Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No matter how he looked at it, this was bullshit. The paperwork had only been in for a week. One week- for ONE kid. Fucking Hitoshi NEEDED a place to stay- with his peice of shit stepdad putting more and more bruises on the poor kid-

Shouta had to make sure the boy had SOMEWHERE to go before he put the drunk fuck in jail. So, he put in the paperwork to foster, it was the first legal step till adoption while the kid’s social worker sorted her shit out.

Unintended side effect: Shouta was now in the system as a foster parent- which meant his home was open to ANY kid that needed emergency placement. And, as a hero- he was uniquely qualified to deal with a very specific kind of kid that needed a place to stay. Even villain kids.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to turn this brat away… But one look at the damn file and he just- damn his sappy, soft fucking heart- he COULDN’T say no. First, There was the picture. A Boy- no older than his students- a massive bruise over his cheek and a split lip.

Dark circles to rival his own, hair greasy and stringy, falling in front of his face . An angry glare directly into the camera- animosity he hadn’t seen since he faced off with Shigaraki at the USJ burning in the boy’s viridian eyes.

The written description wasn’t much better. Broken Tibia, it’d been put in a cast while the kid had been sedated. There was bruising, some dental decay, YEARS of poorly-healed broken bones, old scars, and perhaps the worst bit- severe, bone-damaging malnourishment.

So, Shouta set up a room, he made the bed, he stocked the bathroom, he filled the fridge. He waited at the front door, and tried to decide whether or not he should have his capture weapon on hand when The Kid got there.

Obviously, he probably should. Right? The boy was a villain. Genetically related to Shigaraki, of all people. The Green-eyed boy had the ability to turn your body to dust at will, including individual body parts and… organs.

The report said his stomach had been made of dust when they picked him up- an officer theorized he’d done it to avoid feeling hungry. But. That’s all it was. A Theory, because he hadn’t said a damn word since they picked him up and put dampeners on him.
They’d almost sent The kid to jail, but when they did the preliminary exams for booking him- they found he hadn’t even grown his second molars yet- he couldn’t be older than sixteen, and they couldn’t send a minor to Tartarus.

The Teacher looked up at Izuku when the boy shifted in his seat, and paused. “You’re supposed to be on pain medication.” Sho noted, Izuku shrugged- Sho would have missed the wince if he wasn’t actively looking for it. “Have you taken it properly?” Izu didn’t answer.

Sho sighed, and dropped the knife back into the drawer with the lock, closing the drawer and crossing his arms over his chest. “Any reason why you don’t want to take your pain meds?” He pressed, Izu stayed silent.

Shouta sighed, and nodded at the bag. “Take your medications. Now.” The demand was flat- it left no room for argument. To be fair, Izu didn’t argue, he just sat there, stared at him. “Izuku.” He started, sternly.

“Weak.” Izuku spoke- finally, he said something. Shouta wasn’t sure the single word counted, but it was something. Izuku's glare was directed down now, at he counter instead of the teacher. It was still unnerving either way.

“They’re not opiates.” Shouta sighed. “I was assured that they’re Not habit-forming. You don’t have to be afraid of them.” He kept his tone even, not wanting to give an inch lest the kid take a mile.

“They make me weak.” A full sentence this time- mostly. Shouta wasn’t about to argue semantics with the kid. “Needing pain management is not a sign of weakness.” He blinked down at Izuku. “I don’t know what kind of nonsense the League has been putting in your head but-“

“The pills make me tired. With the stupid fucking ankle monitor I barely have any control left. If I take the pills, I’m defenseless. I’m weak. I’m useless.” The venom his words carry almost stings at Shouta’s flesh- but something else simmers below the surface.

“You don’t need to defend yourself here. Nothing will happen to you.” Shouta spoke slowly, calmly. Any emotion at all would only spurn the boy. Izuku didn’t answer him, electing instead to attempt another stare-down. Shouta sighed.

“Fine. Suffer then.” He muttered, turning only halfway to move the vegetables to a bowl. A few minutes passed in tense silence before Izuku spoke again.

“Do you have any Tylenol?” he was so quiet Shouta almost didn’t hear him. “Tylenol.” Shouta repeated. “You have prescription, heavy-duty pain medication for your broken Tibia- and you want… Tylenol.”

“I have a migraine.” Izuku sneered. Shouta scoffed, and shook his head. “I’m sure your prescriptions will help with that.” He retorted, hardly looking at Izu, he worked his jaw before speaking again. “Did they tell you who I am?”

“Some underground hero.” Izuku muttered with a shrug, Shouta nodded.

“Yes- but did they tell you what I do?” He pressed, Izuku only shrugged again. “I’m EraserHead. I can cancel quirks. Completely.” Izuku went rigid then, eyes going wide. “It’s the reason they placed you with me,” Shouta continued. “So, there’s really no reason to sit there, in pain, when you have medication to soothe it.”

Izuku did something unexpected then, instead of the stoic, angry glares he’d been giving, he looked…

Downright terrified. Horrified, really- Like Shouta Just told him he skinned and ate puppies alive or something.

“Eraserhead.” The kid’s voice was just above a whisper, “Oh.” Izuku was on the very edge of his seat, looking like he might bolt at any second.

Chapter Text

“Take your medicine.” Shouta sighed, attempting to ease the tension by focusing instead on the food he was attempting to make- He’s almost forgotten what a pain in the ass it was to make Onigiri at home.

Izuku reached in his bag, and pulled out several orange medication bottles. Antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, prescription vitamins, painkillers. Izuku stared at the bottles for a long moment before Shouta retrieved a glass, and filled it with water from the sink before passing it over.

“Thanks.” Izuku surprised Shouta with some semblance of manners as he took the glass, but the kid still only stared at the bottles.

“Kid,” Shouta sighed. “You really need to-“

“You’re actually EraserHead?” Izuku squinted, he looked to be in nearly complete disbelief.

“I am.” Shouta nodded. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Tomura touched you.” Izuku blinked. “And you Lived.”

And this is exactly why Shouta wanted nothing to do with this kid. Izuku’s big Brother was Tomura Shigaraki- villain, domestic terrorist with the ability to decay anything he lays his fingers on. Tomura had tried to kill him.

Izuku though- he didn’t look like he wanted to kill Shouta. No, the kid was trembling. He looked terrified.

It clicked.

“Yes,” Shouta answered. “You were not at the USJ during that fight, were you?” Shouta asked. Izuku shook his head.

Well, Shouta hadn’t expected him to have been there. He would have remembered a boy like him.

“Then, there’s no reason for me to be angry with you for that fight, is there?” Shouta reasoned. Izuku said nothing, just stared again.

Shouta was only a few moments from giving up, when Izuku picked up the bottle containing the pain killers. His face was unreadable for a few moments, and he glanced up at the hero. “Are…” Izuku started, but stopped, going silent again- his eyes raking up and down Shouta, scrutinizing. “I don’t like not having my quirk,” Izuku noted. “I’d rather suffer.”

“Well..” Shouta sighed, and shook his head. “It’s just us here. My only ability is to cancel out other’s abilities. Other than that I’m essentially quirkless.“

“Oh.” Izuku breathed softly.

Finally, finally, he took the damn pills.

Right- that only took… a bloody half an hour… Shouta sighed- this was going to be harder than he thought. He was prepared to deal with a rude, pugnacious little shit- not so much a scared kid who looks like he’s going to try to run with a damn brace on his leg.

”You should eat.” Shouta coaxed. Izuku looked like he was going to argue, but Shouta continued. “It’s going to go to waste if you don’t. I can’t eat all of this.”

Izuku ended up scarfing down more rice and vegetables than Shouta thought might be comfortable for a boy his size, but at least he’d eaten something.

The two of them sat in silence during the meal, and after, Izuku still staring Shouta down- like he fully expected the man to vault over the counter and throttle him.

“I don’t have patrols.” Shouta thought to note. “I’ll be home at night.” Izuku didn’t respond. “You’ll be coming with me to UA for classes. I’ll have a constant eye on you-“

“Don’t you teach the hero course?” Izuku asked, his tone was plain- but it seemed stressed- as if he was forcing himself to remain monotone.

“I do.” Shouta confirmed, and eyed the boy. “Unlike with hero work, I can’t call a sabbatical from teaching whenever I like, and, I can bring you along without putting you in danger. The class wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll be a danger to them?” Izuku asked. Shouta paused, and gave the kid a once over.

“No.” He deadpanned. “No offense, kid.”

Izuku’s jaw clenched- it looked wrong on his chubby-cheeked baby face. “Are you so sure they won’t attack me? I mean, Tomura almost killed a few of them, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Shouta took a moment to think. “But, you don’t exactly look like him, and for legal reasons, you’ll be introduced as my nephew.”

“Great.” Izuku snarked, dropping his chin onto the counter and spinning a medicine bottle like a top in front of him. “Does the bathroom door lock?” Shouta blinked, bewildered that that would even be a question. “At the hospital none of the doors locked and people kept just… walking in.” Izuku’s eyes stayed on the bottle. “So.”

“Yeah…” Shouta nodded. “It locks.” He cleared his throat. “Please don’t do anything that will make me have to change that.”

“Well, I doubt you left razors in there for me to fucking kill myself with.” Izuku’s mutter was so quiet, Shouta was sure he wasn’t meant to hear it, and that concerned him even more.

“I only meant not locking yourself in there to get out of class, or trying to escape through the window.”

“Escape is useless.” Izuku rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “The anklet has GPS.”

“Ah.” Shouta nods, “In any case, the door will remain lockable as long as you… behave.” Shouta made a mental note to lock up the kid’s meds while he wasn’t being watched. He didn’t like how easily he made that ‘joke’.

“Do… I have my own bed?” The way he said it- it rubbed Shouta the wrong way. As if Izuku was expecting an answer that he really didn’t want to hear.

“Your room has a lock on the door as well. Though, they made me install safety bars on the windows.” Shouta nodded. Izuku deflated, looking far less like a cornered animal than he had minutes before.

“What am I supposed to do all day while you’re teaching? Just sit there?” His tone wasn’t so angry then- it was still guarded, just not as ready to pounce.

“Well, after I test you a little bit I can create a curriculum of self-study materials to keep you busy, and I’m sure there will be things you’ll be able to join in on with my class.” Shouta paused. “The books you have on you are all pretty verbose, I’m sure you’re at least on par for literature classes.”

Izuku didn’t say anything to that, stopping his bottle from spinning and standing. “Can I put my shit away?”

“You can put your belongings in your room.” Shouta made sure to emphasize the proper term to dissuade swearing, and took it upon himself to lead the teen deeper into the house, right to the guest bedroom.

Izuku stood in the doorway for a few long moments, and glanced up at the hero, a calculating look on his face.

“Yes?” Shouta thought to ask, sensing the kid had something to say.

“There are two beds in here.” Izuku noted. “Other people live here?”

“Not yet.” Shouta sighed. “Soon, there will be another young man moving in. I will not have you giving him any trouble, you hear me?”

“Wow, guys not even here yet and he’s already the favorite.” Izuku muttered, stepping past the man and dumping his bag on the bed.

“He’s a good kid.” Shouta continued, “With a quirk that carries a bit of stigma as a ‘villainous’ power. He’s had a rough go of it- I’m sure you understand what it’s like for people to treat you poorly for things that are out of your control.” Shouta attempted to relate, and Izuku looked up at him.

staring again. calculating again.

It wasn’t until Shouta met his gaze that he saw how hooded the kid’s eyes were- how unsteady he looked on his feet. The medication really did make him quite tired.

“Your medical paperwork said you need plenty of rest. I’ll wake you for dinner.” Shouta nodded to the boy, who again said nothing as he sat on the bed, staring at him again.

“I’m a light sleeper.” Izuku stated. “I’ll wake up if you even come near this room.” It sounded like a threat.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be doing paperwork in the living room.” Shouta blinked, the kid still seemed on edge. “Would you like me to leave the door open?”

“Can I lock it behind you?” Izuku pressed, Shouta blinked.

“As long as you hand over your bag.” The hero battered.

“Why do you want my bag?” Izuku sounded suspicious.

“I don’t want you to do something stupid with your pills and flush them down the toilet.” Shouta spoke plainly. Izuku squinted, but nodded, opening his bag and dumping out the orange bottles.

Shouta wasted no time in collecting them, carrying the six bottles between his two hands. “Get some rest, Izuku.” He demanded before heading out of the room.

“EraserHead.” Izuku called, just as Shouta got to the door.

“Yes?” The teacher responded, as flatly as he could muster.

“Your rice balls taste like shit.”
**
Dinner finally rolled around, and Shouta debated not waking the kid up. He was such an ungrateful ass- but… he had to eat, had to, kid was skin and bones- and half of that skin was bruises and stitches for fuckssake.

So, Shouta ordered a pizza, and knocked on the kid’s door when it arrived. Sure as shit- immediately, the kid was at the door, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand, bleary with half of his frizzy curls flattened on his left side.

“Foods here.” Shouta informed, arms crossed as he stared down at the boy, but Izuku only yawned, and nodded, eyes half closed. “The chart on the bottle says you’re supposed to take the antibiotics with food.” Shouta stepped to the side, letting the boy into the hall.

Izuku didn’t respond at all, stalking right past him to the kitchen, throwing open the box of pizza and staring down at it. “What’s the… green stuff?”

“Green bell peppers.” Shouta blinked. “Go wash your hands and I’ll get you a plate.”

“I can’t eat spicy food.” Izuku frowned, turning back toward the hall. “I’m going back to sleep.

“Bell peppers aren’t spicy?” Shouta stuck out his arm to block the hall, but the boy practically threw himself to the ground, blocking his face.

A moment of tense silence passes with Izuku knelt on the floor, blinking up to Shouta, slowly waking up despite having been walking around.

“I wasn’t… going to hit you?” Shouta meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question.

Somehow, despite the plethora of evidence of injury- Shouta hadn’t considered that the kid had been… hit? He was a villain, sure, villains get into fights all the time, but the WAY he just fell- just blocked his face and ACCEPTED he was going to be hit.

That wasn’t fighting instinct. That was a trained response to abuse.

“Whatever.” Izuku muttered, not making eye contact as he struggled to stand, shaky on the brace on his leg. Shouta slowly- slowly this time, offered his hand to help the kid up.

Izuku struggled to his feet on his own, and he kept his eyes to the floor. Shouta frowned.

“Would you like… to eat in your room, or in the kitchen?” Shouta didn’t want to draw attention to what had just happened- the poor kid’s cheeks were BRIGHT red.

“I’m not hungry.” Izuku muttered, still staring at the floor. He hadn’t moved from the spot where he stood, his hands were fisted at his sides.

“Do you just not like peppers? We can find you something else to eat.” Shouta tried, and Izuku shook his head. “Well…” Shouta sighed. “Will you please just take a few bites so you can take your meds? Your chart says you’re dealing with several nasty infections.”

Izuku ground his teeth, and sighed, stepping past Shouta to grab a slice of pizza and shove half the slice into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before dumping the rest of the slice onto the counter and glaring up at Shouta.

“It’s bullshit that you’ve even seen the chart. Isn't medical information meant to be confidential?” He sneered.

“When you’re an adult, sure, but you’re a minor, and you’re under my guardianship, so I am required to be made aware of things like this for your benefit.”

“Right.” Izuku scoffed, but said nothing else, leaning against the wall and staring at the floor again. Shouta thought it best to let the kid brood in peace, and retrieved the kid’s meds, and a glass of water, setting them on the counter. Izuku took the water and meds without a fuss this time.

“So.” Shouta picked up his own slice of pizza. “Would you want to talk about what happened in the hallwa-“

“No.” Izuku didn’t let him finish.

“Okay,” Shouta nodded. “You have a counselor for that anyway.” Izuku said nothing, still staring at the floor. “If you don’t finish your pizza though, you’re going to have to drink one of those awful replacement shakes.”

Izuku’s hands twitched, and a displeased grunt fell from his chest, but he scarfed down the last of the slice. “Can I go back to the room now?”

“When I was your age, I’d eat half a large pizza on my own in one sitting.” Shouta noted. “But I guess you are pretty small.”

“Fuck you, old man.” Izuku’s venomous growl would have been a lot more potent if he’d been over a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“Hm.” Shouta sighed. “I’m going to let that slide- since I also get cranky when I’m hungry.”

Izuku sucked his teeth, rage swirling in his too-big-for-his-face green eyes. He dove for the pizza- scarfing down four more slices of pizza in quick succession- he then shoved the box away, and glared up at Shouta. “There.” He spat. “Happy?”

“Delighted.” Shouta deadpanned. “You can go back to your room now, or you could watch t-“ Shouta didn’t get to finish before the teen turned on his heel, stalking down the hall. The door to the bedroom slammed hard- he felt the vibration of it through the floor.

Brat.

Chapter Text

Shouta hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Izuku for the rest of the night- he figured it was probably best to just let the kid throw a tantrum in peace- really, a few mean words and slammed doors were nothing compared to the horrific atrocities the League of villains was known for.

It was early the next morning, much too early when Shouta caught Izuku sneaking down the hall, checking rooms.

“Izuku?” Shouta called, watching the boy jump out of his own skin. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t say where the bathroom was.” Izuku muttered- it almost sounded accusatory.

“It’s right through the kitchen.” Shouta pointed, but Izuku stayed put, staring again. “Did you need something else from me?”

“What are all the other rooms? There’s four doors in the hall.” Izuku’s eyes were locked onto Shouta’s face. Shouta didn’t think he’d ever really get over how cold and calculating his gaze was.

“My Bedroom, my office, another bathroom but it’s only a powder room so there’s no shower, and the home gym.” Shouta listed off, Izuku frowned.

“Home gym?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Can I see?”

“If you’d like? It’s meant to be the master bedroom- so it’s quite large.” Shouta noted, gesturing to the door. “I don’t want you picking up anything over ten pounds though.” He warned.

“What- scared I’ll throw it at you?” Izuku muttered, walking past.

“No, I’m concerned that you may snap one of your brittle bones.” Shouta deadpanned. “You’re still malnourished. A week of hospital food won’t change that.”

“Whatever.” Izuku responded, but it didn’t seem as harsh as other times he’s uttered the word- Shouta realized he was using the word as a placeholder of sorts- he wanted to say something else, and didn’t. “I…am I allowed to go in there?”

“Sure- as long as you don’t hurt yourself.” Shouta agreed easily.

“What if I break something?” Izuku’s question could have sounded like a threat if Shouta wasn’t looking at the slightly worried expression on his freckled face.

“As long as it’s not a bone it can easily be replaced- don’t break things on purpose though, or I’ll have to lock the door.” Shouta sighed, “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and dressed and we’ll go out for breakfast.”

“Go out?” Izuku repeated. “Why?”

“Well, I don’t feel like having my cooking judged again, for one.” Shouta joked, Izuku remained stoic. “And secondly, I’m hoping that if you pick the food I won’t have to fight with you to get you to eat it.”

“I’m… not hun-“

“Kid. There’s nothing wrong with being hungry, you get that right?” Shouta’s brows furrowed.

“Food is expensive and a waste of resources when I can just dust my stomach. I’m not hungry.” Izuku shrugged, though his body seemed to cave in on itself, he made himself smaller in stance, he was staring at the floor. Shouta grimaced at his reasoning, knowing damn well that’s not a rationale a fifteen year old would reach on his own.

“Well, see, I’m a pro hero- you know that right?” Shouta asked, Izuku nodded in response. “And a Teacher at a very prestigious hero school.” Another nod from the boy. “Both of those are very high paying, Salary jobs. I can afford for us and ten friends to eat out every day, several times a day, and it won’t put a dent in my wallet.”

“I don’t need your fucking charity, hero.” Izuku spat, Shouta crossed his arms.

“You literally slept in my home, in my bed last night.” Shouta retorted.

“I didn’t have a fucking choice!”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you don’t have any choice but to eat either.” Shouta deadpanned. “The most choice you get is WHAT to eat. Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

“I’d like to suck-start a fucking shotgun.” Izuku muttered under his breath, hands in fists at his sides.

“New rule: no suicide jokes in the house. I do not find them funny.” Shouta had seen too much of action, being a rooftop hero. Way too many people choose up high places to die.

“Whatever.” Izuku huffed. “I’m still tired. I just came out to piss.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Shouta grimaced. “Consider, ‘use the bathroom’ next time.”

“I don’t need fucking manners lessons from a dude who looks like he stalks playgrounds.” Izuku snarked, an eyebrow raised.

“And I don’t need sass from a young man who looks like he belongs on said playground, but here we are.” Shouta retorted before he could stop himself, and Izuku flinched like he’d been slapped.

“I knew it.” Izuku whispered, a deep frown on his face. “I knew there was a price. There’s always a fucking price-“ he took a step away from Shouta, shaking his head. “If you touch me I’ll tear your throat out with my teeth.”

“Woah!” Shouta sputtered. “Woah no- I didn’t mean- kid,” Shouta put his hands out, placatingly. “Jesus, I wouldn’t- why would you even-“ the realization slapped him in the face. “Oh.” He breathed. “Kid… who made you think there was a… price?”

“Are you fucking Joking?” Izuku snarked. “You think you’re the first hero to proposition me?! ‘Oh I’ll keep you out of jail if you’ll just be good for me, boy. It’s our little secret right?’ Huh?!” The kid’s voice was raising, rage making his body go fuzzy around the edges- Shouta realized his quirk had activated, turning the very top layer of his skin to dust- it floated around him, grey and still vaguely attatched- like a static-electric charge. “All you heroes are the fucking same!” Dust accumulated around his hand, he looked ready to throw it.

Shouta’s quirk activated on reflex, forcing the boy’s body to snap back to solid form- the kid flinched, hard- as if he was in pain.

“Just calm down- I don’t want anything from you.” Shouta struggled to keep his voice even- he was pissed. Who the hell hurt this kid enough for him to react like this when he just laid there and took it when he thought he was going to be hit?

“Sure.” Izuku spat, sarcastically, though he seemed to sway in place, unsteady on his feet.

“Your anklet has GPS, right? Why don’t you just take a break- a shower, maybe a nap- I’ll go out and get breakfast.” Shouta scratched at the back of his head. “And… maybe some shoes for you- yours looked way too big on you.” Izuku glared, not trusting Shouta even a little.

“There’s ALWAYS a price.” Izuku repeated.

“Yeah- there is.” Shouta huffed. “The price is you stop arguing with me, deal? I’ll take care of you, you don’t fight me about it. No extras. You don’t have to like me, you don’t even have to trust me. Just know that I won’t touch you.” Shouta tried. “All I want is for this to go smoothly so I don’t lose my license, and I can take care of Hito- the other young man who’s supposed to be here.” Shouta amended.

“… nothing else? I don’t have to do anything but keep my mouth shut?” Izuku asked, suspicious.

“Nothing else.” Shouta nodded.

“Fine.” Izuku huffed. “… Katsudon.”

“Bless you?” Shouta blinked.

“No- Katsudon. I like Katsudon.” He muttered, glancing back at the kitchen. “I can… clean. I know how to clean things. I don’t trust myself not to argue.”

“I don’t need a maid.” Shouta shook his head. “I just need you to cooperate with me a little.”

“I don’t Cooperate.” Izuku mumbled. “I follow orders. That’s all I’m good at.”

“I can work with that.” Shouta sighed. “Take a shower, get some rest. That’s an order.”

Izuku gave him one last calculating stare, and nodded, turning and heading back into the bedroom.

Shouta let his face drop with a sigh. He was going to take longer than to just get food while he was out.

He needed to read up on who’d interacted with Izuku since he’d been picked up.

Chapter Text

Izuku stared at the door, and then down at his ankle monitor, and then back at the door.

This old man was a fucking idiot. It would be so easy-SO fucking easy to escape right now. He could easily dust his foot and slip the monitor off- he was allowed fifteen percent of his quirk- only fucking fifteen percent of something he needed to survive- it was inhumane, honestly. After everything he’d been through to get the damn quirk.

But then… where would he go?! He couldn’t get out of the damn country now that every hero and their mother had his photo- he could maybe dust and sneak onto someone’s luggage- somehow get into the section where people put their pets so that he’d have oxygen… but fucking then what? Where exactly could he go? He didn’t have ID, or paperwork- he’d never been to formal school so he had no goddamn clue how he’d get a job or find somewhere to live…

And then, there was the fact that the heroes wouldn’t be the only ones looking for him.

Because he couldn’t fucking go home either.

Izuku scoffed to himself, and faced toward the kitchen. He should clean first- then do the other shit the Old Man had told him to do. He didn’t want to piss the guy off and incur some sort of fucked up punishment- Izuku had personally seen some of the broken bones EraserHead had sent guys home with, and was not too keen on seeing him in action, if he was being honest.

All things said- the house wasn’t that big of a mess, to be fair. Some things were really dusty- but that certainly wasn’t anything Izuku wasn’t used to- especially after living with Tomura for the last fifteen years. The strange part was that the house looked largely untouched- hardly lived in at all. All of the appliances were basically brand new, even the couch looked like it’d been staged. Izuku almost wondered if the house was bought for the express purpose of taking in wayward teens. Probably. The Old Man looked like a fucking pedophile, for sure.

It was whatever, honestly- he couldn’t be worse than Giran.

When he heard the front door click open, he has JUST gotten out of the shower- his curls sopping wet and soaking into his tee-shirt- he only had the one hoodie, sadly, but at least his shirt had long sleeves.

The Old Man stepped into the apartment, bags on his arms, a tired look on his face. Bastard probably slept about as much as Izuku did.

“I brought breakfast-“ Aizawa muttered, dry and emotionless as always. He dropped one of the bags on the coffee table. “You can eat on the couch as long as you don’t make a mess.” The hero completely bypassed Izuku, and paused. “And, kid- you need to towel off your hair after you wash it. You’re dripping all over the place.”

“Sorry.” Izuku muttered, though he all but ignored the suggestion, snatching the plastic takeout bag and locating the styrofoam takeout container. He throws the container open, and the sigh of relief upon seeing Panko-fried pork seemed to shake his entire body. Aizawa paused, blinking as Izuku dug into the container with his fingers- eating quickly, as if he thought it’d be taken from him.

“Really like pork then?” The Old Man asked, dropping his bags on the kitchen island.

“Just Katsudon.” Izuku shook his head. “And… fried chicken, fish- fried things- but panko only- I don’t like batters. No tempura or buttermilk. ONLY panko.” Izuku wrinkled his nose.

“Well- you can’t live on only fried foods. Any fruits or vegetables that you like?” EraserHead continued to unpack items- new dishes, pots and pans- Izuku had noticed that the cabinets were poorly-stocked. Seemed like Aizawa realized that. Izuku didn’t respond- it was better not to. Didn’t need the fucker bitching if he’d said he hadn’t eaten a vegetable in his recent memory at all. “Kid. We’re going grocery shopping as soon as you’re done. It’s still early, so I’m pretty sure the farmer’s market is open.”

“The what?” Izuku spoke through a mouthful of food, and took some childish pleasure in the way Aizawa’s left eye twitched in irritation.

“Farmer’s market. It’s where you get fresh produce, eggs, milk, meat- it tends to be a little more expensive but it’s ethically sourced and fresher- tends to taste better.” Aizawa deadpanned, Izuku had to hit his tongue in order to keep back a sarcastic comment. He just had to keep his mouth shut. That was the deal. “They give out samples, so it’ll be easier to find something that you’d like-“

“Why.” Izuku couldn’t help but ask. “Why do you care?”

“If your doctor decides I’m not taking good enough care of you, you’ll be removed from my home and then my license comes into question- I need you to at least get within the healthy percentile in the next few months. You don’t fight me nearly as much when I ask you to eat food you enjoy-“ the teacher gestured at the now-empty styrofoam container in Izuku’s lap. “Look, you’re fifty pounds underweight, you’re so malnourished your bone density is compromised. Your leg will not heal without fixing that.”

“It’s about that other kid. Hito?” Izuku surmised, squinting. “What’s so special about him?”

“Hitoshi.” The teacher corrected. “He’s one of my students in the hero course. His home situation is poor, and he needs somewhere safe to stay.” Aizawa nodded, Izuku scoffed.

“You sure about that?” The teen glared.

“Hitoshi could handle you with both eyes blind and his hands tied behind his back.” Aizawa deadpanned. “Even if you weren’t crippled.”

“Oh fuck YOU, old man!” Izuku growled, moving to stand. “I don’t need my fucking quirk to knock your goddamn lights out, you washed up peice of human refuse!”

“I was referring to your leg.” Aizawa’s tone remained even and calm- and for some reason, that just pissed Izuku off more. The boy stood, and practically stomped off to the bedroom- though there was a bit of a limp, and the kid really should not have been putting weight on that leg at all.

Izuku slammed the door behind him, and seethed, standing in silence in the center of the room. He didn’t have to take this shit. He could still leave- he’d been on his own for three goddamn months before a hero caught him because he’d passed out after robbing a convenience store. He knew better now- knew exactly how many days he could go without food. He could make it.

But- if Tomura, or one of his lackeys found him, got their hands on him…

Damn it.

Izuku growled, Kicking the desk by the door hard. A knock on the door had him glaring at it, but the voice behind it made him feel downright murderous.

“Whenever you’re done with your tantrum, we’ll head out.”

Chapter Text

“Do you really need to wear that? It’s eighty degrees outside.” Shouta eyed the large black hoodie that all but swallowed Izuku’s frame whole. He’d been petulant about it- refusing to go anywhere unless he was able to wear it. Shouta would keep his mouth shut about it needing to be washed. Part of the ‘training’ he’d done for his foster license included classes on ‘sensitivity’. Some kids really had issues with things being called dirty or messy- and some items, no matter how innocuous, could be sentimental.

“If someone recognises me, I’m fucked.” Izuku muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets on the hoodie and tilting his head forward, staring at the ground instead of the many stands full of fresh fruits and vegetables.

“Your face was never put out to the general public.” Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead electing to stop at a cart, grabbing a small plastic cup full of cut up pieces of honeydew melon and holding it in front of the kid’s face.

“No, but several villains know my face. If they see me around with YOU, And word of that gets back to Tomura, we’re both dead. He’ll think I sold him out or something.” Izuku stared down at the fruit with a wrinkled nose- disgusted. “This is slimy.”

“Weren’t you eating uncooked ramen packets and chips when you were caught?” Shouta snorted, Izuku glared up at him. “Kid, just try it. You can spit it out if you don’t like it. The ground is grass, it’s fine.” The teacher watched as the teen brought the cup to his nose, and sniffed it, squinting behind that mess of green curls before plucking a piece of fruit up with just his pointer finger and thumb, and nibbling just the very corner of it. His nose wrinkled more, and he vehemently shook his head.

“Texture.” The kid gagged- actually gagged, and it didn’t look sarcastic. Violently, the kid legitimately sounded like he might throw up for a few seconds. A little dramatic, but fine. Shouta sighed, taking the cup from the kid. “The texture is fucking awful.”

“You really need to learn to watch your language.” Shouta sighed. “And- I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Izuku. You’re under my guardianship, and therefore my protection.” Shouta eyed another cup of fruit, and picked it up. Strawberries- that might go down easier?

“No offense, old man, but I’ve seen what happens when you one-vee-one Tomura and his lackeys. I’m not interested in watching you die.” Izuku took the second cup of fruit, and eyed it warily before shoving his finger into the side of a strawberry, inspecting its insides. Warily, he took a bite. He wrinkled his nose, but didn’t spit it out. “That’s not pure hell. Still not my favorite though.”

“It’s better with sweet cream or powdered sugar.” Shouta murmured, bewildered that this kid had never had a fucking strawberry. “That fight only went the way it did because I was attempting to protect an entire class full of children- and I didn’t want to permanently traumatize them by killing in front of them. I doubt you’d have the same issues if the issue arised.”

“Oh trust me, Tomura wouldn’t stop bitching when he got back that you’d pussied out and hadn’t killed ANYONE. He was really hoping to see you in action at full power.” Izuku picked up a cup of fruit on his own- blackberries, and popped one in his mouth before immediately spitting it out and sticking his tongue out of his mouth, shaking his head emphatically. Shouta moved fast, grabbing a bottle of water from a vendor to his left and cracking it open, handing it to the kid. Izuku dumped water into his mouth and immediately spit it out, rinsing his mouth of the flavor.

“Are you alright, kid?” Shouta asked, worried- Izuku glared up at him.

“That one was squishy, slimy, AND sour.” Izuku seethed. “The sign said BLACKBERRIES- the fucking rockstar energy does NOT taste like that shit.” He complained loudly, Shouta sighed.

“Those drinks have HEAPS of sugar, Izuku- and they’re artificially flavored.” Shouta resisted the urge to laugh at the betrayed look on the kid’s face.

“I’ll stick with the artificial shit then- holy fuck that was like the second worst goddamn thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” The teen chugged his water bottle, physically shivering with disgust when he was done.

“We’ll find something you like, kid- how about… apples? They’re not slimy, they tend to be sweet, and they’re crunchy.” Shouta tried, the kid looked up at him, suspicious.

“I fucking hate applesauce. The texture is disgusting.” Izuku muttered, and Shouta nodded, ready with a rebuke.

“That is the steamed and pureed version of the fruit, yes- it’s not like that at all in its natural state.” He spotted a seller with honey crisps, and purchased a single fruit, handing it to the teen. Izuku frowned down at the fruit, and picked at the skin with his fingernail. “Ah- you don’t need to peel it. You can just bite it.” Shouta gestured, the boy squinted at him, but relented, bringing the yellow fruit to his lips and taking a small- very small bite.

Shouta was ready to declare victory the moment the kid actually took a moment to chew- and had half a mind to pump his fist in the air when Izuku swallowed.

“… that’s not awful.” Izuku muttered- Shouta knew that was the closest he’d get to being told that it was good.

“We’ll buy five pounds. If you can manage to eat that in a week, I’ll get you more.” Shouta hummed. Izuku rolled his eyes, but continued to eat his apple, head bent down and other hand still shoved in his pocket. Shouta thought it a good idea not to note that the most recognizable feature of his was the green curls that poked out from below the hood- poor kid probably had other shit to worry about.

Chapter Text

Izuku was far more agreeable on a full stomach, Shouta found. The kid didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, didn’t slam doors- it was a massive improvement.

Only problem was, the kid was PICKY. Really, really picky for a kid who’d been living off of pilfered dumpster scraps and uncooked ramen for gods sake. He wouldn’t touch anything green with a ten-foot pole, it took a lot of coaxing and goading to get him to try most produce and any meals he wasn’t familiar with- which turned out to be most things that weren’t fast food or found at a streetcart or cheap restaurant.

But, then, a few times now Shouta’d caught him with a handful of dried panko, crunching it in his mouth plain. It was a little weird, but not nearly as weird as Shouta finding piles of food hidden under the kid’s bed when he was gone at the therapists’- he wasn’t even snooping. He only meant to clean, but after that, he HAD to snoop.

And, that was how he found the notebooks. Dozens of them- so many that they were spilling over inside the kid’s bookbag.

He wasn’t going to read them, but he thought to give them a quick flip-through, just in case.

On the very last page, there was a drawing of HIM. Of Shouta- his face, obscured partially by the capture weapon he so often wore around his neck. Alongside the drawing, and perhaps the most concerning, were the notes. The kid’s handwriting was shaky, chickenscratch really, but through Shouta’s years of teaching, he’d gotten used to reading such poor penmanship.

“Eraserhead- Power, It seems his ability is gained through the release of electro-magentic waves, which are dense enough to lift lighter objects, such as his hair and capture weapon. Though I initally believed the effects to be instantaneous, the sensation of dispersion during its use on my dusted cells proved otherwise.”

“Eraserhead demonstrates a fair bit of compassion and patience. Despite my initial trepidation, I have deemed him at least moderately trustworthy on minor topics such as nutrition or entertainment. He does not lock his bedroom door- a flaw with which I find incredibly foolish given the circumstances. He trusts me far too much, knowing who I am- and it unnerves me. I still cannot tell if his kindness is a front, or if he wants something from me. He is aware that I was interrogated by a detective with a truth-telling quirk, and that I have little to know knowledge of the league’s goings on, and he has not attempted to interrogate me further, though he does seem perfectly content in provoking me when given the chance. He has yet to raise his voice or hand to me, however, I have my doubts about how long this patience may last.”

“Eraserhead demonstrates a proclivity for silence in his home, completely enveloped in whatever work he performs on his absurdly old computer- it’s driving me up the wall, honestly. I had no idea how much the silence unnerves me- I can hear the bastard BREATHING- it changes with his work. Mission reports are low and slow, it picks up when he’s writing about casualties, I can read small portions of his work through the reflection on his glasses, but he always switches to a new tab if it’s something gory if I am even in the room. He’s overly cautious sometimes, and completely wreckless other times. He’s frustrating the life out of me.”

“Eraserhead’s cooking isn’t horrific, but he is a bit of a health nut- Each trip to the grocery or ‘farmers market’ results in him disallowing me to select my preferred snacks in favor of ‘healthier options’ such as fruit or vegetables. He shows no reaction to even the most horrific of textures- even on his clothes. HE WEARS POLYESTER. I’ve elected to limit physical interaction due to this, but he continues to grasp me by hood of my jacket if I wander in public spaces, essentially scruffing me like a cat. It does not seem to be his intent to hurt me, however. He does not pull, and his touch is fleeting. I suspect it may be out of reflex alone that he does this- perhaps he is the same way with his students.”

Shouta stared down at the pages, read them, re-read them.

Was this okay? Was this dangerous? The kid was taking NOTES on him for fucks sake- WHY? Who for? The league? This couldn’t be good. No matter how Shouta looked at it, he only saw this as a problem. With Shinso arriving in just a few days, he couldn’t overlook this- but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions here.

Worried, he flipped through more pages.

Notes on members of the league- Shigaraki, well, TOMURA Shigaraki- his quirk, how it only worked if he used all five fingers- notes on Mount Lady, observations from commercials, news coverage- Izuku wasn’t taking notes on just heroes and villains though- random people on the street, people from the farmers’ market with impressively detailed drawings, better than even police sketch-artists that Shouta’d worked with.

These weren’t notes for nefarious purposes- this was… a hobby?

The further that Shouta read back, the more he flipped through the pages, the older the notebooks got, the more he realized it really was just a hobby. The kid just liked to journal. He liked to write things down, make theories- he liked to observe. Shouta understood that- he was also an observer- he just… didn’t write things down. Why did the kid write things down? Did he have memory issues? It would make sense, actually- when he dusted his stomach, he couldn’t feel hungry- what if dusting his brain caused adverse effects on his memories?

A ding on his phone alerted Shouta of his alarm- he had to go pick the kid up from the therapist’s office.

And, he really needed to talk to him about these damn notebooks.

Chapter Text

“How was it?” Shouta asked the man in the ugly sweater-vest as he placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. The boy flinched again, but he didn’t move away from the hero. That was progress.

“We’re not going to make any progress.” The therapist sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d recommend a CHILD therapist, not a commission selection.”

“May I ask why?” He shouldn’t- it wasn’t really any of his buisness, but with the way Izuku almost hid behind him as he spoke, Shouta felt responsible, protective of the boy.

“Well, maybe someone… softer would break through the mutism, to start with.” The therapist raised an eyebrow, and Shouta paused.

“Mutism?” He asked, blinking.

“It’s the correct term for someone who cannot or will not speak. He’s mute.” The therapist explained, walking past the hero and the boy on the way to the check-out counter.

“He’s not mute?” Shouta spoke slowly, glancing down at Izuku. “Izuku, have you just been sitting in silence for two hours at a time?!” Green curls shook as Izuku shrugged, staring at the floor.

“Huh. That’s more response than I’ve ever gotten from him.” The therapist admitted, mystified. “Does he speak to you?”

Izuku hadn’t just been silent, he’d been completely unresponsive.

“We do nothing but argue!” Shouta confirmed. “He YELLS at me- Izuku, really, this entire time you’ve-“ Shouta pauses when he sees the look on the kid’s face.

He looks blank. Uninterested wasn’t the right word- rather, numb? Not altogether there.

“Well… Selective Mutism is a complex anxiety disorder usually seen in children- but, if left untreated can persist into adulthood. More than ninety-percent of kids with Selective Mutism also suffer from social phobia- from what we’ve gathered from intake exams and evidence, it would make sense considering he was most likely isolated since early childhood.”

“How can you know if he won’t talk to you?” Shouta asked, exasperated.

“Not won’t. Can’t. It’s a legitimate mental illness- surprisingly common in younger children- especially toddlers. I’d guess he’s been isolated with the league since then, maybe earlier?” The therapist sighed, writing something down. “I don’t want to prescribe any medications until he can communicate side effects properly. The good news is, If he’s speaking freely to you, to the point of argument- he’s comfortable with you. He trusts you.” Shouta is taken aback by the information-

Izuku trusts him?

“Well- what do I do to help him?” Shouta sighs, the Therapist hums.

“Try not to push him too hard- I’d suggest desensitization- as much as you can manage, take him out in public. Mundane things like grocery shopping, running errands- even picking up coffee on the way home and ordering his own drink may help- don’t push if he can’t manage, it’ll make it worse. Just… be supportive.” The doctor looks down at Izuku, who’s head remained hung throughout the conversation.

Shouta recognised that stance, that look- it was exactly the same way the kid looked when he’d been dropped off at Shouta’s place that first time.

Now that he was by the boy’s side, now that he was closer- he could see something else in that angry expression. Fear.

“Right.” Shouta sighed. “Alright then, kid, you ready to-“ Izuku didn’t answer, didn’t wait for Shouta to finish before shrugging the teacher’s hand off of his shoulder and hobbling toward the exit. Brat. “Thanks.” Shouta muttered to the therapist- though he wasn’t really sure why he’d thanked the bastard for doing absolutely nothing for three goddamn weeks-

When he made it back to the car, he found that Izuku was waiting right beside it- shoulders hunched, green curls falling in his face.

“Kid, be honest- do you think you actually have that selective-Mutism thing, or was that guy just a quack that you didn’t feel like talking to? Because to be honest- I didn’t really like him either.” Shouta attempted to relate as he unlocked the car. Izuku slipped right into the vehicle, staying silent until Shouta was sat in the driver's seat with the door closed.

“I don’t like doctors.” Izuku admitted, Shouta half-scoffed, half-laughed.

“I don’t think anyone likes doctors, problem child.” Shouta nearly rolled his eyes as he latched his seatbelt, but Izuku was not amused.

“If I misbehaved, Master said he’d have the doctor turn me into a Nomu.” Izuku spat, Shouta paused.

“Master being…” he tried to prod, Izuku went silent again. “Shigaraki- Er, Tomura Shigaraki?”

“No.” Izuku answered, shaking his head. “Just… forget I said anything. I’ll try to talk to the fucking shrink, alright?”

“If Tomura is not your master, does that mean someone is above him in rank? Who gives him orders?” Shouta tried to prod, but Izuku only seemed to be getting more angry and closed off by the minute.

“As if anyone could ever tell Tomura what to do-“ Izuku scoffed. “No, it’s not- I’m not allowed to-“ Izuku shook his head quickly. “I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

“Alright, fine then- we won’t.” Shouta huffed, drumming on the wheel with his thumbs as he thought. “Can I ask about something else then? Something not related to the league of villains?”

“Fine.” Izuku muttered, Shouta checked over his shoulder before merging onto the left lane to turn home, and kept his eyes on the road- not looking at the kid just yet.

“So, I was cleaning your room-“

“You were in my room?!” Izuku sounded pissed- genuinely livid.

“I needed to clean it, Izuku. It’s a good thing I did, too- some of the food you were hiding under your bed are perishable items- they’ll go bad under there.” When the kid didn’t respond, Shouta chewed the inside of his cheek. “If you need to stash things to make you feel more secure, I’ll get you a mini-fridge.” Shouta offered- an olive branch. Izuku glared up at him, but huffed.

“Fine.” He repeated.

“As long as you know I will not ever be limiting your food intake- I will not withhold necessities from you.” Shouta tried to explain, Izuku’s nose wrinkled- it was almost cute.

“If you’re not gonna hit me or starve me how the fuck do you expect to get me to do what you want?!” The kid suddenly snapped. Cuteness gone.

“I don’t want you to do anything but get better, Izuku.” Shouta sighed, turning toward the house. “I need you healthy and rehabilitated before you’re eighteen so you don’t get sent straight to Tartarus. We’re giving you four years to fix your attitude, and guarantee you’re not going to become a super villain. In the mean time, I very much doubt beating and starving you is going to endear you to my cause, now will it?”

“People don’t learn unless they’re punished, Eraser.” The kid sneered at him, angry and full of venom. The statement itself would have been enough to make Shouta very uncomfortable, but the way he’d said it- like it was a popular phrase, something he’d heard a million and one times, several times a day- that had a chill running up the man’s spine.

Chapter Text

“As a teacher, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that is incredibly untrue.” Shouta shook his head. “People learn through repetition, positive reinforcement, and natural consequences.” Shouta thought, sadly, that if the kid wouldn’t- or COULDN’T talk to the therapist… “Is that what Shigaraki does? He punishes you?” The kid’s face went blank then, and he stared out over the dash, completely ignoring Shouta.

“Izuku.” Shouta called, glancing away from the road to see the numb look over the green-haired boy’s face. “Does Tomura Shigaraki-“

“It’s none of your business.” The teen seethed, his voice full of rage but his face remarkably blank.

“It is, actually.” Shouta dismissed. “Information on how the league treated you would be helpful in your case to be released from custody at eighteen, rather than sent straight to prison.” Shouta tried, and when he got no response, he sighed. “Look- it’s pretty obvious what happened. The bruising, the broken bones, the way you just CRUMPLED in the hall-“

“He tears my body limb from limb, then decays the pieces to dust so that I can re-attatch them. Is that what you want to hear? Does that satisfy your curiosity, HERO?” The kid once again spat the title as if it were a curse. “You want to hear how I’ve spent my entire life locked in a group of concrete rooms with only a television to try and decipher what life is like outside of them? You want to know what it’s like, training and training and never getting any stronger because if you even remotely piss him off- which he ALWAYS is when he’s losing- he’ll beat you, starve you, and litterally tear you apart?! Is that what you wanted to hear, asshole?!” Izuku nearly screamed- Shouta sat in dumbfounded silence.

“I was on my own for three months before one of you hero fucks ran into and destroyed my tent. I’d ESCAPED, and I was going to get the fuck out of the country the second I had enough money to. But, true to hero form, you jump in with too little too late and pat yourselves on the back for helping when you only ever make things worse!” Izuku picked his leg up, and slammed his uninjured foot into the glove box- crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. “You don’t actually care about anyone but yourselves and your fucking pay checks, so stop fucking pretending that you give a shit about me. It’s insulting.” The kid hissed, jaw tight as he stared out over the dashboard.

Shouta pulled up to the house in near-perfect silence, and the second he parked, Izuku was up and out of the car, surprisingly fast despite his limp and the crutches. He’d actually beat Shouta to the front door, though he couldn’t go much farther due to the locked front door- or, so Shouta thought, before he watched the kid slam his hand against the lock, and turn part of his palm to dust before turning the handle with the other hand, opening the door and storming through it. Shouta stood in the driveway, bewildered.

When he finally made it into his home, he found that the kid’s left shoe- only the left one, as his cast didn’t allow his right foot to fit in anything but loose sweats. A glance at the hallway made it perfectly clear that Izuku had shut himself in his room again. Shouta doubted he’d see him for a while then-

It was fine. He wasn’t going to harass the poor kid after his emotional breakdown there.

He’d already looked in to the Heroes who’d had access to Izuku in the last few weeks, and took note of each and every one- cross-referenced with complaints filed, and came up empty. Sadly, that was pretty common with complaints against heroes- they ended up being improperly filed or not really reported at all.

Shouta went about the remainder of his evening, preparing dinner- he’d elected to make panko-fried candied apples- Not an apology, just… felt like making it. Shouta steeled himself- he wasn’t afraid of the kid, not even a little- but he was maybe, a little, not very comfortable with the look in the teen’s eye as the little shit chewed him out earlier. Shouta gave a courtesy knock with just one knuckle before sliding the door to the bedroom open- and then stopped dead.

Izuku had been in the process of changing out of his hoodie and into another long-sleeved, baggy shirt.

Izuku had bandages wrapped around his chest, but no wound there- and the WAY that it was wrapped- the slight protrusion, the look of absolute horror on the kid’s face- The way he SCREAMED, like Shouta had stabbed him-

Shouta slammed the door closed again, eyes wide as he stared down the Hallway, trying to put two and two together and finding that he’d never been much good at math.

Izuku had… Breasts? That was not in his medical files- that had not been disclosed- that had not been discussed. The kid had been vicious with doctors and nurses- they had to sedate him to put the cast on his leg- and they didn’t bother checking his CHEST? His genitals, sure, Shouta understood them not examining him there without proper consent, but his chest?! Where his heart, his LUNGS- HOW?! How the hell had this slipped through the cracks- who the hell let this kid walk around with BANDAGES to bind his chest? Un-fucking acceptable.

Shouta waited several minutes, calming himself down before knocking on the door again, leaving it closed this time. Silence followed. “Izuku. I made dinner.” Shouta started calmly, silence continued. “You can stay in your room as long as you’d like, but- whenever you’d like to talk, I’ll be working in the livingroom.” He cleared his throat, and bent down, placing the plate of fried apples on the floor. “I’m leaving your food-”

The door creaked open, and Shouta looked up to see the kid, a look of boiling rage in those huge green eyes.

“Talk?!” He hissed, and Shouta sighed, Well. Shit.

Chapter Text

Shouta didn’t really think he’d ever get used to that horrifying calculating glare from the teen, but by now, at least he had it memorized.

Izuku sat across from him, stared him down like he was the man who kicked his dog to death, and he spat the words, “what is there to talk about?!”

“Well- I’d like to start by asking if you’re comfortable being referred to as a boy or if I’ve misread something- just for clarity’s sake.” Shouta attempted to remain pragmatic, but the kid was seething.

“I’m a MAN.” Izuku protested, with a shout. Shouta raised an eyebrow.

“Not quite a man yet- young man, perhaps, but you have a little bit to go.” Shouta sighed, and reminded himself not to cross his arms- he needed to remain open here. “Would you like to go sit in the living room and talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about! I’m a guy, that’s the end of it. Fuck off and leave me alone.” He’d begun to get fuzzy around the edges again- his quirk activating probably off of adrenaline alone.

“There are other things that need to be discussed. Such as your medical-“ Shouta tried to explain but Izuku interrupted.

“My medical shit has NOTHING to do with this!” The kid nearly screamed, Shouta’s eardrums throbbed from the force.

“There are several things that are important medically regarding your gender identity versus your biological sex.” Shouta attempted to connect again. “Look, I’ve taught trans students before. One of my current students is a transgender girl. I’m not unfamiliar with this, nor am I some bigoted asshat. Izuku, I’m only asking you about this for your health, genuinely.”

At this, the kid seemed to deflate, less angry, more confused.

“What the fuck do you WANT from me, eraser?” The question was probably meant to be acidic, but it came across vulnerable, the boy was already folding into himself.

“Are you on any hormones yet, and where are you getting them?” Shouta started, Izuku shrugged.

“I… I dust the… the WRONG parts. They don’t give me the hormones for it. The only time I can’t control the dust is when I’m asleep… it works more like puberty blockers than anything. I’m on testosterone. I stole it.” He admits, Shouta nods.

“Alright, well, we’ll need to get you in to see a specialist to get you on prescriptions for this, kid. Taking drugs without a doctor’s approval is not a good idea.” Shouta leans against the wall, and sighs. “And you’ll need to throw away the bandages.”

“No.” The kid hisses, gnashing this teeth as he glares up at the hero.

“They’re unsafe and can cause permanent damage. We’ll get you a proper binder tomorrow. For now, please take them off and eat something. Gaining muscle tone will diminish the appearance of your chest.” Shouta slowly reaches up, making sure Izuku can see him before patting the boy’s shoulder. Izumi just stares up at him, wide eyed and mistified.

“I’m not a girl.” Izuku speaks slowly. Shouta blinks, and nods.

“I know.” He responds simply.

“… I don’t… DO things with the… parts. If you try to make me, I’ll slit your throat.” The kid threatens, and Shouta’s chest tightens.

“Problem child, If ANYONE attempts, or has attempted to force you into a situation like that, I will personally break every bone in their body, understood?” Shouts clarified, and Izuku squinted up at him, seemingly calculating again, though calmly this time.

“Centipeder.” Izumi spoke sharply.

“What?” Shouta blinked.

“He knows. He’s the one that originally found me. He figured out…” the kid paused, and shook his head. “He let me be free as long as I… did stuff when he came around. Didn’t call in my location. Gave me food once or twice.” Izuku swallowed. “When Shishido found me, I told him about the deal, he didn’t believe me, and Centipeder came to the hospital to threaten me. He told me if I spoke to anyone he’d take me and sell me where I would be ‘most useful’.” Izuku picked at a scab on the back of his hand. The kid was pale, and sure, he ALWAYS looked sickly, but this was another level.

“Thank you for telling me.” Shouts spoke slowly, calmly despite the boiling rage in his stomach. He wanted to vomit. How fucking DARE these so-called heroes take advantage of a terrified, abused kid like this. Oh, he was going to kill them. Slaughter them. “Is there… anything else, we should talk about, Izuku?”

“I’m…” Izuku looks down at the floor, squinting. “If you… handle them. Then yes. But I’m- I don’t…”

“You don’t trust me.” Shouta nods. “That’s fair.” He squats down slightly, and places his hands on the teen’s scrawny biceps to try to look him in the eye. “I’ll take care of them, you understand?” Shouta gives the boy a squeeze, and stands straight again. “Well, it seems I need to clear out the office- you’ll need your own room so that you can change in peace when Hitoshi gets here.” He pats the kids arms before backing away, and turning on his heel.

“Wait- that’s it?” Izuku followed him. “No- no deals, no questions- you just-“ the kid sounded exasperated.

“I have other questions, but I don’t want to stress you out too much. If you’d like to join me while I clear out the office, could you please go grab something to eat? You need to be fed.” Shouta nodded, and Izuku’s jaw worked.

“Questions about me, or the league, or the heroes?” Izuku pressed.

“All three.” Shouts shrugged, gathering a stack of papers and swiping them into a drawer on his desk.

“I can answer the ones about me.” Izuku crossed his arms and shifted, leaning against the wall. Shouta kicked his rolling chair, pushing it toward the kid.

“Alright- sit down, will you?” Shouta waited for the boy to be seated before continuing. “I’m going to ask some simple, basic questions- if you can answer, please do so honestly, alright?”

“Fine.” The kid agreed simply, still picking at the scab on his hand.

Chapter Text

“Do you menstruate still, or have the hormones prevented that?” Shouta asked matter-of-factly, and Izuku shifted.

“I’m… now.” The kid mumbled entirely under his breath, and Shouta accepted it as an answer, he didn’t want to upset him any further.

“Do you need anything for it? I didn’t see any products when I cleaned your room?” Shouta worried aloud. This was a kid who used bandages to bind, Shouta hoped he wasn’t using socks as menstrual pads as well.

“I stole a… cup, thing, when I was on the run.” The kid shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

“Understood.” Shouta nodded. “And, I assume your pain killers work for now, but do you have any preference for when you’re off the opioids?”

“Tylenol. I asked you for some the other day and you bitched me out.” The kid reminded him, and Shouta paused.

“You were… menstruating then?” It was over a week ago, that seemed a bit excessive.

“It was gone for a while because I got too skinny- when I started eating again it came back with a fucking vendetta.” The kid wrinkled his nose.

“Cramping before, cramping during- I’m almost done with it and it still hurts like a motherfucker if I sit the wrong way.”

“Ah.” Shouta nodded. “I have a question about the villains, but it more pertains to you, is that alright?”

“I just won’t answer if it’s not.” Izuku noted.

“Fair enough.” Shouta began unplugging all of the things connected to his computer. “Tomura is… supportive of you? Your identity?”

“He calls me ‘he’.” Izuku nodded. “He doesn’t really care as long as I do as I’m told. There’s a lady in the league like me- born with the wrong parts. She’s… nice. Heroes always think we’re pure evil- but she and… and some of the others are just people who’ve had it wrong. They’re not evil.”

“You can have it wrong and still try to do what’s right, Izuku.” Shouta sighed, wrapping up cables.

“You and Tomura are… brothers, then?”

“I have his bone marrow.” Izuku was quiet then. “I was… sick, a few years back. Blood cancer. Tomura took some of his bone marrow, put it in me to help. It cured me, and I guess because of that my blood is his- I dunno how it works exactly.”

“Why would he do that, exactly?” Shouta paused, staring down at his desk. “He seems to, at the very least, have a base level of disdain for you. Why would he donate bone marrow?”

“Because Master told him to.” Izuku shrugged. “He’s not allowed to kill me, or let me die, because Master forbids it. Tomura doesn’t have any other rules, so it’s important.”

“And… why is that? Whoever this ‘master’ is, why are you important to him?” Shouta pressed, and the kid shrugged, going quiet again. Shouta clenched his fist, sucking in a breath, quietly upset.
That was it. Tomura didn't hate him, he didn't care about him- he didn't have any sort of reason to treat him the way he did. This kid was just a pawn in the game, and Shouta could barely help him- the most he could do was make sure the kid was comfortable NOW.

"Izuku, do you know where your parents are?" Shouta asked carefully, Izuku shook his head.

"I...uhm. I think I was maybe four? Ish? When Master picked me up- I don't remember very well- I know my mom looks like me? I can kind of remember her face and her hair but that's about it- I don't even remember her name, since she was always just 'mommy'." That was the truth, Shouta nodded.

"Izuku- You, Er, Izuku is the name you prefer, yes?" Shouta pressed, the kid nodded. "May I- I will NEVER call you by the name, but I'd like to re-try to find you in the missing children's system, if I could? Someone may be looking for you with your deadname."

"I... Don't remember." The boy looked down, looked away- he was lying, pretty obviously lying but Shouta knew better than to push it. He couldn't risk upsetting the kid and being iced out.

"Well, I'd like for you to try to remember, alright? If... if we can check the system for your deadname, we might be able to locate your parents for you." Shouta explained, and Izuku shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What if they don't want me?" Izuku asked, voice barely over a whisper. "They lost a four year old girl- what if they don't want a teenaged boy." It was said more as a statement than a question.

"It's possible." Shouta admitted. "But, I doubt it. You were missing for over a decade, the fact you were still alive is...unbelievable."

"I don't want to be a burden on anyone." The kid muttered, and Shouta just stared at him.

"Izuku- You're not a burden. You are a missing child, and we can't let that go unanswered." Shouta assured him.

"I WAS a burden to them." The kid stared at the ground- Shouta could practically SEE him thinking, mulling something over in that mind of his. "You could..." The kid closed his eyes tightly, and took a shuddering breath. "Check the... quirkless database."

"Was one of your parents quirkless?" Shouta asked, the kid gave one quick shake of his head, and Shouta blinked. "Well, then who-"

"Me." Izuku interrupted. "I'm... I was..." something dripped down from the kid's face, onto the ground. Holy shit- he was...crying? "I was diagnosed quirkless a week after my fourth birthday- I... Master GAVE me my quirk." The kid was now openly crying, Shouta froze in his seat.

"Izuku..." He didn't know what to do, he had never seen anyone cry, he had never thought he'd see this kid cry. "Izuku, can you-"

"I was quirkless. I was quirkless. I was quirkless!" The kid was now yelling, hands over his face, and Shouta flinched. "I was quirkless! And- That's a DEATH sentence, isn't it? I- Master TOOK CARE OF ME, he gave me my quirk- I- There's NO WAY I would have been able to take care of myself while I was on the run without it- do you have ANY idea what happens to quirkless GIRLS?" Izuku's voice cracked. "Death is preferable."

Chapter Text

Shouta decided the kid needed a nap. To be fair, he very much DID need a nap- desperately, in fact. Emotions were high, and Izuku was so stressed out his quirk was malfunctioning.

While the brat was laying down, Shouta worked.

There were zero reports made against Centipeder. Ever. Centipeder wasn’t the arresting officer, wasn’t on the case, wasn’t even within the top two-hundred heroes in the district Izuku had been picked up in.

There was no reason for Izuku to be lying. Shouta did not believe, for a second, that the kid was lying. He’d have no reason to lie- Centipeder wasn’t on the case, it wouldn’t help grant Izuku clemency to say these things.

Which just made the pit in Shouta’s stomach grow deeper, more painful.

Eventually, he relented. He couldn’t handle this on his own, and he knew it.

“Yo?” Hizashi’s voice cracked through the speaker- it always went a little haywire through transmission devices, not quite the right frequency for them.

“I’ve got a hero soliciting sexual favors from homeless minors.” Shouta cut right to the chase, like he always did.

“Well. Hello to you too.” Hizashi huffed. “Which hero?”

“Centipeder.” Shouta hissed the name, Hizashi paused.

“The guy who works with Nighteye?” Hizashi sounded doubtful. “Yeah… I doubt that. Nighteye does some pretty thorough background checks, and he does random future checks once a month on his employees.”

“I’ve got a Vic here who says otherwise.” Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… help me out here.” Shouta pleaded, Hizashi paused.

“Did the fucker touch Hitoshi?” A wave of guilt crashed over Shouta after the momentary relief he felt then.

“No.” Shouta confirmed. “Someone else. Just- see if you can get him down to the station tonight. I’ll have Tsukauchi come down and check it out. I need this asshole apprehended ASAP.”

“Roger.” Hizashi huffed. “Hey- aren’t you supposed to be taking time off for that villain?”

“He’s not a villain.” Shouta corrected. “He’s a kid.”

“Whatever.” Hizashi snorted. “You’re not supposed to be working. That desperate to get away from the little asshole, huh? I heard he bit one of the guys that apprehended him- heard he doesn’t even speak Japanese. He’s a foreigner.”

“He does speak Japanese.” Shouta shook his head though Hizashi could not see it. “I don’t think he’s a foreigner. If he is, he seems pretty naturalized. He’s a fucking brat- but from what I can tell, he’s just skittish. He can be polite if you’re patient enough with him.” Shouta leaned forward in his seat, letting his dark hair curtain off the rest of the room. “I think he’s just scared. He’s trying.”

“You’re going soft in your old age.” Hizashi snickered. “I’ll drop by after we talk to Cent. Meet the little brat.”

“I don’t think that’s a good-“

“Too late. I’m coming- it’s in my calendar.” Hizashi interrupted. “See you in a few.”

“Bye.” Shouta huffed, hanging up his phone and dropping it on the coffee table.

Next was to go through the quirkless database- cross-reference with missing persons, girls who would be between twelve and sixteen.

The list of names was staggeringly long.

One thousand, Two hundred thirty five girls. Gone- all around Izuku’s age, all quirkless.

Narrowed down to four hundred and fifty when he searched eye color, which typically doesn’t change with age.

Two hundred twenty eight when he imputed the years that it was possible he was reported missing.

God damn it.

Shouta sighed, and got to work, clicking on each individual file, looking at the pictures of the girls. Some were more similar to Izuku than others- he eliminated the possibilities of kids that were too tanned, the noses that were the wrong shapes, kids with perfectly straight hair were right out, kids with birth marks and small eyes and father-only households.

Forty kids left.

Shouta started looking for names, searching moms on social medias- Izuku said he remembers his mom looking like him.

Women with sharp features, animal type facial expression quirks, women who looked nothing like Izuku-

And then, a breakthrough.

Inko Midoriya- the resemblance was uncanny- nearly identical to Izuku, his eyes, his nose, his green hair, his pout-

The last post on her profile was a obituary, posted by a friend. She’d killed herself on the tenth anniversary of her Daughter’s’ death.

Two weeks ago.

Two. Weeks.

Shouta did some digging- read further. Inko had put Izuku’s image when he was just four years old through several aging apps, she’d worked tirelessly, every single post was about her missing child- she posted pictures of him on lightposts, bulletin boards, storefront windows- wherever she could. She did motivational speaking, spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in her desperation to find her baby-

But all of the posters had a girl on them. Long hair, blushed cheeks, wearing pink and dresses- and they didn’t really look like Izuku.

Shouta did more searching- Inko was a single mom. She had no other children, no family other than Izuku.

But there was another person on her profile- one close friend.

And when he saw that woman’s face, his stomach fell out of his ass. He’d seen that face before. He knew that head of spiky blonde hair, those determined vermillion eyes.

Mitsuki fucking Bakugo. Mother to his most problematic student, Katsuki Fucking Bakugo.

There were pictures of the two of them- of Izuku, of Katsuki- at sleepovers, at parks, at zoos and aquariums and preschool concert recitals.

And the smile on the kids face- it was RADIANT. Absolutely nothing like the jaded, sour way that Izuku held his face in a permanent grimace these days. Izuku hung onto Katsuki, his hand almost always in the blonde’s- they looked like two peas in a pod. The pictures went all the way back to the two boys being in diapers together, they’d taken baths together- their mothers shared a baby shower. They were family.

Shouta shut his computer. One thing at a time. Centipeder, reunification, rehabilitation. Shouta was optimistic, for once, about the outlook of the future for this kid.

Maybe he really was getting soft in his old age.

Chapter Text

When Shouta opened the door, the brat was sleeping again. He hadn't even made it INTO the bed, instead curling up into a little ball on top of the covers. It was adorable, in a weird way.

It was cute to watch the brat shift, and curl up, and hug the pillow close to his chest- he was so relaxed, it was nice.

"Izuku." Shouta stood clear across the room, just in case- last thing he needed was for the kid to freak the fuck out and bite him or something. "Izuku."

"Mnnm?" The boy shifted, and his eyes peeled open. "What is it? I was having a nice dream..."

"We uh… I found… your mother.” Shouta swallowed. Izuku blinked. “She is deceased. But- I also located your… Aunt? Mitsuki Bakugo-“ 

“Kaachan?” Izuku’s voice cracked. “He- is he… I h-heard he died…” Izuku went pale then, and Shouta blinked. 

“Katsuki Bakugo is Alive and well.” Shouta assured. “He’s in my class- you’ll see him Monday.” 

“…What?!” Izuku screeched. “I- no- He made it to UA?! That’s-“ Izuku shook his head. “No. That place is too public- if- if Shigaraki spots me there, you’re all dead. I’m not going.” 

“No one is going to hurt us, Izuku-“ Shouta soothed. “No one will ever hurt you again.” Shouta cleared his throat. “Which… brings me to the next topic. I am… handling Centipeder. Currently. I contacted Present Mic, he’s going to have one of his girls look into it. With an undercover op like this, it might take a month or two to catch him, and about another month until a court case, but after that it’s cut and dry, minimum fifteen years. Due to his designation as a hero, he will be given the maximum, and he will be set to Tartarus for his sentence. Villains there will not treat him well, not only as a Hero, but as a child molester. They don’t last long. He probably won’t make it out of prison.” Shouta crossed his arms over his chest. 

“… You’re serious?” The kid looked skeptical, but Shouta nodded. 

“You’ll need to… talk about what happened- to your therapist. I won’t put you through a trial unless you’d like to personally put the fucker in prison, but you do need to work through the trauma.”

Izuku was quiet, just staring up at Shouta with those big green eyes.

There was a knock on the door, and Shouta raised an eyebrow. No one told him they were coming, and he hadn’t gotten a text. “Hold that thought.” he held up a finger at the boy before leaving the teen’s bedroom and walking, cautiously, over to the door, and opening it.

"Mic- why the hell are you here." He hissed, Hizashi grinned.

"Heyyy! How's the kiddo doing?” He peeked over Shouta’s shoulder at the kid, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“He is not ready for visitors-“ Shouta growled. “Leave.” He demanded. 

“Ah, but I brought a peace offering- gueesssssss who finally got released into custody of the state!!!” Hizashi pactically sang, reaching behind the wall and tugging Hitoshi into the doorway. Poor kid looked like he hadn’t slept in days- and he probably hadn’t. Shouta knew the boy’s father had him cleaning till two in the morning, working in the auto shop even later. 

“Hitoshi? Kid are you alright?” Shouta switched gears immediately, Hitoshi winced. 

“Old man finally broke something that couldn’t be blamed on a fall.” Hitoshi muttered, lifting up the hem of his navy blue cable-knit sweater. Bruises littered his torso in varying degrees of healing- bandages peeked from over his ribs. “Cracked two ribs and a hairline fracture in my sternum. Already saw recovery girl but I’m on light activity for two weeks- so, no cloth training.”

Shouta could feel the anger bubbling in his gut. He had been trying to get Hitoshi out of that damn house for months now- but without evidence, the man was practically untouchable.

Hitoshi didn't want his father to go to prison, didn't want to lose the last piece of his family, but Shouta knew the kid didn't exactly LOVE his father.

"Well. Why don't you come in and meet my newest problem child." Shouta offered, opening the door wider and gesturing the boy inside. When Hizashi moved to step inside as well, Shouta shut the door on him. “Not you.” 

“Wait- but- oh, c’mon, let me meet him!” 

“It’s fine.” Izuku spoke up, shocking Shouta. “He can stay.” 

“You sure?” Shouta requested, eyeing the kid. “I won’t be upset if you don’t want him here. I don’t want him here.” 

“Rude and hurtful.” Hizashi huffed. “I even brought you cheesecake, you bitch.” 

“He can stay,” Izuku confirmed. “What’s… cheesecake?” 

“Dear god- Shouta- what have you been DOING to this poor child?!” Hizashi shoved past Shouta, cooing at the kid. “Why don’t you boys go wash your hands , and I'll serve you both some of the cheese cake - it’s chocolate!” Hizashi encouraged, Izuku looked over at Shouta, a questioning look. 

“You’ll probably like it.” Shouta conceded. “You can spit it out if you don’t.” 

“Fine.” Izuku muttered, already heading for his bathroom. Hitoshi went to follow him, and Shouta pinched his sweater, causing him to pause. 

“He’s uh… fragile.” Shouta whispered, “Try to be nice, kid, alright?” 

“… I thought he was a villain?” Hitoshi blinked, Shouta shook his head. “Well, is he dangerous?” 

“He… not really. Just a kid in a bad situation. You know how that is, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Hitoshi mumbled. “I won’t punch him, I guess.” 

“And… just… nice with your words. He can be touchy.” Shouta advised, Hitoshi nodded in understanding. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Hitoshi swore. 

“Good. You’ll uh- I know you picked out the big room, but I’m actually going to set you up in my room tonight and take the couch until I can get the office set up as a room. I don’t really want you two in sleeping in the same room.” Shouta explained, Hitoshi blinked up at him. 

“Wait- so he IS dangerous?” Hitoshi squinted. 

“No… he’s just… he needs his own room, alright?” Shouta sighed. “And you need your own space too.” 

“Fine, Whatever.” Hitoshi muttered, heading to go wash his hands. 

Chapter Text

Shouta waited, and when the boys emerged, Hitoshi looked like a puppy who'd just gotten kicked, and was sitting on the very edge of the couch, as far away from the smaller boy as physically possible.

"So... You're a villain?" Hitoshi asked, Shouta shot him a warning look, one that both of the boys ignored. 

"No." Izuku deadpanned, picking at his sleeve. 

"Uh, but I read a report- you were spotted running away from a villain attack- and you were covered in blood." Hitoshi insisted.

"It wasn't mine." Izuku blinked. 

"Well what about the knife and the stolen wallet?” Hitoshi pressed. 

“Also not mine.” Izuku muttered, shrinking into himself. 

“Boys. Food. Now.” Shouta called. They both went quiet, and got up, approaching the table. They sat across from each other, Hizashi took a spot next to Hitoshi, forcing Shouta to sit next to Izuku.

Shouta was pretty sure that was a mistake.

Hizashi was watching, eyes wide, waiting for the boy to dig into the food, and the boys were looking anywhere but at each other, and the only sound was the clink of utensils on ceramic plates.

"So." Hizashi started, looking at Hitoshi. "What have you been up to since the last time I saw you? A couple weeks ago? You have any new hobbies? Made any new friends?"

“Restored a Camaro.” Hitoshi mumbled, shrugging. “They’re having it wrapped pink. It’s gonna look stupid.” 

“Cheese… cake.” Izuku muttered. “Does not taste like cheese.” He squinted at the slice on his plate, and he blinked. “Or cake.” 

Hizashi was grinning, and Hitoshi was snickering.

"Oh, no, kiddo, that's because it's a dessert." Hizashi explained. "I can tell you like it- look at how fast you're eating!"

"It's not that good." Hitoshi shrugged, taking a bite of his own slice.

"Shut up, I know you like cheesecake. I saw you steal some from the teacher's lounge last week." Shouta muttered.

“I didn’t steal it.” Hitoshi scowled. “It was free.” 

“For the teachers.” Shouta pointed out. 

“I grade your papers all the time, call it a tax.” Hitoshi argued. Izuku snorted, a soft, extremely quiet laugh, hidden behind those viridian curls and those hunched shoulders.

Hizashi was beaming, and Shouta smiled, softly, before returning his gaze to his food.

Hitoshi was talking now, rambling on about the car, and the wrap job, and his dad. Hizashi was asking questions, and getting the boy to open up- he was so damn GOOD at that.

But he noticed when Izuku went quiet, when the boy stopped eating, and just sort of zoned out. He didn't even notice when Hitoshi stopped talking.

“Izuku, are you alright?” Shouta asked, quietly, Izuku blinked, and nodded. 

“Yeah.” He stated, a bit wheezy. 

“Are you sure?” Shouta pressed, looking at the pale, pained expression on the kid’s face. Shouta checked his watch, and hummed. “Oh- Hey, kid, you’re due for meds.” The hero stood, intending on grabbing the medication, Izuku looked up, and threw a glance at Hitoshi, and Hizashi.

“No.” Izuku said, a little more forcefully, “I’m fine.” 

“If you need to lay down,” Shouta spoke slowly, carefully. “Your door has a lock.” 

“Fine.” Izuku was out of his seat immediately, heading for his room quickly- in a hurry. 

“He okay?” Hizashi asked, once he thought the kid was out of earshot. 

“He’s got some abdominal issues.” Shouta answered simply. “Hitoshi- I really do need you to be nice to him, right now. He’s in a great deal of pain and-“

“And he’s a fucking weirdo who’s never had cheesecake.” Hitoshi finished for Shouta. “Seriously, what’s his deal? He looks like he was hit by a bus.” 

“He’s… had some problems. But he’s trying.” Shouta defended. 

“Definitely doesn’t seem like a murderer to me.” Hizashi agreed, Shouta shot him a glare. “‘Toshi, why don’t you go get in your ‘Jammies and let me have a word with the old man, huh?” 

“You’re older than me.” Shouta argued, but Hitoshi was already out of his seat, heading right for the bathroom. 

“Took a look into centipeder.” Hizashi said plainly, switching to english- knowing damn well with his grades that Hitoshi would have no fucking clue what he was talking about. “No formal complaints, obviously, but sure as shit, there were some whispers in the woman’s prison- and in the Juvie ward. Had one of my girls ask around. Peder is a pedo- but…” Hizashi threw a glance at Izuku’s door. “With girls.” 

“Izuku is a boy.” Shouta swallowed. “And… it’s… not my place to suggest otherwise.” His comment was loaded, Hizashi caught the meaning. 

“Ah. Okay.” Hizashi nodded, then paused. “I’m having one of my girls feel Centipeder out- cover has her as a runaway. We’ll get him, Sho. Don’t worry about it too much. I got this- I already put the paperwork through. As long as I keep getting results, the higher ups are willing to back me on this. No one wants to hear about a kid being abused, especially not a kid we can track down and save, ya know? So we might be able to skip the court date if the bastard wants to give a statement- and we can just get right to sentencing, get him a lighter sentence, plea deal to get him the civilian penalty, make sure Izuku won’t have to go to court."

“That’s good.” Shouta sighed, slumping into his seat. “The sooner we get this dealt with, the sooner I can make some progress with Izuku. He trusts me somewhat, but he needs some work.” Shouta scratched at his scruff, sighing. “Poor fucking kid needs someone to lean on.” 

Hizashi reached over, patting the other man on the shoulder.

"You've got this, Sho." Hizashi reassured, grinning. "You're great with kids."

"I'm great with problem children." Shouta corrected. "Kid is just... broken. I don't know if I'm the best person for the job."

"Nah, man, you're the guy for the job- I know you can help him." Hizashi was smiling still, and Shouta was just so, so tired. “He likes you.” Hizashi noted. “I can tell. Trusts you a bunch.”

Chapter Text

Just then, Izuku poked his head out of his bedroom, having completely changed his clothes. He carried his shirt, balled up with part of his jeans sticking out- Shouta watched him walk to the kitchen, and stuff the clothes into the trash can. 

“Woah- what are you doing?” Shouta questioned, confused. 

“… They’re ruined.” Izuku muttered, eyes sliding over to Hizashi, who whistled, clapping his hands on his thighs. 

“Well, I’m heading out. Good luck.” He waved, vacating the premises without another word. 

“I got… blood on them.” Izuku whispered, once the door closed. “They’re ruined.”

“Oh- kid, no they’re not.” Shouta shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to handle bloodstains.” He gestured for the kid to follow him, and Izuku did just that as Shouta led him right to the laundry room. “Here,” He took the clothes from the kid. “Are they still wet?” 

“Yeah.” Izuku’s cheeks were red, his face set in a scowl. 

“Well, then it’s pretty easy. Just pop ‘em in the washer on cold.” Shouta demonstrated pressing the buttons on the machine, and popped the clothes right inside, starting the cycle. “And use the heavy soak. It’ll get it right out. If it’s dry, you might want to use peroxide and dab at the fabric for a while, then wash the same way. Easy.” Shouta explained. “Is that what was bothering you earlier? Cramps?” 

“Yeah.” Izuku mumbled. 

“There’s an electric heating pad-“ Shouta reached up into the cabinet, grabbing a corded blanket. “I keep it in here. Use it whenever you need it.” Shouta gestured at his own stomach. “Put it over the cramps. It’ll help.” 

“…How do you know?” Izuku squinted, not trusting. 

“I’ve had girlfriends. I have a mom, and other friends.” Shouta explained. “I pay attention.” 

“Okay.” Izuku warily took the heating pad. 

“Chocolate helps too, I’ve heard. There’s a pint of rocky road in the freezer. Have at it.” Shouta shrugged. 

“… why.” 

“I’m actually not sure why chocolate helps but-“ Shouta didn’t get a chance before Izuku cut him off. 

"Why are you so nice?" Izuku clarified, frowning.

"What do you mean?" Shouta asked, unclear. 

"I mean... Why are you helping me? Why do you care? I'm a criminal." Izuku reminded him. “I’ve been a dick to you, and you just…. Why?” 

"So are most of the people I spend time with. You're a person- and you deserve basic human decency, and a safe place to heal. It's not hard to show you some kindness, kid." Shouta huffed. “You don’t need to suffer just because of what you were brought up into. And… Let’s be honest kid, you’re… you’re not exactly incapable of causing real problems for me. You’ve been less of a dick than you could have been.” 

"You're... weird." Izuku noted, working his jaw. 

"I've been told. Go get some Ice cream, curl up on the couch, rest." Shouta instructed, Izuku stood still, staring at the floor for a few moments before he spoke again. 

“…anks.” He whispered, low under his breath. 

“I’m sorry?” Shouta asked, lowering his head slightly, tilting his head so that his ear faced the kid. 

“Thanks.” Izuku repeated, a bit louder. He cleared his throat then, and stood still, for several long moments. “But… what… what do you WANT from me?” Izuku finally looked up at him. “I- I won’t sell out Tomura. He’s the only family I have. I have nothing else to give you, so what could you possibly want from me?” 

“I want you to get better.” Shouta answered simply. “It’d make me happy just to see you doing well.”

Izuku didn't respond, just stared, and turned, heading back for the couch.

Shouta went to his room, tiptoeing as to not wake Hitoshi, grabbed his sleeping bag, and headed back for the living room, he unrolled it, and climbed in, making himself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Izuku asked.

"Going to sleep." Shouta grunted, not even looking at the teen.

"On the floor?" Izuku pressed.

"Hitoshi’s using my bed, So, until his new bed gets delivered tomorrow, I’m out here. The couch is too soft for my back so-“ Shouta gestured. “You can stay up as long as you want, watch TV, whatever. I can sleep through a bomb dropping.” 

“Aren’t you worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” Izuku squinted, Shouta shrugged. 

“Hey whatever gets me out of work on Monday, right?” Shouta Shrugged. “Look, you’re a good kid. I’m sure I’ll survive the night.” Shouta slipped down into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. “Goodnight kid.” 

But Izuku didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His tongue felt trapped in the cage of his teeth. 

‘You’re a good kid.’ That was what he’d said. A ‘good kid’. Izuku was… not a good kid. Not at all. Not even a little.

He was a villain. He hurt people.

Shouta just…

Shouta really had no clue.

Izuku had… he’d hurt people. Killed people. He was a villain- he was dangerous.

Maybe, if Shouta knew what he did, what he was capable of, the hero would understand that. The hero would stop the hovering, the sad, watchful eyes. 

Izuku should have been honest with the man. But...

But he was terrified. He was scared of how Shouta would react. Terrified that Shouta would throw him out.

So, Izuku did the only thing he could do.

He said nothing.

Shouta woke a few hours later, to the distinct feeling of being watched- the faint glow of the television lit the room in small, colorful bursts. Not enough to really make out anything but a mess of green curls. 

The action scenes, bombs and guns were a low murmur, only barely muffling the soft, hiccuping sobs- and the way those curls shook- 

Izuku was crying. 

Shouta laid still for a few moments, made sure he wasn’t seeing things wrong. When the sobs continued, he slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Izuku looked over, and scrambled, turning to try and hide his face.

"Kid?" Shouta questioned, standing slowly. "What's wrong?"

Chapter Text

"N-Nothing." Izuku's voice cracked, and Shouta sat on the opposite end of the couch, watching the teen.

"That's obviously not true." Shouta pointed out. "C'mon. What's wrong? You can talk to me."

"No, I can't." Izuku croaked, shaking his head.

"You can." Shouta countered, gently. "What's wrong? Is it your Leg? Can I get you anything?"

"Why do you care?" Izuku sobbed, turning away, climbing off of the couch, rushing for his bedroom. 

"Why shouldn't I care?" Shouta frowned, getting up and following him. 

"Because I'm not a good kid!" Izuku screamed, suddenly, he turned to look at Shouta, his eyes wide and frantic. “I’m- I HURT people. I’ve-“ 

“Izuku,” Shouta started, slowly. “I can tell that you’re a good kid.” Shouta grasped the kid by the shirt, careful not to actually. Touch him. 

Izuku cracked, broke, shattered on contact. He nearly collapsed, would have if Shouta had not caught him. All at once, the kid was crying, sobbing, wailing into the teacher’s chest, and Shouta hushed him, petting his hair back, cupping the back of his head and holding him tight. 

“It’s alright kid,” Shouta promised. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

Light gleaned off the wall behind the teacher for only a moment as his bedroom door cracked open, and above Izuku’s shaking form, Shouta saw a single, violet eye. 

“I’ll never let anything hurt you boys ever again.” Shouta swore, laying his cheek on Izuku’s dry hair. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.” 

Shouta stayed, standing there, in the hallway, holding onto the kid, until the wailing sobs faded into sniveling sniffles, and the grip the kid had on him slackened, his legs giving way.

Izuku had fallen asleep. Miraculously, after weeks of the kid sleeping like a deer, startling at the slightest sound, the kid fell asleep in his arms, just like that. Like a toddler, who needed to be held.

Shouta picked the kid up, and laid him down in his own bed. The kid curled up into the blankets, his face scrunched, but his expression calm, serene.

He shut the door quietly, and found Hitoshi eyeing him from the hall, his hair a mess.

"Sorry." Shouta apologized. "Did we wake you up?"

"Nah. I heard him crying, but didn't want to bug him." Hitoshi explained. "... Is he okay?"

"No." Shouta shook his head, his heart hurting. "He's not."

"Oh." Hitoshi nodded. "Are you?"

"I'll be fine." Shouta nodded. "Go on, back to bed.”

“…What… happened to him? Something had to of, right?” Hitoshi asked. 

“You know I wouldn’t be able to tell you about it.” Shouta shook his head, Hitoshi huffed. 

“Well…” Hitoshi muttered. "Maybe I can help him, too."

Shouta's face softened.

"Maybe you can."

Izuku didn't dream that night. He didn't remember the last time he hadn't had a nightmare, or at the very least a restless night.

When he awoke the next morning, the apartment was quiet.

It was early, not even seven, yet, and when he checked, Aizawa was sleeping on the couch, and Hitoshi was already making a coffee, his back to the hall. Izuku didn’t want to bother him. 

And Izuku needed a shower. Between his period and the sweat and tears, he felt fucking grimy. 

So, Izuku grabbed clean clothes, and headed for the shower. He didn't lock the door this time. He'd feel better, being able to hear if something were to happen.

The water was warm, and the steam billowed, fogging up the mirror.

He washed his hair, and scrubbed his skin until it was pink.

He didn’t hear the bathroom door open, but he certainly heard Hitoshi’s scream, and the clatter of ceramic on the tile. 

“Where’s your dick?!” Hitoshi’d shouted, eyes wide as he stared at Izuku. Izuku screeched, hurriedly covering himself with a towel. 

“Get OUT!” Izuku demanded, throwing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at the other boy, who wailed the entire time. 

Shouta, who’d been woken from a dead sleep, was quick to dash through the hall and clap a hand over Hitoshi’s eyes, his own closed tight as he yanked the bathroom door shut.

"WHERE IS HIS DICK?" Hitoshi kept asking, confused, and Shouta groaned, dragging his hand over his face.

"Hitoshi." Shouta started, and the kid shut up.

"Sorry, sir."

"Did you knock?"

"No sir."

"Then apologize." Shouta scolded.

"Sorry." Hitoshi grumbled.

"You're gonna say sorry and mean it." Shouta demanded, 

“I’m sorry Izuku!” Hitoshi whined through the door, and there was a beat of silence, before the door opened, and Izuku poked his head out, face flushed. 

“Villains know how to fucking KNOCK you know.” Izuku hissed, he’d been dressed, hurriedly, in a baggy hoodie and sweats. 

“Dude- I said I was sorry!” Hitoshi argued. “I didn’t mean to see- well I didn’t actually SEE anything?! Seriously- what the fuck, right? Did the league cut it off or-“ 

“Hitoshi.” Shouta hissed, his tone warning enough. 

“Sorry.” Hitoshi hung his head. “I- just- sorry.” He mumbled. 

“Whatever just-“ Izuku’s face was flushed.

“Hitoshi, Other people’s genitals are NONE of your business, understand?” Shouta eyed the boy, who nodded, just as blushed as the other boy. “And- Izuku, we do have to lock the bathroom door for privacy.” Shouta spoke a fair bit more gently to Izuku, who nodded. “Alright?” He glanced between the boys.

Both nodded.

Izuku was embarrassed, his face red and his body tense. Hitoshi was confused, but was quickly learning not to ask any more questions.

Shouta had an appointment at eight am. He was going to meet with the foster agency, and hopefully finalize the papers, get them filed.

Hitoshi would be living with him, permanently. 

It was a huge change, and not something he was taking lightly, and he wasn't sure he was the best person to raise a kid, but he knew he was the best option for Hitoshi. He wasn’t going to leave the kid to the system, where the kid would be ignored or mistreated, and there wasn't anyone else that was in a position to care for him.

Hitoshi had a home now.

So did Izuku.

The three convened at the breakfast table, and Shouta sat out cereal and milk. They ate in silence- Shouta watched the boys steal glances at each other, but they both refused to speak. 

He knew he couldn’t leave them home alone together. So… it would be a ‘family outing’ as it were. 

Chapter Text

"We're going shopping." Shouta finally spoke.

"For what?" Hitoshi asked.

"Furniture." Shouta said, eyeing the kid. "And you," he turned to Izuku. "Need a new wardrobe."

"What's wrong with what I have?!" Izuku scowled, crossing his arms.

"You only have the one pair of jeans, and two pairs of sweats." Shouta reminded him. "Plus, I need some new things for the apartment- we'll all need stuff."

“I can just stay here.” Izuku argued. “I don’t need to-“ 

“You know very well why I can’t leave you here alone, kid.” Shouta deadpanned, Hitoshi snorted, cleaning up the dishes. “We’ll need to set up a chore chart, at some point.” 

“I’ll do the dishes as long as I never have to fold laundry,” Hitoshi offered. 

“We all handle our OWN laundry, Hitoshi.” Shouta pointed out, Hitoshi huffed. 

“I can’t stand touching wet food.” Izuku mumbled. “Seriously, I’ll blow chunks.” 

Shouta blinked.

The boys did NOT make it easy to not laugh at them.

"Fine." Shouta grunted. "Just don't make a mess. If the sink isn't filled with water and food, that's good enough. But you'll take care of the garbage, and sweep the floors. We can figure out chores later."

"Can we go?" Hitoshi whined.

"Yeah, just, grab your shoes."

Izuku was quiet, his face tucked down into his hood.

“Can’t I stay here? I’ll behave.” He grumbled, Shouta sighed. 

“Is it… do you need your meds?” He asked, mindful of Hitoshi still being in earshot.

“I don’t LIKE taking them.” Izuku muttered. “They make it hard to control my quirk, and when I’m out in public I need to be able to protect myself.” 

“Kid, Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll be right there next to you.” Shouta promised, Izuku groaned. “It might be worth it to see a… different kind of doctor, if this bothers you that much. There are pills you can take to make it stop.” 

“… Really?” Izuku looked up, a light of interest in his eye. 

“Yes.” Shouta nodded. “We can look into that while we’re out too. I’ll send Hitoshi on an errand- he can handle being on his own.” 

“Oh but I can’t?” Izuku pouted, Shouta snorted. 

“I’m sorry, only one of you is an ex-supervillain, huh?” Shouta raised an eyebrow, Izuku grumbled under his breath, but stood, and snatched the pill bottle off of the counter. He downed two pills dry, and stomped off to put his shoes on. Shouta caught himself smiling, fondly, after the boy, and shook his head, exasperated before following after the two teens. 

Shopping wasn't something Shouta particularly enjoyed doing, especially not shopping for furniture and clothes and food. It wasn't really 'fun', but, well.

Shouta didn't mind having a house full of kids.

Not when his 'house full of kids' included a boy he’d often regarded as his own son, and a traumatized but sweet boy.

Not that he was going to tell the boys that. He had to keep up his strict, no-nonsense appearance after all.

Hitoshi had been quick to snatch up a black comforter, and some matching black pillow cases.

He'd gotten a black rug for his bedroom.

"Black isn't exactly a... lively color." Shouta remarked.

"You don't like it?" Hitoshi asked, his face falling a bit.

"I'm not saying I don't like it," Shouta frowned. "It's not bad. I'm just saying, it's not the only color you can pick. It doesn't have to all be black."

Hitoshi frowned, looking down.

“Black doesn’t stain as easy. It’s practical.” Izuku butted in, Hitoshi blinked at him. “Black sweats, for instance, you can bleed all over them and no one would know.”

Hitoshi seemed to accept that, and they moved on, to a section full of dark colors- blue, and grey, and deep green.

They found a comforter that would go well with Hitoshi's bedroom, and the boy was grinning.

"I haven't ever had a bedroom of my own before." Hitoshi explained, looking over at Shouta, who ruffled his hair.

"I wouldn’t get too used to it. At this point, the commission is going to start dumping all the dangerous orphans on him.” Izuku muttered, Hitoshi frowned. 

“I’m not an orphan dude.” Hitoshi pointed out. 

“Good for you.” Izuku spat. “Ever think maybe I wasn’t talking about you? Or does everything revolve around you all the time?”

“Izuku.” Shouta warned. 

“Whatever,” Izuku mumbled, shaking his head. “Just get your shit and let’s GO.” 

“What is your PROBLEM man?” Hitoshi asked, Shouta cut in before Izuku could answer. 

“‘Toshi, no.” Shouta warned, quietly. “Let him be.” He whispered.

Izuku watched the exchange quietly, and when he went to turn away, he found Shouta was watching him.

He didn't look mad.

His face was neutral, but there was a glint of concern in his eye.

Izuku didn't like that.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and walked away, his back straight, shoulders hunched.

Shouta followed after, Hitoshi close behind.

Izuku stopped by the shoe department, and looked down at the display, quietly.

"I need shoes." Izuku spoke up, and Shouta hummed.

“You do.” Shouta agreed. “You know what kinds you want?” 

“… Shoes.” Izuku deadpanned.

“Okay but- canvas or full coverage? High tops, low tops, boots?” Shouta tried, Izuku shrugged.

"Don't care." He said, flatly.

"Well," Shouta frowned. "What did the league have you wear?"

"I had my own boots."

"Do you want to get those again?"

"... no."

"Then we'll pick something out." Shouta assured.

They ended up settling on some red high tops, and black boots.

"You need a bag." Shouta added.

"Why."

"Because you can't keep carrying all of your shit in your hands or the back of your pants." Hitoshi stated.

“Hitoshi, Language.” Shouta chided, Izuku huffed. 

"Fine. A big bag." Izuku acquiesced.

"Why a big one?" Shouta squinted, suspicious.

"All my knives and shit." Izuku snorted. 

"Language, and, No." Shouta denied.. 

"But-!"

"No." Shouta grabbed a backpack- it was black, with a cat pattern on the side.

"I'll take a knife in the pocket." Izuku protested. “Just one.” 

“No longer than the palm of your hand, and no switchblades.” Shouta agreed, Izuku huffed, but didn’t argue further. “Hitoshi, there’s a game store upstairs.” Shouta noted, the violet-haired boy’s eyes lit up. “Go check them out.” 

“Sweet-“ Hitoshi turned on his heel, ready to book it- Izuku scoffed. 

“How come I don’t get to look at the games?” He demanded, angry. 

“Because you’re going to go to the shop next door, and get fitted for a proper binder.” Shouta stated plainly. “The less focus you use on your quirk for that, the more control you’ll have even while properly medicated. You need a binder.” 

Chapter Text

Izuku stared down at his chest. 

His chest. All his chest- squished down with one thick sports-bra like tank top thing. Eraserhead called it a binder. 

Izuku’s chest was flat. For the first time since he was ten, his chest was flat, and he didn’t have to focus his quirk to do it. He looked like a boy. 

Izuku couldn’t stop looking down, turning this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of any sort of curve, any bulge. There wasn’t one. His chest was flat. 

“Does it fit well?” Aizawa’d asked, Izuku blinked, hard. 

“Mhm.” He answered, noncommittal. 

“Does it hurt at all?“ The man pressed. “If it’s too tight, we go a size up. It has to be comfortable because any sort of excess tension can cause injury and make it difficult to get reductive surgery when you’re older.” 

“… surgery?” Izuku blinked up at him. 

“Yes? To remove the tissues permanently, if that’s something you’d like to do.” Shouta nodded. “Even if you don’t want to go the survival route, you really do need to make sure you’re not damaging your ribs and lungs.” 

“It… fits fine.” Izuku swallowed. “Uh… thanks?” 

“This should have been done for you by the damned social worker.” Shouta huffed. “Gender affirming care is within your most basic rights as an incarcerated minor.” Shouta led Izuku back out of the shop. “I called the doctor while you were getting fitted. You have an appointment to get the implant on Friday- it’s a little bar that goes in your arm and puts your periods on pause, essentially. technically birth control.” 

“Oh.” Izuku squinted. “And… why’d you set an appointment for that?” 

“Because your period is making you miserable?” Shouta raised a brow. “Kid you can hardly take a step without wincing. You need meds.” 

“I…” Izuku huffed. “I’m not… I don’t need birth control. I’m not going to have sex with anyone.” 

“Well, I’d hope you wouldn’t.” Shouta scoffed. “You’re ridiculously malnourished and your personality is shit. Again, it’s to get rid of your menstrual cycle so you’re not in so much pain.” Shouta repeated. “If you’d rather be on a pill or something, we can talk to the doctor when we get there, but the implant seems like the best option since you don’t need to remember to do anything and it doesn’t require a pelvic exam.”

Izuku was quiet for a moment, before nodding, quietly.

Aizawa seemed satisfied with the response, and turned to walk back into the store.

Izuku couldn't help but smile a bit.

Aizawa was, apparently, a lot more caring than he wanted people to believe.

When Izuku and Aizawa made it to the game store, Hitoshi was waiting, a game tucked under his arm.

“Izuku, you pick something out too.” Shouta patted the green-haired kid’s shoulder, and Izuku blinked. 

“What?” 

“You weren’t a massive pain in my ass today, you earned a reward. Pick out a game.” Shouta encouraged, Izuku looked to Hitoshi, and eyed the game he’d picked.

It was an old RPG, but the green haired boy didn't really recognize it.

There was a new game that had just come out, but, Izuku knew it was expensive, and the three of them had spent enough money.

So, he didn't mention it.

He picked out a game from a few years ago, and a console.

Eraserhead bought all the games, and the console.

Izuku wasn't used to someone doing things for him.

Especially not without a price.

He wondered if Eraserhead was just going to ask for a favor later.

That had to be it.

He was going to owe a favor to the pro hero.

It had to be worth more than the games, or the clothes, or the binder.

Izuku had to figure the fuck out what the old bastard wanted before the rice as too high to pay.

Shouta didn't seem to want anything- not money, not favors, not blood.

Nothing.

He didn't demand anything, he didn't hit him. He didn't scream, or get angry, or throw him into the wall.

He was... weirdly nice.

It had to be a trick, right?

Maybe he was trying to get Izuku to trust him so that he could use him.

That was it.

It had to be.

But...

Izuku looked over to the old man, and Hitoshi, animatedly arguing about whether or not a neon sign was a good idea for a bedroom lamp. Aizawa didn’t seem like a predator. He didn’t seem like he wanted something from Hitoshi either- he didn’t yell, didn’t punch him. It was… weird. 

Izuku had never seen an adult be genuinely kind before.

He didn't really know what to think about that.

"Kid, I can hear you overthinking. We're getting dinner." Eraserhead called over his shoulder. "What kind of food do you like?"

Izuku blinked.

"I, uh. Don't care. As long as it's not spicy."

"You have to have a favorite, kid. Come on." Aizawa coaxed.

"I'm not a picky eater."

"I mean, we should probably keep the curry off the menu, huh?" Hitoshi grinned. “Since Izuku’s too much of a baby.” 

“Fuck you.” Izuku spat, Hitoshi snickered, only to get whacked on the head with a rolled up newspaper. 

“Knock it off.” Shouta demanded, though he didn’t sound angry. “C’mon, Izuku, anything you want. What are you craving?” 

“Curry is… fine.” He agreed, Hitoshi grinned. “I don’t like spicy food because it upsets my stomach, not because I can’t handle spice.” He felt the need to defend himself, Hitoshi snickered. 

“Whatever you say, dude.” 

“Fuck YOU.” Izuku snapped, somehow, Hitoshi succeeded in tap dancing on Izuku’s nerves.

And, somehow, the violet-haired teen always had a witty response.

“Usually that comes AFTER dinner, broccoli boy.” Hitoshi teased, Shouta stifled a laugh, and smacked the kid on the back of the head with the newspaper again. 

“Stop terrorizing him, Hitoshi.” He warned. “And I’m proud of your patience, Izuku.” 

And that- well, that stopped Izuku in his tracks. 

No one, for as long as he’d been alive, for as long as he could remember had ever told Izuku that they were proud of him.

Chapter Text

Shouta was beginning to learn that while Izuku and Hitoshi were easy enough to deal with separately, they were an entirely different animal when together. Shouta had already long figured out that Izuku was a bit of a pugnacious brat on his own, but it seemed that when combined with Hitoshi, he was downright malicious. The two fought like cats and dogs, every single interaction resulted in some sort of argument or screaming match. 

Shouta came to realize that this was perhaps the most normal near familial relationship either boy had ever experienced.

All this to say, Shouta didn’t actually mind the fighting all that much. 

He was a lot more concerned when there was quiet.

Izuku had a habit of shutting down. When he couldn't deal with whatever was happening, he just shut off, like a light switch.

He would go completely silent, and stare blankly.

Hitoshi was much the same.

The difference between them was that while Hitoshi was generally a very passive child, Izuku was not.

Where Hitoshi would curl into himself and wait out a bad situation, or even leave, Izuku would snap, and start a fight, or he'd run away.

Both of these things were dangerous in their own right. Hitoshi’s shutdowns could be detrimental to his health, he would stay silent and hidden even if he was bleeding out, it would always be Shouta’s ob to pay enough attention to know if the kid was truly alright to be left alone.

Izuku, in contrast, but perhaps in comparison, was nearly just as detrimental to himself. He didn’t think rationally when he was upset, running away wasn’t an option at present moment, so fighting was all he had. He’d fight tooth and nail, break a bone and still throw a punch. He fought like a coyote with it’s foot stuck in a trap- he’d chew it off if it meant he’d stay in the game. 

Putting the two of them together was bound to be a recipe for disaster.

It was only a matter of time before their volatile personalities mixed and they blew up.

Izuku and Hitoshi had been arguing, and Shouta was about to call them both to the table, where Hizashi was setting out the food, and then-

Then, there was a loud smacking noise.

And Hitoshi was crying.

Izuku was standing, his hand still in the air, eyes wide, mouth gaping.

Hizashi had dropped the plates he was holding, and was staring, just as surprised as Shouta.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Izuku snarled. 

“Dude I was just trying to move you out of the way!” Hitoshi defended, clutching his red-hot cheek- Izuku was shaking, Shouta realized, eyes wild and dilated-

“I’ll fucking kill you- I’ll tear you apart!” Izuku shrieked, still shaking, though he took several steps back instead of moving closer, flight was the goal, not fight.

“Izuku, are you alright?” Shouta’s voice is low, calming. 

“The fuck do you MEAN is HE okay?! He HIT me!” 

“Hitoshi.” Shouta’s tone remained calm. “Can you go get a cup of water for Izuku, please?” 

“The fucking-“ 

“Hitoshi.” Shouta met the boy’s eye. “Please.” And with that, Hitoshi paused, brows furrowed, he looked back to Izuku. 

Pale, shaking, sweaty Izuku.

“Dude- hey, its… it’s not that big a deal? Aizawa’s not gonna hit you or anything?” 

“No one is going to touch you,” Shouta starts, calmly. “It was an accident.” 

“He grabbed me.” Izuku pointed an accusing finger. “He knew what he was fucking doing.” 

“Dude I pushed you by the chest? It’s not like I grabbed your throat or anything?”

“Ah- Hitoshi, he’s very injured still-“ Shouta covered quickly. “You probably literally touched a sore spot. 

“Shit- woods- Hey, Man, I’m sorry- I really didn’t mean to- you were just in the way?” Hitoshi tried to explain. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you or-“ 

“Fuck OFF.” Izuku interrupted, turning on his heel and dashing for his bedroom. Hitoshi stood there, in stunned silence. 

“The fuck is his problem?” Hitoshi whispered, still confused. 

“He’s… Sensitive.” Shouta tried to keep it vague. “Some bad things tend to happen to people who hang around villains. He’s not been safe around others. Some awful things have happened to him, and now he’s… afraid of a lot, actually.” 

“… ‘s that what happened to his…” He pointed down at his own crotch, Shouta paused. Shit. 

“Well… Izuku wasn’t actually… born with a penis.” Shouta explained. It took a moment for realization to settle on Hitoshi’s face, and then he went bright red from neck to forehead. 

“He thought I was trying to cop a feel of his tits?!” He whisper shouted, Shouta winced.

Yeah, that was pretty much it.

Hitoshi had accidentally groped him, and now, Izuku had shut down.

Hitoshi and Shouta had both fucked up.

Izuku, in his fear, had lashed out.

Hitoshi, in his surprise, had been insensitive.

Neither of them was actually in the wrong, but, the damage was done, and Shouta didn't quite know how to fix this mess.

“I-“ Hitoshi started. “What do I do?!” 

“Well, we start with an explanation and an apology- after he’s calmed down some. He’s a little angry out right now, yeah?” Shouta suggested, Hitoshi’s blush seemed to only get deeper. 

“Yeah but he’s not MAD- he’s SCARED.” Hitoshi murmured. “I scared the shit out of him- I didn’t mean to…” 

“I know that, Hitoshi, make no mistake, if I thought you meant to harass Izuku, we’d be having a very different, much louder conversation.” Shouta stated, pointedly looking the boy in the eye. “We WON’T be making a mistake like this again, yeah?”

Hitoshi nodded, furiously, eyes wide, Shouta gave him a reassuring smile, and turned.

He needed to check on Izuku.

Shouta made his way down the hall, and knocked on the boy's door.

"Hey, can I come in?"

"I don't care."

"You know, you're not very polite." Shouta sighed, slipping into the room.

"Sorry." Izuku curled up on his bed, hugging his legs tight to his chest, tucked into a corner, face hidden in his knees. 

Chapter Text

"It's not a bad thing, I'd just like you to acknowledge my presence when you respond." He hummed, secretly pleased the teen was talking to him at all. “I explained things to Hitoshi. He’s very sorry.”

“I…” Izuku trailed off, swallowing hard, and curling up tighter.

"Kid." Shouta's tone was low, gentle, soft, like he was talking to a frightened cat. "Look at me, please."

"I didn't-"

"Izuku." He called, gently, the kid looked up, and Shouta sat down beside him. "It was an accident."

"I know. Hitoshi does too. He’s not angry, and I’m not either. Mostly, we’re just worried about you.”

Izuku said nothing, and stared at the wall, instead.

"What happened, kid?" Shouta prompted.

"I panicked."

"Yeah, no shit."

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Izuku, I don’t care how you reacted, I want to know WHY you reacted that way.” Shouta tried. “That sort of panic- You’ve never been particularly violent.” Shouta pointed out. “Was there… someone other than Centipeder who made you feel like you needed to fight like that?”

Izuku didn't respond, which, Shouta took to mean yes.

"Who, kid? Who's got you so fucking scared that you're ready to attack the first person who touches you?"

"It's stupid."

"Not to you, apparently. Who hurt you, Izuku?"

"I'm being dramatic. I shouldn't have-"

"Who touched you, kid?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?" Izuku finally looked up at him. “Why would you CARE? What does it change if you know?! You can’t do anything but what you‘re already doing! Trying and failing to catch him-“ 

“So it’s a villain then?” 

“You can’t do anything!”

“Being a hero won’t stop me from beating the life out of him.” Shouta spoke in a whisper, eyes hard. “A hero I have to arrest properly- ACCIDENTS happen all the time with villains, Izuku. Anyone who hurt you enough for you to be shaking like this deserves what comes after. Just give me a name, Kid.”

Izuku looked away, and pulled his knees up again, hiding his face.

He didn’t talk for a long while, but, Shouta waited.

"His name is... Compress."

"Compress?"

"Mr.Compress, I guess. I don't know his actual name. We were... friends."

"Were?"

"He... well- you know, he found out that I…” Izuku shook his head. “I didn’t want the others to know. He kept the secret for a price but- but he wasn’t NICE about it.” Izuku gritted his teeth. “I was never alone with him, so he couldn’t get away with anything more than… grabbing me.” Izuku murmured. “Hitoshi just caught me off guard- no one sneaks up on me here so I…” 

“You got scared for a second, that’s okay.” Shouta promised. 

“Compress couldn’t even do anything after Magne joined. She’d kill him if she knew…” Izuku mumbled. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It is to me.” Shouta huffed. “But- for now, do you want to come have dinner?” 

"I'm not hungry."

"C'mon, brat." Shouta stood, offering a hand. "It'll be okay."

"It won't."

"No, probably not, but you don't have to be alone. You have me and Hizashi, and Hitoshi, as long as the two of you can manage not to kill eachother. We're a team, and we have each other's backs."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And we can talk about Compress, later. You're going to tell me everything you can about him, okay?” Shouta bargained, Izuku shook his head. 

“I already told you too much.” 

“You don’t have anything to-“ 

“He’s still… Look, he’s still part of the league. I’m not giving you ANY information about him, alright?” Izuku shook his head. “You- no matter how nice you pretend to be, they’re still my family.”

Shouta didn't comment.

"If you can't eat, at least come sit with us?" Shouta asked, instead.

"Whatever."

"That's the spirit, kid."

Hitoshi wasn't sure what the fuck to do about the situation. He had absolutely not been trying to do anything even remotely sexual to the guy, and now Izuku was scared of him?

Great, just great.

The worst part was that Hitoshi really couldn't blame the guy. Hitoshi had BEEN on the streets, the few times he was brave enough to run away for a few days- he knew what kind of creeps were out there, and he was a guy with guy parts- to have been a guy with other parts was… well, Hitoshi knew he probably needed a better apology than ‘I didn’t even know you had tits.’ Because that had to be like… disrespectful, or something. Hitoshi didn’t really know- he wasn’t well versed on the whole trans thing at all, he only really knew the ‘respect pronouns or present mic will set you on fire’ part. 

This was a different sort of situation, though.

He couldn’t exactly walk into a store and pick up a trans pride flag, could he?

No, that wasn't a good apology at all.

Izuku wasn’t just a random trans guy, either, he was also Hitoshi's sort of roommate, also allegedly an ex-supervillain.

Izuku had been sort of standoffish prick, but then, so had Hitoshi, so he really couldn’t judge him. 

They hadn't really known each other all that long, and had spent most of the time avoiding each other, but they'd still shared space- and food, and Aizawa’s time

That was the sort of thing that made him want to be a little nicer to the guy, even if he was a dickhead.

So, when Aizawa and Izuku stepped back into the kitchen, Hitoshi straightened. 

“Uhm- Hey, Izuku? I’m sorry, man-“ 

“Don’t.” Izuku muttered. “It’s fine.” 

“Cool.” Hitoshi sighed.

He could work with that.

Izuku didn't seem angry, or even scared anymore, so, that was a good sign, and they ate dinner.

It was a bit quiet, without the usual chatter, and there was a tension hanging in the air, but no one talked about the earlier incident.

Hizashi and Shouta shared a look, but they didn't comment.

"I'm going to bed."

"Night, Izuku." Hitoshi offered. 

"Sleep well." Shouta allowed. 

Chapter Text

Izuku paused. 

“You… are being weird.” Izuku accused, staring at them both.

"Weird?" Aizawa tried to seem clueless.

"You're acting like you're afraid I'm gonna break, or something." Izuku accused, staring hard. "Stop."

"Break? No, we just-" Aizawa tried

"Stop babying me."

"We're not-" Hitoshi attempted. 

"Yes you are. I'm not glass, I'm not a kid, stop being weird."

"Sorry." Hitoshi mumbled.

"Yeah, whatever." Izuku rolled his eyes. 

"No- like- I am sorry, dude, I didn't think about-" Hitoshi attempted to apologize again. 

"DON’T think about it.” Izuku growled. “Don’t- stop LOOKING at me like that. I don’t need your fucking pity.”

"We're not pitying you, brat." Aizawa frowned.

"You're doing something, and I don't like it, so knock it off."

"Well, we'll work on not doing it, then." Aizawa sighed.

"Yeah, whatever." And then, the teen was gone, stomping off towards his room.

“Uhm… Can I go to bed now?” Hitoshi asked, Shouta sighed. 

“Yeah- just… leave Izuku alone, alright? Let him brood in peace.”

"Sure, fine."

And with that, Hitoshi left.

And, the moment the boys were both gone, Shouta flopped onto the couch, and rubbed his temples. 

Okay- tomorrow will be a better day.

Tomorrow was not a better day. 

Shouta didn't know how to make this work, but- but   it   needed to, and it needed to happen fast.

He hadn't slept, he had spent all night thinking of possible ways to get his kids along, and the best way to get them to bond.

It wasn't like he could force them to become friends.

But, he couldn't leave them in the house together while he worked either.

That wouldn't end well.

So, that left him with one option.

“Seriously?!” Izuku plucked at his white uniform shirt, face twisted up in disgust. “On top of forcing me to go to your dorky ass hero school, you’re making me dress like poindexter?”  

“Hate to tell you man, the uniform is fine- it’s YOU that’s a dork.”Hitoshi teased, Izuku‘s teeth gnashed.  

“Boys.” Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright- look, Hitoshi, I do have to focus on teaching today- I’m going to ask you to please keep an eye out for Izuku- just- help him.” Shouta directed to Hitoshi, who nodded.

“I DON’T need a fucking BABYSITTER!” Izuku argued, Shouta sighed.  

“You don’t. Hitoshi is working as your body guard. My students are good people, but the fact remains that they are a little trepidatious of strangers, especially after the USJ attack.” Shouta explained. “I’m more worried about your safety than anything.”  

Izuku scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Shouta ignored the teen's dramatics.

"And if I have any issues, what do I do?"   Izuku asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  

"You will not have any issues."

"That's not a plan,   old man ."   Izuku hissed.  

"Then make a different one."   Shouta shrugged.  

"What about   class ?"   Izuku asked. “I haven’t been to school in a fucking decade, I’m probably miles behind, and they’re all going to think I’m stupid or-“  

"Take notes, learn something, and   if you have questions, ask me or Hitoshi . This is an educational opportunity for you."

" Dude!”

"Don't ' Dude ' me, brat, I'm serious."   Shouta groaned. “You’ll be fine. Hitoshi will help.”  

“Sure will.” Hitoshi grinned, Shouta frowned at him. “What?”  

“Stop that.” Shouta warned.  

“Stop what?” Hitoshi raised a brow.  

“That-“ Shouta gestured vaguely. “What you’re doing with your face.”  

“Smiling, sir?”  

“That’s not what- you know what? Whatever, you can run fifty hill sprints when we get to training.”  

“Awe what-“  

“You wanna make it a hundred, son?” Shouta warned, and Hitoshi, blissfully, shut up.  

“I can’t fucking-“ Izuku grunted, still struggling to tie his tie. “This thing is so stupid! Someone could come up to me and strangle me with this damned thing- is there a fucking clip on option?!”  

“No.” Shouta huffed, hiding a smirk. “Here, kid.” Shouta grasped the ends of the tie,   and expertly began to fix it.

Izuku went still, eyes wide, staring up at him, face slightly pink.

And Shouta didn't have the heart to tease him for it.

"There."

"Th-thanks."

"Any time." Shouta smiled, and then, the three headed out.

Shouta did not allow an argument over who would ride in the front seat, telling both boys to settle in the back- on opposite sides.  

He was getting a hold of this whole thing, he thought. He could handle this.  

“Uh- sir, how are we gonna handle the locker rooms? Is he going in with uh- with me, or-“  

Shit.  

There was one singleton bathroom in the gym- and Jiro was already using it- Izuku needed privacy- the boy’s bathroom wasn’t safe for him, and the girl’s would not be good for him mentally. Shit.  

“Well, for now, his leg is broken, so he’s exempt from gym, but in the future, he can just change in my office.” Shouta resolved, Izuku sank into his seat.  

“What about bathrooms?” Izuku asked, Shouta shrugged.

“Just use a stall.”

“Then everyone’s gonna think he has IBS.” Hitoshi snorted.  

“Go to the nurse’s office instead? Recovery girl is understanding- if anyone asks, you can just tell them you’re diabetic.” Shouta reasoned, Izuku groaned.  

“Why can’t I just stay home?!”  

“You need to go to school, and I need to go to work.” Shouta reminded. “Everything will be fine, Hitoshi will look out for you when I can’t.” Shouta eyed the. Purple-haired boy in the rear view. “He’ll be graded on it.”  

“Woah- really?” Hitoshi asked, eyes wide. “What, like- extra credit?”  

“Enough to get your preliminary license and do internships before your peers- and give you a massive leg up on selections.”  

“Fucking BET-“  

“Language.” Shouta chided, hiding a smirk into his scarf. “There, now Hitoshi has a vested interest in your comfort- is that more assuring?”  

“Whatever.” Izuku muttered, but he did sound a little relieved.  

That was something, at least.

Shouta had thought this through, right?

No- he had. He had, totally.

It was an easy plan- the only problem was the execution.

His students had never met anyone like the two boys.

Well, actually- they had. They had met Hitoshi, but that was a different situation, and the other boy was a known quantity.

Izuku, on the other hand-

Izuku was an ex-villain, who had a bad temper and a short fuse, and no idea   how to socialize with people who weren’t trying to kill him.  

Chapter Text

Izuku was in his own personal hell.  

Highschool.

He didn't belong here, and he wasn't wanted, either.

At least, not by the other students.

Hitoshi was supposed to be some sort of bodyguard, but the fucker had abandoned him the first chance he got- saying he had to go use the bathroom or some shit.

It was total bullshit, and it left him standing at his desk, staring down his peers.

"So... you're   Aizawa’s Nephew ." That was the guy who had   weird purple balls on his head, he was intensely short and kind of resembled a munchkin from wizard of Oz.

" Is that any of your business?” Izuku snapped back, the kid blinked, eyes wide.  

“Leave him alone, Mineta.” A girl with pink skin and curly pink hair huffed, and smiled at Izuku. “Hi! I’m Mina Ashido- You must be Izuku!”

“Must I be?” He scoffed, she paused, then giggled. “Oh my gosh you’re funny- and CUTE too, do you have a girlfriend?” Izuku’s eyes went wide as saucers, and he did the only thing he could think of- he walked away front the conversation without a word.  

He could hear a few people talking behind his back, and the girl- Ashido, had been left there, blinking in shock.

The rest of the class was no better.

The loud mouth kid, Kirishima, kept offering to show him around, and the   girls kept looking at him and giggling and some loudmouth goodie fucking two shoes kept bitching about his hoodie and-

“…Deku?” A voice asked, deep, raspy unfamiliar- but that name. That NICKNAME- Izuku whipped around, meeting crimson eyes, white-blonde hair, tanned skin, pretty face- he’d aged, lengthened, gotten older, muscular, masculine- he was taller- MUCH taller now, a full head taller than Izuku was. “Oh- sorry, you uh… looked like someone.” He blinked. “Are you related to Inko Midoriya, at all?” He asked, Izuku took a step back. His heart was pounding out of his chest, his stomach roiled- an arm wrapped around his shoulders.  

“Hey Kaachan- this is Izuku, he’s Aizawa’s nephew.” Hitoshi gestured.  

Kaachan- KAACHAN?

“Izumi-“ Bakugo whispered under his breath. “You uh- maybe Hisashi Midoriya? You know him?” Bakugo demanded, something manic in his eye, Izuku couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak- he opened his mouth but no sound came out- he just… couldn’t talk? It’d happened earlier, too- with that pink girl, with the glasses kid- god DAMN It this was annoying-  

Hitoshi gave his shoulder a squeeze, and the noise came back, and then, the blonde was gone.

Fuck.

Fuck.

That had been Katsuki, Katsuki Bakugo- Katsuki mother fucking Bakugo-   Kaachan. HIS Kaachan- his first friend, his best friend- his kindergarten crush-   he hadn't   changed much at all , had he?

No, No but he HAD. He   was tall, and broad, and mu scular , his face had   hardened - less babyish, and his eyes-

They were so different.

He looked almost sad, and tired- nothing like the fiery ball of rage that he'd once known.

“So…. You know Kaachan?” Hitoshi asked, Izuku swallowed.  

“Kaachan?”  

“Yeah- His name’s Katsuki Bakugo, but he prefers Kaachan.” Hitoshi explained. “Decent dude, of not a little overly competitive sometimes.   How did you know him? Is he your cousin or- did you go to school together, or something- I didn’t even know he had cousins, but- maybe your parents are- I dunno,   maybe you have   half-siblings or-“

Hitoshi continued to ramble on, and Izuku did his best to ignore him.

But his eyes were trained on the blond boy, who was seated a few rows ahead of him, talking to the redhead beside him.

Shouta warned him about him being here, in this class- but , he didn't expect him to be … this.

Not like this.

Not as a student.

Not as a hero.

"Alright, settle down, I have some announcements to make before we begin today."

The class quieted down, and Shouta smiled at the group, taking a sip of his coffee.

"As you all know,   we have a new student- Izuku Aizawa, my nephew- he’s probably only going to be here for a few months, But I EXPECT you all to make this transition easy on him.”  

He glanced towards his   charges , and frowned.

Izuku was staring off, looking almost confused- lost in his own mind.

Hitoshi, next to him, was watching him with concern.

Hm.

Interesting.

Shouta cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I want you all to welcome him. Please do your best to make him feel included. Now, we will be starting the day with- what will undoubtedly be, a long lecture."

The class collectively groaned.

Izuku seemed to be pulled out of his thoughts, and rolled his eyes, leaning on his elbows, chin on his palm.

Shouta couldn't help but smile at the gesture, it was a perfect impression of   a normal student’s   behavior.

"Now- we will be focusing on quirk discrimination today."   Shouta started. “Beginning with Quirklessness.”

The class perked up a little.

Izuku was looking down, fiddling with his hands, and Hitoshi was frowning, watching him.

"Quirkless discrimination is an important thing to discuss. In our society, we tend to think that those with strong or useful quirks are superior to those who don't have them. It is important to recognize this bias, and to acknowledge it as such."

The class nodded along, and a few kids were jotting notes, others were looking at each other, and a few were   boredly staring. The kid with the balls on his head raised his hand, and Shouta acknowledged him, nodding to him.  

“Aren’t quirkless counted as a protected class because they’re disabled?”  

“Ah, legally, yes, but it’s important to note that the great majority of people who are quirkless- and yes, that is the correct way to say it, person-first language is important- do not consider themselves disabled, and find it offensive to be referred to as such, they are covered under disability laws the same way pregnant people are, because its easier to lump several minority groups together to give them rights than make separate legislature for each individual person.”

Mineta nodded, and seemed satisfied with the answer.

Chapter Text

"There are many problems tha t people who are   quirkless face , and many of them are rooted in the very core of our society."

"Like what?" Mina piped up.

"Well, the greatest issue, and the one that is most widely recognized is the lack of employment opportunities. It is a commonly held belief, even in the minds of those who consider themselves to be the most progressive and inclusive that a quirkless person is not fit for the work force, and thus, are unemployable."   Shouta noted. “But, for the overwhelming majority of jobs, one’s quirk does not actually mean anything. For instance, teaching- very rarely do I use my quirk on any of you, and you all are hero students- the medical and law field, service industry, sales, real estate even government office has space for people who are quirkless. There is also crime discrimination- people who are quirkless are sixty three percent more likely to both be victims of violent crime and fourty- nine percent more likely to receive no justice even for reported crime.”

The class looked mildly alarmed.

"In this day and age, where eighty five percent of the population has some form of a physical manifestation of their quirk, quirkless individuals are statistically speaking the minority. As such, the way in which the general public perceives quirklessness as well as the stigma that is placed on the quirkless has had a massive impact on the health, safety, and life expectancy of quirkless individuals. Because of the stigma, many doctors fail to see or diagnose   illness   until the individual is already   experiencing negative, lifelong effects.”

“Quirkless women are three times as likely to experienced complications with childbirth relating to medical negligence. Quirkless children are four times more likely to experience bullying, and twelve times more likely to experience severe trauma- including assault- and in extreme cases, murder. ”

“Quirkless girls, in particular, experience the worst of this, As they are ninety-percent more likely to experience sexual assault, sex trafficking and exploitation than quirked women. Quirkless girls are often sold into marriages and labor at the onset of puberty, and thirty two percent of them do not graduate middle school.”

“ Many people have reported quirkless suicide statistics- but the numbers are incredibly hard to nail down because   so many quirkless people live alone that it’s often that bodies simply are not found in time to be able to determine cause of death.   Many people also do not consider suicidal thoughts, ideation, or actions, actual   problems for people who are quirkless, as it’s widely considered to be of the status quo . Because of this, many are left untreated, or worse, blamed and victim-shamed for their own mental health crises.   “

“Knowing this, what steps that you think, as a society, can you take to ensure fair and equitable treatment of People with quirklessness?” Shouta posed the question, and the class seemed to pause in unison.  

To his absolute shock, Izuku was the one to raise his hand.  

“Yes, Izuku?” He asked, and Izuku held up his notebook, words written across in thick black sharpie.  

“Euthanize at diagnosis.”

“WOAH-“ Kaminari’d been the one to gasp. “Dude- no!”  

“That’s like- insane, actually, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Ashido demanded, Iida’d been sent on a rambling spree, Sero’s eyes were wide, but he said nothing.  

“Why are you booing him?” Aoyama asked “He’s right? Being quirkless is worse than death- it is extreme disability.”  

“That is wildly and provably untrue.” Shouta cut in, his voice booming over the students. “Quirkless people are not lost causes, nor are they unworthy of life- and to that regard, neither are disabled people.”   He chided.

Izuku rolled his eyes.

"It would be easier and save resources and effort."   Izuku wrote, and held up the notebook.   “Most of them don’t want to be alive anyway.”

Shouta stared at the words, then back at the boy.

"Izuku- why don't you tell the class what you mean by that, and expand on your answer, please?"

The green-haired boy paused, then, after a moment, nodded , walking up to the board and picking up a piece of chalk. The class watched, on the edge of their seats as he explained himself.  

His letters were small, but legible from the back of the class, his words were precise and straight, and yet his explanation spanned from the left side of the board to the right- as far as he could reach up top to bottom, completely filling up the dark green expanse. He wrote quickly, incredibly quickly- as if he was reciting something rather than having an original thought- as if he knew exactly what to answer.

“Quality of life is something that never seems to come up in these conversations. You’ve mentioned the bullying, crime and unemployable nature of the quirkless, but what you don’t ever really touch on is the individual experience of a quirkless person. The average life expectancy of a quirkless person is twenty two years old- not because of disease or crime or accidents, but due to suicide. Half of the quirkless population kills themselves by the time they are fifteen. Imagine living in their world, not your world. You may think they matter. They don’t. Even they know they don’t. People are willing to do horrific things to gain a quirk by other means- swallowing toxic sludge- parents send kids to stress camps to help their kids manifest quirks the old way. Science experiments, deals with quirked people- all of that suffering, and for nothing. Again, they’ll be dead by twenty two. Their lives will be nothing but pain and suffering. Euthanasia is the only humane answer for these individuals. And I say- we should just stop waiting for the m to do it themselves , and do it when they are born. That way they don't even get the chance to suffer. They are born, they are killed, they are done. No more pain. No more fear. No more hate. We'd save lives- the lives of doctors and nurses, social workers and police officers, the lives of everyone they interact with. The world is not ready to accept a quirkless individual- and the quirkless are not ready to accept a life like this."

Chapter Text

It had taken a full twenty minutes to settle down the class after Izuku’s ‘outburst’, and Shouta was spiraling. Enraged was the term that came to mind. He’d come to accept the kid’s villainous upbringing, his   harsh worldview and his hatred for everything- but that.

That.

Shouta wasn't sure where it had come from.   Pure bigoted nonsense- Eugenics, for fucks sake. A complete disregard for human life is something Shouta really should have expected from someone raised the way Izuku was, and yet it still caught him fully in left field.

"I need to speak with you   in the hall ." Shouta muttered , close to Izuku’s ear when the rest of the class had gotten busy with their reports.   Izuku paused, and put his pen down, looking up to the teacher for a moment before standing, and following him out of the room.  

"You can't say things like that- it's not ok- not anywhere."   Shouta continued, once the door closed, he looked Izuku in the eye. “You can’t advocate for the death of quirkless people.”  

"What?"

"It's not ok, Izuku." Shouta repeated. "You can't wish people dead. That's wrong."

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot. I'm just saying, it's not an ideal situation- you have to admit, it'd be better than whatever half-life they end up getting."   Izuku shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it.”  

“I’m essentially quirkless.” Shouta spoke slowly.  

“You’re not. You take quirks away for a finite time, and force people to fight you without their quirks, but that in and within itself is a power, and a useful one.” Izuku mumbled, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You speak from a place of privelege.”  

“So do you, clearly,” Shouta gestured. “You’re not quirkless?”  

“I am.” Izuku snapped, Shouta paused.  

“Wh…”  

“I was born quirkless. Master GAVE me a quirk, for my work, my commitment to him and his work. And, he can take it back, whenever he likes, as soon as they figure out where I am, they aren’t going to kill me- no, they’re gonna take the quirk back, because they know, as well as I know, as well as YOU know, that being quirkless is a fate WORSE than death.’

Shouta had to physically hold himself back from reacting.

Izuku wasn't lying.

He was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them.

Shouta had known about this since day one. He knew, from the moment they met, that the kid had a quirk , a dangerous one at that- but he’d always been hypersensitive about it, careful about how much of his quirk he allowed to be taken from him, to the point of avoiding pain management-

He'd had an inkling   that he had some issue with his quirk.  

But this- this was new.

He   had told Shouta before that his quirk had been given to him by the ‘Master’, whoever it was that ordered Tomura Shigaraki around- it’d just never occurred to him that the quirk could be taken AWAY.

Izuku had been quirkless , for some time, lord knew how long, and when he’d received his quirk, and what exactly he’d had to do to do that.

The implications of this were... terrifying.

"Let's get back inside." Shouta decided, after a moment, and led him back into the classroo m.  

Shouta didn’t see a single hand raised, or hear a peep from Izuku for the rest of the day.  

It wasn’t until he, and Hitoshi, and Izuku were back in the car that Izuku spoke up.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I didn’t think anyone in the hero class would even know anyone who was quirkless.” Izuku offered- he almost sounded sorry.

Hitoshi was sitting in the front seat, and glanced back at the   other   teen.

"It's ok. It was a good point. But a bad way of going about making it."

"I was being honest, and I was speaking from personal experience. If I'm gonna be in the hero course, I need to speak from a place of truth, not some bullshit."   Izuku muttered. “It’s… the whole reason I can’t really stand or trust heroes, the majority of you are bullshit. No offense, Eraserhead.”  

" None taken.” Shouta assured. “But,   Maybe tone down the brutality of it. There's a line between honest and cruel, and you crossed it."

“I was only stating statistical fact.”  

“Along with your own opinion, and it was stated in a way that conveyed a distaste for human life, which does upset most people.” Shouta attempted to explain.

“I don’t have a distaste for human life, I feel the opposite, actually- people should be able to live fulfilling lives, and, if they can’t, they shouldn’t be left to suffer.” Izuku defended.  

“Okay, well, let me ask, why should we be the ones to decide that?”  

“Because it’s more painful to have to make the decision later, once they’ve made themselves pivotal to the lives of those around them, and once they’ve developed their own lives and beliefs- a majority of quirkless people believe in a god, you know. They believe that god abandoned them, and that they’re going to hell when they kill themselves. Could you imagine, being fifteen, and wondering why god hates you?” Izuku pressed, Shouta’s throat went tight.

“How about better social programs and support for the quirkless?” Hitoshi asked. “And- like, inclusion work?”  

“And who’d pay for it?” Izuku blinked. “Where is the money for the social programs going to come from? Taxes? Would you propose people lose more of their income for it? That won’t make people like quirkless individuals more. People are discriminatory to those who are elderly, different religions and skin colors and even genders, no amount of ‘let’s hold hands and sing Kamba-ya’ will make that change.” Izuku gestured. “I know it sounds pessimistic, but that’s the way the world works.”

Shouta felt like he was drowning.

Izuku was wrong- and Shouta didn't have any real proof to support it.

"I'm sorry, Eraserhead, I didn't mean to make you upset." Izuku frowned. "I don't hate quirkless people. I really don't. But I know the statistics, and I'm not blind to the stigma- I just- I know it's not possible for there to be a world where being quirkless is normal. ” He gestured. “I… Know for a fact that if I was quirkless, I would have killed myself by the time I was ten.” Izuku explained.  

Chapter Text

Shouta hadn’t been prepared for the conversation he had had with his students the previous day- and he wasn't quite sure how to feel.

Izuku was, at his core, a good person- Shouta knew that for a fact. He cared deeply, he was protective, he was loyal, he was smart- and he had a lot of issues.

He also wasn't wrong.

Izuku knew, first hand, what it was like to be quirkless- and Shouta didn't.   Not really. It wasn’t fair to be upset with Izuku for his beliefs, it was even less fair to punish him.  

Despite Hitoshi’s annoyed, angry expression the entire morning at breakfast.  

Izuku largely ignored them both, eating his fruity pebbles without a care in the world.

"I know you don't want to hear it." Shouta spoke, as he   poured his morning coffee . "But I don't want to be disappointed in you."

"I'm not gonna change my mind about the quirkless." Izuku shrugged.

"And I'm not asking you to. I just want you to be more careful with how you go about discussing it, or at least be more considerate of other's feelings on the matter. Not everyone has your experiences." Shouta sighed, and   took a bite of his bagel.   "Just, next time, be a little less brutal. Please."

Izuku didn't reply, or make eye contact, but he didn't protest.

That was enough for him.

The doorbell rang.

"Hitoshi- can you grab that?" Shouta asked.

"Sure." The teenager shrugged, and got up from the table. He returned, a few moments later, followed by All Might, and, strangely, the detective   that Shouta often worked with on missing persons’ cases.  

"Eraserhead."   AllMight glanced past him, at the breakfast table. At Izuku. “We need to speak with the boy.”  

Izuku stared back, pale, drawn.

“…What about?” Shouta stepped out, and closed the door. “You might not get much out of him- he’s got… selective mutism. It’s a real thing, apparently.”  

“We have a member of the LOV in custody. Kurogiri.” AllMight whispered. “We haven’t been able to get anything out of him- it’s like he’s stuck in a loop or something. Constantly talking in circles- no amount of interrogation is getting through to him. We’re thinking Izuku might be able to get something out of him.”  

“Izuku won’t cooperate with that.” Shouts shook his head.

"Eraserhead." Tsukauchi muttered. "It's not that we're trying to send him into a hostile environment. He's our last chance to get a lead on the location of their base."

"He won't do it."

"We're aware that he won't be able to talk, so we aren't asking him to, but you seem to forget the fact that he was a member of the League of Villains, he knows their methods, and he's been a part of the interrogation process -“  

“He wouldn’t be comfortable with it.” Shouta cut him off. “I’ve just barely got the kid talking and eating. I’m not going to run our progress by letting you pull him into your investigation.”  

“There are lives on the line.” The detective stated, plainly. “His emotions can recover, the dead can not.”

Shouta had to physically take a deep breath, and remind himself of his role, his responsibility.

He wasn't a parent.

He wasn't a   body guard .

He was an educator.

He was an authority figure.

And, as such, he couldn't be the kid's friend, or confidant, or ally.

"Alright." He sighed. "Let me speak with him."

AllMight, and the detective, stood, and waited in the entryway, as Shouta turned and re-entered his apartment.

"Izuku." Shouta addressed, and the kid looked up, a small amount of cereal falling from his mouth. He swallowed.

"Ye ah ?"

"They want you to speak with the guy in custody." Shouta stated, plainly. "Kurogiri."

"Oh."

"Do you think you can handle that?" Shouta asked. He could practically feel the heat from Hitoshi's glare.

" No ." Izuku   mumbled. “Kurogiri probably only got caught so you’ll bring me near- he teleports.There’s no other reason he would let himself be caught.”

"That's true, but you're the best shot they have, and I know you're strong enough to do it." Shouta nodded, and crouched in front of the teenager. "And, if you get too uncomfortable, you can just leave, and come home."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Go get ready. The police are here, waiting." Shouta nodded, and watched as the kid put his cereal bowl in the sink, and headed to his bedroom.

“I don’t like that.” Hitoshi breathed. “Why the hell would they need Izuku for their investigation? He won’t know anything, he’s been away from the LOV for a month.”  

“Hitoshi- were you listening through the door?!” Shouts demanded, Hitoshi huffed.  

“Maybe? Does it change the fact that making Izuku see Kurogiri is a bad idea?”

It did, a little.

It also didn't.

Shouta knew what Kurogiri had done, or, more accurately, not done, and it was wrong, in his eyes, but it didn't change the fact that Izuku was still a criminal, and Kurogiri had information   that only Izuku had a chance of getting out of him.  

Information that could be used to prevent further casualties.

"Let's just give it a chance." Shouta muttered. "And then we'll reassess."

Hitoshi didn't seem convinced, or pleased, and the teenager was quiet, and tense, for the remainder   of the morning.  

“Do you want me to drop you off at school, or do you wanna come with to the station?” Shouta asked, Hitoshi huffed.  

"I'll come."

"Okay." Shouta nodded.

Izuku joined them, shortly after. He wore his usual, slightly oversized hoodie and black cargo pants, he looked smaller than usual.

He climbed into the car, and Shouta started the drive to the station.

"Do you wanna tell me about Kurogiri?" Shouta asked, Izuku shook his head.   "Okay."

Izuku fiddled with the edge of his sleeves, and stared out the window, watching the buildings pass, the sky   darkening- rain was in the forecast .

Shouta parked, and the three of them entered the building.

Chapter Text

"Good morning." Naomasa greeted.

"Is it?" Hitoshi challenged. "If this goes badly, and makes him relapse, it won't be a good morning for any of us.   You’ll just take it as an excuse to remove his immunity and incarcerate him. You’re setting him up for failure. "

" Hitoshi- that’s not at all what’s happening ."   Naomasa promised. “We understand that Izuku’s participation in this may come with some emotional turmoil, and we’re prepared to give him grace for it.”  

"We won't keep him long. Just enough time to get some information, and then he's out."   All might promised.  

“I’ll be right with him the whole time.” Shouta stated, firmly. “That isn’t negotiable.”  

Izuku stood nearby, hood pulled up and drawstrings tightened so only the very tip of his button nose was visible past the shadow. He was hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, head low.  

He hadn’t said a word the whole ride, or during the debrief.

Hitoshi was worried. He knew Aizawa must be as well.  

"Understood." Naomasa nodded.

"I'll show you the room." All Might offered.

Izuku, and Shouta followed him, to the observation room.

"We'll be on the other side of the mirror." All Might promised. "We won't interfere unless it becomes dangerous, and you can leave, any time, if you want to."

Izuku was trembling, his breathing coming in short, uneven gasps.

"Hey, kid."   Shouta murmured. “If this isn’t a good day-“  

“There isn’t going to be a good day.” Izuku snapped, not meeting his eye. “I’m gonna get snatched. The second I get close. I’m going to get taken back to Shigaraki, and Kurogiri’s gonna tell him I’m a traitor, and they’re going to kill me. Or worse. Probably worse.”

Hitoshi didn't think there was anything worse than death, but he had no clue what the 'worse' was.

"That's not going to happen. I'm going to keep you safe. You know I would." Shouta insisted. "But- If this is too much, and you can't do it, we'll just leave."

Izuku stared at the glass, a few feet in front of them, before looking up at the Erasure hero.

“You want me to do it though, and you’re gonna fucking hold it over my head if I don’t.”  

“I wouldn’t-“  

“Yes you would. That’s what everyone fucking does. They want me to do shit, and when I…” Izuku growled under hid breath. “Fucking fine. Just- whatever.” And with that, Izuku threw open the door to the interrogation room, freezing when he came face-to-face with Kurogiri, sat in an iron chair, covered in iron cuffs and chains.  

Shouta watched the monitor carefully, the audio turned up, Hitoshi and Naomasa beside him.

He didn't like the expression on Kurogiri's face, when the mist man saw Izuku.

"Oh." Kurogiri murmured. "You're not supposed to be here."

"And you are?" Izuku asked. "They told me they'd catch one of us, sooner or later. I thought they'd get the other guys. Dabi   Or   Toga , since they like making stupid decisions ."

“You’re working with heroes now, Dust?” Kurogiri questioned. “That’s unlike you.”

"I didn't have a choice, did I?"

"No."

"Are they gonna kill me, if they find out?"

"Most likely."

"Well, shit." Izuku breathed. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"I have never pretended to be anything other than what I am."

"Then how did you let yourself get caught?"

" Some things you are simply not meant to understand, Izuku.” He allowed, Izuku gritted his teeth.  

“Well… how is Tomura, is he doing alright?”  

“He is well. I believe he misses you.”  

“Somehow I doubt that.” Izuku scoffed, slumping into the folding chair across from the villain. “And you? Are you… Sick, or something? I couldn’t imagine you’d actually ever get caught.”  

“You are inquisitive this morning.” Kurogiri noted, looking past him, to Shouta in the doorway. “Is that Eraserhead’s doing? His tutelage is causing your mind to stray.” He noted. “Usually, you are… quiet.”

"He's not tutoring me." Izuku muttered. "I'm not even allowed to fucking use my quirk. I'm not allowed to do anything."

"So it's true, then, you were coerced into joining their ranks."

"I wasn't." Izuku argued, defensively.

"Oh?"

"I …was caught. But they aren’t making me do shit.” Izuku muttered. “I haven’t given them anything.”  

“And yet you’re here.”  

“You’re here to take me home, aren’t you?” Izuku asked directly. “I don’t understand why you haven’t already.”  

“You don’t understand a great many number of things- I believe that’s by design, Izuku.” Kurogiri chided, Izuku’s jaw clenched.  

“Fuck you, asshole.”  

“Did I hit a nerve?” Kurogiri tilted his head to the left. “One would think someone as used to ridicule as yourself could handle a simple statement-“  

“Alright- Izuku, let’s go.” Shouta called from the doorway. “This is just upsetting you-“

Izuku was staring at Kurogiri, wide-eyed, and trembling.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Izuku breathed.

"To bring you home, of course."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Don't play mind games with me, bastard. Not again."

"Would I have let myself be caught, otherwise?"

Izuku's jaw was clenched, tight, his shoulders shaking.

" Then Take me already ."   He whispered. “I want to go home.”  

“Izuku.” Shouta called. “Back away.”  

“No, I-“  

Shouta didn’t give him an option otherwise, gripping onto the back of the teen’s hoodie and pulling him out of his chai, his eyes locked on the villain, quirk activated.

"I'll be back." Izuku insisted.

"Will you?"

Izuku didn't reply, he only continued to struggle.

"Let me go!" He cried. "I don't wanna be here anymore! Let me go-!"

"Calm down, kid-"

"Kurogiri! Please-!"   Izuku directed at the villain. “I didn’t say anything! I didn’t-“ Shouta yanked him through the door, slammed it closed with his foot, pulling the boy down the hall.  

“Let me go! He- I have to go with him or he’s going to fucking kill me-“  

"Izuku. I'm not going to let you get hurt."

"He's gonna get me!"

"He can't."   Shouta grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him up against a wall. “He can’t take you. That room has speakers that emit electro-magnetic pulses that nullify quirks that don’t work on their frequency. He can’t get out of that room.”  

Chapter Text

Izuku shook his head.

"They'll break him out."

"Who will?"

"The rest of the League."

"You'll be safe. You're safe, okay?"

Izuku stared up at him, and Shouta realized the kid was crying, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes rimmed red.

"It's okay."

"N-no- I have to- I have to go home- He's gonna- Tomura's going to kill me-"

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Shouta swore. “Do you understand me, kid? I will personally eye to it that you are safe.”

"Please don't leave me alone- I- he's going to get me, I know it, I know him, he's- he's smart, he's-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Izuku's knees buckled, and he fell to   Shouta’s chest, Shouta eased him to the floor, holding him, a hand cupped over the back of the boy’s head as the teen sobbed into his shoulder.  

" I don’t wanna die. I don’t. I don’t wanna go back- I don’t want compress to get me- if- if Tomura knows I’m here, if he thinks I betrayed him, he’ll hand me over and- and Magne won’t be able to stop him-“ Izuku was hyperventilating, shaking in Shouta’s grip. “He’s gonna get me- He’s gonna-“

Shouta wrapped both arms around the kid, holding him tight, the teen fisted his hands in the man's jumpsuit, crying into his shoulder.

"They can't take you."

"I have to go- I have to-"

"Why?"

"If they kill me, they'll make sure you're gone too."

Shouta's chest felt tight.

"They're not going to kill anyone."

"You don't know that - you don’t!”

" Izuku.” Shouta’s tone was stern. “I won’t let anything happen to you, and I’m not going to die. I will kill them myself before I let anyone get their hands on you.”

"I wanna go home- please, Shouta, let me go home- I- I can't be here- he'll- he'll come and-"

"Kid. Stop." Shouta pulled him away, looked the kid in the eye. "No one's getting you. I won't let it happen."

Izuku's lip wobbled, and he nodded.

"You can't trust him. Kurogiri- You can't-"

" I know we can’t. That’s why he’s in the static room.” Shouta nodded. “Izuku, I know you’re used to the league’s attitudes against heroes, but we are not completely inept. We can handle this.”

Izuku seemed uncertain, his lip still wobbling, eyes red, cheeks wet.

"Come on, kid." Shouta muttered, pulling him to his feet, and into the observation room.

"That was awful." Hitoshi whispered, the second Shouta entered,   Shouta discreetly shook his head, encouraging the young man to stay quiet.  

"What the hell was that?" All might demanded, angrily.

"I don't know."   Shouta huffed.  

"Clearly he has an attachment to the villain- why didn't you warn us-"

“Fuck off.” Shouta snapped, everyone went dead silent. “I told you it was a poor idea, I told you it’d negatively affect him, his development and recovery- look at this kid- he’s a KID- he didn’t need to be part of this bullshit. You should have ponied up the money and hired a damn mind reader, or a memory reader, or anything other than dragging a CHILD into a hero investigation- for gods sake, minors are NOT supposed to be used as free hero labor.” He seethed. “Do not contact me again looking for one of my kids. I will block you.”

"Eraser-"

"You want answers- you fucking interrogate the bastard. You got your chance." Shouta hissed, Hitoshi watched the hero drag   the green-haired boy   out, down the hallway.

All Might stood in stunned silence, looking at Naomasa, who shrugged.

"You brought this upon yourself."

"You're not going to support me on this?"

"I don't agree with your methods, Toshinori. You could have easily found a different way."

“I can get it out of him.” Hitoshi offered. “Whatever you want. I can-“  

“I’m not trying to have Eraser break my nose.” Naomasa shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, though, kid. You should probably go though, before he comes back in here even more pissed off.”  

B-big fan, sir.” he bowed his head slightly, and quickly left.  

He found Izuku and Shouta in the lobby, with Shouta handing Izuku a bottle of apple juice while the teen sat on one of those awful blue plastic chairs.  

“Hey man… are you… like, okay?” Hitoshi asked, Izuku shrugged.

"He's not taking the situation well." Shouta sighed.

"I can't do this." Izuku   sounded like he might puke .

"We're going home." Shouta muttered, petting a hand through his hair. "You'll feel better when we're not here anymore."

"It won't make a difference."

"But you'll feel better." Shouta murmured, Hitoshi could see the exhaustion in the teacher's eyes.

"Yeah."

"Hey,   sir , maybe we should get some lunch."   Hitoshi offered. “Somewhere gross and greasy and terrible.”  

“Sounds like a plan- what do you think, ‘Zuku?”  

“Whatever.” Izuku pushed himself up from the chair. “Let’s go.”  

The ride home was completely silent, Izuku staring out of the window, with his fists tightly clenched in his lap, he looked as if he might be ill at any moment.

“Izuku?” Shouta called, glancing at the kids in the rear view. “You wanna stop for food?”

“Not really hungry.” He mumbled, Hitoshi gritted his teeth.

“Wanna go egg Endeavor’s house?” Hitoshi offered, Shouta’s jaw dropped.

“Absolutely n-“

“You know where he lives?” The interest in Izuku’s voice had shouta’s jaw snapping shut.

“Yeah- I’m cool with his youngest kid. I can text him, and we can egg the house with Endeavor’s own eggs.” Hitoshi snorted. “Shoto would actually love it.”

“I can’t let you do anything illegal, including vandalism.” Shouta warned, and sighed. “But… it seems I’m being called on a mission. Endeavor is a licensed hero- perhaps I can drop you off at his house, so that he can keep an eye on you.”  Shouts allowed his mouth to quirk up in the very corner, and Hitoshi grinned.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi replied, “that sounds like a good idea.”

Shouta looked back at Izuku in the rear view mirror, and, seeing a small smile on the boy’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to feel even the tiniest bit remorseful for the massive mess he was about to drop right on to the number two pro hero.

Chapter Text

After stopping at a grocery store, and picking up several large packs of eggs, Shouta stopped a block from the pro hero's house. Izuku and Hitoshi piled out of the car, Shouta remained seated and buckled.

"Do me a favor." Shouta said.

"Huh?" Hitoshi blinked, owlishly.

"Get some pictures of the place for me."

"Uh, sure, sir."

"I'll be back in ten minutes, don't get caught." He winked, and pulled off, leaving the boys standing with four thirty-two packs of eggs between them.

"I'm gonna text Shouto." Hitoshi announced. "He's gonna wanna help- also, he can point out which windows go to Endeavor's bedroom."

"I can't believe we're actually doing this." Izuku laughed, a bit of color returning to his cheeks.

"Oh, we are definitely doing this."

The two waited, Hitoshi occasionally giving a snort and a thumbs-up at his phone.

A few minutes later, Shouto exited the house, walking down the street and turning the corner to meet them.

"Sup?" Hitoshi greeted.

"I'm well." Shouto nodded. "More so, now that there's something fun to do."

"Is your old man home?"

"No. and he will not be for several hours. He's in his office, working."

"Cool. Let's do this."

The three of them approached the house, Shouto pointing out which rooms belonged to Endeavor, and the path they should throw from.

"We're gonna have to go fast, or we're gonna get caught." Shouto explained. "And the cameras will capture us."

"I'm a good runner." Izuku said. "And... the cameras won't catch me if I don't want them to." He pointed at his face, and the other boys watched as it went... fuzzy, sort of, around the edges, as if it was disintigrating.

"Woah-" Hitoshi breathed "Dude- you have a weird fucking quirk."

"Thanks?"

"Okay, let's go." Shouto urged, and the three of them grabbed as many eggs as they could carry, and began launching the projectiles.

Shouto seemed to have a vendetta against his father's windows, and Hitoshi was quick to follow, chucking the eggs hard enough to shake but not shatter the glass, leaving the house splattered with whites, yolks, and broken shells.

Izuku couldn't help but laugh.

"This is so stupid." He breathed.

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" Hitoshi questioned.

"It does." He confirmed. "So good."

"We've gotta move fast." Shouto insisted, grabbing another handful of eggs. "He's gonna be pissed."

"That's the idea." Hitoshi snorted, Izuku erupted into a fit of giggles.

"I have never heard you laugh, before." Hitoshi admitted, watching the green-haired boy, as he tossed the eggs, a wild grin on his face.

"I haven't had a reason."

"And now you do?"

"Yup. Because fuck Endeavor."

"Hear hear." Shouto replied.

"Fuck him!" Hitoshi shouted.

"Yeah!" Izuku agreed, throwing the last of the eggs, his cheeks flushed and his shoulders relaxed, he grinned at the other two boys. "Let's go!"

The three ran, back around the block, and to Shouta's car, parked just beyond eyesight of the house.

"That was fun." Shouto stated, as Izuku into the back seat.

"I'll send you the pictures." Hitoshi promised. "We'll see you later, Shouto."

"See you at school."

"Great. Now, we'll never speak of this again." Shouta said, pulling away from the curb.

"Yes, sir."

"Sure."

"Alright."

The drive back to the dorm was mostly silent, and Shouta felt like, for the first time, the kids were all at ease.

Izuku, though, seemed to be falling asleep, and Shouta was pretty sure he heard the boy snoring, when he stopped at a red light.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror, and smiled.

"You did good, problem child." He mumbled. "I've not seen Izuku this calm since I met him."

"We're so fucked if we get caught." Hitoshi pointed out, and Izuku shifted, though it seemed he was still asleep.

"I'll take care of it." Shouta promised.

"You know, you can't get me out of everything."

"Watch me." Shouta grinned.

Shouta pulled up to the dorm, and looked back.

"Kid." He nudged Izuku's leg. "We're here."

"Wha...?"

"Go inside and get some rest."

"Yeah." He mumbled, sliding out of the car, and wandering up the stairs.

"He's exhausted." Hitoshi noted, Shouta sighed.

"Well, he didn't sleep last night, so I'm not surprised." Shouta huffed, stepping out of the car and locking it once Hitoshi shut his door.

"He didn't? Why not?" Hitoshi frowned

"It's hard for him." Shouta stated. "He's... you know." Shouta gestured vaguely.

"Traumatized?" Hitoshi suggested.

"That."

"I've been meaning to ask you something, by the way."

"Hitoshi?"

"With uh... Izuku's... gender thing?" Hitoshi started. "Is uh... like- does- Am I supposed to be... nice to him like a girl or-"

"No." Shouta didn't hesitate. "Be gentle with him like he's an abuse victim, because he is. But do NOT treat him like a girl."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Hitoshi nodded. "Because it's weird. But I dunno how to act. I mean, the guy's my age and he acts like... he's got the emotional stability of a toddler."

"He just needs some time to adjust- he's sensitive." Shouta stated, bluntly.

"But like- sensitive like a little kid, not like... you know, bitchy girl on her period?"

"He is a boy." Shouta Corrected. "Who... also is... does menstruate So. Keep that in mind."

"Oh dude that fucking sucks-"

"Language, Hitoshi." Shouta warned. "But, yes, it is. He's in a lot of pain, he's nervous and overtired and adjusting- you really do have to stop terrorizing him.”

"It's not like I'm gonna punch him, or call him a slur, or something."

"That doesn't make the teasing okay."

"I won't anymore."

"Thank you, Hitoshi. It's appreciated."

"Are you sure you're not mad about the eggs?"

"Hitoshi. I bought the eggs."

"Right." Hitoshi Agreed. "But it was my idea and I kinda put you on the spot with it."

"Go to your room, and try to sleep, kid. We have class tomorrow."

"Alright."

Shouta made his way to his room, and collapsed into bed.

Tomorrow, they would have their first official day back at school, and hopefully, things would be less stressful than the past few days had been.

Chapter Text

Izuku was fucking tired. So. Goddamn. Tired.

But fucking Eraserhead was insisting on him getting out of bed and going to fucking school. Bullshit. Complete. Bullshit.

But whatever.

Izuku didn't bother combing his hair, he didn't change out of his pajamas, he didn't even bother putting his binder on.

"Uniform on." Shouta grumbled, as he passed through the living room, towards the kitchen, and the coffee pot.

"It's hot." Izuku whined.

"Then take the sweatshirt off, problem child." Shouta offered what he thought was a reasonable solution.

"Don't wanna." Izuku sneered.

"Then deal with it." Shouta stated.

"Fine. Maybe I'll just stay home." Izuku tried, it seemed the best option, after all/

"Nope." Shouta grabbed a travel mug and filled it with coffee. "Get dressed."

"No." Izuku huffed, flopping face first on to the couch. Hitoshi looked up from over his morning paper, and snorted.

"You look like shit, dude."

"Fuck. Off." Izuku grumbled, muffled into the cushion.

"Izuku, you have until I finish my first cup of coffee to get dressed, after that, I will dress you myself." Shouta threatened, Izuku peeked an eye up from his prone position.

"You wouldn't fucking dare." He growled, it sounded much like a kitten, too small to scratch.

"You wanna bet?" Shouta challeneged, raising an eyebrow as he brought the coffee cup to his lips, and took a long, loud sip.

"No."

"Then go get dressed."

"Fine."

Izuku pushed himself up from the couch, and stormed off towards his bedroom.

"Hey." Shouta stopped him. "Take a shower, too."

"What the actual fuck."

"You smell."

"Fucking hell, fine." He snapped. "Happy now?"

"Overjoyed."

"I'm not brushing my fucking hair!"

"That's fine." Shouta waved him off.

Izuku went to his room, and slammed the door, Shouta sighed, and Hitoshi shrugged.

"He's not a morning person." Hitoshi noted.

"Neither am I, kid." Shouta huffed, and sipped his coffee. "You have everything ready for school?"

"Yup." Hitoshi popped the 'p'. "Denki and I are gonna go off campus for lunch, he's still behind on the math homework.

"mmm, Take Izuku with you."

"What?" Hitoshi scoffed. "No."

"Yes." Shouta insisted. "He needs to hang out with kids his own age. I'll supervise from security cameras and the roof." Shouta murmured.

"Why me? He doesn't even like me."

"I have no doubt he doesn't, but he needs a friend. And Denki seems the type who's easy to get along with."

"Fine."

"Great." Shouta nodded. "Once he's dressed and fed we can go."

"You're gonna be late, you know."

"Not if I take the backroads." Shouta winked. "I know you usually don't do breakfast, but can you have a solidarity bowl of cereal with him? He needs to put on some weight."

"If I say no, you'll just make me do it anyway."

"Absolutely."

"Fine. Cereal it is." Hitoshi huffed.

"Great."

Izuku came out of the bathroom a while later, hair dripping, and near-matted, hanging in front of his eyes. His tie was done all wrong, and his jacket was wrinkled.

"Here, dude." Hitoshi unclipped his own tie, and passed it over, Shouta's jaw dropped. "What? Getting the windsor right every time is a pain in the ass." Izuku took the clip with a neutral expression.

"Thanks." He mumbled, as Shouta poured him a bowl of cereal. When Shouta walked around him with a wide toothed comb, Izuku scrambled. "No- no- fuck OFF-"

"You look like an Feral poodle." Shouta snatched him by the back of the jacket. "Eat your food, I'll handle your hair."

"No!" Izuku protested, trying to squirm out of his seat.

"We'll comb it now, and get you in to see a barber this afternoon. You can't keep long hair if you refuse to care for it." Shouta pulled his head forward, and began to carefully run the comb through the tangled mess, working out the knots, bit by bit.

"No, OW! Fucking stop- I'm not a fucking kid! You can't do this!"

"I can, and I will." Shouta stated, Hitoshi watched the scene in utter fascination.

"You can't make me shave my head!" Izuku snarled, Shouta rolled his eyes.

"I didn't say you had to, problem child. Calm down. We're just going to trim the dead ends, and get rid of the matts." Shouta promised, finally managing to get a few clean passes of the comb through.

"Fine." Izuku agreed- "Let me fucking comb it! Let go!"

"Good boy." Shouta relented, handing him the comb, Izuku snatched it.

"Fuck off." he growled, angrily yanking the comb through his hair, Hitoshi winced at the sound of hair being ripped out at the root.

"Dude- small sections, from the ends." Hitoshi advised.

"Didn't fucking ask." Izuku muttered, still yanking the comb.

"Well, stop doing it like a moron." Hitoshi retorted.

"Fuck off, both of you." Izuku hissed, glaring.

"Hitoshi, please stop provoking him."

"Whatever." Hitoshi agreed. "But when he goes bald at twenty, I'm gonna make fun of him."

"Hitoshi." Shouta warned.

"Can't even joke?" Hitoshi rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Just eat your damn cereal."

"Fine."

Breakfast was finished in silence, Shouta kept glancing at his watch, and Hitoshi stared at his phone.

"Come on, kid, let's go. The sooner we get to class, the sooner it's over." Shouta stood up.

"I hate school." Izuku muttered. "Fucking villains never made me go to school." He mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we're keeping you, then, huh?"

"Whatever."

The drive to school was tense, and quiet, and when Shouta dropped the kids off at the front gate, Hitoshi gave a halfhearted wave and walked away.

"See ya, dude."

"Yeah."

Izuku turned, and looked at the doors to UA, and sighed.

"You can still go see recovery girl, if it gets to be too much for you." Shouta reminded. "But I do expect you to TRY, Izuku."

"Okay." He mumbled, and turned back to the door.

"It's okay to be afraid." Shouta stated.

"I'm not fucking scared."

"Sure, kid."

Izuku wandered into class, and slid into his seat.

Chapter Text

Izuku was learning that he fucking hated math. He despised it- fully loathed it, didn't understand it.

Number swirled around on the page- they wouldn't stay still even as Izuku tried to pin them down with his fingers or pencil-

"Dude- your twos are backwards." A redheaded guy leaned over Izuku's shoulder, and he stiffened as a muscular arm stretched over him, pointing at a line. "Homie, I think you meant two- but it's backwards, so it looks like five."

Izuku opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Damn it- of all the times to have an issue with the fucking mutism-

"Here, homie," The redhead passed Izuku an eraser. "I am also ass at Math, but I think you've mostly, got it right." Izuku nodded, and shrugged. "No worries. My name's Eijiro, by the way."

Izuku huffed, and tapped his pencil at the top of his paper, where his name was etched. "Izuku, huh? Cool. Nice to meet ya."

Izuku shrugged.

"Dude, I have no idea what the fuck any of this is. Why did we have to come back so early? There's no point- like, they've got hero stuff going on. Shouldn't we be doing that, instead?" A blonde draped his body over Izuku's desk, and Izuku glared.

"We're here to learn all the shits." Another voice answered. "Math is important- heroes get paid a lot, and we get fined a shitton for damages, we have to learn at least basic Algebra." A chair scraped against the ground, and a black haired boy sat across from Izuku. "Hey, I'm Hanta." He introduced himself.

"Don't crowd him, he's shy." Said Hitoshi, sitting several desks away, his feet kicked up on the desk, a book in his hands.

"Oh, sorry dude." The blond apologized, backing off a little. "My bad, I didn't realize. My name's Denki."

"He's Izuku- and he doesn't talk much." the redhead started, tapping his chin with his pencil. "Ayo- Bakugo!" He called, Izuku's stomach twisted. "Can you come help us with the worksheet? We're strugglin'!"

"Of fucking course you are." Bakugo sneered, and shoved Hanta out of his seat, sitting across from Izuku. "Give." he snatched Izuku's paper, and looked over it, Denki peered over his shoulder, and frowned.

"Uh- Dude, are you like- dyslexic, or something?" He asked.

"What's it to you?" Bakugo snapped, and Izuku flinched.

"I'm not trying to be mean- I'm just saying- he's written everything backwards."

"Yeah- his twos and fours are backwards." Eijiro nodded.

"He can read the words just fine, though." Bakugo noted. "This is basic, idiot. I don't know what the fuck you're confused about." Bakugo retorted, pulling out a peice of paper, and writing down digits before shoving it at Izuku. "Copy these fifty times, and then try not to be fucking useless- it doesn't matter how good your math is if you can't read the numbers."

"Bakugo!" Eijiro hissed. "Be nice!"

"hA? I fucking am?!" Bakugo scoffed. "I think I know his cousin or something- Midoriyas."

"Oh, shit, really?" Eijiro perked up. "That's cool as hell! So you know Mr.Aizawa's family?"

"No." Bakugo sneered. "I Know- KNEW the Midoriyas. They're all dead now. Well- most of 'em. One of 'em went missing when I was a kid. I knew her the best- we were close. She's why I'm aiming to be a hero now."

Izuku looked up to Katsuki, eyes wide.

"She's the one who gave me the nickname Kaachan." He continued. "It's gonna be my hero name- I hope that like- when I'm a hero, she'll hear the name and remember me. It's kind of a fucking moot point now that her mom's dead anyway- but... you know, I hope she's alright."

"Bakugo," Eijiro started. "That's actually... pretty fucking manly."

"Yeah, I know."

"How do you even remember the nickname? You were, what, six?"

"I don't fucking forget anything." Bakugo replied. "We were four when she went missing. My mom like- paid for milk cartons with her face on 'em and shit- her mom and mine were best friends."

"Woah." Denki breathed.

"You think Izuku knows her?"

"He looks like her, kinda." Katsuki gestured. "Same hair and eyes. similar nose- probably related."

"Hey- uh... Do you think, maybe, if we see her, you could introduce us?"

"Tch. Probably not. But if you see her, call her 'Deku', alright? That was her nickname. She doesn't respond to her real name- she always said she didn't like it."

Izuku stared, and jumped when another chair scraped against the ground.

"Izuku- is your leg acting up? DO you wanna head to the nurses' office?" Hitoshi asked, Izuku nodded, and was quick to struggle to his feet, grabbing his crutch and limping across the room.

When they both got outside of the door, and it was closed, Hitoshi looked to him.

"Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost." Hitoshi noted, Izuku swallowed.

"I-" He closed his eyes tight, trying to get the floor to stop wobbling, the hall to stop spinning around him. "I can't- b-breathe-"

"Is your- thingy, too tight?" Hitoshi whispered, Izuku shook his head, clutching on to his chest. "Is... dude, I can't help if I don't know what's up?"

"He's-" Izuku choked.

"Deep breaths, dude."

"K-Kaachan." He whispered. "K-Katsuki-"

"Dude- He didn't mean to be a dick, that's the way he talks. He was trying to help" Hitoshi explained, "He was actually being way nicer to you than he is to most people he doesn't know- he has bad social anxiety-"

"W-we were close- w-were friends-" Izuku was beginning to hyperventilate, eyes closed tight.

"Huh?" Hitoshi blinked. "Wait you mean like-"

"Ye-yeah-"

"Oh fuck, when you were-"

"Yeah." Izuku was shaking, his entire body trembling like a leaf- Hitoshi looked up and down the hall, found it empty.

"Alright, hey, dude- I'm gonna get you to the nurses office."

"I can't- Hitoshi, I can't-"

"Izuku, all you have to do is trust me, can you trust me for a second?"

"Ye-yeah." Izuku nodded, and everything went silent.

Chapter Text

Izuku blinked, and he was sitting on an infirmary bed, in the nurse's office.

Izuku rubbed his eyed, and up at Hitoshi, confused.

"What the fu-"

"I used my quirk." Hitoshi explained. "It's like... brainwashing, basically- I don't like using it but- like, you couldn't breathe- I uh... waited until your heart rate went down to let you out of it. Are you okay?" He asked,

"How- how long was I under?"

"Only a few minutes." Hitoshi promised. "Recovery girl is out at ground beta right now for a training exercise, but the nurse assistant said we can stay here until you're feeling better." Hitoshi sat on the bed next to Izuku. "What uh... was that?"

"I... don't even know." Izuku huffed. "I think I just got nervous and I... didn't- I couldn't even say anything, my brain just... I couldn't talk and-"

"Izuku," Hitoshi put a hand on his back. "Dude, breathe, or I'll have to hijack your brain again."

Izuku put his face in his hands, drew his knees up to his chest. "Fuck this is so stupid."

"Stupid?" Hitoshi blinked. "What, having a panic attack?"

"I'm not having a fucking panic attack?"

"Dude, your heart is racing, you're sweaty, struggling to talk and you can't breathe. You're having an anxiety attack, at the very least. It's okay." Hitoshi turned, fully facing the smaller boy. "I get them sometimes too- even Aizawa does, every once in a while. It comes with trauma."

"Fuck." Izuku tugged at his hair. "Still stupid."

"If you say so." Hitoshi hummed. "But, it's fine- it's getting me out of history class."

"Hitoshi?"

"Hm?"

"I fucking hate school- what if you break my other leg and we tell Aizawa I fell down the stairs? Do you think he'd let me stay home?"

"He'd make you use a wheelchair and still come." Hitoshi snorted, Izuku groaned.

"He's such a fucking dick."

"Yeah." Hitoshi agreed, laughing.

"He's right though- my twos and fours are wrong. Fucking dumb." Izuku huffed. "I'm so behind- my NUMBERS are wrong- I can't- they like... move around on the page and..."

"Hey- can I ask you a question?"

"I mean, I'm having a fucking crashout and venting right now, but Whatever."

"What about... knowing Bakugo freaked you out, exactly- is it like- trauma from childhood, was he a dickhead- or like... is it a gender thing?"

"A 'gender thing'?!" Izuku sneered. "Fuck off."

"Dude- I'm- look, I'm just trying to get to the root of the freakout so we can like- eliminate the stress and you can feel better."

"It's none of your fucking buisness, alright-"

"Look, dude, I don't really give a shit about your gender thing- like, I'm not a fucking bigot. I'm gay, for fucks sake, and I think you're cute, which means in my head you're definitely a dude!" Hitoshi defended- Izuku paused, and blinked at him, bewildered.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing. It's not important- what's important is figuring out how to not let seeing Bakugo freak you out."

"I don't even know him anymore- the last time I saw him I was barely fucking potty trained."

"Do... you WANT to know him again?" Hitoshi asked, softly. "Because, he's... a pretty great guy."

"I can't." Izuku shook his head. "I can't."

"Okay." Hitoshi agreed. "Why?"

"I just- can't, okay?! What do you want me to say?!"

"Okay." Hitoshi nodded, and rubbed his eyes. "I don't really have anxiety attacks often, but the ones I do have are usually because I'm afraid of something. Is there something specific about seeing him that scares you? Because I know you weren't scared of him."

"Yeah."

"So what's scary about it?"

"I..." Izuku shifted, uncomfortable.

"Just, like... are you scared, or like... worried he's not the same- or that he won't accept you? He definitely would, if he knew, he's dating Jiro, for fucks sake?"

"I don't know who that is or why that matters?!"

"Jiro- the girl with the earphone jacks? She's trans- uh- opposite direction from you, though." Hitoshi made a vague gesture, and Izuku glared at him. "Dude... I swear I'm trying to be a good ally but mostly I'm just stupid."

"It's not your place to know, or like- be involved, in my shit."

"No." Hitoshi agreed. "It's not. But... I am the one who had to drag your ass here because you can't breathe, and I'd rather not have to do it again. And like, I'm also the only person on the planet who has the ability to help you if you start hyperventilating again."

"Fine."

"So what's scary?"

"I-"

"I promise I won't tell a soul- and, if you want, I can try to get him away from you as much as possible."

"Hitoshi-"

"You're my responsibility, dude, whether or not you want to be, and I'm not going to just like- leave you to suffocate under the weight of your own pride. Tell me how to help."

"When... when I was taken, the... person who took me, used to threaten to hurt Kaach-Katsuki. If I ever tried to run away- he'd threaten my mom, and Katsuki, and his parents- so... seeing him again, and knowing that I'm going to see him everyday- and not being able to tell him or warn him or anything, I can't- and I'm not scared of him. I'm scared that- if he knew- he'd hate me."

"Kaachan hates everyone, dude, but like, in a loving way. Just talk to him, and- also maybe relay that information to Aizawa for like- safety reasons."

"No- don't!"

"Dude- we can't just- let a student get hurt or killed by a villain, if we have information. He needs to be aware, if he's being targeted."

"...We'll tell Aizawa, and he can figure it out." Izuku aquesced, and Hitoshi sighed.

"I'll take it." Hitoshi shrugged. "Now, can we go back to class, or do you want to skip the rest of the day?"

"Let's go." Izuku slid off the bed, and grabbed his crutch, Hitoshi stood, and offered an arm for support, and led him out of the nurses' office.

Chapter Text

It wasn't until Izuku and Hitoshi were alone again at home, with Aizawa taking a call on the balcony, that Izuku spoke to Hitoshi again.

"Thanks for helping." he muttered, and it took Hitoshi off guard, he had to pause for a moment to try and figure out what he was talking about.

"It's the bare minimum, dude. Just let me know if I need to step in and handle your emotions." Hitoshi nudged Izuku's shoulder as the two of them sat together on Shouta's well-worn couch.

"Shut up." Izuku mumbled, annoyed.

"Nah." Hitoshi grinned, watching Izuku's face go red.

"Fucking-"

"Dude, you're stuck with me, might as well get used to it." Hitoshi teased, mussing up Izuku's curls, Izuku smacked his hand away.

"Fuck you." Izuku snarled

"You wish." Hitoshi teased, Izuku glared at him.

"No. No I don't."

"Ouch."

"Whatever." Izuku huffed, and, after a moment of silence, added, "Seriously though, thanks."

"You're welcome." Hitoshi grinned.

"Don't expect it all the time." Izuku hissed, Hitoshi smirked, getting a solid handle on Izuku's personality at this point.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Hitoshi agreed.

"Good."

"Whatever, man." Hitoshi kept his smirk, enjoying how red it made Izuku's face.

He was beginning to develop a sense of Izuku's personality- beyond the bitchy, prickly exterior, he was just a sensitive, awkward guy.

He was... Kind of cute.

"Fuck off." Hitoshi couldn't deny the fact that his heart skipped a beat everytime he heard the other boys voice.

"Nah." Hitoshi teased, smirking as Izuku practically shook with frustration.

"UGH." He groaned, loudly.

"Oh my God, did you hear something? Like a small animal being stepped on?" Hitoshi looked around, dramatically, and laughed when a wad of paper hit him square in the forehead. "Izuku, are you throwing things at me?"

"I'll throw more than a wad of paper at you."

"That sounds like a threat, and Aizawa will not appreciate a threat against his favorite student..."

"FUCK OFF."

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"WHAT?!"

"It's true, but I'm not going to argue."

"HITOSHI."

"Yes, cutie?"

"UGH. Nevermind, just fucking die."

"Yeah, sure."

"I hate you."

"I'm a delight." Hitoshi snorted, leaning back.

"No, you're the bane of my existence."

"The only reason I'm the bane of your existence is because I'm the only person your age you're capable of talking to."

"I'll change that."

"Okiedokie, if you say so, cutie."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Nah."

"I'm going to murder you."

"Good luck with that."

"Ugh."

"Oh, come on. I'm hilarious."

"No, you're not. You're insufferable." Izuku insisted, but Hitoshi could see Izuku struggling to keep a straight face. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so bad, and he was fighting it.

Oh, Hitoshi wanted to hear him laugh.

Oh, Hitoshi was GOING to hear him laugh.

"And you're cute when you're mad, too."

"You're disgusting."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who's to say."

"Hitoshi, I'm begging you, shut the fuck up."

"I mean- I can think of other things I could do with my mouth."

"Fucking die."

"Nope, you're stuck with me, Izu. Deal with it."

"UGH."

"Izu."

"Don't call me that."

"Zu?"

"NO." Izuku cracked, erupting into giggles. "Shu-shut the fuck up-" he wheezed, Hitoshi grinned.

"You look like a strawberry. Freckled, red and green."

"SHUT UP." Izuku was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.

"Nah, tell me, is lemon drop a homie?"

"HITOSHI!" Izuku cackled.

"Oh, wow, did I actually make you laugh?"

"Shut up!"

"Holy shit, that's fucking adorable."

"STOP IT."

"You're fucking precious, holy shit."

"I'm going to strangle you."

"With what?"

"MY BARE HANDS."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"Fucking- I will, and then I'll- I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"I'll- ugh- I'll kill myself."

"Gonna be real hard to do when you can't stop laughing, yeah?" Hitoshi teased, Izuku shoved him, slowly calming down.

"You really fucking suck, Hitoshi."

"Yeah." Hitoshi agreed, leaning back on the couch. "But you think I'm funny."

"I do NOT think you're fucking funny!"

"You laughed." Hitoshi pointed out. "I made you laugh."

"I- well- yes, but-"

"Yeah, thought so."

"That's not- that doesn't count- you-"

"Doesn't matter, you laughed."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"No." Hitoshi grinned, just as Aizawa walked back into the room.

"Alright, boys, that was the barber, both of you, go shower and get ready to go, we're getting you haircuts."

"Oh thank god." Hitoshi sighed.

"Aizawa- wait- I can- just cut it myself, I don't want a stranger doing it?" Izuku argued, Shouta paused.

"Yes, well, if not, I'm not going to stop you from pulling it back- but, you go to public school, kid, it's really best we go to a professional and avoid any mishaps."

"I won't let anyone cut your hair." Hitoshi promised. "If you don't want a stranger, I'll do it."

"No." Izuku snapped.

"I'll even wear a blindfold." Hitoshi teased.

"That's stupid." Izuku sneered.

"You're stupid." Hitoshi Jeered.

"Hitoshi- that's enough, both of you. It's already set up, and there's no use in fighting about it, you're both going, and I'm paying. If you don't like the result, you'll learn from it."

"Oh, bunk." Hitoshi huffed.

"Yeah- no, I don't want some asshole touching my hair- and, besides, I don't need a haircut." Izuku refused.

"Izu." Aizawa raised a brow. "It's a rats nest. You need a haircut, and soon. Also, we need to speak to the barber about products for your hair. It's a tighter curl than mine, and will need waxes, oils, mousses-"

"I am not touching that girl shit.," Izuku growled.

"Basic grooming is gender neutral." Aizawa insisted. "You can pick the style, but you are getting a haircut, today."

"Aizawa-"

"You don't have to be afraid, kiddo, it's just a haircut." Hitoshi offered.

"No! You're not- I'm not afraid of- I'm not fucking scared- it's- It's stupid."

"Why is it stupid?" Hitoshi pressed.

"Because- Because, okay?! Just- just fuck off."

"No." Hitoshi poked the smaller boy in the cheek, and nearly got bit for his efforts.

"Hitoshi, give him a break." Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Go shower, and get dressed, we're leaving in fifteen."

"Aizawa- I really don't need a haircut." Izuku insisted.

"Kid- just, let us take care of it, alright? It'll be over before you know it, and if you don't like the results, we'll go to a different barber, it's no big deal." Shouta promised. "I'll be there with you, every step of the way, okay?"

"…fine." Izuku mumbled, and went to shower.

Chapter Text

Izuku really, really didn't want a haircut.

He had vague memories, of being really little, pointing to a picture in a magazine of what he wanted, being so excited and-

That fucking bitch gave him a fuck ass bob. He wanted a boy's cut, but the stupid hairdresser gave him a goddamn Dora the Explorer and ruined everything- Kaachan made fun of him, he cried-

It was shitty, haircuts were shitty- he hadn't had one in a while. He got his head shaved, every ten-ish months, by Kurugiri, but he hated it. Hated the texture of the buzzcut against his skin, hated how he looked like a goddamn sheep when his curls were too short- hated everything about it. It made him want to stick a fork in a light socket- it wouldn't look any different if he survived, either way.

He Didn't like the idea of a man being that cxlose to his neck with a pair of sharp ass blades, he didn't want someone touching him, didn't like the idea of losing his safety blanket- he liked hiding behind his hair. Izuku hated the idea of someone looking at his hair and deciding shit about him.

Izuku hated everything about the process of getting haircuts, hated haircuts, didn't want a goddamn haircut.

"Hey-" Hitoshi murmured, just as the bell jangled to announce their presence to the shop. "If uh... you need to like... tap out, mentally, I can..." Hitoshi gestured vaguely, and Izuku blinked.

"I think I'll be fine." Izuku allowed, realizing every barber in the shop was a woman.

Izuku... didn't hate the barber nearly as much as he thought he would. The woman- named Yumi, was soft-spoken and sweet, and took care when combing through the tangles. She didn't speak unless spoken to, and was quick, efficient. She washed his hair slowly, scratched her blunt manicured nails against his scalp until Izuku literally dozed off in her chair. She asked what he'd like, and he shrugged. She took that as 'your choice' and did her job quietly. When she was finished, he didn't recognize himself, and hated that he loved it.

She'd given him a tousled undercut, the sides of his head shaved, but the top left long, and he... actually looked like a boy. Like himself. He could still hide his eyes behind his bangs, but now his hair wasn't tickling his neck all the damn time.

He... kind of liked it.

He also kind of hated that.

Hitoshi, comparatively, got only a trim- but his blowout had his fluffy lavender hair reaching new heights.

He looked... cute.

Izuku was going to strangle him.

"You did good." Aizawa smiled. "I'm glad you had fun."

"It was nice." Izuku allowed. "But next time, I'm doing it myself."

"Good luck with that." Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Get in the car."

"You do look good, though." Hitoshi offered. "Like, a people."

"Oh fuck OFF." Izuku snorted.

"Never."

"I'm going to strangle you."

"Yeah."

"You're insufferable."

"Nah."

"Ugh."

"Come on, we'll get you a snack." Aizawa cut in, and Izuku pouted, but didn't argue.

"Fine." he muttered.

"Good, I was already going to, so you don't have a choice." Aizawa snorted. "I'm thinking we go see a movie, actually." He offered. "And get popcorn. Thoughts?"

"What movie?" Hitoshi asked, Aizawa hummed.

"Maybe we should let Izuku decide- what are you into kiddo?" Aizawa asked, Izuku shrugged.

"I don't... really watch movies? I don't know what's out." He admitted.

"Okay, well, Genres?" Aizawa offered. "Rom-coms, comedies, action, horror, romance, kids, Documentaries- anything?"

"Um... maybe a comedy or an action?"

"Cool."

"We could watch a horror." Hitoshi offered, Aizawa glanced at him.

"We could."

"I'd rather not, they freak me out."

"They freak you out, huh? Are you easily frightened, Izu?" Hitoshi teased.

"Shut the fuck up."

"No, no, it's sweet, like a little baby-"

"Hitoshi." Aizawa warned.

"Yes?"

"Don't be a dick."

"Forrrr sure." Hitoshi grinned. "Let's go watch a scary movie."

"Yeah, no, you two can go, I'll stay home."

"An action movie it is." Aizawa hummed, pulling up to the theatre, and paying for three tickets to whichever PG13 action movie was playing.

"Can we get slushies?" Hitoshi asked, Aizawa blinked.

"Sure."

"Cool."

"And popcorn." Izuku noted.

"Yes." Hitoshi snapped his fingers. "And candy."

"Alright." Aizawa shrugged, and handed him his card.

"Cool, thanks." Izuku hummed.

"You're welcome." Aizawa's response was too kind, to genuine- it made Izuku's stomach do a weird wiggle thing.

"Ew, no, nevermind, I don't want anything, let's go."

"Oh, too late." Aizawa hummed. "You two are going to buy processed garbage to your hearts content." He held up his credit card. "And I won't be taking no for an answer."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Aizawa hummed, and, the two boys went ahead, looking over the kiosks and counters- picking and choosing their favorites until they physically couldn't hold any more- Izuku eyed Aizawa.

"So you're like... rich, then?"

"I'm more than comfortable, yes." Aizawa nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Izuku mumbled, sipping at his blue raspberry slushie.

"I see." Aizawa hummed. "You know, if you need anything- anything, don't hesitate to ask, alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Okay, just wanted to be sure." Aizawa resisted the urge to ruffle his perfectly-styled hair. "I care about you, kiddo, just wanted to remind you."

"Yeah, whatever." Izuku huffed, flustered.

"Good, now, go enjoy the movie." he nodded, sitting at the very back of the theatre.

"You... why are you sitting THERE? It's better to sit at the middle?" Izuku gestured.

"You're out of your fuckin' MIIIIND, dude, the front is best." Hitoshi took a loud, annoying suck off of his soda, and Izuku gritted his teeth.

"You'd be looking up the whole time- your neck'll get sore." Izuku argued.

"Yeah, but you're able to see everything better- you have a better view, and the speakers are the best!"

"I swear to fucking God-"

"Boys." Aizawa warned, and they shut their mouths.

They ended up sitting in the middle- seeing as Izuku was right, and Hitoshi was largely just fucking with him.

Chapter Text

The movie theatre lights dimmed, and the previews began to play, the sound of popcorn popping and the smell of butter lingering in the air. Izuku sat in the middle, flanked by Hitoshi and Aizawa, clutching his slushie tightly. Hitoshi had won the battle of the seats, but Izuku remained firmly planted in the middle, refusing to budge.

The first movie trailer was for a rom-com, which earned a dramatic eye-roll from Hitoshi. "Oh come on, that looks terrible," he whispered loudly, making Izuku chuckle.

"I actually kind of want to see it," he murmured back, taking a sip of his drink.

"You do?" Hitoshi's surprise was clear, even in the low light.

"Yeah, it's... I don't know, it looks fun."

"Well, maybe we can see it next time." Aizawa said, patting his shoulder. "For now, we're here for the action, remember?"

The movie started, and Izuku found himself getting lost in the explosions and fight scenes, his eyes wide with amazement. He hadn't felt this free, this... normal, in what felt like forever. It was like he was just a kid again, watching a movie with his friends, without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But, as the plot thickened and the stakes grew higher, he couldn't help but think of Kurogiri. Of the way he had looked at him through the glass, like a caged animal waiting for its moment to strike. He knew that the villain wasn't going to just give up information, no matter how much he knew, no matter how much he wanted to save everyone.

During a particularly intense scene, Hitoshi's hand found its way onto Izuku's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You okay?" he whispered, and Izuku nodded, not trusting his voice.

He was okay, for now, but he knew the moment the movie ended, reality would come crashing back down around him. The fear of facing Kurogiri again, the doubt in his own ability to resist the League's control, the guilt of his past actions... it was all there, just beneath the surface, waiting to consume him.

Hitoshi's hand slid down, and grasped Izuku's, holding it.

Izuku's stomach flipped upside down and inside out all at once. His cheeks flushed pink, and he bit his lip, his heart pounding in his chest. The warmth of the other boy's hand grounded him, made him feel safe, protected.

Izuku didn't let go.

As the movie progressed, Hitoshi's thumb began to trace small circles on the back of his hand, sending tingles up his arm. When the final battle scene began, Hitoshi's grip tightened, and his other hand came up to wrap around their joined hands. He could feel the other boy's pulse racing, matching his own.

The tension mounted as the protagonist fought against the odds, finally defeating the main villain and saving the day.

But for these two hours, he could ignore it all. He could just be a teenager with a mess of emotions and a love for over-the-top action flicks. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

As the credits began to roll and the lights flickered back on, Hitoshi turned to him, a smear of butter on his cheek from the popcorn. "So, what did you think?" he asked, pulling his hands away- Izuku had to force himself not to pout.

Izuku forced a smile, trying to push the dark thoughts aside. "It was good," he said, hoping it sounded genuine. "Thanks for bringing me."

"No problem," Aizawa said, standing up. "Let's go home."

They filed out of the theater, the bright lights of the lobby making them all squint. Izuku felt a little lost without the comforting darkness of the theater, but the feeling was quickly forgotten when Hitoshi started to tease him about his 'secret love' for rom-coms.

"You're just mad because I didn't jump at the chance to watch people make out for two hours," Izuku retorted, his voice slightly shakier than he would have liked.

"Mad? Please. I just know you're a closet hopeless romantic," Hitoshi shot back with a grin.

The banter between the two of them helped to ease some of the tension that had been building up inside Izuku since the mention of Kurogiri. He knew he had to face his fears, but he couldn't help but feel like he was walking into a lion's den.

The rain had picked up since they had entered the theater, and the cool droplets felt good against his skin as they stepped outside. Aizawa handed him an umbrella without a word, and Izuku opened it with a quiet 'thank you'. The three of them walked back to the car, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the wet pavement.

Once they were inside and the engine was humming, Aizawa broke the silence. "You don't have to do this alone, you know," he said, his voice serious.

Izuku stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. "I know," he murmured. "But it's something I have to do."

"We're here for you," Hitoshi chimed in from the backseat. "No matter what happens."

Izuku nodded, his throat tight. "Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The drive back to the apartment was quiet, the only sound the steady patter of rain on the roof. Izuku felt like he was being drawn into a whirlpool, the weight of what was to come pulling him down, down, down.

They climbed out of the car, and as they approached the apartment Hitoshi opened the door, and they stepped inside, the warmth of the apartment a stark contrast to the cold, wet world outside. For a brief moment, Izuku felt like he could hide here forever, but he knew that wasn't an option.

"Let's get you changed into something dry," Aizawa said, guiding him to his room. Izuku changed, and sighed, stepping out into the hallway, finding Hitoshi there- waiting.

"Hey." Izuku greeted.

"Hey." Hitoshi nodded. "I'm… across the hall." His eyes met Izuku's heavy, expectant. "If you ever need someone to bitch at." He murmured. "I'm across the hall."

Chapter Text

Things had been... mostly quiet, for a few days. Izuku kept his head down in class, Hitoshi refrained from terrorizing him- most of the time, and Shouta was finally, FINALLY settling comfortably into his role as parental figure-

Of course, leave it up to beurocracy to ruin it all.

"What do you MEAN we can't get him in for testosterone?"

"Look, Eraserhead- you're lucky you're not being charged with assault- legally, you can't even take him to get a haircut without consent from the social worker." Fumiko warned, lowly.

"As his social worker, can you just sign off on this, please?! It's honestly ridiculous that I wasn't informed of his... condition in the first place. I had to panic rearrange my home to give him his own space." Shouta gestured.

"The fact that I didn't know, and the hospital doesn't know, is exactly why we can't get him any treatment." She murmured, quietly. "The rules are... different, for female underage villains." '

"...What does THAT mean?" Shouta squinted, and she shook her head.

"You don't want to know." she sighed. "You can get him hormones, but, you'll have to pay out of pocket, and make sure there's no record, for his safety." She met his eye, and there was a quiet understanding there- she wanted to help. She was on Shouta's side- on Izuku's side.

"Fine." Shouta sighed. "Hizashi knows." He murmured.

"Will he stay quiet?"

"Yes." Shouta nodded. "Hitoshi knows too. They're in seperate rooms- I don't leave them alone together."

"Smart." Fumiko nodded. ":Hitoshi is a good boy." She allowed. "How is... Izuku adjusting?"

"Well." Shouta allowed. "Better. He's doing alright in school, not causing too many problems at home- in fact, Hitoshi tends to start more arguments in a general sense. We've been working with the selective mutism. He's comfortable speaking to me and Hitoshi, and a few of his classmates."

"I''m glad." She sighed. "He's... he seemed like he really was just a terrified kid. Despite everything, he never tried to hurt anyone unless they came at him with a needle."

Shouta nodded. "He's still scared of a lot of things, but he's getting better. The school's been great." He paused. "But what do we do when he turns eighteen?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Fumiko assured. "For now, let's focus on keeping him safe, and helping him get better."

"Fine." Shouta sighed. "I need to get going- classes end soon, and I need to pick up the boys." her stood, and Fumiko stood with him.

"Thank you," She said, suddenly, Shouta blinked at her. "For giving him a chance. You... weren't exactly my first choice." Shouta stared at her, realization settling in his features.

"You... knew, didn't you?" He asked, quietly. "About Izuku?"

"I didn't become a social worker for the money." She shrugged. "We're not paid nearly as well as heroes are."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I know where to look for... loopholes." She smirked. "And who to ask for favors. Just keep him safe, Shouta."

"Alright."

"And keep his secret safe." She added. "The moment the commission finds out, everything changes, and I probably end up in prison, or disappeared."

"I know." Shouta nodded. "Thank you." He murmured, and with that, he left.

The drive home was a blur, his mind racing with thoughts and scenarios, and what it all meant for Izuku.

How much could they really protect him?

How much could they hide from the world?

When he pulled up outside the school, the rain had stopped, leaving a gentle mist that hovered just above the pavement.

Hitoshi was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the building, looking bored out of his mind. "You're late." He pointed out.

"Couldn't wait to get out of there." Shouta huffed. "Where's Izuku?"

"Had to take a piss." Hitoshi shrugged.

They waited for Izuku together, Hitoshi chatting about his classes, about how boring the day had been, and Shouta nodded along, his mind still racing.

When Izuku finally emerged from the school, his hood was up, and his eyes were red.

"You okay?" Shouta asked immediately, Hitoshi's hand shooting out to grab Izuku's arm, to keep him steady.

"Yeah." He mumbled. "I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine.

Shouta could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, the way his eyes were puffy and bloodshot, the way he couldn't meet his gaze.

"What happened?" Hitoshi demanded, but Izuku just shrugged.

"Nothing." He mumbled. "Just... tired."

They didn't press him, but Hitoshi did glance over at Shouta with a look of concern.

They drove back to the apartment in silence, Izuku curled into the corner of the backseat, his eyes closed.

When they got back, Shouta made dinner, and the three of them sat around the table, eating in tense silence.

Izuku pushed his food around his plate, barely touching it.

Finally, Shouta couldn't take it anymore.

"Izuku." He said, softly. "What's going on?"

The teenager looked up at him, eyes wide and sad. "They know." He whispered. "They know there's something wrong with me, and they're talking about it, and they're... they're saying things."

Shouta felt his heart drop. "Who knows what now?"

"Some of the students." Izuku's voice was softer than a whisper. "They're saying I'm... I'm stupid, and there's something wrong with me. That I'm retarded. That I should just go back to whatever hole I crawled out of and leave them all alone."

"Who said that?" Hitoshi's voice was a low, deadly growl. "Who talked to you like that?"

"It doesn't matter." Izuku shrugged. "It's just... I thought I could hide it, but I can't." He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Shouta said, firmly. "You are who you are, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Everyone knows." Izuku's eyes filled with tears. "It's... it's written on the stalls."

Hitoshi was seething, his eyes on the door, ready to go out and beat the shit out of anyone who looked at Izuku- shit.

"I'll get to the bottom of it." Shouta spoke calmly. "People, esapecially teenagers, have a tendency to say and do really stupid things. Don't take it to heart-"

"But they're not wrong- there IS something WRONG with me." Izuku whispered, Shouta froze.

"No-"

"I AM stupid- I'm SO fucking-" the boy squeezed at his skull- Shouta was about to interrupt, but Hitoshi beat him to it, pulling Izuku in for a tight hug.

Chapter Text

"I-" Hitoshi looked up at Shouta. "I'll... handle this. You just... let me handle it." He stood, and guided Izuku back into his room, shutting the door behind him.

"They know I'm stupid."

"You aren't stupid." Hitoshi scoffed, sitting with Izuku on the bed. "A bit of a jackass, and easy to tease, sure, but you're not stupid."

Izuku buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "But... but they do." He mumbled.

"Fuck them." Hitoshi said simply. "Fuck what anyone else says, because it doesn't matter. What do you say?"

Izuku looked up at Hitoshi, his eyes wet with tears. "I... I don't know what to say." He whispered.

"You say that you're not going to let some asshole with nothing better to do than scribble on bathroom walls decide how you feel about yourself." Hitoshi's voice was firm. "You're smarter than anyone I know, and you're going to be one of the best heroes out there. And if they can't see that, then they're the fucking problem."

Izuku took a shaky breath. "Okay." He whispered, his voice shaky. "Okay."

Shouta could hear the muffled conversation from the kitchen, his heart breaking a little more for the kid. He knew what it was like to be picked on, but this was different. This was about something Izuku had no control over.

He decided to let Hitoshi handle it- for now.

"I hate this." He murmured. "I hate everyone looking at me."

"I know." Hitoshi sighed. "But you can't let them get to you."

"But it's true." Izuku whispered. "I'm not like everyone else."

"So what?" Hitoshi turned to face him, his eyes fierce. "You're special. You're kind of a badass, you know? To leave the league on your own, knowing how scary those fuckers are- going to school and doing decent even though you haven't been since you were literally four- you're smart as hell for being able to do what you do. You're the fuckin' hero of your own story, and you don't need anyone else's approval to be amazing."

Izuku stared at him for a moment, and then, to Hitoshi's surprise, he laughed. A hearty, bent-over-himself- wheezy laugh.

"What's so funny?" Hitoshi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You." Izuku wiped at his eyes. "You're so... cheesy."

"It's not cheese- it's truth!" Hitoshi protested, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm totally lactose intolerant dude, I couldn't cheese without shitting my pants anyway."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, staring at the wall together.

"I just... I don't know how to do this." Izuku admitted, his voice small. "I don't know how to... be like everyone else."

Hitoshi leaned his head against Izuku's shoulder. "You don't have to." He said, firmly. "You just have to be you."

They sat like that for a long while, just... existing together. And it was... surprisingly nice.

Hitoshi turned his head, looking at Izuku, and Izuku looked back- he watched those violet eyes dance between his, and then glance down, at his lips. Izuku watched Hitoshi's adams' apple bob, watched his lips part.

"I'm... I'm not a girl." Izuku reminded, breathless.

"I'm not into girls." Hitoshi's voice was breathy, stealing all the air from the room.

They leaned together, and then their lips were pressed- it was... Awkward, at first, tentative- Izuku didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but Hitoshi's hand found the back of his neck, and suddenly it was everything but awkward.

Izuku felt... something. Something warm, something good, something that made the ache in his chest ease a little. And when they broke apart, Hitoshi looked just as surprised as he felt.

"Well... that was unexpected." Hitoshi murmured, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I..." Izuku didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry if... I didn't... do it right."

Hitoshi laughed. "You did it just fine." He assured, his thumb brushing over Izuku's cheek. "Better than fine."

They kissed again, and this time it was... less awkward, more... right. It was...

Hitoshi's hands slipped down Izuku's sides, and pulled him closer, Izuku grabbed his collar, and leaned back, pulling Hitoshi on top of him- the two continued to kiss, even as Hitoshi slid his hips between Izuku's thighs- they kissed deeper, harder- desperate for some sort of connection, some semblance of affection.

Their breaths mingled in the quiet of the room, the sound of their hearts hammering in their chests seemed to echo through the walls. They kissed like it was the only thing that could save them from drowning.

Izuku's eyes fluttered open when Hitoshi pulled back to breathe- looking at Hitoshi's violet eyes, looking at the freckles sprinkled across his nose. Hitoshi looked down at Izuku with a hint of fear- an expression of worry.

"I..." He swallowed, Izuku heard his throat click, "Is this... okay?"

"Yeah." Izuku nodded, wrapping his arms around Hitoshi's throat, and pulling him closer. "It's okay."

"You're fucking gorgeous." Hitoshi murmured. "Perfect."

Izuku stared up at him, eyes wide. No one'd ever said anything like that to him before-

"Boys do you-" The door swug open, and there was a beat of silence. "What... what are you two doing?" Shouta asked, and Izuku shoved Hitoshi off of him- the purple-haired boy fell to the floor, and Izuku quickly sat up, eyes wide.

"Don't-" Izuku stood, desperate. "Send me to Juvie. Send- keep Hitoshi, please-"

"Izuku-" Hitoshi tried, Izuku wasn't listening.

"No- I- I know what your dad did- I read your file- this is the type of shit they move kids for, I know the drill- look, Keep Hitoshi, he deserves to be here. He needs you- he wants to be a hero so bad and- and I'm already a fuckup. Just send me to Juvie or tartarus or whatever but don't kick Hitoshi out- It was my fault!" Izuku's voice raised in pitch as he rambled, desperate, Shouta took a step forward.

"No one's getting sent away." Shouta spoke slowly. " "We do need to talk, though, please- come to the livingroom."

Chapter Text

They made their way to the living room, Hitoshi following close behind, his hand a comforting presence on Izuku's shoulder. Shouta sat down on the couch, gesturing for them to do the same.

Izuku felt like his stomach might fall out of his ass.

He was in deep shit. Monumental shit.

Shouta had seen them, and Izuku's brain was racing faster than a Quirk gone haywire. He could already feel the cold metal of handcuffs snapping around his wrists, the harsh lights of a juvenile detention center blinding him, the whispered taunts of 'freak' and 'traitor' following him down the halls of hell. But when Shouta spoke, his words were measured, almost... calm.

"Look at me, Izuku." The man's voice was a gentle rumble, and Izuku felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't help but obey, those piercing eyes boring into his own. "It means I can't leave the two of you home alone, sure, but nothing else really changes." He assured. "You're not in trouble."

Shouta's words hit him like a punch to the gut, but not in a bad way.

"But-" He stuttered, "But I- The handbooks say-"

"I know." Shouta's expression softened, just a touch. "I know what they say, But I'm already breaking the law quite a bit to make sure you're taken care of medically. Heroes bend rules if it means helping more people, I won't lie." He sighed. "Of course- we will have to be responsible about this. You're no longer allowed in each-other's rooms, and I can't let the two of you be home alone anymore, but, Nothing else really changes. I am still your foster father, You still stay with me. BOTH of you." Shouta looked between the two red-faced boys, who were both staring at the ground.

Hitoshi looked up, first, his eyes meeting Shouta's. "What if someone finds out?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We deal with it." Shouta shrugged. "We've been dealing with Izuku's shit for weeks now- I think we can deal with a bit of extra drama." He said with a wry smile. "Besides-" He leaned in, whispering. "It's none of their business."

They sat in the living room, the tension palpable, thick like the fog outside. Shouta made a show of reading through some paperwork, while Hitoshi and Izuku sat on the couch, avoiding eye contact like it was a quiz they hadn't studied for.

Izuku felt... odd. Relieved, but also... scared. He didn't know how to process what had just happened. He'd never felt that way before, and he wasn't quite sure he liked it. But... Hitoshi had been nice to him. More than anyone else ever had. And... it had felt right.

Hitoshi, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in his seat, trying to contain his excitement. He'd liked it- a lot. But he was also worried that Izuku didn't- that maybe he'd hurt him.

Shouta could see it all playing out, and honestly? He was just happy the kid wasn't crying, complaning, or enraged anymore.

"Izuku." He said, finally setting the paperwork down. "Hitoshi. Go wash up for dinner." He instructed, and the boys scrambled out of the room.

To the same bathroom, like idiots.

Hitoshi picked up the bottle of soap, and offered the nozzle to Izuku, who let him squirt soap into his hands. Shakily, they shared a stream of water, scrubbing, not looking directly at each other, but meeting eyes in the mirror, watching each other's expressions carefully.

They stared at each other for a beat, before Izuku spoke. "I don't hate it." He whispered.

Hitoshi's smile was like the sun breaking through a stormcloud. "I liked it." He admitted.

They leaned into each other, tentative, awkward. But it was... nice.

Shouta, in the other room, couldn't help but smile. It was a small victory, in a sea of shit, but it was something.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, the two of them working on setting the table while Shouta made dinner.

Dinner was quieter than usual, the tension thick, but not entirely unpleasant.

After they finished, Shouta sent Hitoshi to bed, leaving Izuku to clean up. He was about to go to his own room, when Izuku stopped him.

"Thank you." He said, looking up at the teacher, eyes shining. "For not kicking me out."

Shouta sighed. "You're not going anywhere." He said. "I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you. You're safe here."

Izuku nodded, but his eyes remained on the floor, unable to hold Shouta's gaze. "But I can't-"

"Izuku," Shouta's voice was firm, but gentle. "You're not going anywhere." He repeated. "You're part of this family now, whether you like it or not."

The boy looked up, and Shouta saw something in those eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. Hope.

"Okay." Izuku whispered. And with that, he turned and began to clean up dinner.

Shouta watched him for a moment, before deciding that was enough for the night. He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "Izuku?" He called out. The boy looked up, a question in his eyes. "I know this is weird, but... I'm proud of you. For taking the step to tell me. For... everything."

Izuku's cheeks flushed a bright pink, but he nodded, his eyes shining with something that wasn't anger or fear for once. Shouta felt his own heart swell.

The next day consisted mostly of classes, and Shouta had to admit- it was sort of funny watching the two dumbasses pretend not to stare at eachother.

But Shouta was there, hovering like a hawk, ready to swoop down at any signs of trouble. And surprisingly, there weren't many. Sure, there were whispers, but no one dared to say anything directly to Izuku. Not with EraserHead glaring at them from across the room.

When class let out, Hitoshi was the first to Izuku's side, a fierce protectiveness in his stance that made Shouta's heart warm. The two of them walked together, their hands brushing every so often. It was subtle, but Shouta noticed.

Fucking dorks.

Chapter Text

Adorable little idiots.

Shouta thought, watching them from the corner of his eye as he graded papers. They'd been at it for a week now, and it was still just as sweet as it was weird.

He'd never seen Izuku smile so much- hell, he'd never seen Izuku smile at all before that night. And now, every time he looked over, the kid was smiling at something Hitoshi had done or said.

It was... Nice.

And it made his heart swell in his chest to know he'd had a hand in that.

But as much as he liked seeing them happy, he couldn't ignore the niggling worry that this was all going to blow up in their faces. He was a hero- a damn good one at that- but the rules were the rules for a reason. And if the wrong person found out...

He sighed, and set his pen down. "Fuck it." He murmured to himself, standing up.

He walked over to the fridge, grabbing two sodas, popping the tops off and walking down the hallway.

"You two lovebirds wanna watch a movie?" He called out.

The silence was immediate, and then-

"Sure." Hitoshi's voice was a little too casual, but the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

Shouta walked into the room, setting the sodas down on the coffee table. "Don't worry." He said, his voice a bit rougher than he'd intended. "I'm not going anywhere."

They sat down on the couch, Izuku in the middle, his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. Hitoshi sat next to him, close, but not touching.

They watched the movie in relative silence, the occasional giggle from Hitoshi, or murmur from Izuku. And it was... peaceful.

Shouta leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment, letting the sound of the TV lull him into a doze.

But he couldn't relax. Not completely. There was too much on his plate to just sit here and do nothing. He had to figure out a way to keep this a secret, to keep them safe.

He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it was heavy. But he'd carried heavier before, and he'd keep carrying it.

For these two.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open to see Hitoshi looking at him, concern in his eyes. "You okay?" He asked.

Shouta nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yeah- just tired."

Izuku was watching them, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to-"

"I'm fine." Shouta cut him off, squeezing the hand that hadn't left his shoulder. "Let's just watch the movie."

They settled back down, the tension in the room dissipating a little.

But as the movie went on, and the night grew later, Shouta's mind couldn't help but wander to the future- to the inevitable storm clouds that would come.

But for now, he'd cherish this quiet, peaceful moment.

For now, he had them both here, safe, and that was all that mattered.

The credits rolled, and Hitoshi was the first to move, stretching out his legs and groaning. "It's late." He said, glancing over at the clock. "We should get to bed."

Izuku nodded, standing up, and Hitoshi followed, the two of them heading to their own rooms.

Shouta stood up too, collecting the empty soda cans and tossing them in the bin. "Goodnight." He called after them, and they both called back, their voices echoing down the hallway.

He walked into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter, looking out the window. It was a quiet night, temperate, easy. Made him think things could just be... easy.

But Shouta knew better.

The world was a harsh place, and he had two kids with two very big targets on their backs.

He'd do anything to keep them safe.

Even if it meant breaking a few more rules.

Hitoshi knew all about breaking rules, waiting for Shouta to close his door for the night and start snoring before tip-toeing down the hall, sticking close to the walls so the floorboards didn't creak- an old trick from growing up geting his shit kicked in so often.

Izuku was already sitting up, waiting for Hitoshi as the violet-haired boy snuck into the room, and grinned.

"We're gonna get in trouble." Izuku frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're literally a supervillain dude, I think staying up late to play Animal crossing is like- the least of your issues." Hitoshi snorted, and slid into the bed next to Izuku, pulling out his Nintendo- an older device, held together with duct tape and a dream. He handed it to Izuku, who sighed.

"You're fucking stupid, you know that?" He sighed. "I have chips and snacks and shit under the bed." He noted, and Hitoshi blinked.

"Why?"

"...Have to." He shrugged.

"... Dude, Aizawa's not gonna stop feeding you." Hitoshi murmured. "He's more likely to force feed you." he noted, but Izuku just shrugged.

"It's not shit he buys." he mumbled. "...Energy drinks and chips and shit."

"Where'd you get that?" Hitoshi's eyebrows pinched, and Izuku shrugged.

"Might've pinched some shit from the corner store." He huffed. "You gonna narc on me?"

"No? But you don't need to steal stuff, man, just ask Aizawa. He'll make sure you have whatever."

"But then he's all judgy and shit." Izuku wrinkled his nose. "I don't feel like talking to him."

"... I'll talk to him about us getting an allowance and then you can buy shit." Hitoshi huffed. "I don't want you getting in trouble. Stealing stuff is like- an actual crime." Hitoshi warned, Izuku rolled his eyes.

"The company makes billions of dollars and pays their employees not even enough to feed themselves, and all the shit in the store is insured- loss prevention is a joke." Izuku reached under the bed, and popped open a can of an energy drink, which Hitoshi snatched.

"It's eleven, dude, you'll be up all night." He warned, Izuku pouted.

"I'll be up until I crash either way."

Chapter Text

Izuku snatched his can back. "Sleep is for the weak."

"I have clinical insomnia, Izuku, I get not being able to sleep, but..." He watched as Izuku chugged down the drink, and then crushed the can, tossing it back under the bed. "Please tell me you're not leaving trash under there..." He dipped his head down, looking at the CASES of snacks and drinks under there, Izuku snorted.

"Fuck no, that's how you get ants. I wait until trash day and take my own bag to the dumpster after Aizawa goes to bed." Izuku shrugged.

"... You're more domestic than I thought." Hitoshi couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"Don't get any ideas." Izuku warned, but the grin on his face told a different story. He handed Hitoshi a bag of chips, and the two of them settled into the quiet, playing the stupid video game together well into the wee hours in the morning, quiet, comfortable.

They didn't notice the door creak open just a crack, Shouta standing there in the hallway, watching them through the slit. He didn't say anything, didn't move. Just watched. He saw the way Hitoshi leaned into Izuku's shoulder, the way Izuku didn't flinch away, the way they shared the snacks without hesitation.

Shouta sighed softly, a sound lost to the dark hallway. He knew he should stop them. He knew he should enforce the rules. But... they looked happy. They looked safe. And wasn't that the whole point? He closed the door quietly, leaving them to their stolen moment.

He walked back to his own room, the floorboards silent beneath his feet. He knew this couldn't last forever. Someone would find out. Someone would talk. But for now... for tonight... he'd let them have this. He'd carry the weight of that choice himself. They deserved a little peace.

The next morning came too soon. Shouta found Izuku asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arms, an empty energy drink can beside him. Hitoshi was sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. Shouta sighed, rubbing the grit from his own eyes. He nudged Izuku's shoulder gently. "Kid. Wake up. School." Izuku groaned, burying his face deeper into his arms.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Or I dust myself and hide in the vents."

Shouta snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Try it. See what happens." He leaned against the doorframe, watching as Hitoshi stirred, blinking blearily. "Both of you. Up. Now. Breakfast in ten." He turned to leave, pausing only to add, "And Izuku? We're talking about that corner store later." He didn't miss the way Izuku's shoulders tensed beneath his hoodie. Hitoshi shot Izuku a worried look across the room.

Downstairs, the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. Shouta poured three mugs, sliding one towards Izuku as he shuffled in, looking pale and drawn. "Sleep well?" Shouta asked, his tone carefully neutral. Izuku just grunted, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. Hitoshi joined them, grabbing toast. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words – the stolen night, the looming conversation, the fragile peace holding them together. Shouta watched them, these two damaged boys finding solace in each other, and felt the familiar, heavy knot of responsibility tighten in his chest. He'd fight for this. For them.

"I need to pay for the things you took." Shouta started, slowly. You could get in serious trouble for stealing. We're going to call it an accident, you didn't know any better." he stared Izuku down, but the boy didn't meet his eye. "And we're getting you a mini-fridge so that you can keep perishable snacks as well. I don't particularly care if you eat garbage- at the current moment, your body is very thin, and needs the calories. I will allow you to eat whatever you want, provided you have the appropriate servings of vegetables, fruit, and protein at designated meal times- does that sound fair?" Shouta asked, Izuku shrugged, but didn't verbally respond. "I will also keep the pantry stocked with snacks. Cookies and chips and things."

"Awe what? I've been begging for MONTHS for oreos." Hitoshi complained.

"The company that owns Oreo is complicit in genocide, we can make our own damn sandwich cookies- and you only ever eat the cream anyway. It's just vegetable shortening, sugar and vanilla." Shouta waved off. "It's better that we make a majority of things from scratch. Processed foods are fine, it's the excessive salt and sugar that's not good for you." He explained.

Izuku blinked slowly. "You're telling me that you're going to bake cookies?" Izuku asked skeptically. "You?" Shouta nodded.

"Yeah. It's not hard." He shrugged. "You can help." He offered.

"Can I?" Hitoshi perked up. "I've never baked anything." Shouta nodded.

"Yeah. We'll bake cookies tonight." He decided. "For now, eat your breakfast." He gestured to the toast and eggs he'd made.

Izuku stared at his plate for a long moment before picking up a piece of toast. He took a bite, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. Hitoshi watched him, waiting for a reaction. When Izuku didn't say anything, Hitoshi sighed. "So... baking cookies?" He asked, breaking the silence. Shouta nodded.

"Yeah. After school." He confirmed.

Izuku swallowed. "Okay." He whispered. He looked up at Shouta, his eyes wide. "Thank you." He said again, his voice soft. Shouta nodded.

"Don't thank me yet." He warned. "You might hate my cookies." Izuku smiled, a small, hesitant thing.

"I doubt it." He murmured. Hitoshi grinned. "I'll eat them." He promised. Shouta rolled his eyes.

"Eat your breakfast." He repeated. They did, in silence, but it was comfortable. Peaceful. For now.

Later, at UA, Shouta kept an eye on Izuku as he sat at the back of the classroom, sketching in a notebook. Hitoshi kept glancing over, protective.

The baking session that evening became unexpectedly chaotic. Flour dusted the kitchen like snow as Hitoshi dropped an egg. Izuku laughed- a genuine sound Shouta hadn't heard before- while trying to salvage the dough. "Your technique is criminal," Izuku teased, flicking flour at Hitoshi.

Shouta watched them bicker over measurements, the earlier tension dissolving into floury camaraderie. For now, the shadows stayed at bay.

Chapter Text

The trio settled onto the worn couch, plates balanced precariously on laps piled high with misshapen cookies – some charred at the edges, others worryingly doughy in the center. The scent of burnt sugar and vanilla hung thick in the air, oddly comforting against the cool evening. Shouta grabbed the remote, the glow of the television washing over them as he flipped through channels- static-filled game shows, a cartoon rabbit chasing a carrot, some grimey talk show, then-

-a sharp crackle of static, then the harsh glare of studio lights flooded the living room. "...reporting live from the Hosu financial district," a breathless reporter shouted over sirens wailing like wounded beasts. Grainy footage flickered- crumbling buildings belching smoke, panicked civilians scrambling like ants. Then, the camera jerked, focusing on a flash of pale, disintegrating fingertips disintegrating the pavement as Spinner lunged. Behind him, Tomura Shigaraki’s lanky silhouette moved with chilling calm, decay blooming like ink dropped in water where his hand brushed a downed hero’s armguard. The hero screamed, the sound swallowed by the roar of collapsing concrete.

Izuku’s plate clattered to the floor, cookies scattering like fallen stones. His breath hitched, a sharp, wet sound tearing from his throat. All color drained from his face, leaving him parchment-pale, his knuckles white where they gripped the couch cushion. The familiar manic gleam in Tomura’s eyes, even through the pixelated mess, was a punch to the gut. Shouta’s thumb slammed down on the channel button before the reporter could utter another word. The screen blinked to silent, brightly colored cartoon birds chirping obliviously. The sudden, jarring silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating. Shouta kept his gaze fixed on the screen, his own jaw clenched tight. Izuku hadn’t moved, frozen, staring at the spot where the horror had been. Hitoshi’s hand hovered uncertainly near Izuku’s trembling shoulder. The cookies lay forgotten, sweetness turned to ash in their mouths.

Without a sound, Izuku pushed himself upright. His movements were stiff, robotic, like rusted hinges forced to move. He didn’t look at either of them, his viridian eyes wide and vacant, fixed on some unseen horror replaying in his mind. The tan cast scraped against the leg of the coffee table as he turned, the sound gratingly loud in the stillness. He took one step, then another, towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, his gait uneven and jarring. Hitoshi instantly started to rise, panic flaring in his violet eyes, his hand reaching out instinctively. "Izu-"

Shouta’s hand shot out, a firm, silent pressure on Hitoshi’s forearm. He didn’t look away from Izuku’s retreating back. His voice, when he spoke, was low, calm, but brooked no argument. "Hitoshi. Sit." He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, his gaze flicking towards Hitoshi briefly, conveying a world of warning and understanding. "Give him a minute. Just breathe." Hitoshi hesitated, torn, his eyes darting from Shouta’s stern profile to Izuku’s disappearing form. Slowly, reluctantly, he sank back onto the couch cushion, fingers knotting anxiously in his hoodie sleeve. The bedroom door clicked shut with terrifying finality.

Shouta slowly released Hitoshi’s arm, his own hand clenching into a fist on his knee. The cheerful cartoon music mocked them. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs, rubbing his temples. Every instinct screamed to follow, to break down the door, to demand answers, to offer comfort. But he knew that door was more than wood and paint. It was a barrier Izuku had slammed shut against a world that had just ripped open an old wound. Shoving his way in now would only drive the kid deeper into whatever dark corner of his mind he’d retreated to. He could hear Hitoshi’s shallow, anxious breaths beside him, feel the tremor radiating from the boy. The silence stretched, thick and charged with unspoken fear- fear for Izuku, fear of Tomura, fear of what this meant for their fragile sanctuary. The scattered cookies on the floor seemed like a cruel joke.

He finally turned his head, meeting Hitoshi’s terrified gaze. "He needs space," Shouta murmured, his voice rougher than intended. "He needs to process. If he wants us, he’ll come out." He forced a steadiness he didn’t feel into his tone. "Give him that." Hitoshi swallowed hard, nodding jerkily, though his eyes remained glued to the closed door, wide with helpless worry.

Shouta stood abruptly, the movement sharp. He couldn’t sit still. He needed to DO something. He snatched the remote again, muting the absurdly cheerful cartoon entirely. The sudden vacuum of sound was almost worse. He paced a tight circuit near the kitchen doorway, his capture weapon shifting restlessly around his neck. The cheerful music felt like razors scraping against his nerves. He paused, glancing back towards the silent bedroom door. Every instinct screamed danger, violation. Tomura’s presence, even mediated through a screen, felt like a trespass. The sanctuary he’d built felt paper-thin, crumbling at the edges. He needed to secure it. He needed a plan. And he needed Izuku to open that damn door.

Hitoshi didn’t sleep. He lay rigid in his own bed, ears straining for any sound from Izuku’s room next door. Silence. Thick, suffocating silence. He counted Shouta’s footsteps pacing the living room until they finally stopped, replaced by the soft click of the master bedroom door closing. The apartment settled into a deeper quiet, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Hitoshi waited, counting heartbeats thudding against his ribs. Five minutes. Ten. When the stillness felt unbearable, he slid out of bed, bare feet silent on the cool floor. He padded to Izuku’s door, hesitating only a breath before rapping his knuckles softly, twice. "Izuku?" No answer. He tried the knob. Unlocked. He cracked it open, peeking before slipping inside like a shadow.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint streetlight bleeding through the curtains. Izuku sat bolt upright in the center of his bed, knees drawn tight to his chest, arms locked around his shins. He wasn't trembling. He was perfectly, unnervingly still.