to him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aizawa said, his lips a ghost touch away from Yamada’s plump lips. “Never.”

Yamada’s eyes swam.

They both knew in their line of work that statically one of them could easily die come tomorrow. But Aizawa had vowed eight years ago to stay by Yamada’s side. He would keep that promise, no matter if he came back half of himself. Even if he had to cut his own leg off, he would come back to Yamada.

“I love you,” Aizawa whispered.

A sob ripped from Yamada as he threw himself at Aizawa, wrapping his arms around his neck. Just as desperately, Aizawa clung to Yamada, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

“I love you.”

---

By the time the tears on their cheeks had dried, and their eyes were sore and swollen, morning was peaking through the window.

Aizawa’s legs had long gone numb with Yamada still in his lap, but he didn’t complain as he held on, breathing in every part of his husband.

It was only when Yamada shifted, did his legs wake up, sending a flare of pins and needles straight to his feet.

“We should go to bed,” Yamada said, stretching as he climbed out of Aizawa’s lap. He turned and extended his hand. Aizawa took him, allowing himself to be dragged to their room.

He hadn’t realised how tired he was until he began climbing the stairs, fighting off a yawn with little success. All he wanted to do now was sleep the day away.

“You’re not sleeping all day, mister,” Yamada whispered, throwing a look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t say anything,” Aizawa yawned into his hand, the words barely coherent.

“I can’t just tell that’s where your mind is.”

Aizawa chuckled as they reached the top of the stairs, and then dropped his head on Yamada’s shoulder, planting a kiss on the skin there. 

“You could stay with me,” he mumbled, his voice tired.

“Need I remind you our daughter is asleep in our bed right now.” 

Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“I actually meant sleep.” 

“The answer is still no.” Yamada shrugged Aizawa from him before stopping at their door. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Aizawa pressed up onto his toes and peered over Yamada’s shoulder and looked into the room. He snorted at the sight.

Because there in the middle of the bed was Eri, curled around her shark, a patch of drool on its snout. The kid was passed out, snoring happily. But around her, curled tightly around her body was Hitoshi, also fast asleep.

“Guess he isn’t too old,” Yamada smiled as he tip-toed into the room and settled on his side of the bed, tucking Eri’s hair out of her face. 

Even from the doorway, Aizawa could feel the love Yamada had towards the kid radiate from him. 

And he in turn melted at the warm expression on Yamada’s face as he kissed both the kids goodnight. 

Aizawa followed after turning off the lights and tucked himself into the bed. Turning onto his side, he found Yamada lovingly watching as their children slept.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Yamada whispered.

“Yeah, we got really lucky.” Aizawa smiled, watching as Eri’s nose scrunched in her sleep. She made a tired noise, reaching out for her shark plush before clutching it to her chest before burying her face into Shinsou’s chest.

He saw the exact moment Yamada suppressed the urge to coo at the action. Aizawa rolled his eyes.

"Oh, excuse me for finding our children adorable.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aizawa chuckled.

“If they were kittens, you’d be a mess!” Yamada hissed playfully.

“Keep your voice down,” Aizawa hushed, amused.

And then a thought crossed his mind. One he hadn’t considered before.

“What?” Yamada asked, noticing his expression.

“When Oboro died,” Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat. “I was just as lost as I am now. I almost pushed you away entirely. I could barely look at you.”

Yamada reached across the bed and Aizawa took his hand.

“I was so ashamed. I…I almost didn’t want to live.” Aizawa confessed, though it wasn’t the first time Yamada had heard it. It never got easier to say. “But Nemuri, she refused to let me wallow. I pushed her away like I did with you.”

“I remember. We were so worried about you.”

Aizawa nodded, unable to really voice his apology for that time.

“Do you remember what she did?”

Yamada’s brows furrowed.

“Didn’t she dump Sushi on you?”

Aizawa smiled softly.

“Yeah. He was just a kitten then, barely a year old.”

“He was naughty then.”

Aizawa chuckled.

“He was, but I think that cat kept me alive. I didn’t care what happened to me, but that little kitten depended on me.”

“Shou…”

Aizawa blinked hard against the sting in his eyes.

“It sounds stupid, but I used to talk to the cat like he was you.” Aizawa’s cheeks flushed. “I would rehearse what I wanted to say to you, except I never did talk to you. I just…needed someone to talk to, I guess.”

Yamada squeezed Aizawa’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Yamada said.

Aizawa shook his head.

“I’m not-. This isn’t about then,” Aizawa said, looking across at Yamada. “I have an idea. To help the kids.”

---

Sneaking into the house where there’s a six-year-old proved difficult, especially when Aizawa had a squirming box in his hands. 

He only made it past the front door and kicked off his shoes before Eri appeared before him, a juice box in hand, sucking on the straw like an old-timey professor puffing a pipe. 

He froze.

Eri took a large sip of her drink before surfacing for air with a loud gasp. 

“Is that for me?” Eri asked, her eyes glued to the box. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Aizawa drawled, stepping into the living room. 

“Oh.” Eri held onto her juice box like she didn’t know what to do with it. “Will I like it?”

Aizawa chuckled as he set the box down and sat cross-legged behind it.

“Go get your brother, and you’ll both find out.”

Eri gave him a lasting curious expression before she finished her juice box with a loud slurping noise before slipping away to find Shinsou, passing Yamada on the way.

Yamada peered into the living room like a curious cane looking for fish, his neck stretched as he tottered into the living room, a smile bursting on his face when he saw the box.

“Is that them?” He asked, giddy as he sat next to him. 

“They’re only four weeks.” Aizawa grinned, poking a finger into one of the holes on the box, delighted when a paw swiped at his finger.

Yamada squirmed where he sat, barely able to sit still as the sound of footsteps came down the stairs.

Shinsou poked his head from the staircase, Eri by his side.

“Eri said we have a present?” Shinsou asked.

Aizawa only smiled as he laid a hand on the box. Shinsou narrowed down on it, his expression serious before his eyes went wide.

“Are you serious?” He cautiously wandered into the living room and sat next to Yamada, never taking his eyes off the box.

“It’s only until they’re old enough to leave their mother.”

Shinsou leaned forward, a smile brimming on his face as he tried to spy inside the box. 

“I don’t get it,” Eri stated, still standing with a little pout on her face. 

Aizawa patted his lap.

“Come here.”

Eri pondered for a second, as though Aizawa hate slighted her by keeping a secret from her before she relented and sat down in his lap.

“Can I see it now?” Eri asked.

“Go on. Just be quiet and gentle, okay?”

Shinsou was almost trembling with excitement as he coaxed the box open. 

All four of them peered into the box. And inside was a beautiful tabby cat nursing five little kittens. The mama cat blinked up at them, purring softly. 

“Kittens!” Eri whispered, almost toppling off Aizawa’s lap. He held onto the back of her overalls as she leaned forward to get a better look. 

“Dad?” Shinsou’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Are you serious right now?”

“Like I said, they’re not here to stay. It’s only until they’re old enough to be adopted.” He scooted forward and rubbed a finger against the mama cat’s cheek. 

“Hmm.” Yamada hummed, smiling knowingly.

“I’m serious.” Aizawa scratched behind the tabby’s ear. 

“I wanna keep them,” Eri said, awe still in her voice, turning to look at Aizawa with big, doey eyes. 

“My word is final”, Aizawa stated with a chuckle, smiling as even Shinsou gave him the biggest puppy eyes ever. “No.”

They didn’t have time for a single cat, and definitely didn’t have time for six! The short period they had for the rest of their recovery would be enough time to make sure the kittens were old enough to leave their mother. And nothing more. If he had time for a cat, he would have rescued one years ago. 

“No.” He shook his head as he gently picked up the mama cat and gave her a quick scratch by the tail, earning himself a quiet chirp. 

One by one, each of the kittens were lifted from the box. As per usual of stray kittens, the babies were a mixture of colours; one was a solid smokey grey colour, where another had a splash of black on its face while the rest of its coat was white. One was identical to its mother, and its sister was similar with white socks. And lastly, the smallest was a white and orange tabby with a pink nose.

“Daddy,” Eri whispered, still taking the note to be quiet seriously.

“Hmm?“ Aizawa gave her his ear.

“They’re really cute,” Eri said into it.

“They are, aren’t they?“ Aizawa plucked the black and white one up from where it was trampling its sibling and put it in Eri’s lap. “Remember, nice and gentle like when we pet Sushi.”

Eri nodded and ran a hand down the kitten’s back.

“He’s really soft,” Eri giggled.

“They’re only babies. So they’re extra soft,” Yamada said, wiggling his fingers at the kittens as they pounced for his hand. 

“And because they’re babies, they still need names.”

“We get to name them?” Shinsou asked, already gravitating to the grey kitten, holding it up to his face. 

“Anything you kids want.”

“Even All Might?” Shinsou asked, grinning widely.

Aizawa met him with a deadpan expression.

“Deku?” Eri suggested.

“Capture scarf?” Shinsou wiggled his kitten. “He’s grey like yours.”

“LeMillion?” Eri added.

“Okay, let’s stick to a theme and not give your father a reason for murder. How about food names?” Yamada held up one of the tabby kittens. “Bonito Flakes.”

“You can’t name a cat Bonito Flakes.”

“I just did.” Yamada picked up the other ginger tabby kitten. “And this is Cannoli.”

“Sweet Jesus, help us.” Aizawa dropped his forehead onto the back of Eri’s hair. 

“Can I name this one please?” Eri asked, holding up the black and white kitten. 

“Of course, sweetie!” Yamada said. “It has to be a good one though.”

“Hmmm.” Eri petted the cat as she thought, her little tongue poking out in concentration.

“Candy Apple?” Eri suggested. 

“Because it’s your favourite?”

Eri nodded, beaming.

“Candy Apple it is.”

“The shelter is going to take them back with these names.”

“Oh yeah, and what are you naming the mama?”

Aizawa crooked a finger under the mama cat’s chin, earning another bout of purring. 

“Jelly.”

“Because that’s a normal name.” Yamada laughed. “‘Toshi, it’s up to you to save the kitties’ dignity.”

Shinsou’s grin did not settle the bad feeling in Aizawa’s gut. 

“This one.” Shinsou held out the other tabby with white feet. “Is Gyudon.”

Aizawa blinked.

“Gyudon?”

“Yeah.” 

“That’s actually pretty normal.” 

“Oh, and this one.” Shinsou held out the other kitten, the grey one. “Is Gummy Tsureta Chewy Candy.”

“Never mind.” Aizawa sighed, dropping his forehead back onto Eri’s head.

“Daddy fell asleep,” Eri said.

“He’s awake.” Yamada chuckled. “Just wishing he wasn’t.”

Aizawa made an agreeing noise. 

“Come on, love. Their names will get them snatched up in no time.” Yamada said, “everyone loves a fun name.”

Eri turned in Aizawa’s lap and held his face in her tiny hands, pushing his cheeks together.

“Daddy?” She said with all the seriousness a six-year-old could master

“Yes?”

“Can we keep at least one?” Eri asked. “Please? Pretty pretty please.” She begged, squeezing her eyes closed tight as if wishing would make Aizawa agree.

“Yeah, Dad. One would be pretty nice.” Shinsou held up the grey one, mouthing ‘this one’.

Gently, Aizawa removed Eri’s hands from his face so he could speak. 

“I know you both really love the kittens, but they’re only here temporarily,” Aizawa said carefully to his audience of two kids and several kittens as they stopped playing and watched him. It was almost like they were listening in, wondering if one of them would become the newest member of their family. 

“Why did you get them for us?” Shinsou asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“When I was your age,” he nodded to Shinsou, “I lost a friend of mine. It hit me hard. I was depressed. It almost pit a wedge between me and Hizashi.

We hardly spoke. I blamed myself for his death…and I couldn’t look Hizashi in the eye because of it. I didn’t want to know if he blamed me.

But Nemuri wasn’t having any of it. She stuck by my side, even when I shut myself away. She knew i didn’t want anyone helping me.

So instead, she would drop off her cat at the beginning of each weekend for me to care for.”

“Sushi?” Eri asked.

“Mmhmm. He’s an old boy.” Aizawa stroked Eri's hair back. 

“Did it help?” Shinsou asked. “Looking after Sushi.”

Aizawa nodded.

“I couldn’t stand the idea of someone always bothering me, making sure I ate and slept. Making sure I went outside instead of sleeping in my bed all day.

So, having something, especially a kitten, to take care of helped me to take care of myself.” Aizawa smiled gently at his kid’s awed faces; it wasn’t every day he talked about the most painful days of his life.  

“I know this won’t fix everything. We still have a long way to recovery, but I thought this could help.”

He picked up one of the kittens and placed it in Eri’s lap.

“If you ever feel sad, you can go play with the kittens. Or if you need a distraction, you can help potty train them, or clean their litter box.”

He glanced over at Shinsou.

“If you need someone to talk to, but you don’t want to tell me or Hizashi yet, the cats will be good listeners.”

Shinsou ducked his head and buried his hands in grey fur. 

“I still want the pair of you to come to either me or Hizashi. But if you need that extra bit of comfort, these guys will need all the love in the world.”

The pair were silent as they let Aizawa’s words settle over them. Even the kittens were quiet, wobbling around their laps with soft paws.

“I think I can do that.” Shinsou was the first to speak. 

“And me!” Eri joined in. 

Aizawa smiled at the pair of them, a small warm thing that was echoed back to him from his children. He leaned forward and collected them both onto his arms, squeezing them tight. Eri giggled at the attention, while Shinsou simply melted, his own hands coming up to hold onto Aizawa. 

Shinsou was the first to pull away, almost ducking his head as his mouth opened and closed as if he was debating whether to speak or not.

Aizawa waited.

“Can the kittens sleep in my room?” Eri asked, popping her head up from the hug, interrupting them.

“No.”

“They’re sleeping in my room,” Shinsou added, pocketing his phone.

“They’re sleeping downstairs in their own bed,” Aizawa said, though it didn’t matter as the kids both pushed themselves from his embrace, and began scooping up the kittens into their arms.

“My room is bigger,” Shinsou stated. “You don’t have room with all your toys.”

“Your room smells.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Uh huh! Smells like boys!”

Aizawa rolled his eyes as the pair continued to fight. He leaned against Yamada as his husband slid in next to him.

“This was a good idea.” Yamada rested his head on Aizawa’s.

“Until we have to let the kittens be adopted out,” Aizawa smirked, knowing he was going to have to fight tooth and nail to let the kittens go.

“I’m surprised you don’t want to keep them all.”

“Six cats?” Aizawa cocked an eyebrow at him.

Yamada laughed before pressing a kiss into his cheek.

“Okay, maybe six is a little too many.”

“Two kids are enough. Plus, there’s you.”

Yamada shoved him.

“What do you mean, ‘there’s you?”

Aizawa said nothing but let a devilish grin spread across his face.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Yamada dragged him almost into his lap, pressing his nose into his temple. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sagging against him, Aizawa watched as the kittens chased Shinsou and Eri around the room with a chorus of tiny meows.

“And shouldn’t we adopt our children first before adopting the kittens?” Aizawa said softly.

Yamada turned to him with large eyes that were quickly filling with water.

“Hitoshi’s papers are still in my desk drawer. And we can figure out Eri’s.”

Yamada pulled him in, smacking a kiss against his lips. Aizawa deepened it, holding Yamada close. They only pulled away when they heard Eri giggle, finding the kids watching them. Shinsou adverted his gaze with a blush across his cheeks and a soft smile.

“I want kisses,” Eri said, skipping over and plopping herself into Yamada’s lap.

“Oh yeah?” Yamada asked before blowing a raspberry against her cheek. “Like that?”

“No!” Eri squealed.

Shinsou came and settled next to Aizawa, rolling his eyes as Yamada continued to blow raspberry kisses all over Eri, filling the living room with delightful laughter and noisy meowing.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

Shinsou picked up one of the kittens, smoothing the fur on top of its head into a mohawk.

“Would it be okay…Denki would love the kittens,” Shinsou mumbled.

A warm feeling of pride bloomed inside Aizawa’s chest. 

“Why don’t you invite the little listener over?” Yamada said, pausing his attack on Eri.

Shinsou shrugged before he looked up at Aizawa.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Aizawa gave him a small encouraging smile. It grew when he saw Shinsou’s fond look as he texted Kaminari. He wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, pulling in him. “I’m proud of you.”

It earned him a rare smile and a flush of pink across the kid’s cheeks.

“I thought about what you said about when your friend died,” Shinsou admitted quietly. “I don’t want to lose Denki.”

Aizawa rested his cheek against Shinsou’s head, flattening his hair. Shinsou leaned against him, smiling as a series of emojis flooded his phone, Denki’s name flashing on the screen.

They still had a long way to go. Healing after everything they went through would take time. But it was a start, and that’s all Aizawa could ask for.

A brand-new start.