Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unlike most children you were around while growing up, you never wanted to be a hero.

Being a hero just wasn’t in the cards for you, not with your last name, not with your family, not with your quirk.

Often you were teased, poked at, made fun of for being a villain in the making. Just another bad apple from a poisonous tree that should stop reproducing. Even some of the adults you were around would give you side looks, a wariness in their eyes as you grew older, teachers speaking blunt and quick, parents urging their kids away from you. Because being a Shinku meant having a specific type of quirk.

A quirk that you feel nothing but indifference towards, accepting it as a part of who you are.

Not that you were always so capable of doing so. There was a time when it was hard to come to terms with what lot in life you were given and you remember vividly yearning for something else. Jealous and seething at how unfair it was whenever classmates would demonstrate their quirks. Even the more mundane ones such as minor levitation or creating claws from one’s fingertips seemed like super strength or fire manipulation. But as you grew older, a bit more tired, a lot more jaded, you saw the uses in your quirk. Sure, you might not be able to be a hero, but you could still help people.

Just not the people that most would like to help.

The very idea of someone with the last name of Shinku being a hero was laughable but you found ways around it. Namely… you found that there are people similar to you that could use a bit of help, some TLC and… well, you could provide it.

It started off as an accident, honestly. Just another day at a dead end job while you attempted to fight your way into medical school even with so many odds stacked against you. But when you left your shift at a way too late hour and came across a bloodied man, barely breathing… you just acted. Grabbing his hand, trying to talk to him, ignoring the amount of blood all over his face and neck before letting instinct take over. Solidifying your blood enough to pierce through not only your skin, but his, and feeding your blood directly into his body.

He sputtered, coughing up more blood, but became more aware, confused and shocked when he found you crouched over him with glowing irises and black scleras. He panicked as you pulled away, letting your wrist fall to the side and he was quick on his feet and disappeared into the night. Leaving you lightheaded and with a curious feeling you couldn’t put your finger on. It almost felt like satisfaction.

It was a few days later when you ran into him again at work. He kept staring at your eyes, scleras white, irises back to their normal hue before apologizing, awkward and surprisingly well meaning for the area you worked and lived in. He even tried to pay you and you realized you were dealing with probably a bad person by the amount he was trying to give you but… you waved it off with a, “think nothing of it.”

Then it happened again… and again… and again.

Until you finally had to admit that just maybe, sharing your quirk without some sort of payment wasn’t the best way to go. Not with the bloodloss catching up to you and the amount of days you were missing work because you simply couldn’t get out of bed. You started taking heavy duty iron supplements to counteract the constant tiredness, at least a little bit. Then a strange thing happened, your name began to be shared around.

Whispers about how nobody should mess with “Shinku” and that people needed to be mindful of you. There was fear, hardly anything new, but there was something else happening. It didn’t really dawn on you until after helping another person with gray morals similar to yourself that people actually seemed to be seeking you out. Hoping you would help.

Some of the vigilantes explained that it was just easier to go to you rather than a hospital and deal with the police.

Some of the villains admitted that they just preferred your calm, collected nature and how you didn’t ask a thousand questions.

Others just simply didn’t have anywhere to go beyond you.

So you continued to help, enjoying the satisfaction and feeling that maybe you weren’t a bad apple. That a Shinku can actually do some good.

Your apartment burned down but you were able to find another one shockingly fast. One that was above your paygrade as a two bedroom but the building’s owner gave it to you with a heavy discount for “helping a brother and a cousin”. You accepted it and even began to accept random walk-ins. Or rather… people who dragged themselves up the stairs to your apartment and banged on the door as they bled all over the floor. Eventually you had to keep a fridge specifically for blood in your apartment just to keep up with demand. You also warned consistent patients that the next time they came around, they needed to bring a few bags of O negative blood, the universal donor. And it had to be from a blood bank or a clinic so you wouldn’t risk getting sick. Your blood type and the key to your quirk being able to work on everyone and anyone.

Medical school got further and further away from you as the years went on but you didn’t mind. You still studied everything you needed to in regards to human anatomy, sanitation, cleaning wounds, stitching, so on and so forth. But the idea of actually going to med school and doing the residency and getting all the needed certifications and a specialization started to seem… pointless. Not when you were already doing pretty much all the work that would be expected, just in a very inappropriate - illegal - setting.

Not only that but… the idea of leaving the strangely tight knit community for a bunch of rejects, outcasts and violent people felt wrong. That thought solidified in your mind when you came across a teenager with the worst burns you’d ever seen in your life. You didn’t think and went over to him and outright told him, “if those hurt, I can help.”

He stared at you like you were insane, eyeing you, mouth pulling down into a frown with a look of pure distrust in his eyes. But one of your usuals was around and vouched for you, so you ended up getting to know Touya Todoroki.

His burns hurt you in a way you weren’t used to, so numerous, so terrible, and you did your damndest to ease his discomfort and heal what you could. It took time, multiple visits, too many pints of blood to count, but eventually, Touya started to feel things again. He was puzzled, amazed, and asked you after what must have been your twentieth blood transfusion with him over a period of a few months, “what’s your quirk?”

You were a little amused by his question and pointed out, “I thought it was obvious. I can heal people.”

He scowled, though it looked more like a pout and insisted, “but how? I can feel things again.”

You shrugged and admitted, for the first time to anyone, “I don’t know. It’s not something my family does, I’m an anomaly.”

“What does that mean?”

“Being a Shinku usually means some sort of blood manipulation, in the form of controlling other people’s blood or their own blood to make weapons or armor. Not many, if any, can heal people.”

He was quiet for a long time after learning that but did start to open up to you. Telling you snippets of his previous life, a life full of feeling lesser and worthless, of pain and yearning, of neglect and sadness. It hurt to hear because it resonated so damn much with what you went through. Not in the same exact manner but… hearing his past pulled at your heartstrings. Enough for you to start feeding him and throwing random clothes at him. The clothing was usually left by someone else, typically bloodstained, yes, but perfectly usable. You made sure to wash the clothes at least twice before giving them to Touya. Something that he didn’t know what to do with at first and even refused until you sat him down and told him to just take it. He avoided you for a good few weeks after that argument but did return, sullen but accepted the pair of boots you tossed his way.

Slowly, he came around more and it wasn’t weird if he ended up falling asleep on the couch or using your spare bedroom. You didn’t even blink if you returned home with groceries to find him already lounging on your couch, shoes off, with the tv on. If one of the patients in your care - it tended to be someone new - tried being mouthy, he was quick to rise up to the challenge. Blue flames licking around his fingertips, body tensed like he was ready for a fight and the patient never took him up on his offer. You knew how to fight, had done it before and the cruel lessons forced on you as a child and teenager remained in the back of your mind. So while Touya’s strange protective nature was endearing, you found it unnecessary until one day it came in handy.

One day when a new person came to your door while Touya happened to be visiting, hurt but also strung out on something. When you tried stitching up the worst of the wounds, you ended up on the floor with a nasty gash across your cheek. It shocked you more than anything, stunned as harsh hands grabbed your shirt collar, shaking you, screaming at you. Before you could manage a response, Touya was there, vicious and angry in a way you’d never seen.

Though the man was far larger than either of you, he didn’t care nor did he hesitate, shoving your attacker away and getting between the two of you. He had a feral look on his face, eerie, haunting, as blue fire sparked to life in his palms and he pushed those hands against the man's chest. He ran out of the apartment, crying, begging for help that nobody would give. You’d later find out he survived but had third degree burns on forty percent of his body.

Then Touya turned to you, his eyes oddly wide, wild and you saw panic. He looked so young and it reminded you just how old he was, not even an adult, as he crouched in front of you. He reached out, fire dying out before his too warm hands touched your face and stared at the gash. Something you weren’t worried about and told him, “I’m fine.” There was a look that passed through his eyes then, a vulnerability that was so rare and you put your hands on his shoulders. “Tou…” you spoke softly, not even thinking as you called him something so personal, “I’m okay.”

Only then did he snap out of whatever dark thoughts were running through his head, a frown on his face as he replied, “are you?”

It was the first time in a long time that you’d been asked how you were doing and you stared at him, taken aback. He seemed to know it too, lips pressing together tightly before he got up and went to your door, closing and locking it. You watched then forced yourself to stand up, holding your cheek that still bled far too much and headed into the bathroom. The pain hardly bothered you even as you stitched the skin back together until you were left with a neat line of stitches. Honestly, you doubted you needed sutures, your blood’s healing abilities tended to make short work of minor wounds but you wanted to take care of it. Not for your sake, but for Touya’s.

A cup of tea was on the counter when you walked back to the living room and Touya had taken to cleaning up the blood on the floor. He took one look at you and pointed at the cup before he continued wiping up the crimson liquid. Rather than fighting with him, you sat at the table with the tea that was made the way you preferred, sipping from it. Neither of you spoke for a long time but it was him who broke the silence, voice low and raspy, “has anyone done that before?”

“First time.”

That seemed to offer him a bit of comfort though he still had that look in his eyes, the one that you disliked and waited until he went to pass by you to the sink. Only then did you grab his wrist, touch careful, gentle, and waited until he turned towards you. He frowned, wary and you stood up before pressing your forehead against his and wrapping an arm around him. He tensed underneath the bit of affection, still and stony but wasn’t pushing away from it.

You ignored that and murmured, “thanks, Tou.”

There was silence that stretched for a long moment… then a quiet, “yeah.”

You pretended not to notice that he leaned into you and noted to give more hugs.

It turned out that Touya loved hugs.

He never said anything, sometimes would make a face or even roll his eyes but he never once refused them. In fact, as he got more accustomed to the affection, the more he would sit next to you or even lean on you if his day had been particularly bad, silently requesting one without saying the words. He stayed over more consistently and seemingly was always around while you treated people in the corner of your living room that served as your little medical office.

It was cute and you had to tease him, at least a little bit. He would wave you off but never snapped at you. The only time he actually got upset was if you accepted a very questionable client or one that had a bad habit of being sleazy with you. Somehow, you ended up adopting a moody, traumatized teenager and you really didn’t mind the outcome. Sure you weren’t that much older than Touya, only twenty one to his sixteen but you felt responsible for him and did what you could to look after him. He did the same in his own ways and soon, he was staying at your apartment full time.

It was new for you, you weren’t unaccustomed to sharing a space with someone you actually liked being around. He noticed it, the way you would startle whenever he’d enter the room, how you’d go still at the sound of his footsteps before relaxing once you caught sight of him. He made a habit of calling your name or randomly announcing what he wanted for dinner. You were thankful and grew used to him.

It took time for him too, you could tell he was used to not feeling things and had been numb for a long while. Something you worked on changing. Over the months he was around you and the many blood transfusions, most of the nerves in his body came back to life. He hadn’t done well with it at first, far too accustomed to simply using his quirk without repercussions but now… he could feel things again.

The pain wasn’t what stopped him from overusing his quirk though, you had a feeling it was because of you. Every time he did, you’d scold him, remind him that he didn’t need to push himself so far and he’d stare at you like he didn’t know what to do with that. He even demanded after he came home with fresh burns, “then what else am I supposed to do with my life? I was raised to be a hero.”

“I’m not telling you to stop, Tou. I’m telling you to be mindful, take measured risks.” That did make him pause, looking bewildered and you had no idea why but you kept going, “you don’t have to go out in a blaze of glory every damn time. Use your fire, help people if you want. But don’t kill yourself while doing it.”

“You really mean that. You think I can still be a hero.”

You shrugged and said, “why not? I wanted to be a doctor. And while I may not have a fancy piece of paper from a university, I pretty much am one. So why can’t you be a hero?” It was an odd dream to have in your eyes but you’d also been raised in darkness. At the same time though, if you were able to claw your way out of the bleak realities of your family and do good… then why couldn’t Touya do something similar? Even if his family told him that he couldn’t or shouldn’t or whatever was the case, the kid was the most determined and stubborn person you’d ever met. He would be the one to melt those shackles and show off exactly what he was capable of. You were just focused on making sure when he did, he wouldn’t be on the wrong side, so to speak, and be considered a villain for using his quirk.

He stared, blue eyes searching your face before his lips curled up into an honest, little smile and pointed out, “pretty sure I can’t be an official hero.”

“Okay then be a vigilante. Those are pretty much unofficial heroes.”

He was quiet after that but the look on his face suggested he was actually considering your words. The proof came later when he no longer had fresh burns on his skin and would sit in your living room, practicing how to pull back on his fire.

Another issue that came up now the two of you were sharing a space was how his emotions would suddenly flare. There were points where he would lash out over something seemingly small but there was always a theme behind his anger.

The first time it happened, you didn’t put the pieces together. It was during some sort of commercial, one that showcased the current top five heroes. Touya was barely paying attention, scrolling on his phone until the number two hero, Endeavor, began talking. Touya jerked his head up, blue eyes narrowed, teeth bared and he actually seemed ready to set your tv on fire. Flames gathered in his free hand, crackling loud and you reached over to touch his shoulder, voice firm, “don’t.”

He turned his eyes on you, frustration clear in his gaze before he gritted his teeth and stood up, disappearing to his room. It was a confusing moment… one you didn’t know what to do with. You glanced back at the tv that now had All Might talking and wondered what set him off. Was it the heroes droning on and on or… was it Endeavor?

Once you paid attention, you caught onto the issue. Anytime the number two hero showed up on the tv, he’d flip to a different channel or put on a streaming service. Anytime Endeavor’s picture was on a magazine cover at the store, Touya would look at it, lips pressed together and seemingly wishing it would catch fire by his stare alone. Anytime the Flame Hero had a radio interview, usually talking about his training or how he ended up so high of a rank, Touya would tense and turn off the radio.

It came to a head when there was a tv interview with Endeavor.

The tv was honestly just on, you weren’t even paying attention as you were making dinner when there was the sound of glass breaking. It made you jump and twist around to find Touya in front of the screen, hands balled into fists, a cup shattered on the ground. You watched, listening intently to what was being said and heard the hero commenting on how he had a legacy that not even All Might could touch. One he was proud of. One that took many years to figure out. One that was in the form of his youngest son.

Touya was shaking, eyes on the tv and the words he spoke broke your heart, “that’s what you call having kid after kid until one had the quirks you wanted? Meanwhile the rest of us were tossed to the side like trash…? That’s your fucking legacy?!”

Quietly, you abandoned the vegetables on the cutting board and rested against one of the counters, observing and listening.

He kept going, ranting, so many emotions spilling forth that you hadn’t seen before. Flames gathered in his fists, his voice cracking and you had enough, pushing off the counter and wrapping your arms around his middle. He startled, head snapping to look over his shoulder and you took in his wild gaze before squeezing him, gently. You didn’t say anything and he faltered… briefly before looking back at the tv and letting out more words. Words that hurt to hear, yes, but you kept quiet to let him have this release.

Names you didn’t know were said, like Fuyumi and Natsuo who were apparently thrown to the side the second their quirks showed as all ice and no fire. Then another name, Shouto, his voice had pure venom when he said it between gritted teeth about how that was his ‘replacement’. By the time the interview ended, Touya was practically slumped in your arms, shaking before he suddenly turned to you with tears rolling down his cheeks. It shocked you and you weren’t sure how to react until his arms locked around you and pulled you close, his head buried against your shoulder.

You blinked then softened and moved a hand up to pet his white hair, offering as much comfort and support as you could. Though you felt clumsy at it, unsure what the hell you were doing, it seemed to help and that’s all you could ask for. A statement left him, muffled but you heard it far too loud, “why the fuck couldn’t I have been what he wanted? Why wasn’t I born right?”

That made your eyes go wide and you tensed then quickly pulled away, grabbing his face between your hands and said, “listen to me.” Teary eyes stared at you, wide and you glared, “your father is a selfish, idiotic man that sees his kids as tools and nothing more. There is not a damn thing wrong with you.”

“I’m covered in scars that I caused myself. I can’t handle my own quirk and you’re trying to tell me there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Yeah. I am. Because I have the feeling the reason why you can’t handle your quirk was because you were never taught how to.”

He tried arguing then, insisted that he and his father spent weeks on how to use fire and how to make the flames bigger, brighter, hotter, and it was hard to listen to. It only frustrated you more.

You finally had to cut in and say, “that’s my point, Touya. He never once taught you how to pull back on your flames, did he?”

“No.” There was a long pause and he muttered, “he stopped training me after finding out my body is suited for ice resistance, not fire.”

“That sounds like he failed at teaching you. He poured gasoline on a fire without ever giving you a way to tamper it down. And couldn’t even be around when that fire grew out of control.”

Touya closed his eyes and slumped in your hold with a murmur of, “it’s fucked up.”

“It is.”

“I’ll never really get over it, will I?” Not a question you expected from him, his previous anger and resentment seemingly drained out of him for the time being.

That question had you hesitating and you took a moment to consider before answering, “I don’t know.”

“Have you?” His eyes reopened then, searching, curious and you fought against the urge to close yourself off as he continued, “forgiven or gotten over what you’ve been through.”

It took you a few moments but you shook your head and said, “not forgiven. But I’ve moved on. It’s not easy but letting it fester only brings more pain. Cutting them off was the best thing I ever did.”

“Your family is fucked up like mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He stared at you for a long time before he pulled you against him for another hug, “I’m glad you dragged me to your apartment that day.”

You had to smile, just a little and agree, “I am too.” Leaning up, you rested your forehead against his and murmured, “you’re gonna be okay, Tou. Maybe not today, probably not in the next month but… eventually.”

He closed his eyes, a few more tears falling as he replied softly, “yeah.”

At that moment, you wondered if this was similar to a normal sibling relationship. All you knew was competition, blood and pain. Not this, not comfort, not a warm feeling flowing through your veins… and you decided in that same moment you’d do everything in your power to protect whatever this new thing was.

You decided to take him to a secluded park, one that not many people bothered with because of it being overgrown, dilapidated and far too dangerous for children. There was a playground, tiny and barely standing, a murky pond that once had fish but looked more like a radioactive swamp and quite a bit of overgrown grass, trees and brush surrounding the whole thing.

It was in the heart of the Yuno district where you lived and often a place of bittersweet memories. Some memories weren’t so bad, like playing with the occasional friend or making up your own adventures in your head. Other memories tasted like copper and salty tears, metallic and repugnant.

There, you showed him how the Shinku fought.

You were rusty, yes, but not so rusty that you couldn’t lay him out on his back before he could fire off his quirk. He stared up at the sky, eyes wide before he looked at you, head tilted and stated, “and you were seriously told you couldn’t be a hero.”

“Yup,” you crouched next to him, “but that’s neither here nor there. We’re here so you can learn to not just rely on your flames, Tou.”

His lips tilted up into a bitter smile and he asked, “think I can still be a hero, huh?”

“Nope.” Reaching out, you grabbed his hand and made him get up, “I know you can be. So stop laying on your ass and show me what a Todoroki can do.”

It became a ritual of sorts after that, training with Touya at least once a week - typically on an early Saturday. Not only did it help him improve on his own way of fighting but it helped you stay brushed up on yours. Slowly, he stopped being so careless, so quick to throw flames and instead watched you move and copied where he could. He wasn’t quite as fluid with his footwork as you but he certainly made up for it with fast grappling and using his quirk to close the distance.

Still reckless at times, yes, but a far better improvement compared to the brute force method he insisted on using at the beginning. Something you had to question him on while sitting on a rusted metal bench, “is that seriously how you were taught to fight? Throwing wild punches and hoping to overpower your opponent?”

He nodded and took a long drink of water, eyes up on the sky, “yeah. I’ve always been told to use my quirk at all times, go all out. It’s how my father tends to fight.”

“That’s terrible advice. No wonder why you ended up hurting yourself so bad.”

He scoffed though his eyes flickered down to the scars on his wrist, lifting up his arm and agreed, “seems like it.” His eyes flickered to you and admitted, “I never thought about doing it differently. I’ve always been told my quirk was the only way for me to go far in life.”

“Again, shit advice,” you grumbled and took the water bottle from his hand to drink from it, “quirks help, don’t get me wrong. But nobody should rely on them solely to fight.”

“You can’t fight with yours, can you?”

You twitched at his question and stared at the water bottle, thinking… then shook your head and finished it. After tossing it into the trash can, you glanced at Touya and replied, “technically? I can… I just don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cruel what I can do.” You hold a hand up and tell him, “not gonna answer your next question, Tou. I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together but accepted your boundary with a nod. You relaxed and stood up, offering your hand and said, “let’s head back. I feel gross and sweaty from dodging your flames.”

He rolled his eyes and griped at you, “yeah, yeah, at least I didn’t singe you like last week.”

Rubbing at the scar on your shoulder from being too slow, you recall how intense, hot, devastating his flames truly are. He joked about it yet his eyes flickered to where you massaged the new red scar peeking from your shirt, lips pressed together and you saw the uncertainty, the regret on his face. Not wanting him to feel guilt over something that already healed, you swatted him, “I would have pushed you into the nasty pond if you did.” He blinked then laughed, a deep and carefree sound that brought a smile on your face. “I’m fine, Tou, promise. Now seriously, let’s go home so I can shower.”

Chapter Text

The routine for you and Touya changed after a year when you came across a bloodied teen in an alley. He was dirty, hair a dark gray and clumpy, huddled against the back of a convenience store. You stared at him, not even sure if he was alive until a pair of red, sunken eyes peeked at you, angry, hateful. He had a split lip and a bloody nose, probably from walking in the wrong place. It only took you a moment of consideration before you hummed and crouched in front of him.

“Hey, want something to eat?”

That was how you adopted Tomura Shigaraki. You knew that wasn't his actual name but it was the one he insisted on, telling you his birth name was dead to him. So you called him Tomura. Touya called him annoying and struggled at first when you brought him home. He was antsy, strangely snippy towards you until you sat him down and demanded, “what's wrong?”

“You’re replacing me. Just like what he fucking did.”

An accusation and one you were surprised by. It took more coaxing, even a little pleading of, “Tou, just talk to me” before he finally gave up what the issue was. Never before had you wanted to strike down a hero but… you just might throw something at Endeavor if you ever saw the man in person. Touya was in near tears, ranting, cursing, demanding to know how you could do this to him.

How could you become a safe haven only to throw him away for someone new? How could you be exactly like his father and find his replacement?

You had enough, grabbing onto his shoulders and said, voice firm, “Touya, you're not going anywhere.” He didn't want to listen, shaking his head, insisting you were lying until you raised your voice for the first time, “shut up and fucking listen to me!” He stopped then, blue eyes wide and you forced him to lean down - when had he gotten so tall? - pressing your forehead against his. He went still, quiet, as you whispered, “I'm not going anywhere. I'd never do that to you… I won't betray your trust, Tou. I promise.”

He looked at you as though you'd slapped him, eyes searching, vulnerable, scared. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Tomura wasn't an easy kid to get to know. Just like Touya, his scars were deep and some of them tended to open and bleed. At first, he holed himself up in the other corner of the living room and you got him a futon and a large divider screen to give him privacy. He rarely talked, barely interacted with you or Touya beyond whenever you coaxed him out with food. Dinnertime was tense, neither of the boys really getting along but forcing themselves to. Touya for your sake, Tomura for fear of not being fed. You just felt tired afterwards but relieved Tomura would humor you.

Then, he started to be a little more social. Which mostly meant he stuffed himself against one side of the couch and watched whatever Touya had on. He had a bad habit of scratching at his neck, something that made you worry, able to see scars and lingering cuts that didn’t want to heal. You had a feeling it was an anxiety tic. Another thing you saw was how he held things, he never touched anything with all his fingers.

Drinking from mugs with two hands? Neither of his pinkies touched the surface.

Eating food? He held his chopsticks, forks, spoons and knives daintily.

Flipping channels by the remote? He cradled it with only a few fingers.

It caught your attention because it was a strange sight at times. Even if it would be far more comfortable to hold something with all his fingers, he never did. But asking him felt awkward, borderline rude, so you held off and waited for an opportunity once the two of you got closer, if that would come to be.

You didn’t really have much of a breakthrough with him until you bought him a gaming console about two months after taking him in.

Tomura never told you his wants or his needs, you had to guess and just hope you were right.

He never once complained about anything. Not the clothes you got him, not the food you made him, not even the shows that Touya liked to watch. You had no idea what his likes or dislikes were, at least not until noticing how he watched a vigilante play on a portable console. The young man had gotten himself hurt in a skirmish and dropped by to have his leg looked at, embarrassed and antsy. You reassured him it happened and wasn’t that big of a deal but his leg needed a good amount of care so he ended up staying for a while. In that time, the vigilante was bored enough to take out his console and boot up whatever game he had, playing it quietly while you worked on pumping blood into his system. That was when you saw Tomura peeking, red eyes drawn to what the vigilante was doing. It was the childish wonder in his gaze, something you’d never seen before that cemented the idea in your head.

So you went to buy him one. It was a little pricey, but if you could buy Touya books and fancy hero tactic manuals and way too many streaming services, then you could afford a Switch. You stood far too long in front of the video games with not a clue what to get an abused fourteen year old but pressed on, determined. The games you bought were a variety, a fancy RPG, a shooting game and on a whim, a cute farming one. The last you found endearing, sweet, idyllic and figured it couldn't hurt. Plus it wasn't much money.

Tomura blinked at you when you held out the bag to him once you got home. You raised an eyebrow and said, “I didn't know what games to get, so I got a few different genres.”

“You got me a Switch…?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question and you shrugged, “seemed like you were interested when Nocturnal was here.”

He wrinkled his nose and mumbled, “that’s a stupid name…” before taking the bag from you, with unsure hands and took a glance at what was inside. Without a word, he scurried to his side of the living room and you could hear him ripping into the box. You left him be and started on dinner.

After that… he began to talk, mostly when you were cooking. He’d sit at the table with the Switch, fingers furiously pressing buttons - pinkies resting on his ring fingers - and make at times seemingly random commentary. It took a while for you to piece it together, but you caught on that he was offering little things about himself. Cryptic and strange as what he would say could be, you listened. Such as when he was playing the RPG game and got irritated about how he had to choose the side of the ‘good guys’ for the better rewards. Or that he thought you should make a specific dish the next day, like the one in his farming game. He used his games a lot as a way of connecting with you, asking your opinion on plot points, characters, fantasy worlds, anything in between.

Sometimes he’d ask Touya as well but those two would quickly devolve into some kind of fight. Thankfully the arguments were petty, harmless, far more similar to brothers squabbling than true anger or dislike. You even found the two of them playing games together, Touya apparently having gone out and bought himself a Switch to see what the “dumb farming game” was all about. Where he got the money, you didn’t ask though you had an idea it was from his growing habit of being a bit of a vigilante himself.

It was sweet and you didn’t dare comment on it whenever you came home to find the boys on the couch, bantering and arguing over what crops should be grown or how Touya’s choice to specialize in foraging was stupid. Instead you just put down the groceries and told both of them, “hey, put this away for me while I change.”

Though both of them would groan or grumble, neither of them hesitated in pausing their games to put away the food. It was endearing and later on once the three of you were at the dinner table, the previous tension was gone.

Slowly, Tomura began to actually speak, put out his opinions, and finally tell you what he liked.

So it was a strange relief when he followed your barely awake form into the kitchen one morning, fingers scratching at his neck, “I want more hoodies.”

You paused, looking over at him, bleary eyed from just waking up and took in his posture. Though a little tense, yes, he stared at you with a minor glare and you rolled your eyes, yawning and mumbled, “‘kay. Get ready and we’ll go get you some.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well… yeah,” you shrugged and put far too much sugar into your tea, wondering where the hell the coffee went, “figured you wanted to pick them out. Don’t forget to brush your hair and teeth.”

He was nervous, you could tell, but he did go off to get changed while you drank an entire, way too hot, cup of tea before changing yourself. You texted Touya a quick, ‘gonna be shopping with Tomura, want anything?’ then headed out with the tense teen.

Rather than walking, you figured a car ride would be better, more comfortable, so you drove over to the nearest mall. It wasn’t too busy, thankfully, due to the odd hour of ten in the morning when most people were at school or work. But that suited both of you just fine and you showed him the usual place you got clothes. He was stiff and wandered around with his hands stuffed in his hoodie’s pocket with the hood up and covering his messy bluish white hair. You trailed after him, yawning far too much, and waited for him to gravitate towards something.

He came back though, frowning, eyes guarded and told you, “I hate everything here.”

You blinked then smiled and said, “well alright then. Onto the next store.”

It took a while, but did you find his perfect store. Honestly, you should have thought about it before considering he was so into games and even some of the anime Touya liked. But you could tell as soon as the two of you entered, he found something he liked. Though he walked by it, he would linger close, head turning towards whatever it was before walking off… only to go back to it. Eventually, he picked it up in a manner that most would assume meant disdain, pinched between his first three fingers, but you knew meant he was being delicate, careful. He turned towards you, head down and mumbled, “I like this.”

You scanned the hoodie, black, yes, but there were a few emblems on the sleeves and a large one on the back. What the symbols mean, you could care less, all that mattered to you was that Tomura finally picked something he wanted. With a nod, you replied, “sure. Anything else?”

The two of you left with a pretty decent bag of two different hoodies, a shirt, a pair of sweatpants and a cute gaming figure. Touya had managed to wake up at some point and texted you back with, ‘need coffee. Nocturnal showed up, I told him to fuck off. He might be dying on the stairs when you get back.’

You rolled your eyes with a sigh and changed direction to the fancy coffee shop that sold delicious drinks and ground coffee. Tomura went along, shoulders not so hunched, a little more relaxed, still not very talkative but you could deal with that. Once in line with the biggest bag of dark roast you could manage, you scanned the menu then bumped into him. Just a gentle nudge and he startled, looking up with surprised red eyes while you gave him a tired smile, “want anything to drink?”

A hot chocolate, which you bought plus a caramel iced coffee with easy ice for Touya and a way too expensive but amazing cappuccino that had far too much espresso for yourself. Tomura frowned as he watched you drink the concoction of sugar, milk and caffeine, wrinkling his nose and judging quietly. Something you pointedly ignored and even obnoxiously drank faster in front of him just to see him make a face.

The drive back was easy now that you were more awake and you only slightly regretted pounding down four espresso shots. Once you parked the car, the first thing you saw was a sheepish Nocturnal on the steps, pale and clearly struggling, just like Touya said. You stared at him, a little annoyed and said, “it’s too early for this.” Still, you held the iced coffee in one hand and grabbed onto the young man’s arm with the other, following Tomura who paused at the door so you could get in.

Touya was at the breakfast table, tiredly eating cereal when the three of you walked in and just raised an eyebrow at you, “guess he didn’t die. Shame.”

“Tou, shut up. Drink this, you’ll be less pissy.” You slid his iced coffee across the table to him before hauling Nocturnal to the medical side of the living room.

“What did you get from the mall?”

“Some hoodies and stuff.” Tomura replied.

You could practically hear the eye roll from Touya as he griped, “lame. At least tell me they look cool.” There was a pause, and to your surprise, you could hear the young teen actually shuffling through the bag and showing off his new things. Rather than poking fun at anything, Touya actually hummed and even admitted, “huh, Fullmetal Alchemist. Nice.”

It warmed you a lot more than it should to hear the boys getting along and bonding over clothes of all things, but you’d take it. Progress was progress.

In fact, you felt enough progress had happened that you asked him while he was on the couch, “why do you scratch your neck so much?”

“It itches.” You hummed, eyeing him, taking in the dry skin on not just his neck but also around his eyes. He fidgeted underneath your gaze and shrunk into himself with a mutter of, “it’s always like this.”

“Can I have a shot at fixing it?”

He looked up at you, a mixture of uncertainty and almost hope in his gaze but pushed back, just a bit, “I’ve been to doctors. They couldn’t fix it.”

“Mmm, well I’m not a doctor so maybe I can.”

He scrunched his nose up, frowning though it was more of a pout and complained, “that doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure doesn’t. Lemme see your arm.”

Unlike Touya, who you could touch with little thought, you made sure to be softer with Tomura and waited for him to give you permission. It took him a minute, pressed against the couch but he did, slowly, hold out his arm to you. His fingers were balled into a tight fist and you made sure not to touch his hand, focused on his wrist. You crouched in front of him and took his limb, warning him, “there’s gonna be a pinch,” before using your quirk to pierce through his skin. He flinched, hissed but didn’t jerk away at least.

You fed about half a pint or so of your blood into his system, it only took a few minutes and you pulled away. The needle-like marks were quick to disappear on your skin and his, something he marveled at, rubbing at where you’d injected your blood.

Rather than lingering and waiting for it to work - if it even would - you stood back up and said, “wanna help me with dinner?” He said nothing but did get off the couch and follow you into the kitchen.

It was at the table that you noticed it, the scratches and lingering scabs had melted away. The dryness around his eyes seemed better as well, not looking quite so sunken but you didn’t make any comments. You waited for him to realize, which he did later on that night, just before bed. He shuffled to you, confused and said, “it doesn’t itch anymore. And my skin feels better. How?”

You thought about his question and could only offer, “if I had to guess, I’d say you’re pretty dehydrated. My blood can help a little bit but mostly, it heals and rejuvenates irritated skin.”

“So… what… drink more water?”

“Yup. And stop drinking all those energy drinks. I know Tou’s been buying you some.” He huffed at that, pissy looking and adorable but you didn’t dare voice such a thing. Instead you reached out and, for the first time, put your hand on his head. He went still, eyes wide, body tense, and you ruffled his hair and said, “let’s try for at least two or three cups of water a day. I’ll get you one of those fancy water bottles to help you monitor your intake.”

You didn’t dare comment that you felt him lean, just a little, into your touch as he grudgingly muttered, “fine.”

After five months of Tomura living with you, you looked into enrolling him into school. And unlike how you went about Touya’s schooling, you decided to do it right.

You had to go through some illegal networks and way too many hoops and spent a lot of time to get Touya his diploma. While you probably could have enrolled Touya and passed it off as pure chance that he shared the name of the famous Endeavor’s first born son… you refused to roll the dice. The absolute last thing you wanted was for someone to put the pieces together, a too curious school admin or an observant teacher connecting the dots. If anyone did, then… you weren’t exactly sure what that meant, only that it wouldn’t be good. Especially not for Touya. So you got his ‘official’ diploma through some illegally obtained paperwork though he insisted on it reading ‘Touya Shinku’ rather than ‘Touya Todoroki’.

It was a pain in the ass and you had no intentions of going through that again with Tomura. Plus… you dreaded the idea of working through the school work with Tomura like you did with Touya. A completely disinterested Touya to the point of where you nearly strangled him multiple times since, as he put it, “I already graduated right? So who cares?” You still forced him to complete the modules you found for homeschooled kids and felt confident that if he really wanted college, he could go.

As you were looking into how to get Tomura into school, Touya asked you, “hey… can you adopt me already so I can get rid of my shitty family name?”

So you went about changing his name and navigated terrible government websites for kids who had lost their identities due to tragic events. It was incredibly easy, his skin showed the trauma of a horrific fire and that was exactly the story you wove to an overly sympathetic caseworker. That he was your cousin who had lost everyone in a house fire and he was the sole survivor. You were his only family left, the rest of the Shinku clan being dead, locked up, MIA, or terrible people and you were determined to do right by him.

After a few weeks of extensive filing paperwork, exhaustive interviews for the both of you, Touya was no longer a Todoroki. Officially, he was Touya Shinku. Perhaps not the most fluid of names put together and you did feel bad he was now grouped into your shitty family but… he wore that last name like a badge of honor. He also dyed his hair black, a smirk on his face when he came out of the bathroom that had way too many stains on the sink and asked you, “do I look like a Shinku now?”

You examined him then said, “I think you’ll pass.” Though you missed his white hair a little, you could understand why he changed it. A new name meant a new look.

Tomura took one glance at him and told him, “you look like a Hot Topic reject.”

Out of spite, Touya went out the next day and got five piercings. Three nose studs on the right side and a set of cartilage piercings on each ear, all of them silver and pretty and fit him way too well. He even offered to take you and Tomura, which you laughed at and said you’d take a rain check while Tomura was quiet. You didn’t dare comment when Touya and him left a week later to run some errands and when they came back, Tomura was fiddling with a single silver stud in his left ear. You were pleased to see he started to mess with the earring rather than claw at his neck and that his dry skin didn’t seem so bad now that he was drinking more water.

With Tomura, you asked him what name he wanted for his paperwork since you figured you might as well start it too and he insisted on Tomura Shigaraki. Which you were fine with though he explained without needing to, “I came up with it myself. I don’t want to change it.” The hint in those words was loud and clear and you understood, just nodded and agreed. The name was probably the first thing he could call his own, possibly the first thing he didn’t have to share or fear someone would take it from him.

You went through the same government process a few weeks later to try to avoid a lot of suspicion or questions about adopting yet another teenager but became stumped when the question of, “what is your relation to the child?” came up.

You spent way too much time trying to figure that out when Touya stooped over your shoulder, heavy eyes reading the question and suggested, “just say he’s an orphan. Your family took him in but since they’re terrible people, they dumped him on you.”

“Pretty sure they’ll look to see if my parents adopted someone, Tou.”

A shrug and a, “you sure about that?”

Which… you weren’t. So that’s what you did and figured that when you had another meeting with a caseworker, you’d explain it then. Of course you got the same person who was surprised and confused by the aspect of your parents leaving you with their adopted son. And instead of it being a breeze like it had been with Touya, the caseworker was being diligent due to the fact you didn’t have ‘proper’ relations with Tomura. And probably because you had only officially adopted your ‘cousin’ a few weeks earlier. The woman looked over all your paperwork and commented, “there aren’t any records of your parents adopting someone… where are your parents anyway?”

“No idea,” you admitted and ran a hand through your hair while ignoring the two pairs of eyes watching you from the couch as you paced the living room on a Zoom call, “they aren’t exactly great people. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just picked him off the street and called him their kid if I’m honest.”

There was a hum, some scribbles of a pen on paper before she asked, “did you hear about them taking anyone in?”

“No. We aren’t on speaking terms.”

“Why?”

You sighed and answered truthfully, “abusive.”

“How?” This time you glared through the phone, lips pressed together into a thin line. She seemed to realize she hit a nerve and looked up to see your closed expression, hesitated but explained in a way too soft voice that just frustrated you more, “I need to know what you went through so I can understand what he went through. That’s why I’m asking.”

Technically understandable, it did little to soothe your nerves but you forced yourself to continue, biting out, “physically and mentally. Bit of emotional too, I suppose.”

“Have you seen a therapist?”

“Yes.”

“Are you currently seeing one?”

“No.”

She frowned then, a little unsure, and questioned, “do you think you should?”

You shrugged, “probably. But everyone can use therapy, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Right… did you ever get Touya to see one?”

“Yes,” that one was easy to answer and you continued, “he sees them twice a week.” Every Monday and Thursday at three, he’d lock himself away and talk in his low rasping voice for an hour. Then he’d emerge, tired and drained, slide onto the couch and start up the farming game he and Tomura played together. Tomura would be quick to jump in as well and the two of them would quietly sit until you called in some takeout.

The caseworker wrote some more things down, nodded, pleased, and asked, “would you get Tomura into therapy as well?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…” there was a look that passed over her face, concern, worry, as she reminded you, “you just took in your cousin, are you sure you want to take in this young man as well…? Nobody would fault you if you didn’t.”

The answer fell from your lips without a thought, “if I wasn’t, would I be doing this? If I don’t take him in, who will?”

That caused a pause, long and pathetically telling, before the caseworker deflected with, “are you capable of paying for everything?”

“You have my bank statements from last time and my rent. Neither have changed.”

“And you’re still independently employed? As a…” another rustle of papers, “a career coach…?”

That had Tomura snickering and Touya scoffing but you ignored them, focused on the caseworker to not give away your rather illegal job, “yes.” She stared right back at you, searching, trying to find something but you refused to give anything away. At most, you raised an eyebrow and asked, “is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just… you make quite a bit for such a position.”

“I have a lot of clients and live in a shitty neighborhood. You’d be surprised how many people knock on my door for help.”

“Speaking of your neighborhood, would you be able to pass an inspection that each child has their own space?” You could hear Touya rolling his eyes at being called a ‘child’ though he was a half a year shy of turning eighteen.

Still, you considered her words, toyed with the idea of lying but ultimately decided not to. Not when it was far too risky and possible you could end up losing Tomura to the system, so you only gave a white lie, “no. He just showed up a week ago. What do I need to do?”

“You need a big enough place for both children to have their own room.”

“I’ll get on that once we get off the phone.”

She blinked, a little taken aback and stated, “you’re actually serious.”

You blinked right back at her and replied, “did I not just tell you that?”

“Yes, of course… well… what about school?”

“I’ll enroll him online.”

“I can’t find any records of him being in one recently, not under the last name of Shigaraki or Shinku. Do you think your parents homeschooled him?”

“Probably,” a lie but you kept a neutral face, “they could be real bastards if their mood was right. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did it to keep him under their thumb.”

A cautious tone was in her voice now, “so he may struggle being back in a classroom setting, even if it is online.”

“Yes. But I’ll help him as needed.”

A hum then more questions which some you answered truthfully, others you lied just a little and the more prying ones you outright deflected or danced around. The appointment dragged on and on and you had to brew some coffee just to keep yourself sane until finally, an hour and a half later, the caseworker told you, “okay, well, so long as you get him enrolled and get a bigger place to live, you can officially adopt Tomura.”

With a sigh of relief, you nodded and agreed, “I’ll do both by the end of the month.”

A pause, then the woman gave a small, seemingly sympathetic smile, “it’s very courageous what you’re doing… you’re only twenty two but you show a lot of maturity. Have a good day, Ms. Shinku.”

You offered a goodbye then scoffed the moment the call went offline and tossed your phone onto the table. With a long exhale, you bit out, “trauma tends to do that to people, lady.” You fell into one of the kitchen chairs, head back, eyes half open, on the ceiling in thought about what all you needed to get done. “Looks like we’re moving, kids. Start packing up your shit.”

The next month was stressful but almost fun in a way.

The boys bickered with one another about where to move to. They both agreed that staying in the neighborhood was for the best. Not only because of your clients all being clustered in the area but neither of them were thrilled with the idea of living surrounded by nosy families or kids in a “safer” area. Personally, you had a feeling they weren’t keen on the probability of seeing a bunch of heroes out on patrol or having to play nice with neighbors. Still, you could agree and had to admit that the idea of living in the light, airy, seemingly idealistic neighborhoods made your insides twist uncomfortably. Perhaps because you were simply used to living in the dark now, having grown up and thrived in it, even if it was unwillingly at first.

So you contacted your landlord and explained the situation, that you needed a bigger place and if he had any ideas where you could go. He sent back a long list after only a day that you scrolled through, surprised by how many options there were. Apparently your reach of being an unofficial doctor for the past few years had become far and wide, the entire Yuno district now labelled as “Shinku” territory. In other words, an area where if anyone needed something, they could come to you. And terrible things would happen to anyone who dared to mess with you.

As your landlord put it, “nobody’s gonna fuck with the only good doctor around. And if someone does? Tell me. I’ll take care of the trash.”

You gave the boys the list and told them, “narrow it down for me.” Which they did, both of them getting dressed and leaving together then coming back with complaints or compliments on each apartment or house over the course of a week.

For you, it didn’t really matter. All you cared about was it had enough space for the three of you and possibly an extra bedroom that you could turn into a medical space. You hadn’t really felt like you had a home in years, even the apartment you lived in had minimal decorations. In fact… the only decorations you bothered with were occasional pretty knick knacks and a collage of pictures.

Pictures that mostly featured you and Touya, some you insisted on taking during fun outings, others he took with you and a few that were candid shots. It was satisfying to see the way the images changed, Touya’s scars becoming less and less severe and his smile more and more bright even if it was small. There were a few that had just you in them, usually while reading or making dinner and you thought you just looked tired. Touya insisted you looked just fine. Either way, all of them were nice, almost like family photos. There were new ones as well, ones that featured Tomura or Tomura and Touya.

Tomura wasn’t too keen on photos, quick to pull up his hood with a glare if he even thought you might. He would complain, even whine that he didn’t want his picture taken. So you sometimes got sneaky, not often, but enough for there to be two decent pictures of him. One of him relaxed at the park, hands in his hoodie pouch, looking off to the side at something and another of him leaning forward on the couch, completely focused on his game. Both would bring a small feeling of satisfaction through your bones because he was honestly a sweet looking kid. Sure he had scars on his face and neck but they just added a bit of character is all.

Though your favorite picture was one you took of the boys one rainy day, both of them sprawled on the couch with their Switches, relaxed and almost serene looking. It was a cute moment, a bonding moment, proof that Tomura was beginning to fit in. Of course the moment you snapped the photo, both of them had to complain and gripe but you ignored it and told them to suck it up.

Other than those photos though, you could care less if your apartment burned down again with everything inside. The only things you would save would be the collage and the boys.

Finally, after a week or so of going down the list, the boys narrowed down possible new places and took you to three different locations. One was another apartment, not terrible but cramped even with it being a three bedroom. The second was a home that was way too far away from anything decent and you had a feeling would be constantly broken into. And the final one was a large townhouse.

You were a little dubious at first of it but as you took it in, you found it was quite nice. It was actually four bedrooms, the master bedroom being on the lower floor with the others upstairs. The master got its own bathroom and there were two more upstairs to be shared by the three bedrooms. The rest of the space on the lower floor was decently open, a nice kitchen, large living room, and a side room that looked like it was meant to be an office. In other words, it’d be your medical room where you could deal with anyone who dropped by more easily rather than in a cramped corner.

When you told the two that the townhouse was your favorite of the three, they nodded, seemingly uncaring of what you chose and went back to packing up. Thankfully, it was simple to pack everything up.

Maybe a little depressing in fact, with how easy it was for the movers to come in, grab everything inside in a single trip and make their way to the townhouse on the other side of the neighborhood. They even commented on how quick the job was and you almost felt insulted. Not everything went, Touya and Tomura took it upon themselves to dump some of your older, ratter furniture on the curb and insisted you get a new couch. Something you shook your head at and asked them, “what, you think I’m just full of money?”

Of course, Touya took that as a challenge and bought the most ridiculous, giant couch you had ever seen in your life. It was an entire sectional, made for at least six people to sprawl out on comfortably, even sleep on, and was in a U shape. When that monster showed up to the townhouse, you couldn’t believe your eyes as the poor delivery men struggled to get the damn thing up the stoop and through the door. You turned, glared at a rather satisfied looking Touya and hissed, “for fuck's sake, Tou. I was joking.”

“Yeah well, I wasn’t. Also, I got new beds for all of us. You, me and the brat.”

You stared, eyes narrowed and dared to ask, “do I even want to know where you got the money for all that?”

“Nope,” he popped the last syllable and had the gall to look smug, “don’t worry about it.” His wording did little to help your frown which did have him softening and he sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. An action that surprised you since… that was usually what you did. But then he continued and you felt touched and a little overwhelmed, “nothing too illegal so stop worrying about it. You’ve been working your ass off for months to take care of me and Tomura. I’m just returning the favor, taking care of the family or… whatever we are.”

Those words echoed through your mind and you had to close your eyes to shield your tears, reaching out to give him a hug and muttered into his shoulder, “fine… I won’t ask.” His warm arms returned the hug and you whispered, “thanks, Tou.”

“Anytime, sis.”

Chapter Text

You made a little bit of an effort to spruce up the townhouse more than you had previously as more furniture rolled in. Actually hanging pictures on the wall, something the boys helped with by picking out the art which of course ended up being high end posters of certain anime or movies or video games. The collage of family pictures took up one wall in the living room and you made an effort to add at least one every month or so.

It actually started to feel a bit like a home by the time the three of you were all moved in. Touya was quick to decorate his room the exact same way he had before, Tomura took time since he hadn’t had his own space in… who knows how long. But he was slowly adding things to the walls that he had collected while at the apartment, taking his time to do so. Almost like he was scared to put down roots and you understood that feeling all too well. Sometimes Tomura would hold out his phone that had some kind of poster or video game figure to you, asking if he could have it. Usually you said yes, but you noticed that if you didn’t get it for him fast enough, it would be in his room within a week. You never asked Touya but you knew he was the reason for the shiny new figurine or artwork.

Once you’d gotten everything settled at the new place, it was almost sickeningly easy to adopt Tomura. A disinterested government worker came to the townhouse, antsy and clearly unhappy about being in your neck of the woods, wandered about, asked a few questions, then told you, “good enough for me” and left.

You got a letter in the mail a week later with the official nod along with new papers for Tomura. Which meant that you could finally get him into school. Though the school year was done and summer break had begun, you wanted to get started on getting him up to speed so he wasn’t behind compared to his peers.

He wasn’t too keen on it, even a little upset by the idea of not being able to play video games all day and night, but you were firm. And he was forced to relent, grumbling, upset, tense, clearly worried until you assured him it was all online courses. Only then did he seem a little more okay with it, even relaxed, and you figured that would have to be enough.

Still, it wasn’t easy.

Even though he wasn’t technically in class, he struggled. He was the complete opposite of Touya, who while had been annoyed with your insistence on actually doing the classwork even with his fraudulent diploma, he did well enough at it.

It wouldn’t be the same with Tomura, you could tell that he hadn’t been in an environment like this in a long while. Even if it wasn’t a legit classroom setting or even during an actual school year, he hated multiple subjects and struggled at times. Not that you minded and worked the best you could with him and even Touya stepped in as well.

It was around that time when you found out what Tomura's quirk was.

In fact, you began to wonder if he even had one until he had a meltdown. Not uncommon, you’d dealt with Touya's before though the reasoning was a little different, it was over some school work. It had been later in the afternoon when you heard him angry and ranting about how he didn’t know the answer and couldn’t figure it out.

You went over to him, peered over his head with a light touch to his shoulder to see what the problem was… when he lashed out. The pain was different, sharper than anything you'd experienced, his fingers digging into your collarbone and the flesh instantly disintegrating. You cried out, twisting away, hands pressing against the wound that poured blood as your legs buckled and you fell to the floor in agony. Tomura watched, mouth agape, tears falling as he jumped from his seat, reaching out but not touching, terrified and panicked. He hovered over you, anxious, animated, alive in a way you’d never, ever, seen and apologies poured from his lips.

You got to your knees, gritted your teeth and said, “it's alright.”

“No, it's not! I did it again! I-I hurt you, I’m bad, I’m evil-!”

You reached a bloody hand up, grabbing his shirt and glared, those words doing far more damage than his quirk did. It was hard to stand up, but you did, eyes blazing, scleras turning black as you snapped, “don't you ever say that again.” Tomura choked on his words as you towered over him, blood painting the front of your shirt but you kept steady, sucking in a breath and told him, “you are not evil. You're a kid and kids make mistakes.”

For the first time since taking in the teen, he actually looked you in the eyes with a childlike awe that would make you feel good if not for the pain radiating from your chest. You had to sit down at the table and curl forward, eyes squeezed shut as you felt your body fight whatever Tomura’s quirk was trying to do. It was a deep pain, sharp, cold and you swore you were going to pass out at times but focused on your own quirk. Willing your blood to do what it did best, fight the strange affliction that was ravaging your flesh, irises burning bright in the dying sunlight.

It took far too much time but the teen was beside you for the entire duration, hovering, so very anxious, palms skimming just a little through your hair, over your back, a clumsy attempt at comfort. Still, the quick, unsure touches helped to keep you grounded until finally you could feel whatever was going on fade… then disappear. You slumped into the chair, head tilted back, eyes half opened and struggling to see, everything blurry and out of focus. Tomura was speaking, voice shaking, worried, but the words weren’t sticking in your head.

Apparently his quirk had quite the strength to it and you reached out, blind, until you felt hair underneath your fingertips. Gently, you curled your fingers into the shaggy locks and tugged him close, enough for you to rest your forehead - hopefully - close to his. You breathed out, “it’s okay… we’re okay.”

There were sniffles, terrified little noises that you wanted to soothe but… your body shut down, exhausted and over-exerted. You lost consciousness.

You woke up, an entire day or so later, groggy and barely coherent on that ridiculous massive couch with Touya and Tomura. Pillows were scattered around, blankets, and you felt like a burrito by the way you were bundled up. It was just past noon when you forced your eyes open and took in the ceiling for a good few minutes. Everything was still horribly blurry.

There was a headache behind your eyes, your mouth was way too dry, you were freezing but… you’d take it. At least discomfort meant being alive. When you tried moving though, your muscles spasmed, your heartbeat skyrocketed and you let out a little groan, winced and forced yourself to relax.

Apparently, you were still under the effects of heavy blood loss.

Your name was called and you let your head roll to the side, blinking at Tomura who jumped from his seat. He scrambled around the coffee table and dropped to the floor in front of you, eyes wide, searching and said, “you’re alive.”

That had you raising an eyebrow then struggling to free one of your arms out of the blanket burrito to put a hand on his head. The words were thick, sticky in your throat, but you managed to croak out, “seems like it. You okay?” There was dried blood in his hair still, you could feel it and you frowned at the idea of him neglecting self care while you were out.

“I think we should be asking you that, sis.”

You turned your head and squinted to find Touya at your feet, posture deceivingly relaxed, arms sprawled out over the top of the couch as he watched tv but… you knew better. Even with your terrible eyesight, you could read his frustration, his worry and you hummed and admitted, “probably need a few blood packs.”

He got up without another word and was quick to head to the medical room, not having the usual swagger in his walk. It was cute to see how much he cared even if the circumstances weren’t the greatest.

Tomura said your name again and you looked back at him, cheek resting against a fluffy pillow as he began to break down, “stop asking about me! You’re the one that got hurt and it was all my fault!”

You considered his words, took in how angry tears welled up in his red eyes and how horribly young he looked then replied, “maybe… but remember what I said?” At least, you were pretty sure you told him mistakes happened.

That only made him shake his head and his fingers went up to his neck, scratching and you frowned, reaching out to grab onto his wrist. The skin on his throat was clearly raw, red, puffy and you mourned how well he had been doing before this little accident. Still, you could understand what set off the anxiety tic and settled with holding his wrist, thumb running over his pale skin. He seemed lost, hesitant, but did stop and instead began fiddling with his earring using his free hand. An action you could deal with and tried to keep your eyes open though it was hard, shivering and sweating all at the same time.

“Oi, don’t fall asleep.” Suddenly Touya was back and seated above your head, mouth pulled down into a frown as he held out two packets of blood.

You blinked a few times, realizing you had been doing just that and shifted your attention to the bags of blood. “Gimme,” you slurred and lifted your hand away from Tomura to take one.

The feeling was pure relief the moment you pierced into the bag with your quirk, sighing and already feeling so much better as you drained the entire thing in a seconds. The boys watched with cautious eyes as you went for the second bag and finally, the shivers began to abate and you felt more grounded. More alive, more present and better yet, you could finally see right.

With a groan, you relaxed and let yourself process the new blood for a good ten minutes, needing time to acclimate. Neither of them said anything, allowing you to rest in peace and it was strangely quiet. You preferred their banter or even bickering over the smothering silence.

Finally, you felt well enough to sit up and leaned forward, testing yourself and found your strength was still just not there. But your bloody shirt was and you winced a little at the feeling of crusty dry blood against your skin. You glanced at Tomura and asked, “can you go run a bath for me?”

He blinked, a little dubious but was quick to his feet and left without any type of protest. Once he was gone, you pressed a hand to your chest, fingers tracing where the damage had been and found there wasn’t any pain. Just a scar.

“You alright?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Touya and nodded, thinking for a second before you asked quietly, “how bad was it?”

“Bad. I… thought you were dead. Tomura too. You weren’t responding and there was blood everywhere.” He swallowed hard and looked away, fingers clenching the fabric of his sweatpants, “I lost it for a minute. He did too.”

Not a surprising statement… but one that didn’t make you feel any better.

You could only imagine the fear and panic they went through while you were slumped on the floor, unresponsive and seemingly bleeding out. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault. It’s not even the brat’s fault.”

“You two talked?”

Touya hesitated then, frowned, eyes shifting away and he mumbled, “more like I threatened to turn him into ash.”

“Touya.”

“What?” He hissed and scowled, eyes cutting back to meet yours, “I thought he fucking killed you. So yeah, I was a little rough.” His posture changed, just a touch, shoulders slumping and his eyes turned onto the couch as he explained, “but then I realized he couldn’t control his quirk. Kinda like what happened to me.”

You took in his face then turned, fighting against the blankets to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, “hey.” You waited until his eyes lifted up to meet yours again, “you did good, Tou. And I’m alive so stop looking so glum, it’s depressing.”

That had his lips curling up into the smallest of smiles and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, “yeah.”

“Now are you gonna help me get to the bathroom or what? Cause I can’t walk right now and I’d rather not crawl.”

There was a decent sized scar on your clavicle, the skin discolored and a little raised. Different from the burn scar that rested on your left shoulder, not so cleanly healed, starker, darker. You poked at it, squinted and found that if you really looked at it, you could make out the faintest of fingermarks towards your right shoulder. It really didn’t bother you too much. Honestly, it could have been far worse.

You waited a few days to fully recover before sitting Tomura down to ask him about his quirk. He fidgeted underneath your gaze but opened up and told you, “I turn things into dust. It happens if I touch something with all of my fingers.”

The explanation shed light on so many things, namely, why he had a tendency to hold anything and everything in that delicate way of his. He didn’t want to destroy it. You asked a few more probing questions and though he was antsy and uncomfortable, you gave him credit for answering.

He accidentally killed his entire family when he was five.

His father had been abusive and it piled up and up until he snapped and lost control of his quirk. A quirk that his family didn’t know he had since he was a late bloomer. A quirk that he still really had no control over and had to go by trial and error to figure out how it worked.

Afterwards, he wandered the streets before being picked up by a police officer and placed into the system. He went from foster home to foster home in a never ending cycle but none of them offered proper support, care, or love and loathed his quirk until he ran away at the age of thirteen and ended back on the streets. Then you came along and took him in.

You hummed, thinking, then stated, “okay, well… we’ll work on it.”

He looked at you as though you were insane, “what do you mean, work on it?”

“That we’ll work on helping you control it, make it easier to manage.”

“How do you know that’s possible?”

You shrugged, “I don’t. But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

After all, you still trained with Touya every Saturday on improving his fighting style and how to weave his quirk into it. You figured dealing with Tomura’s quirk would be difficult, yes, but not impossible.

His quirk, ‘Decay’, was not an easy quirk but you were determined to work with it rather than ignore it or pretend it didn’t exist. You poured over online sites for how to deal with kids that presented with difficult quirks. Some advice you took, others you flat out ignored. Who the fuck would muzzle their kid or bind their limbs or put quirk suppressors on them? Only monsters and while you may be morally ambiguous at times - or a lot of the time in some cases - you certainly weren’t a monster. The main thing that stuck out was that he needed to actually use his quirk to figure out what to do with it.

So you figured there was nothing to lose and went out and bought the cheapest, most bulk thing you could buy. A case of a hundred tennis balls.

Tomura wasn’t at all amused when you had him sit in the kitchen with a bowl of fuzzy green balls. He shifted constantly, played with his earring and insisted, “this is stupid.”

“Maybe,” you agreed as you sat across from him. “I thought about candy but bulk candy would be too small,” still you shrugged and motioned for him to take one, “lemme see what you can do.”

He gave you a flat look and reached out to grab one of the balls with just the first three fingers. The moment he added his ring finger and pinkie though, the ball turned into ash in his hand. You hummed, a little impressed and a touch shocked you were able to counteract such a devastating quirk. Apparently the Shinku clan’s tortuous training did have some benefits.

Still, you ignored that and grabbed a ball, thinking, eyeing him, then asked, “do you think anything or does it just happen?”

“Just happens.”

You bounced the ball beside you and ran through all of the quirk texts you had been pouring over the past few days. None of them seemed entirely helpful in this case, Tomura’s quirk was clearly rare and almost unheard of, probably a mutation. Something that only happened once in a million cases, where instead of a child inheriting their parents quirk or a mixture of the two, they gained a completely different ability. Still, that didn’t deter you so you said, “well we’re gonna see if we can change that.”

It was all trial and error.

The two of you easily went through twenty balls with no luck or change no matter the suggestion you used such as picturing the ball whole in his mind or focusing on it. He was growing frustrated, downtrodden so you stopped for the day and offered him some candy. Something he was confused by and reminded you, “I haven’t done anything.”

“Sure you have. You tried. That counts for something.”

This continued on for an entire week, you and Touya attempted to offer different techniques or suggestions for Tomura to keep the ball together.

Tomura kept trying but you could tell it was really getting to him, his mood growing more and more foul, shoulders scrunched up, a closed off look on his face.

Until finally, you said after no real progress, “pretend this ball is me.”

He froze and stared up at you.

You stared right back and rolled a tennis ball between your hands, continuing, “got it? Pretend like you’re trying to get my attention and your fingers accidentally touch me. What would happen?”

“You know what would happen,” he pushed back so hard and glared at the scar on your collarbone that wasn’t fading.

You paused, thinking, then asked in a soft voice, “but what would you want to happen, Tomura?”

He stopped, opened his mouth then hesitated… and mumbled, “I’d… I’d just want to get your attention.”

“Right.”

You rolled the ball over to him and he looked at it for a long time before taking in a deep breath and picking it up, pinkie extended out. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath before slowly putting his pinkie onto the fuzzy surface.

The ball stayed whole and he opened his eyes in shock, taking it in as you gave a smile. It only lasted for a good thirty seconds, almost a minute before it turned into dust. He looked almost heartbroken until you reached out and tapped his hand, “hey. That’s what we call progress. You just proved you can do it so let’s keep working at it.”

Over the rest of the summer that’s what you did. Whenever there wasn’t a patient you were dealing with, you worked with Tomura on his quirk control and Touya took over helping him with schooling.

Touya was just a better teacher at the school work than you. A surprise, yes, but his way of teaching was firm and to the point compared your sometimes long winded explanations. Which… you were honestly fine with and admitted that you struggled with teaching things in a decent way because you had always caught onto classes easily. Probably a side effect of your upbringing, you loved the distraction of school even if you didn’t love the people.

It was slow going but his quirk was becoming easier to control as well. He still held things in that dainty way of his, yes, however if a finger slipped, the object didn’t instantly disintegrate. At least, not at home.

The outside world was still questionable so you bought him a pair of gloves that left all the fingers uncovered except for the thumb. He was dubious, unsure about wearing them until he realized they worked and he was able to pick up things without fear of it falling apart. Plus he seemed to like the way they looked and sometimes would even wear them around the townhouse.

You made sure to practice with him every day, sometimes only for ten minutes, other times for an hour to extend his control. As he got better, you started to introduce other items for him to practice on. Some items he even really liked such as his video games which he was terrified to destroy and you reminded him, “keep that feeling, just like you did when pretending a ball was me.”

You did remove the actual game cartridge, just in case he lost control. Not that you told him that and instead ruffled his hair with a tired smile when he did a perfect job at holding the game cover for ten solid minutes. You had a feeling his quirk relied on his emotional state, if he was in a bad mood, he could only hold an item for a few minutes. But if he was in a decent or even good mood, the item would stay intact for over fifteen. You wanted to move on to having him try to touch you but… you figured it would be better to wait at least another few weeks for that. The scar on your clavicle was still too fresh, too recent and the last thing you wanted was to send him or Touya into a frenzy if you ended up on the floor again.

When the school year started, you were worried for Tomura and tried not to hover when he was at the kitchen table during class. But it seemed that all of your and Touya’s tutoring paid off, he was the quiet kid in class but did okay. Any help he needed, he went to Touya or you rather than drowning in frustration. The socialization aspect, he certainly floundered with, but as time went on, he got better. He even made a few friends and was able to play online games with them. You were proud of him as you saw him grow more confident in himself and really got to see his personality shine. Tomura was childish and had a bit of a temper, yes, but he could also be excitable, eager and quite caring in his own way.

You got him into therapy as well just to make sure he had another person to talk to, about school or his frustrations or even his past. Touya was even fine with him using the same therapist he had and that seemed to help Tomura feel better, more comfortable in doing it. Tomura would have his sessions at four o’clock, just after Touya’s on Mondays and Thursdays and the two would always decompress with their farming game and whatever food you ordered in.

As the school year continued, he would even wander off to the arcade to meet up with his friends. A new milestone and one you were happy to see.

Something he apparently enjoyed so much that he dragged you and Touya to the arcade one winter day. Which you were fine with. Touya… less so, but he at least humored him. You were able to get a few more pictures that day.

One was of Tomura crushing the high score for one of the games and celebrating, smiling widely and freely in a way you’d never seen before.

Another featured Touya leaning against the game counter with a little smirk on his face. You were pretty sure he was posing on purpose, not that you could complain.

You even got one of the two doing a rhythm dance game and, to Tomura’s horror, Touya came out on top at the end. The two even convinced you to join in and you showed off that you could keep up with Touya. He still beat you, but barely. You blamed it on your constant exhaustion and he rolled his eyes.

The two of them stopped you at one point and insisted on a group picture, a surprise, but one you laughed at and accepted. Touya held up his phone, threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close while you grabbed onto Tomura. He gave a warning of, “here we go, three, two, one” then took the pic.

Once Touya added the picture to the wall a day or so later, you admired it with a fond look. Tomura was actually smiling for the camera, it wasn’t very big but it was there, red eyes cast off to the side but leaning against you as you rested your chin on top of his shaggy bluish-white hair. You had a tired grin on your face, free arm wrapped around Touya as well who had his usual lazy smile. It was your absolute favorite.

Chapter Text

Then… things changed again.

It was just after Touya’s eighteen birthday, something you made damn sure to celebrate and had a few pictures to commemorate the event, when one of your regulars dragged a young girl to you.

She was unconscious, a mess, blonde hair spilling out of her two buns and had way too much blood on her. You looked at Jin Bubaigawara, aka ‘Twice’, blinked and asked, “what happened?”

He shook his head and threw his hands up, dramatic as always, and complained, “I don’t know!” Then contradicted himself, “yes I do!” Before he launched into a bit of a convoluted explanation but you got the jist.

Wrong place, wrong time was what you understood from the story. She had been caught up in some kind of turf war on the other side of the neighborhood and ended up hurt, an innocent bystander. Jin had been around, enthusiastically trying to steal a tv according to him but saw the aftermath and the bloodied girl left behind. He hated the idea of leaving her there, even if it was technically on the outskirts because someone else could and probably would, take advantage. “So I brought her to you, Ms. Shinku!” He scoffed and griped, “I should have just left her there.” He gasped and snapped at himself, “don’t go saying that, that’s terrible!”

With a sigh, you clapped your hands before the argument could really start and motioned him up the stoop, “alright, come on.” He perked up and carefully lifted up the young girl and followed you inside the house.

Touya greeted him with a lazy, “back already?” while Tomura glanced at him and said, “weren’t you just here?” Both quips that you rolled your eyes at and led Jin into the medical room. He placed her, gently, onto the futon in there then shifted on his feet, awkward, lingering.

You took in his posture and pointed towards the door, “you know the drill. We just got groceries and I made coffee not too long ago. If you need a place to crash, you have the couch.”

He perked up and saluted you with an eager, “yes ma’am!” Before rushing out, and apparently went straight for the kitchen where Tomura yelled at him not to eat his favorite snacks. You shook your head, amused and bemused all at the same time. Though Jin could be too high energy for you sometimes, you had to admit he was truly a sweet man at heart. Just a little lost, a lot fucked up in the head, and way too eager to make friends.

Sometimes you thought he got hurt on purpose to have a reason to come visit. You made a note to remind him that if he wanted to hang out, he simply could but first, you turned your attention onto the unconscious girl.

She was cute, even with the blood all over her though you did notice something a little strange… most of it was around her mouth and shirt. That and she was incredibly young to be wandering around your neighborhood, her outfit suggested she was barely in middle school. Maybe even her first year of being in said school. Far too young and too clean looking, she wasn’t from your side of town, that was obvious.

Shaking that off, you began looking for any trauma and found it, a large bump on the back of her head and the obvious cause of her unconsciousness. Still… that offered no explanation for all the blood.

With a click of the tongue, you settled with cleaning her up as best you could by wetting a towel and scrubbing gently at her cheeks and mouth. It took time but eventually, she looked better other than the bloody shirt which you weren’t entirely comfortable taking off. The last thing you wanted was for her to think she was taken advantage of while she was unconscious.

Once she was mostly cleaned up, you mulled over what to do then headed for your bedroom to grab a shirt and some shorts. While you knew the clothes wouldn’t fit right on her, you figured it was better than offering either of the boy’s clothes. She’d be swimming in anything you got from Touya and Tomura’s clothes wouldn’t be much better now that he was growing like a weed. It seemed his body was finally catching up to his age now that he had proper, consistent meals. You couldn’t put your chin on top of his head anymore and mourned the loss.

You paused before reentering the room and told the guys, “hey, one of you, order some take out. Enough for six.”

An instant argument over where to order food from began and you ducked back into the medical room to avoid the chaos. You saw no change in the blonde and figured you might as well get some more reading done on quirks while you waited.

She woke up before the food arrived, groggy, confused and startled as she realized she was in a new place. Quickly, she jumped up, tense and you held out a hand with a simple, “you’re fine. Relax.” You finished up the paragraph of the medical text you had pulled up on your laptop and turned your chair to her. “How are you feeling?”

She looked at you and tilted her head to the side then replied, “fine…? Where am I?”

“My house. You were found on the street, knocked out. One of my acquaintances brought you here.”

She checked herself, tugging at her shirt this way and that, patted at her chest, seemingly searching for any wounds. You let her adjust and reassure herself, slouching a little more in your seat as you waited.

It took her a few moments but she looked up, golden eyes confused before a wide smile split her face, “I didn’t realize heroes could be so cute!”

You blinked… stared… then had to throw your head back in a laugh and you had an inkling that this wasn’t going to be the first and last meeting her.

Himiko Toga was her name and she was nothing like the two you considered to be your brothers.

Rather than teasing, aloof and terribly determined like Touya, she was excitable, wide-eyed and a little all over the place.

Instead of being moody, grudgingly sweet and occasionally childish like Tomura, she was bright, eager and easily embarrassed, a blush often decorating her cheeks.

She fit into your little family surprisingly well, practically elbowing her way with a fierness that rivaled Touya and Tomura combined. That first day was interesting, you had every intention of letting her shower, take your clothes, feed her then take her home. Yet for her small frame - only eleven - she grabbed what she wanted to eat and made herself comfortable on that far too large couch.

The boys, including Jin, weren’t too sure what to do with her and tried to tone down their antics, just a little. That quickly flew out the window when an argument happened over who would eat the last crab rangoon - an argument that Touya wanted nothing to do with considering his dislike for seafood - until she grabbed it and stuffed it into her mouth. Jin was mortified, upset, complained and wanted her to spit it out. Tomura had a face of pure disdain and stabbed a piece of chicken from her plate in retaliation.

It was endearing and stupid and it made you laugh as you sat at the end of the couch, slowly eating your sesame chicken. She beamed at you in return and you could admit that she was a breath of fresh air. Once dinner was gone and the plates were cleared, you offered to take her home.

The previous excitable energy disappeared, flickering out of her even though she still had a smile on. It was a false one, one that you knew all too well and raised an eyebrow at her. Still, she nodded and agreed but asked, voice almost desperate, “but I can come back right?” Her small fingers clutched the front of the shorts she wore, far too long for her little form since they were yours and she continued, “that’s okay?”

You hesitated then, not really sure how to respond because… technically… it wasn’t. There wasn’t a single - normal - parent that would ever be alright with the idea of their far too young daughter hanging out in a rough neighborhood with a bunch of strangers. Yet… as you took in her face, how she bunched up the fabric of the clothing you gave her… you had a feeling. A feeling that made your insides twist and you finally gave a slow nod.

“Sure, kid. Just… make sure you come here in broad daylight, alright?” The smile was wide and bright as she nodded with an excited squeal.

The boys gave you questionable looks but you waved them off and motioned for her to follow so you could drive her home.

A home that looked completely normal.

A little brick fence that gated it off from the rest of the neighborhood, seemingly two floors with nice, clean colors. Yet the moment you stopped the car in front of it, Himiko sat in the passenger seat, wringing her hands together.

She didn’t say anything for a long time and you didn’t push, just put the car in park and leaned back against the seat. It took a few minutes but she spoke, voice quiet, “you cleaned up the blood.”

An odd statement, however you went along with it and agreed, “I did.”

“Was it because it wasn’t cute…?”

Another strange question, one that you weren’t too sure what to do with but took in her posture and how she hunched into herself. You considered it for a long moment, not finding it appealing but… why would you? Blood was something you dealt with nearly everyday. Either stitching up someone, draining a blood pack for yourself or transfering the red liquid into a patient. It wasn’t something that bothered you but it wasn’t something you gave much thought of in terms of beauty.

Still, you answered, “I was looking for wounds. Thankfully, all you have is a little bump on the back of your head.”

Relief passed over her face and she looked up at you, eyes trying to find something you weren’t sure if you could give and she asked, “can I come over tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have school?”

“I’ll come over after!”

You examined her then finally agreed with a simple, “alright. No skipping class, got it?”

She laughed and nodded, throwing herself at you in an overly affectionate, strange way that caught you off guard but you awkwardly returned the hug. “‘Kay, bye, bye!” And with that, she was out of your car and skipping up the sidewalk to her house.

It was so strange and… you really weren’t sure what to think beyond that just maybe, the house she lived in wasn’t so clean and tidy as it looked.

It turned out that your hunch was right.

Himiko made her way constantly to the townhouse after that.

Always after class, always a ray of sunshine, always downtrodden when you took her home. It took her time to open up to you but there were hints as to why she would hide in the townhouse rather than go home. If someone raised their voice, usually Tomura and Touya in some kind of fight, she’d freeze, waiting with baited breath before relaxing, all smiles again. Whenever she ate dinner, she would watch, tense, waiting for something and would only relax once the usual dinner antics of silly arguments or calm conversations started.

The boys, at first, were annoyed with the idea of there being someone else in their space. Tomura struggled with it because he felt that Himiko should just go back to her safe, cozy little neighborhood. Touya often was annoyed with her energy and would gripe a little if she came off too strongly for his tastes. But as she kept showing up, seemingly determined to carve a place for herself, they began letting up.

It happened over the course of a few months, as the snow grew sparse and spring was around the corner. Touya would actually help her during homework time with Tomura, bitching, yes, but he wouldn’t snap at her if she pulled out a project or asked for help with math. Rolled his eyes and grumbled, of course, then he’d adjust in his seat and showed her how to go about solving the math problems or explaining the process how to do so. Tomura let her play with him on some of his video games, she didn’t care for high fantasy or shooters that had second players, however if he offered Mario Kart, she was eager.

Then… you noticed little things. Small hints behind why, just maybe, she didn’t want to go back to that nice house in that comfortable neighborhood. She would make comments, strange ones that made you pause.

The first one happened when she saw Tomura boot up his farming game for the first time, playing it on the tv instead of the Switch itself and she squealed in delight at the cuteness of the game. She fawned over the animals, the crops, and when she saw some of the people that were marriage candidates, she gasped and said, “she’s so cute, I would totally drink her blood!”

Everyone in the room paused… just a little… a strange blip of sorts and glanced at her. She was far too enamored with the game to notice and you eyed her, swirling your coffee before going back to reading more dry medical articles on your laptop. Touya gave her a bit of a side eye from his place next to you but went back to his phone fairly quickly. Tomura made a face and said, “seriously?” Himiko froze, eyes guarded even with her wide smile while he frowned and showed her a different NPC, declaring, “this one is the best.”

You breathed a sigh, pleased he wasn’t rude, even as the two of them got into the strangest argument over who was the “cutest” bachelor and bachelorette. So much so that Touya was forced to pull up the list on his phone of everyone available to marry in the game and show Himiko who adored most of them. It was put to vote, you somehow roped into it because of course you were, and it was agreed upon that Seiba and Hinata were the cutest boy and girl.

The second time was when she went to you, tears in her eyes and asked you if it was wrong to think blood was pretty.

A question that threw you off and you considered her words before replying, “I don’t think so. Why?”

She sniffled then, rubbing at her eyes while you stopped cutting vegetables for dinner and turned your full attention onto her. “Cause… I was told that’s wrong. My quirk counselor says I need to stop thinking that.”

That was the first time you heard about a ‘quirk counselor’ and frowned, wary, already knowing far too well how society treated unwanted or strange quirks. Technically, that was what made your own family, the Shinku clan, into what they are now thanks to your family’s tendency to have quirks relating to blood. Tomura was also another example, people far more comfortable with ignoring his ability than trying to help him grow and control it.

Rather than prying for more information, you opted to say, “you can’t help thoughts like that sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Really? I can daydream about stabbing people?”

A little concerning, perhaps, but you didn’t say that and really, you weren’t even sure if you were giving decent advice that an eleven year old could grasp. Still, you tried to elaborate better and hoped she understood, “it’s normal and okay to have intrusive thoughts, Himiko. Sometimes it’s good to let them play out in your head. Just don’t act out those thoughts and if you think you’re going to then… talk to me.”

“So it’s okay if I think about a red sparrow dancing on my tummy and then digging a hole into my stomach to live there?” It took everything in you not to look concerned, keeping your expression mildly surprised and curious.

After a blink to digest her words, you tilted you head and wondered how the fuck the conversation turned so dark. But seeing her hopeful, desperate eyes made you nod, sluggish, a little hesitant as you crouched in front of her and said, “sure. Just… don’t actually try that with a sparrow.”

Relief washed over her face and she said, “I wish I could live here with you… you make me feel like a birdie.” Her arms wrapped around your neck and she clung to you, cheek pressed against the burn scar on your shoulder.

“A birdie huh…” you wrapped an arm around her to return the hug and considered your next words, daring to ask, “do you want to fly away from home a lot, Himiko?”

“All the time….”

The third oddity that happened was when you were dealing with a wounded patient. There was blood everywhere, all over you, the half dead thief and your sweater was doomed for the trash. You cursed, annoyed and frustrated at just how bad condition the man was in, ripping off the sweater and yanking open the door to call out, “can someone grab me water and some more towels?!”

Tomura jumped off the couch to do as you asked, Himiko taking in your bloodied appearance with flushed cheeks and huge eyes. At first, you thought it was from the blood and mostly shut the door so she wouldn’t get uncomfortable. Something that proved useless when she rushed in seconds later, a pitcher of water in hand with Tomura right behind, towels bundled in his arms.

He wrinkled his nose and looked away, unsettled by the blood and dumped the towels on your desk with a quick, “here” before scurrying out. You thanked him and glanced at the blonde, noticing her hover nearby, lip caught between her sharp teeth. That had you hesitating and you reached out to grab the pitcher, voice soft, “thanks, Himiko. You can go now.”

Your attention went right back to the unconscious thief, pouring the water over his chest and using the towels to soak the mess to see where exactly the blood was coming from. A nasty wound to the stomach, one that showed way too much of his insides and made you wince. Still, you were quick to fix him up with sutures as best you could, tying off the worst of the wounds and stabbing him with your quirk to start a blood transfusion.

Once you finally got most of the situation under control, you realized that Himiko never left and looked over your shoulder. In her hands was the abandoned sweater you threw on the ground and she was chewing at the sleeves, sucking at the fabric, blood all over her face. There was a look of pure contentment, bliss even, on her face and you chose to ignore it for now and focus on making sure the man didn’t die.

It took a bit but once he was finally in stable condition, you turned to her and she froze, the cuff of the sweater stuffed in her mouth. Fear crawled over her face so you were careful in approaching her, step by step then crouched down so she was a little taller than you. “Himiko…” you pressed your lips together and asked, voice light, “what’s your quirk?”

She swallowed, hard, then hid her face in your bloodied sweater to answer, “I… I can transform into people if I drink their blood.”

An interesting ability and one you clicked your tongue at, giving a soft, “huh…” before you reached out to ruffle her hair. She leaned into the affection, eager, trembling and you stated, “and that’s why you enjoy the taste so much.”

“Uh-huh,” golden eyes peek over the fabric and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“My counselor keeps saying I can suppress the urge, I can be better but… but it’s too hard!” She gathers up the sweater in her arms, hugging it tightly against her chest, staining her clothing as her lower lip quivered, “my parents say it’s disgusting.”

You ponder over her words and keep stroking her hair, thoughtful and replied, “that’s why you had blood all over you the first time you were brought here.”

She gave a tiny nod and mumbled, “I didn’t want them to see… I found a birdie, a cat got it and it was dying so I… I….” tears rushed down her face and she hid in the sweater again, beginning to sob.

“You did what felt natural,” you finished for her and clicked your tongue, really not sure what to do about this whole situation. What was clear though was that her parents were not at all equipped to handle a girl with her quirk. One that brought out some rather grizzly instincts in the form of drinking blood from dying animals or bloody sweaters.

Not that you were a better choice considering half the time you barely knew what you were doing with Touya and Tomura. Their traumas were much different from Himiko but you liked to think you’d given them a safe, stable home and as much affection as you could offer. An idea formed in your head, or rather, was trying to but it wasn’t easy to truly commit.

The facts were, you got lucky taking in the boys.

Touya was thought to be dead amongst his family and Tomura was a runaway from a foster home so nobody really bothered looking for him. Himiko on the other hand still had her parents. Abusive or not, the system wasn’t going to be kind to you if you took her in without permission or some sort of forethought.

Yet… you couldn’t deny the familiar urge rising in your chest as you listened to her wail, loud enough that Touya poked his head in with a deep frown. Worry marred his face when he took in the bloody scene and you raised a hand to show the two of you were fine. Mostly. You tapped on your knees, deep in thought then said, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She went with you and you took her to the bathroom in your bedroom, letting her have another set of your clothes before you told her to just throw the bloody clothes into the sink. She seemed reluctant, a longing look on her face at the idea of letting the blood go to waste but nodded, seemingly at least a little sated. Once she was set up and tugging off her shirt, you went upstairs to take a shower in one of the boy’s bathrooms.

No matter how many scenarios you tried to create, you found it difficult to truly find one that would allow you to take Himiko without consequences. So you forced yourself to settle with giving her your phone number. She was happy to plug it into her phone, eyes swollen, but the smile on her face was honest. “And you’ll pick up whenever I need you?”

“I’ll do my best, yeah. Sound good?”

Though it made you feel a little better as she nodded, you couldn’t help the sinking sensation in your stomach when you drove her back to that house. She acted fine, all smiles and skipping steps and little requests about what to have next dinner yet… you knew it was only a matter of time before something bad happened at that house.

Chapter Text

The distinct feeling of something bad brewing came to fruition in spring, just a week before Tomura’s birthday.

It was nearly midnight when you got a call, jerking you from sleep and you answered with a groggy, “hello…?”

Sobs met your ears followed by a wailing of your name, the sound shattered the fog in your mind and you sat straight up in bed. It was Himiko and she sounded beyond distraught, bordering on hysterical as she talked, words mushed together, choked out and difficult to understand.

You didn’t think and leaped out of bed, yanking on a pair of socks and uncaring that your clothes were hardly outside appropriate, a ratty pair of sweatpants and a too big shirt. Quickly, you stumbled out of the bedroom and nearly into Touya who gave you a confused look, a bowl of cereal in hand and you motioned for him to follow. He didn’t hesitate, just put the bowl on the counter as you tried talking into the phone, aiming to calm Himiko down enough that she could explain the late call.

Then you heard something that made you stop, body tense and you didn’t even feel it when Touya bumped into you.

Yelling, yes, but the words are what caused a visceral reaction like none other. Words that wound, words that caused nightmares for years on end, words that you remembered so vividly it made your nails cut into your palms.

“You’re a disgrace of a daughter!”

“All you are is a burden to the family!”

“Why can’t you just be fucking normal like us?!”

A warm hand anchored you, fingertips digging, just a little, into the scar on your shoulder and you glanced back at Touya with burning irises and black scleras and told him, “you’re driving.”

Touya didn’t protest or ask why, just grabbed the keys as you focused on talking to Himiko, voice soft, a murmur and she clung to your words. The drive to the Toga residence was quick and far too fast but you were grateful for Touya’s speeding. The longer you were on the phone, the more likely you were to do something stupid and worthy of the Shinku name.

The moment he pulled up to a too familiar house, you were out of the car, through the cute little gate and pounding on the door. There was silence on the other line, abrupt other than a little hiccup from Himiko.

It took a bit but the door opened and two pairs of wary eyes met your burning ones. The man startled and went to close the door on you but you wedged your foot in then slammed it open with your shoulder. He reeled back, sputtering and demanded, “who the hell do-”

“I’m the one that’s going to give you the out you so desperately want,” you glared at him, teeth bared, just a little and continued, “you don’t want her? Fine. I’ll take her.”

“She’s not going anywhere, she’s our daughter!” You glanced at the woman who looked just as surprised as you felt over her words.

“That you don’t want,” you replied and looked past them to find the blonde girl by a set of stairs, cheeks ruddy and tearstained, eyes so red and desolate. “Get a bag together. You’re not coming back.”

Without a word, she rushed up the stairs and you waited at the door, ignoring her parents who threatened you with the police and the courts and the heroes until you had enough and slammed a hand against the door, leveling them both a cold glare. You hated the words about to come out of your mouth but if it meant freedom for Himiko then… you’d play the villain.

“Call the police. Call any hero you want. I guarantee you, they won’t be able to shit against a Shinku. Especially one with ties to the Yuno district.”

“What, have you forgotten about me, sis?” You threw a glance over your shoulder to find Touya was no longer in the car but leaning against the hood, arms folded and looking incredibly intimidating thanks to his scars. “She’s not the only Shinku around and… she’s a saint when compared to me,” he snapped his fingers, blue flames sparking between them with a feral smile. Even you had to admit, he promised danger and death at that moment.

At first, there was confusion but then it morphed into silent horror and realization and their faces went white. Suddenly, they were quiet and still, whatever little fire or parental instincts they had snuffed out into nothing at your warning and Touya’s posturing. You hated playing into your familial ties however on rare occasions, it came into use. While you waited, you asked for specific items, important papers, schooling things, anything you can think of to make the transition painless. The mother was the one to grab them for you, her hands shaking and her eyes pointed at the ground to avoid your unnatural black scleras and glowing irises.

Once Himiko returned with two backpacks, you motioned for her to go to the car where Touya was waiting and stared at the two with disdain and disgust. “Expect some papers in the mail that will contest custody of Himiko. If you’re smart, you’ll just sign them and leave it at that.”

Vague threat made, you turned and started walking back towards the car when there was an outburst, the words vicious, cruel and completely unnecessary, “take the little vampire! Just don’t look at us to take her back when she drains you dry!”

“Well good news for you,” you turned your head and held up your arm, letting your blood pierce through the skin of your wrist and run down your forearm, “I happen to be a blood expert.”

With that, you moved into the back seat of the car and wrapped a towel around your arm just in time for Himiko to throw herself at you. Her thin arms locked around your neck and she practically climbed into your lap, pressing her face against your collarbone. You shifted, a little awkward, a lot tentative, but wrapped your arms around her in return.

She wasn’t crying as much, the tears used up though her shoulders quivered and shook with little gasping breaths. Touya said nothing, just put the car in reverse and peeled off way too fast from the little cozy house of pain and abuse. After giving a sharp glare into the rearview mirror, he slowed down and went at mostly reasonable speeds back to the townhouse. Himiko sniffled and pulled back, eyes watery and asked, “I don’t have to go back, right?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me now.”

The smile on her face turned bright, hopeful, cheery and you gave her a tired but content one in return.

Tomura was waiting at the townhouse, a little pissy looking but well meaning and had four cups of hot chocolate. Touya rolled his eyes at his cute attempt at a ‘welcome home’ but ruffled his hair just to see him swat at him. Himiko was amazed and jumped on the poor boy who cringed away with a sharp, “get off!” though there wasn’t any heat to it. You waited until the other two grabbed their cups to lean up and press your forehead against Tomura’s with a soft, “good job” before taking your cup.

He huffed at that though you spotted the content look in his eyes as you wandered to the couch and sat down, something the three were quick to follow and do. The blonde tucked herself against you while Tomura took your other side, head resting tiredly on your shoulder. Touya sat next to him, his long arms stretched across the top of the couch and his fingers curled loosely around the back of your neck.

Though it was a school night, you decided the two middle schoolers would be missing class and have a three day weekend. Something they were excited to hear and the four of you watched movies into the early hours of the morning.

Himiko adapted easily and quickly into living with you and the boys.

Within a week the spare bedroom was decorated with cute stuffed animals, posters and wall art which were a strange mix of gory horror movies and adorable birds along with the most ridiculously plush rug in the world. Touya bought her a large bed, just like he had for you and Tomura and shrugged off any thanks she gave him.

The papers sent to the Toga residence were signed and returned to you within a matter of days, there was no contest for Himiko and you were officially her guardian. Something she insisted on celebrating with bubble tea and mochi.

The four of you celebrated Tomura’s birthday as well, a nice event at the arcade where it turned out Himiko was amazing at the dancing rhythm game and had all of you dance at least once with her. You made sure to take a few pictures, ones that featured each of them exclusively and of course a few group photos. Your favorite by far was Touya with an arm around Tomura’s shoulders, Himiko hugging his other side with a wide smile and Tomura looking both annoyed and fond. Each of them had silly little birthday hats on their heads courtesy of the arcade.

Though not everything was always so easy.

Himiko had strange habits, ones that you picked up on almost immediately when you noticed there were times she would have bite marks on her wrists. She was obsessed with the idea of drinking blood and would try to sneak into your medical room to steal bloody sheets or clothing. Something you gently admonished her and tried to steer her to other avenues. From everything you’d read about quirks and how some can cause bizarre or “unwanted” behavior, you figured the best way to curb her lust for blood would be to show her other ways to scratch the itch so to speak.

Whenever you made something with red meat, you kept hers rare - sometimes closer to blue - and she loved it, excited with being able to eat a bloody meal. You let her watch the goriest slasher movies available on one of Touya’s many streaming services or nature documentaries focused on large carnivores. If she came home from school with a bloody bird or cat - none thankfully hurt by her hands - you would let her take it into your medical room and show her how to make it better. You never commented when she would lick the blood from her hands and just focused on stitching the wounds.

It seemed that your attempts to help worked, to a point, though not entirely because after a month or so of her living with you, you noticed a few blood packs missing from your fridge.

Not too many, just two or three, yet you knew the moment you reached into the fridge to replenish your blood. It was never very full - some of your patients struggled to bring in clean blood at times - so the missing packs alarmed you, a little. With a frown, you took one of the few still inside and drained it before wandering into the living room.

The three were at the dining table, homework and books and loose pages spread out as Touya attempted to explain kinetic and potential energy. Though you hated to interrupt, you cleared your throat and said, “lemme borrow Himiko for a minute.”

Blue eyes glanced at you before Touya looked at the blonde and dismissed her, “well go on. You’re not missing anything.”

She pouted with a nod and slipped out of her seat to skip over to you, smiling as you took in her face. With a motion of your hand, you led her back into the medical office and crouched in front of her to ask, “Himiko… did you take blood from my fridge?”

The smile on her face remained even as her eyes filled with anxiety. To her credit though, she gave a little nod.

You were glad for her honesty and kept your tone light, “still having the urges?”

Another nod and this time she admitted, “not so bad but… I couldn’t help myself.” Her fingers twisted into her shirt and she swallowed hard, voice cracking, “I’m sorry I can’t be normal, sis. I’m trying, I really am! But, I just, I couldn’t help it, it makes me feel whole and loved and warm and-!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you reached up to put a hand on her head, stroking her wild blonde hair, “I’m not mad.” Though that still left you with a bit of a dilemma on how to help her without completely shutting down her natural instincts. Though the substitutes you had in place did seem to ease her want for blood, clearly they weren’t enough. You wrestled with yourself then finally offered, “how about this… once a week, I’ll let you have one blood pack.”

Her eyes went wide and excitement sparked across her face, nodding in an almost frantic manner, “really? So it’s normal to drink blood?!”

You winced a touch and tried to be as delicate as possible, “no, not really.” Disappointment filled her eyes as her smile disappeared, something you hated to see and moved your hands to hold her face, “but that’s fine. Your quirk is part of you and if drinking blood helps, then it helps. I’m not asking you to suppress yourself or bury your urges, Himi. Just work on reeling them in a bit.” The last thing you wanted was to sound exactly like her useless quirk counselor.

She stared at you, eyes searching for lies or deceit then nodded in your hands, “okay.”

“Good. Now,” you jerked your head towards the fridge, “don’t take any without my permission. I need those packs to make sure I don't get sick, without them, I could end up in the hospital.”

She blinked before getting a concerned look, “are you gonna get sick now because of me?”

“No, no, I’m alright,” you quickly reassured her and did your best to explain better, not wanting her to put blame onto herself, “I want you to understand why I keep blood in there, that’s all.”

That seemed to help, her shoulders relaxing and she sniffled with a soft, “promise I won’t do it again, sis.”

“I’ll keep you to that.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against hers, something that had her lighting up, trembling with excitement.

“You did the thing! On me!”

“What thing?”

“This!” She leaned more into you, “the forehead touch!” You blinked, confused and pulled away while she laughed and exclaimed, “that means you love me!” Before you could say anything else, she broke away from you and rushed back into the main room, boasting, “guess what! Sis did the forehead thing on me!”

You stared at the door then sighed and decided to have a few seconds to yourself while the boys congratulated her on officially being part of the family.

Himiko’s habit of bringing animals home continued and you did your best to help where you could. Sometimes Tomura would give a hand, his fingers careful, tender when it came to resetting bird wings if you were too busy with a human to help. Himiko was always grateful and even came up with a nickname for him, “Shiggy”, based on his last name which he both loathed and liked.

The birds were always safely returned outside once they were better enough to fly away. The cats she occasionally brought home though… well… two of them ended up being permanent residences of the house. A pure black kitten with big, sweet orange eyes whom Himiko saved from cruel schoolmates and a scruffy, long haired tabby with pissy green eyes that was hit by a car. Touya, Tomura and Himiko argued for seemingly days about names to give to the felines until it was finally put to vote.

You, naturally, got to be the tie breaker as each of them gave their name ideas. Himiko of course chose sweet, cutesy names, Tomura went for names from some of his games and Touya… well… you honestly weren’t sure where he got his from.

“Seriously, Tou. Catbus and Dumpling. Those are the two you wanna go with.”

He raised an eyebrow at you for challenging his names and asked, “what’s wrong with those?”

“You know… you’re right, Touya. I changed my vote! I think the black one should be Dumpling!” Himiko exclaimed with a grin.

Tomura argued, “that’s so stupid, why are we naming a cat after food?”

“Why not?” Touya rasped, “I personally like Catbus more but hey, Dumpling works for me.”

With a sigh, you say, “alright, alright… the kitten is Dumpling. Tomura, what were the two you said again?”

He grumbled, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his hoodie pouch, “Jinx and Felix.”

“Felix will be the tabby,” you said and figured a more distinguished name would be fitting for the seemingly aloof, grumpy ball of fluff.

A laugh came from the blonde who threw her hands up and declared, “Dumpling and Felix, perfect!”

Naturally, the cats had their preferred people. Dumpling loved to play with Himiko and stand on Touya’s shoulders while Felix often laid next to Tomura on the couch and would follow you around until you sat down to get on your lap. It was endearing and you may have spent way too much money at the pet shop buying toys, cat trees and beds. You chalked it up to never really having a pet at home and… it seemed your sentiment was felt around the house.

All of them took a shine on the cats in a way you didn’t expect but found heartwarming. As far as you knew, the only one who had ever had a pet before was Tomura though that had ended in tragedy. He was shy at first with the cats, scared, not wanting to pet them with no more than two fingers. You gently reminded him that he was better with his quirk, far more capable and in control than when he was much smaller and stressed and abused. That eased him and he began to interact with them more, not flinching away if one climbed onto his lap or panicking if all his fingers dug into their fur.

He was delicate, sweet, painfully aware that his touch could hurt or kill yet he was determined not to repeat mistakes of the past. If he was in a bad mood, he wore the gloves that covered his thumbs and told you he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hurt them. Something you nodded at even though you had confidence he wouldn’t. His quirk control was miles ahead of what it had been when he first came into your care and you still worked with him everyday on it. It would take time for him to be as confident but you figured with time and patience, he would be.

You probably took a few too many pictures of your siblings interacting with the felines however you didn’t care and put them on the wall.

Touya at the kitchen counter, half asleep with Dumpling curled over his shoulders as he made coffee.

Himiko sprawled out on the floor, kicking her feet as she tossed a toy for Dumpling to fetch.

Tomura laid out on the couch with a gaming controller in his hands while Felix stretched out on his chest, fast asleep.

There was one of you too, you’re not sure who took it, but it had you reading something on the laptop with Felix resting at your side, head on your arm, seemingly reading too.

Spring turned into summer and suddenly you had two young teens on your hands at all times. Touya was around, yes, but after turning eighteen he would wander off and come back at his leisure. Leaving you with two sometimes bored or antsy teenagers. Tomura was easier to handle, his love for video games left him up at the strangest hours in the morning and sleeping in until noon or later. Himiko on the other hand was prone to horrible boredom and needed some type of outlet for her energy.

So you took her to the same dilapidated little park you and Touya went to every Saturday and showed her how to fight. It was slow going with her compared to Touya and even some of the basic hand to hand skills you showed Tomura.

Tomura wasn’t keen on learning to fight.

He once admitted to you he had dreamed of being a hero - apparently his grandmother was one - but after seeing the force of his quirk, he threw that dream away. Still, you hated the idea of him ever being caught up by someone looking to fight in the neighborhood so you taught him simple but effective moves. Something he took to surprisingly well and had no interest in furthering. Which you were fine with and respected his wishes, only asking him to brush up with Touya or yourself every few weeks.

Himiko on the other hand, loved the thrill and adrenaline of fighting, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as you walked her through the basic steps. Sometimes it was frustrating for you, her excitable personality being a little too much at times, but you couldn’t deny the pride when she executed a grapple perfectly. Though she was small, you showed her how to work that to her advantage by being agile, fleet-footed and helped her with stretches to further enhance her acrobatic skills.

After a particularly tiring session, you asked her over bubble tea - well away from the darkness of your neighborhood, “you’ve never told me what you want to do once you’re older.”

She hummed then, kicked her feet and slurped down some bubbles in thought before admitting, “I dunno. I’ve never really thought that hard about it.”

“Don’t wanna be a hero?”

A roll of the eyes and she flapped a hand at you, lips pouty and said, “with my quirk? Na…” she trailed off, leaning her cheek against her other hand and sighed, “I dunno, sis. What about Touya and Shiggy? What are they doing?”

“Tou’s basically an unlicensed hero at this point. As for Tomura,” you paused, thinking then said, “honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got into the video game industry.”

She giggled and nodded, “that sounds like both of them.” Her lips pulled down and she mumbled, “I still don’t know what I wanna do. Something cute. Something fun and interesting!” She huffed and slouched into her seat.

You reached out and patted her head, “you’ll figure it out, Himi. You’re still a kid after all.”

That had her smiling before launching into a little tirade about the newest and cutest heroes around, something you listened to with patience even if your eyes did glaze over a bit.

Towards the end of summer, just before school started again, Himiko’s birthday came and she insisted on going to an amusement park, the biggest one around that was an hour drive away.

So naturally, that meant you piling the following into the car; a grumpy Tomura who had the most fucked up sleep schedule, a half asleep Touya who nearly took a bowl of cereal with him and a thrilled Himiko that was way too peppy for it being seven in the morning. Meanwhile you were barely surviving on dark roast and had to stop at a coffee shop for extra caffeine. A cappuccino with four shots of espresso and enough sugar to keep you awake - hopefully - for the next day or two, a caramel latte - easy ice - for Touya, a hot chocolate with extra whip cream for Tomura and an abomination of a latte for Himiko. The only reason why you even let her have that horrid drink with six pumps of caramel and eight pumps of chocolate was because she was the birthday girl. You were pretty sure the barista looked concerned when you pulled up for the order and gulped down the cappuccino like your life depended on it as you paid.

“You’re gonna crash halfway through the day,” Tomura griped from the backseat, hood over his messy bluish-white locks, bleary eyed as he sipped the hot chocolate.

You shrugged and started the journey towards the amusement park, “good thing there’s coffee shops near the place. And if that doesn’t work, you or Tou can carry me around.”

Touya scoffed from the passenger seat next to you, rolling his head to stare at you with unamused blue eyes, “I’ll just leave you at the lost and found until we’re done.”

“What, you going to look after these two gremlins by yourself, Tou?”

“Yeah, Touya, you gonna look after me and Shiggy all by your lonesome?” Himiko leaned forward, chin on Touya’s seat with a wide smile.

He blinked then made a face and shook his head with a quiet, “fuck that.”

“Exactly what I thought. Himi, put on your seatbelt.”

The car ride wasn’t actually too bad, you had the foresight to make sure everyone brought their Switch - you bought one for Himiko’s birthday - and it was mostly peaceful. Of course that peace was ruined the moment you pulled up to the amusement park that already was full of cars, families and hyper children. Not that your group was much better, Himiko was a ball of energy and leaped out of the car with a cry of, “we’re here! Let’s go, let’s go!”

You reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt, “wait. Let me put down some ground rules before everyone runs off.” That earned you a few groans and you rolled your eyes, “stop your grumbling. They’re simple. Keep your phones on and don’t lose them on any of the rides. Each of you has money, use it however you want. Buddy system - that includes you, Tou - and that’s all I got.”

They each nod at your rules, seemingly okay with them before Himiko snapped her fingers and asked, “can we stick together? Oh, oh, let’s all choose one ride and no matter what, we all have to go on it!”

You winced a little and had a bad feeling about that rule. Yet the boys gave smiles and agreed in a heartbeat… only furthering the bad feeling in your stomach. Still, you sighed, nodded and ushered them to the park gates.

The moment the four of you were inside, Himiko locked arms with you and dragged you towards the largest roller coaster in the entire park. You paled, just a touch, then looked back at Touya and Tomura who seemed completely unbothered by the idea. With a small glare, you sighed and resigned yourself to the feeling of death from the big drop. That being your exact thought when on the ride, the blonde next to you with the boys right behind. You felt jittery, mildly panicked, fingers clinging to the safety bars and a hand patted your shoulder which had you looking back with wide eyes. Touya grinned at you, blue eyes heavy as he called over the wind, “you’re gonna be fine, sis!”

You glared daggers and opened your mouth to retort when the feeling of freefall caught you off guard and you realized Touya did it on purpose. With a few colorful curses, you whipped you head forward as wind rushed past your cheeks and screamed out, “fuck you, Touya!”

A cackle sounded from behind you followed by a few whoops and Himiko threw her hands up with a screaming laugh. You couldn’t hear Tomura but you had a feeling he was enjoying this moment just like the others. By the time the ride came to a stop, your legs felt like jelly and you scowled at the snickering three. At least one of them took pity on you, Tomura offering his hand which you took with a grumble.

Himiko of course wanted to go again and before you could try to escape, Touya and Tomura betrayed you, both locking their arms around yours and nearly dragging you back into the line. The park attendant seemed a little worried about having you go back on but didn’t stop your siblings from herding you onto the coaster. This time Tomura sat next to you with Touya and Himiko in front and your fingers clenched the safety bars in a death grip before the ride even started.

The moment you were back on solid ground, you needed a second to sit down and had the three decide on the next stop. Thankfully, they took mercy on you and dragged you to a few much more manageable rides that you didn't mind and could even enjoy.

By the time noon hit, a lot of the major roller coasters were ridden and everyone was starved so the four of you found a decent little restaurant to hang out at for over an hour. While the food wasn’t anything amazing, it certainly hit the spot after a few hours of wandering about the park. You asked how long they wanted to stay and of course were met with a firm, “all day!” from Himiko. Touya seemed completely indifferent and Tomura shrugged and admitted he was having fun so it didn’t matter.

Something you nodded at, not surprised and wondered if maybe it would be better to find a hotel rather than drive all the way back home. Yet as the idea attempted to take root, you quickly shoved it out of your head. Already you could picture someone, probably Himiko or Touya, attempting to convince you into another day at the park. While it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, nobody packed extra clothing and you really weren’t sure if you could survive another long day.

After lunch, Tomura picked the bumper cars and was ruthless in crashing constantly into Touya. Something that the older teen wasn’t keen on and it quickly turned into who could knock the other against the wall. Himiko was content with running into anyone and everyone while you half heartedly knocked into whoever was nearby. Towards the end though, you teamed up with the fifteen year old and pinned Touya against the wall who had the pissiest look you’d ever seen.

The four of you went for another round at the bumper cars then migrated to some of the games at a nearby arcade. It wasn’t very big but there was still more than enough for an hour or so to be wasted. Tomura won a giant stuffed animal of… some sort, for Himiko. You and Touya argued over what animal it was supposed to be while she gushed over how fluffy and cute it was, jumping up and down for joy. She hugged Tomura who tried pushing her away only to accept his fate though he glared into the camera when you snapped a picture. Naturally the stuffed animal was stowed safely away in a locker to be picked up later and your group continued about riding more rides and relaxing with treats such as ice cream and funnel cake.

Eventually, Touya pointed out, “you haven’t said what you want to do, sis.”

You glanced at him and stole a piece of cotton candy from Himiko, popping it into your mouth then jerked a thumb at the large ferris wheel. “That.”

“Really…? That’s boring,” Tomura huffed with a frown and handed over his lemonade to the birthday girl who made a face at how sour it was, “why the ferris wheel?”

With a hum, you shrugged and asked, “why not? We’ve pretty much done everything else at this point. Besides, I think it’d be nice to just relax and enjoy a nice view once the sun sets.”

“A little lame, sis, but if that’s what you want to do, then we’re doing it.” Himiko declared and tried to take a drink from Touya’s slushy but he jerked his arm up so she couldn’t reach even if she jumped for it. He smirked down at her pout, unmoved and obnoxiously slurped the cherry swirl down as she whined.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning back on the bench, exhausted but unable to deny the warm feeling in your chest, and continued, “but I’m too jaded to care about being lame to you kids at this point.”

“Who are you calling a kid? I’m eighteen now,” Touya griped.

“You act like you’re forty… you’re only twenty three, shut up,” Tomura grumbled with a scrunched nose.

“I never said you were lame, sis, just that your choice in rides was,” Himiko clarified, giggling and grinning up at you.

Chuckling, you glanced at each of them with fond eyes and motioned towards one of the decent sized rides, “right, well, wanna go on that one again?”

You let them herd you around to any ride they wanted - other than the biggest one - until finally the sun was at the horizon. Then you pushed the group towards the ferris wheel and ignored their sighs, eye rolls and mutters until the four of you were inside one of the little cars. Any tension you had left your body as you took in the landscape all around, the city and park washed with the colors of a setting sun and twilight. Funny enough, the complaints died away and your siblings suddenly didn’t seem to mind the sights.

In fact, once at the highest point of the wheel, Himiko took out her phone and asked, “can we take a picture?”

The four of you huddled together and did a few different poses in the dying sunlight until Himiko was satisfied with the pictures. Once off the ride, you asked them if there was anything else they wanted to do and all you were met with was, “food” and “home.”

Requests that you agreed with and after wolfing down a quick, way too expensive meal and grabbing the stuffed animal for Himiko, everyone piled into the car. Halfway home, the two in the back fell asleep against each other and Touya took a photo for you, even admitting it was a cute one.

You chuckled at that and made the long, tiresome journey back to the townhouse, only able to keep your eyes open by luck and an open window. Getting into the house was a little interesting considering the dead weight that was Himiko and Tomura but you and Touya managed. You picked up Himiko as gently as you could, holding her against your chest while Touya simply slung Tomura over his shoulder and gave you a cheeky smile when you threw him a look. Still, the teenager didn’t even stir so you figured he’d be fine being carried like a sack of potatoes up the stairs.

The moment you were inside, the cats greeted you, one with happy purrs, one with a disgruntled stare, you ignored them, opting for trudging up the stairs. Dumpling followed dutifully and at least was patient enough to let you put Himiko onto the bed before demanding pets. Something you gave her then set to making the birthday girl a little more comfortable, tugging off her shoes and socks and undoing her crazy buns so sleeping was a little more comfortable. Her hair was still a mess that you had no energy to deal with though you did brush out the worst of the tangles but left the rest for her to fix in the morning.

Once out of her room, you kept the door cracked for the cat and saw Touya tossing Tomura onto his bed - thankfully without his shoes - and throwing the comforter over his body. You raised an eyebrow at the fact the teen didn’t even stir and sighed, keeping your voice low, “at least make sure he can breathe, Tou.”

A roll of the eyes was your response but he did pull the blanket enough for a mess of bluish-white hair to peek out. Felix seemed just as unamused by his actions as you, hopping onto the bed and batting at Touya who returned the motion on his way out of the room. With the two teens safe in bed, you relaxed, eyes heavy and murmured a soft, “good night” which was returned along with a quick hug. One you leaned into before heading down the stairs while Touya went into the bathroom, probably to shower.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you washed your face, untangled your hair and brushed your teeth, limbs heavy and leadened. While a shower sounded heavenly, you didn’t trust yourself to not fall asleep under the water and opted instead to flop on your bed, head barely on the pillow before passing out.

Another host of pictures made it onto the wall, your least favorite being one of you looking wide-eyed and terrified next to Himiko who had her hands up with a giant smile while Touya and Tomura laughed behind you. You bet anything that Touya was the one who paid for that stupid picture.

Your favorite on the other hand was one from the ferris wheel. Touya stood behind you and Tomura, chin resting between both of your shoulders with his arms curled around your and Tomura’s sides, smirking lazily. Tomura had a small but sweet smile, hood down for once, his hands in his hoodie as he leaned against you. Himiko stood in front, leaning back, her hands out to hold the phone properly with a grin, cheeks flushed with excitement. Lastly, you had a lopsided smile on your face, head tilted a little to the side, an arm linked in Tomura’s and the other around Himiko.

It was the first, real, family picture of the four of you and you felt happy with your misplaced, strange little family.

The routine stayed the same for a long time, a few years in fact.

Touya continued to be a vigilante, one that was well known in the Yuno district, yes, but also becoming whispered and murmured about amongst certain circles. Circles that weren’t cloaked in the shadows your family lived in, hero circles, media circles, even some civilians knew him. Something he was proud of, flaunted, sometimes tossing his phone down for you to read an article about the “Blue Flame Vigilante”. It was always a dramatic headline, talking about a mysterious young man that helped someone before disappearing, long gone before any authorities could question him.

Dabi was the name he went by on the streets. A menace to some, deadly to others, though he was always careful to not kill anyone. All his training paid off in many ways but the main benefit was that he no longer hurt himself beyond some surface burns that your blood healed within minutes. He was known for his ruthless - borderlining savage - takedowns, his scarred skin and his feral smile.

Endeavor in particular hated Dabi.

Whined on occasion about him in interviews, talked about how bad of a look Dabi was giving to other heroes that had flame quirks. That only fueled Touya’s determination and you barely blinked when after Endeavor mentioned him, Touya did something ridiculous.

Like when he used his fire to overpower one of Endeavor’s sidekicks and save a bunch of people from an icy death at the hands of an anarchist asshole.

Or when he melted the tires of a runaway armored truck to ruin a bank robber’s day that also decided to take children as hostages.

He loved being a hero, unlicensed and as illegal as it was for him to be and you weren’t about to stop him.

Tomura surprised you by actually going to high school.

Rather than keeping all his courses online like you expected, he wanted to try to socialize with his gaming friends and experience school again. Something you had no issues with and helped him enroll in a good school that was a thirty minute drive away. It wasn’t a hero school like UA, but a nice, private one that you did way too much research on.

Sure the tuition made you cringe but you figured it would be worth it in the end. And it was, Tomura was the quiet, gamer kid that had a small but tight knit friend group. A friend group that would sometimes show up to your neck of the woods, wide-eyed, almost jumpy from being in such a ‘scary’ part of town. It always made you laugh whenever they’d talk about how nice the townhouse was for being in the Yuno district and you had to remind them that, technically, it was barely in said district.

After a few times of that, Tomura found it was just easier to go to their houses even if he didn’t really feel comfortable in most of them. He told you one day that though their homes were often beautiful and large, there wasn’t any warmth and most of them felt unwelcoming with pretty but impersonal decor.

He continued high school, even skipping a grade, and graduated with a high GPA, gaining quite a few scholarships to any university he wanted along the way. The four of you celebrated with his favorite restaurant and way too many desserts but it was so worth it to see him smiling and looking a touch overwhelmed. Rather than going to one of the fancy colleges, he stuck close to home, unwilling to leave the safe haven of the townhouse. Just as you thought, he wanted to look into designing video games and creating lavish worlds for others to get lost in.

Something he was a little shy in telling you, worried you’d think it was childish and stupid but you waved him off with a simple, “so long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.” You even bought him a car, a little beat up but decent enough, to celebrate his entry into the local university for computer science and graphic design.

Himiko transferred to a different middle school, one where she could have a fresh start. Unfortunately due to her chaotic and abusive homelife affecting her schooling, it was determined that she would be held back a year, making her one of the few already twelve year olds amongst the sixth graders. She was a little embarrassed and admitted as much to you but you made sure to reassure her and promised it wouldn’t be so bad.

Sure enough, she thrived in a better, more understanding environment, probably made easier since you were able to find a proper, good, quirk counselor. Though you still did your best to provide what she needed, you were hardly a therapist, so you looked for someone that could actually relate to Himiko. It took time, as such things do, but within a few weeks, she had a much better handle on her urges. While they never went away and you still let her drink a blood pack a week, she was far less anxious and could function better amongst her peers.

Not to say there still weren’t a few times she would rush home, cheeks flushed with a giddy smile as she commented on the cutest boy or girl she saw while at school. You had to remind her that wanting to drink their blood wasn’t exactly socially acceptable and to please, for the love of everything in the universe, get their permission first.

To your relief though, she made friends and her dearest friend was a young girl with rosy cheeks, large brown eyes and a gravity quirk. Ochaco was her name and she was not only adorable, sweet, kind but was a good compliment to Himiko’s high energy. More laid back but still as bubbly, you didn’t even raise an eyebrow when the blond dragged the young girl into the kitchen and presented her with a flourish of, “this is my new friend!”

Poor Ochaco stared at you with a nervous look, smiling but awkward and you took pity on the girl with a simple introduction of yourself and a, “I’m this one’s sister, nice to meet you. Are you staying for dinner?” It wasn’t uncommon after that for there to be sleepovers and excited girls talking about boys and school and dreams on Friday nights.

Unlike her brothers, Himiko had no idea what she wanted to be, her ideal job changing seemingly by the month. Photographer, professional cosplayer, veterinarian, and so many more were spoken of then promptly forgotten or thrown to the wayside.

It wasn’t until she and Ochaco dyed their hair for Halloween in the eighth grade that she discovered her true passion.

She wanted to be a stylist.

And not just any kind of stylist, but one that could create amazing and often crazy transformations using haircuts and makeup. She declared that to you with a bad dye job, hair different shades of red, uneven, but a sparkle in her eyes and you shrugged and told her, “okay. If that’s what you wanna do.”

Naturally, that led to her trying to dye everyone’s hair in the house.

Touya could careless - his hair was already dyed after all - and let her go crazy whenever he needed a touch up. There was a good three months he rocked black hair with hot pink streaks and it was quite a look that you made sure to take a picture of. Tomura on the other hand was far less keen on the idea however after much begging and whining, he allowed his hair to be turned into a pure silvery look. Something he seemingly didn’t mind and even let her keep up on it. As for you… well, she insisted on fun, crazy colors, purples, pinks, blues, sometimes split hair looks. You even sported rainbow hair for a good while. Eventually you returned to your usual and preferred hair color once she calmed down and focused more on her friends.

Once high school was around the corner though, she was sad to discover Ochaco would be trying for UA and admitted that she was worried they wouldn’t be friends anymore. Something you shot down with an easy, “you hang out with her all the time. It’ll be fine.”

A sentiment that Ochaco agreed with and even told Himiko, “once I’m an established hero, I’ll have you for all my photo shoots! You can be my stylist!”

Something that the blonde swooned over and promised, “I’ll make you into the cutest hero in all of Japan!” A sweet promise, possibly one that would be unfulfilled but… it still made you smile at how earnest the girls were. You just hoped that Ochaco and Himiko would remain good friends even with the new school environments they would be in.

Of course it was right before high school started for Himiko that the routine changed. Only… it was in a completely different way than what you’d dealt with before.

Chapter Text

It’s hardly uncommon to come across wounded people in the Yuno district, in fact, it’s simply part of living in such a place. The sight of someone bleeding all over the side of an abandoned house barely surprises you though you still have to pause. He’s difficult to see, tucked away from the dim street lights however your eyes can pick out the combat boots in the grass.

The late hour makes you wary, it being well past one in the morning, not that such a time ever stops you from wandering to the corner store. This time you bought iron supplements, apple juice, all the needed items for french toast and coffee. After the week you’ve dealt with, you can feel that your body craves extra iron and figured going to the store is easy enough even at the late hour. Most people know not to mess with you and those that do typically realize their mistake within seconds if you flash black scleras and vivid irises at them.

Not every hurt person is your problem but you notice that unlike the usual types that wind up half dead, the person you stare at is different.

Mainly… there’s a strange grey scarf wrapped around his neck and strewn all about, incredibly long and limp, bloody. You can’t tell exactly where the wound is but from the good amount of blood on his clothes, you know it’s not pretty. With a frown, you place the bag of groceries on the cracked sidewalk and step, slowly, towards the man. He doesn’t stir though you can hear ragged breathing at least.

Yellow goggles rest on his face, covering his eyes so you can’t see most of his features and you tug at the black jumpsuit he wears. Blood coats your hands the second you touch his side and you try shifting him to see better in the faint streetlight. He’s solid for his lean figure, surprisingly, all muscles and tension as you take out your phone to use as a flashlight.

The wound is rough, a good five inches wide and probably two or three deep by the looks of it. With a tired sound, you sit on your knees and go through your bag, ignoring how blood smears across the surface and shove away your wallet and keys. A medical kit comes into view and you grab it, opening it up to give a field patch that will just have to work. The idea of trying to drag him down the next block and a half to the townhouse exhausts you and he’s not in the worst shape.

Popping open the bottle of rubbing alcohol, you pour it over a gauze pad and wipe at the wound to clear some of the blood away. The only warning you get is a hiss of pain then fingers wrap around your neck and you find yourself laid out in the grass, staring into a pair of goggles. A dull ache spreads through your skull and you wince then sigh, throwing your best unamused look at the man.

“What are you doing?” His voice is low, cool, authoritative and you have to cock an eyebrow at him.

“Helping, obviously,” you hold up the bottle of alcohol and shake it in front of his face, “you need sutures.”

No response at first causing you to frown, a little irritated that you can’t read his eyes as he kneels there with that hand still against your throat. Then, after a far too long moment, he states, “and you just make it a habit of helping strangers.”

Rolling your eyes, you push with your free hand at his wrist and agree, “believe it or not, I do. Can I stitch you up or what? You’re getting blood all over me.”

It takes him a long moment until he eases up and slumps back against the wooden siding. You take in a deep breath before following after him, crouching with your phone out to see his wound and go back to cleaning it.

“You’re not part of the Kuruokai.”

Scoffing, you shake your head and reply, “do I look like a Yakuza member? Most of them are on the other side of the district and that’s pretty rare as it is. They know better than to hang out around here.”

“Says the woman walking around a bad neighborhood past midnight.”

“I could throw those words right back at you, friend,” you pour the rest of the alcohol over his wound, apologizing when he winces but not feeling that bad since you can finally see the gash. Folding your legs underneath yourself to balance the med kit on your lap, you flush out the wound to get rid of any nasty bacteria, pat at it, then gently run a few different ointments along the edges.

His gaze is heavy, even with the goggles on and you can feel him staring with each move you make. Something you try ignoring and focus on threading the needle after sanitizing it and the thread in some peroxide. “You actually know what you’re doing.” A strange compliment and for the first time you really focus on his face, taking in what features you can. Beyond the goggles, he has black hair with bangs that have overgrown and rest almost on his nose while the rest of his hair hangs messily around his shoulders. Thin lips that are pressed into a frown, a strong jaw with a five o’clock shadow and pale skin. A little rugged, yes, but seemingly handsome if not for his eyes being covered.

You turn your attention back onto your task and say, “I’d hope so considering I’ve been doing this for years now.” Carefully, you press the needle through the skin and begin suturing him up. A twitch from the new pain and a low hiss but other than that, he’s perfectly still for you.

With a steady hand, you continue along the length of the wound until it closes neatly and nicely. After using a little pocket knife to cut away the remaining thread and gently testing the sutures, the wound seems fine for a patch job. Still, the amount of blood on his jumpsuit is worrisome and you debate with yourself on what to do. While you have done enough and he could probably limp his way home, there’s also the very real chance he might pass out until mid morning.

“Think you can make it back home or what?”

A huff and shrug, “I’ll live either way.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You swear he’s glaring at you but the eyewear makes it impossible to tell, “I’ll be fine.”

Grumbling at his non answers, you grab onto his wrist and ignore how he jumps before piercing him with your quirk. Only for it to stop working. You blink and glance at him, curious as a hand wraps back around your neck.

There’s tension back in his body and you can just make out the gleam of red underneath the goggles, his hair standing up, waving in an invisible wind, “what are you doing…?”

“Helping,” you swat at his hand but find his grip tightening and you sigh, elaborating, “I’ve got a healing quirk.”

“One that requires you to stab me with… what…?”

“My blood.” You see his frown deepen and hold up your arm, tapping at where your hand meets your wrist and explain, “I make a needle here out of my blood and transfer it into your system. A blood transfusion. Helps with wounds of all kinds.” He doesn’t let go and you bite back a groan, opting to sigh and say, “look, you’re not in the best of shape. A bit of my blood should perk you up enough to walk out of here rather than limp.”

Again, he says nothing though slowly, his hand relaxes and returns to his side as his hair falls around his shoulders. You take the chance to try again and pierce his wrist with your blood, the whites of your eyes turning black with burning irises. You rest your fingers on his forearm and get comfortable, knowing it’ll be a minor wait. It’s awkward to say the least, most of your patients tend to make light conversation or politely ignore you but you can feel him staring.

Frowning, a little unsettled and not keen on being examined so carefully, you ask, “what’s your name?”

“I’m not at liberty to give that to just anyone.”

Annoyed, your eyes flicker up to his damn goggles, glaring into them and reply, “then give me something I can address you by at least.”

“Fine. Eraser Head.”

You blink, eyes drifting along his strange outfit and it finally clicks. He’s a hero. That realization explains so many things that you can’t help but laugh a little. His dark outfit, his goggles and scarf, even his wariness, all point to him being a pro. “Ah. No wonder why you’re not keen on being helped.” It’s hardly offensive and you don’t take it personally, not in this place.

“It’s a rarity around these parts. Unless you’re still expecting money,” there’s a bitterness to his tone but you shrug it off easily.

With a wave of your free hand, you say, “not me. I’m just someone who does this for a living.”

“You work at a hospital then?” It’s an honest question that you don’t know what to do with. Because the simple answer is that no, you don’t.

You work inside of your home in the most illegal clinic that’s probably ever been known on this side of the city. Saying such things however will be a sure fire way of being punished in some capacity. Even if your heart is in the right place, you can imagine it won’t matter much to most heroes.

Not when so many of them prefer the spotlight and flashy lifestyle than actually helping people. Then again… as you eye Eraser closer, he seems completely opposite of most of the heroes you’ve had to deal with in the past. Not that there have been many, just a few snooping a bit too close to the townhouse but his outfit and entire demeanor is rather muted, simple.

Everything he’s wearing seems to have a purpose and nothing is in obnoxious colors, just black and grey, perfect for night time blending.

Realizing that you’ve been quiet for a little too long, you reply, “something like that.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am,” you agree easily and throw back, “I’m not at liberty to give that information to just anyone.”

His lips twitch, just a little, and you can’t tell if it’s to smile or frown before he asks something else, “fine. Do you have a name or is that too sensitive information as well?”

A quiet laugh leaves without your permission and you shake it off, pulling away from his wrist and pressing a small bandaid over the puncture mark left by your quirk. Not that the needle-like mark will last long, but you figure for his comfort it’s better for him to have a bandaid. You feel more tired, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids from giving blood without enough iron and recall the groceries still on the ground. Maybe you’ll have to wait until after you sleep to make french toast.

Zipping up the medical kit after tossing everything inside, you think about his request, consider the possible issues that may arise from offering your full name. Even if you have helped him, that doesn’t mean he won’t get curious and look into things. So, you finally offer, “Shinku.”

“You’re a member of that family…?” The previous wariness is back in full swing and you can see tension in his body.

“Unfortunately,” you say and know that’s your cue to leave, standing up and wandering to your groceries, “but that’s hardly important. You should be fine in ten or so minutes, I suggest resting up a bit more then you can head home.”

He’s silent and you don’t mind, expecting that after revealing what clan you’re related to. Instead you tug your bag over your shoulder and bending down to grab the groceries, focused on making sure you don’t fall over. You’re so focused that you almost miss his low voice, “don’t make this a habit, Shinku.”

You pause and glance over to him as he begins winding his scarf back around his neck and cock an eyebrow at him, “I have no plans on that. Unless you insist on showing back up around the neighborhood, hurt, then no promises.”

A scoff and he reaches up to lift up his goggles and… yes, your previous suspicions prove to be rather true. He is a rugged, handsome man with dark eyes that pierce through you, those eyes looking as tired as you feel, yes, but keen and intelligent nonetheless. “I have no plans to do so.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, a little amused at him echoing you. Shaking that off, you nod, straighten out and say, “get home safe, Eraser.”

“Same to you, Shinku.”

Your walk home is thankfully uneventful though your thoughts do linger a little on the pro hero, the first one you’ve ever had a decent conversation with. Mostly you worry that he won’t make it out of the neighborhood without getting jumped and decide to send Touya out in the morning to make sure his body isn’t there. Silly, yes, but you blame the exhaustion on minor blood loss and anemia and stumble into the townhouse with a yawn. The french toast will have to wait until morning and you scribble a barely legible note on the counter your plans after shoving the entire bag in the fridge before heading straight to bed.

The moment you flop onto your bed and grab one of the pillows, face buried against it, you pass out.

In the morning, you wake up to find french toast made and bickering siblings, neither a surprise and you sit at the table after a shower for some much needed food. Tomura grouches that you should have unpacked the grocery bag at least while sliding a plate of fluffy deliciousness in front of you. Touya offers a cup of coffee, eyebrow cocked to the side in question but you wave it off with a quiet, “don’t worry about it.” Himiko hugs you, a grin on her face as she grabs a bagel and runs out the door, calling that she’s heading to school.

It’s the normal chaos, what you’re used to and enjoy to some degree.

Still though, your mind lingers on what happened at one in the morning, it festers enough that you send Touya out for more iron tablets at the corner store and relax when he makes no mention of a body or seeing anything strange. In that moment, you decide to believe that Eraser must have made it home just fine and for some reason, that’s a large weight off your shoulders.

Honestly, you expect it to be a one off encounter, a moment of weakness, a happenstance that you met a pro that didn’t make your skin crawl.

But a few weeks later, you run into Eraser again.

Rather than him being hurt, he’s up and walking at four in the morning while you stand in the corner store. It’s the last place you want to be, a bed sounds far better, but after having to patch up the vigilante Nocturnal and wanted criminal Twice, you crave some type of pick-me-up. Though rare, it does happen when your door is nearly broken down by hurt and desperate people in the late hours of the night or early morning.

Nocturnal and Twice were caught up in the same mess against some of the Kuruokai, the branch of Yakuza members on the other side of the district. The details don’t really matter to you at the end of the day but you did mention it to Touya as a warning. Something he shrugged at as he got a bowl of cereal and reassured you he’d be just fine.

“Do you always stay up this late?”

Blinking, you snap yourself out of your thoughts and glance at the one talking to you, blearily looking up at the blank face of Eraser Head. With a shrug and a low sigh, you shake your head and admit, “not typically. I was just unlucky tonight. How was your patrol?”

He stands next to you, hands in his pockets and stares at the many snacks in front of you then replies, “boring.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” you offer, then crouch and blink a few times before picking out the candy and snacks that sound best. A few are more meant for the siblings to fight over but you make sure that at least two or three are your preferred types.

“No, I suppose not.” Comes the reply as he leans over to grab a few jelly pouches, specifically the coffee flavored ones.

You hum and stand back up, slowly, swaying a touch and feeling light headed but you shove that aside to comment, “you’re the first pro I’ve seen that does night patrols like this.”

His eyes are on you, keen and tracking your sluggish movements before he responds, “not many enjoy being in the Yuno district.”

It’s not a stab at you, not really, more a simple and flat statement. A true one and one that you nod in agreement but retort, “it’s not that bad depending on where you live.” It also helps that you tend to be off limits for attacks due to your nature but you keep that to yourself.

“Apparently if you’re so willing to walk these streets in your condition.”

Looking up at him, you frown and ask, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

He motions to you, “you’re barely standing.”

“I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all,” you explain and wave your hand with a sigh and turn, heading to grab some more iron tablets. To your surprise, Eraser follows you. He does stop at the beginning of the aisle to lean down and grab what look to be eye drops but you notice he still tracks you from the corner of his eye.

Though difficult, you do your best to ignore his gaze and grab a few bottles of iron tablets. It’s probably unhealthy for you to be taking as many as you have been as of late but… well, it’s something you’ll deal with later if the symptoms appear. Not that you’re thrilled with the idea of developing stomach ulcers or anything of that nature.

Adding it to your already heavy bundle, you turn and head towards the register with the hero trailing behind. The cashier is one you know, an occasional visitor who gives a smile and a, “rough night, Shinku?”

You grumble and nod, reaching for your wallet and sigh, “busy, unfortunately.”

“You really should send one of your brothers out here to do these late night runs for you.”

Shooting an unamused look, you reply in a flat tone, “I can deal with it. How much do I owe you?” Thankfully, the cashier doesn’t harp on the situation anymore and gives you the total and you quickly pay the amount.

You shuffle to the side and fiddle with your wallet, having to blink hard a few times to get your eyesight to focus on putting the debit card back in its proper place. Once you’ve managed that simple task, you grab the bag of snacks and turn towards the door.

“Wait,” pausing, you glance back at Eraser as he tucks the eyedrops and jelly pouches into a side bag on his jumpsuit, “I’ll walk you home.”

A strange thought and one you frown at, shaking your head and telling him, “I’ll be fine.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” He gives you a pointed look, moving to your side and motions for you to start walking, “you’re dead on your feet. I’d prefer not to hear later that you were robbed blind.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stare up at him, thinking then say, “you’re not going to let this go, are you?” He raises an eyebrow in return and says nothing. Something that has you sighing and debating, running a hand over your face before finally nodding. All you really want is your bed at this point and figure that if he just sees the outside of the townhouse, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

With that, you turn on your heel and head out, hearing him follow at a leisurely pace. It’s quiet, a little awkward but not unbearably so. Eraser is a shadow behind you, his presence solid and unyielding and… it’s not the worst thing in the world. Unlike other heroes you’ve had to deal with, he isn’t pushy or completely suspicious about you. Maybe a little but you can hardly blame him.

So lost in thought and tired, you miss his words until a hand comes onto your shoulder and he says, sharply, “Shinku.” That shakes you from your thoughts and you look at him, confused, a little dazed and motion for him to go on. He looks almost annoyed, lips pressed into a thin line before he asks, voice a deadpan, “how have you not been robbed yet if you’re this oblivious?”

“I haven’t been robbed in years,” you shoot back and sigh, admitting, “I’m just tired tonight. This morning. Whatever time it is. What did you say?”

“Why are you up this late?”

With a click of the tongue, you look forward again and say, “it wasn’t my intention. I had to help someone, well… two someones. Could say I got called into the clinic.”

“So you work for a clinic, not a hospital.”

Perhaps you’re playing with fire but you give a nod and say, “more or less.” Not a complete lie, merely a careful omission that the clinic is rather illegal.

There’s a pause then a dry, “you’re not very convincing.”

“Probably not,” you agree then throw a frown at him, “why does it matter so much anyway? I figured most of you heroes would be pleased that a Shinku is trying to help people.”

He tilts his head a little at that, eyes sharp as he takes in your face then replies, “don’t care for heroes, do you?”

That has you pausing and pondering, before you sigh and try to explain, “it’s not that. I just dislike the ones that only care about fame and fortune, the ones that look down on others for not being at their level.” You think and glance at him, telling him, “in fact, from what little I’ve seen, you’re my type of hero.”

He blinks, mild surprise crossing his face before it's blank again and he asks, “and what makes me ‘your type’ as you call it?”

“Simple, you aren’t loud or flashy. Your outfit makes sense, it’s for utility, blending into the night. Too many people like capes and bright colors to stand out.” For the briefest of seconds, his lips curl up into a ghost of a smile and you wonder how hard it would be to make him actually smile.

“Not many compliment underground heroes.”

“Not many know to,” you shoot back and push down a yawn, rubbing at your eye a bit to clear it. Blinking a few times, you meet his eyes and ask, “did your wound heal alright?”

He nods, one hand touching his side, “better than expected. I… appreciate the assistance.”

Waving a hand, you say, “think nothing of it. It’s my job around here.”

Silence comes back for the last five minutes of the walk but… you really don’t mind it. In fact, it’s a bit nice to have a calm, quiet shadow like Eraser. Once you come to the townhouse, you stop and look at him, motioning with your head this is your stop.

He examines it, curious, and says, “perhaps not everything is falling apart in this district.”

Scoffing, you reply, “there are a few nice spots… if you know where to find them. Thank you for walking with me, Eraser.”

He nods and turns to keep walking along the sidewalk to the next district though pauses, still for a few moments and says, “stop being so reckless. Eventually, you will get hurt.”

His words are well meaning even if they do make you bristle, just a little, but you tamper it down with a sigh and say, “I’ll try.” His eyes cut to you, seemingly knowing it’s a white lie but he doesn’t call you out at least. A thought crosses your mind as he starts to walk and you say, “hey, Eraser.” He looks at you, curious and you hesitate, unsure of the next words but decide they can’t do any harm, “if you ever need healing, just come by here. I’ll fix you up.”

Dark eyes take in your face then flicker to the townhouse, seemingly in thought until he points out, “seems a little illegal to run a clinic out of your house, Shinku.”

“Never said anything about it being a clinic,” you bite back with no heat, “merely offering a safe place to heal if you’re ever in a tight spot.”

His face is stoic, giving nothing away before he finally says, “I’ll keep it in mind at least. Good night, Shinku.”

Your lips quirk up into a tired smile and you say, “good night, Eraser. Get home safe.”

A wave of the hand is the reply and he continues on his leisurely walk, hands in his pockets. You watch until he disappears around the corner and let out a sigh, leaning heavily against the door before you shuffle inside. Tossing the snack bag onto the counter once your shoes are off, you wander to the first viable thing you can sleep on, the couch, and pass out.

By the time you wake up again, there’s a blanket over you, a pillow under your head, two cats sleeping on top of you and a large bento box with a note on the top. Blinking a few times, you reach out - careful not to disturb the felines - and grab the note that has three different handwritings.

Gonna be home late, have to finish a group project tonight so I’ll be at the library. Don’t worry about cooking for me. The bento box has your favorites in it. - Tomura

I’m at the movies with Ochaco! Shiggy is giving me a ride and Touya is picking me up, so don’t worry, sleep allllllll you want. I’ll bring home some bubbles for you! <3 Himi

I left a note on the door that you’re not taking any patients. Everyone can fuck off today. Stop pushing yourself, see you at dinner time. - Tou

A smile comes onto your face and you let the note slide from your hand and close your eyes, fingers threading through Felix’s thick fur. He purrs in return and you settle for having a nice, easy going day.

Chapter Text

“This is the third time in a week, Twice.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Aw, come on, don’t be that way Jin! Sis is just trying to look out for you,” Himiko reaches out and pats his head with a smile, “don’t be so grumpy.” You roll your eyes when that calms the criminal down who sulks on the futon but allows you to continue stitching up his leg. It’s not the worst wound in the world but it is certainly in a strange place, practically behind his knee.

Once the sutures are in place, you wrap up the injury and have to ask, “who did you piss off this time?”

He groans, nearly jumping off the futon if not for Himiko hugging him to keep him still as he exclaims, “it’s those same assholes as before!” The next few minutes he contradicts himself at times but manages to tell a surprisingly coherent story. Perhaps his more frequent visits around the townhouse has helped his mental state a bit, something you note and figure there’s no harm in offering him another night on the couch. Refocusing, you listen and frown as he talks about the Yakuza seemingly growing bolder around the district. His robbery of someone’s apartment didn’t go so well due to some members of the Kuruokai getting into a scuffle in the same building and picking a fight with him when he was leaving.

“Aw, so you didn’t even get to rob that person of their funko pops?” You throw Himiko a look as she pouts, far too saddened by the idea of Twice being thwarted in his quest of jewelry and silly collectables.

“No!” He whines and rubs the side of his face, hidden by his mask, “those bastards took all the goods.” He snaps his fingers and insists, “I should go beat them up!” Then quickly shakes his head, “no, that sounds too hard with a busted knee.”

Seeing your chance, you jump in and agree, “you’re right, it would be hard with a messed up leg. So do us both a favor and don’t.” You swear he’s pouting underneath the mask before standing up and patting his shoulder, “look, no petty crimes for a few days, alright? That wound is no joke and you’ve barely recovered from the last one you got.”

He is quick to point at his stomach where the last injury he got lays and insists, “but you fixed me all up, Ms. Shinku!” Then in the same breath, complains, “the scar itches, you’re terrible at your job!” Leading to a minor argument until Himiko places a hand on top of his head and rather aggressively pats him.

The blond gives a smile and reassures him, “now, now, scars will happen, Jin! Besides, you were a mess when you came in but look at you now, walking and arguing just like new. So give her a break, yeah?”

“You’re so right, Himi!” He jumps up, nearly swaying from putting weight on his still very wounded leg but sweeps up the young girl into a dramatic hug, “why should I listen to you?!” He demands though there’s hardly any heat behind it.

“Cause, you love me,” she says with a giggle.

Something you roll your eyes at while Jin enthusiastically nods while insisting he doesn’t.

Clapping your hands together, you get their attention and say, “I’ll let you sleep on the couch for the rest of the week. If, and I mean that, if, you help with some chores around the house and don’t eat all of Tomura’s snacks again.”

“Absolutely!” He agrees though adds an insistent, “not!” Which you choose to ignore and shoo them out of your office.

Himiko is quick to grab onto his hands and pull him towards the living room, insisting they watch one of her favorite fashion shows. Something that Jin whines about while eagerly agreeing with, more than happy to be a judge over who has the best and worst fashion designs.

Shutting the door, you settle at your desk with a sigh but find it hard to turn back to your laptop where the newest medical lecture is waiting to be watched. Twice’s comments about the Yakuza run through your head still and you can’t help but recall Eraser’s words as well. On one hand, the Kuruokai technically are nothing to be that concerned about, at least, not for your family.

A branch of the Yakuza that while a thorn for any hero around, are mostly content with being loan sharks, debt collectors, extorting businesses into paying for ‘protection’ and dabbling in smuggling. The rise of heroes over the past few years has crippled their abilities to do harsher or crueler crimes, leaving them hesitant to commit outright murder. Not the most heinous of the Yakuza by far but certainly not anything to completely ignore. However, it does make you wonder why they’ve been so active in your district recently when they usually keep to the outskirts.

With a frown, you jump onto the laptop and try pulling up the latest news articles about crime activity in the Yuno district. Nothing really jumps out to you beyond another headline about ‘Dabi’ and have to smile a little at how well Touya’s gotten his name around. Ignoring the urge to click on that is a little difficult but you manage and keep focus on your current research.

Nothing sticks out on the mainstream media and you find yourself on the forums and morally grey areas of the internet. The usual places that villains, questionable people and vigilantes tend to go to when networking and an area you know rather well. Still, there isn’t anything that hints at what’s going on with the Kuruokai beyond some griping and comments about their latest activity. The only thing that really catches your attention is that apparently they are having turf wars with another branch, one that you don’t know a lot about but have heard of.

Shie Hassaikai.

Another branch of the Yakuza with a boss that has the usual morals and supposed honor code that most members claim to follow. Yet… as you scan the forum you are in - most of it in code - there seems to be a bit of a coup happening. Hints that there’s a new boss in town, one that wishes for the notorious Yakuza to be brought back into glory. One that isn’t keen on a rival such as the Kuruokai trying to keep their usual turf which has resulted in ruffled feathers on both sides and move activity.

All very interesting, in theory, but not really pertaining to anything that you should worry about. Still… you can’t help but frown a little and make a note to ask Touya about either of the branches when he gets home. Just to make sure that he hasn’t gotten caught up in the crossfire or worse, is actively looking for that kind of fight.

A knock on catches your attention and you look up to find Tomura opening the door with a frown, a miffed look on his face. You tilt your head, a little concerned and ask, “hey, you okay?”

He stuffs his hands into his hoodie, shoulders hunching and asks, “busy?”

“Not at all,” you quickly exit the forum after signing out and make sure it’s completely shut down before spinning in your chair to face him, “what’s wrong?”

Without a word, he enters the room and closes the door then shuffles to the futon, sitting on it heavily and messes with his earring. Seeing his anxiety rise brings your own concern to the forefront but you shake it off and focus on him, pushing off the desk to roll in front of him. He doesn’t focus on you, eyes to the side but eventually, he speaks, “you went to college… right?”

“I did,” you agree and admit, “technically I have a degree in biology. Was planning on med school but well, you know how that went.” That does have the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, just a little, but then the same somber look is back. A look that you don’t particularly like and reach out to tap his knee, urging him to talk.

It takes a bit but he does and his voice is tight, “I’m struggling.”

“Okay. Is it a class, a teacher or in general?”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything and looks even more wound up, fingers clenched tight before the words start, stilted, then quickly grow in volume. Not yelling exactly, but it’s an explosion of frustration that takes you a little off guard but let him rant. A little bit of everything it seems. A teacher that insists on constant group projects though the semester has just begun, a class that focuses on teamwork for creating new computer codes and sequences plus just the overall feeling of frustration.

Frustrated at being constantly bothered in class by less tech savvy kids, frustrated from the pressures to join in on parties, frustrated with how most of his friends have either moved away or aren’t in college so they can’t relate. By the time he is done, he has leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder and growls out, “college is stupid.”

“It can be.”

“So many people want to just drink and party. I hate it.”

“Sounds a bit like my college experience right there. Not the partying part, but disliking how that’s what a lot of the kids wanted to do.”

He scoffs, just a little, and mutters, voice muffled against your shirt, “I can’t see you partying.”

“Well good news, you don’t ever have to,” you reassure him and thread your fingers gently through his hair.

A little chuckle then he sighs, shoulders slumping further and mumbles, “I don’t want to drop out.”

Humming, you offer, voice soft, “Tomura, it sounds like a bit of burnout to me.”

“The semester just started, sis. I can’t stop, my scholarships would be in jeopardy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying to do,” you pull away to meet his eyes and say, “but I think the burnout is from the socializing. Not the schoolwork.”

He stares, brow furrowed, considering your words then after a few beats of silence says, “maybe. But what can I do about it?” It’s hard to keep the smile off your face, a bit of warmth spreading through your chest at the fact he’s asking for help. Something that doesn’t happen very often.

Still, you consider the question then tug your fingers out of his silvery hair and put both hands on his shoulders, “how about this… take an hour for yourself, everyday, after class. No studying, no social games, just relax and hang out by yourself.”

“That sounds dumb… and a little lonely.”

“Maybe,” you admit then chuckle and point out, “you’ve never been a very big social person, Tomura. Remember how long it took you to talk to me?”

He’s quiet then, thinking, digesting the question before finally muttering, “but you didn’t care. You didn’t push.”

“I didn’t want you bolting out the door,” you reply and give a small smile, “well if you don’t want to be by yourself then hang out with me or Tou. How about that?”

He debates then nods, slowly, relaxing in your hands, red eyes not so conflicted as his hand stops fiddling with his earring and falls on his lap. “Just don’t tell Himiko.”

You laugh a bit but promise, “I won’t. I doubt she’ll even notice since she’s usually in school or out causing trouble when you get home.” Not that you think she would be that offended to begin with. Though overly excited and a ball of energy, she can be rather empathic if the situation calls for it.

That seems to ease him and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours with a sigh, eyes closed and says, “thanks, sis.”

“Anytime. You wanna relax in here for a bit?”

“Sure.”

It’s been a little while since running into Eraser and the last place you expect to find him is at a bar. A bar that you rarely go to, drinking not something you’re always keen on considering how alcohol thins the blood but in this case you feel that you’ve earned a drink.

A rough week to say the least, one of too many patients and not enough patience for it. More whispers of the Yakuza being on the move, even Touya bringing it up to you that he’s been in a few fights with them. Mostly with the Kuruokai that have grown more restless and apparently are under ‘new management’ to deal with the Shie Hassaikai’s new leader. Leading them to attempt to take over more of the Yuno district and Touya, or rather, Dabi answering in kind.

Though you’ve done your best to sway Touya from an all out turf war, he’s stubborn as ever and seemed almost insulted when you asked him to back down. Insisting that he wasn’t going to let some punks push into what is considered ‘Shinku’ territory. Not that you have ever tried claiming part of the neighborhood but everyone else around seems content with calling half of the Yuno district yours. It’s all very exhausting and a little stupid, but Touya would not and refused to be swayed one way or another.

You honestly suspect a lot of it comes from his protective nature and not taking kindly to anyone that dares to encroach or ruin the sanctuary that is the townhouse.

Leading you to a bar that sits outside of the district and one you used to go to on occasion during your college days. Lowkey and quiet, the perfect place for someone that wants a drink without being accosted or bothered. Perfect for what you need right now to help stop the overflowing thoughts in your head and the echoes of the bitter argument you and Touya had an hour or so ago. You’re just thankful that nobody else was home except for the poor cats who took cover elsewhere while you and Touya argued and fought.

Not a common thing at all, you can’t even remember the last time the two of you had an honest fight. Probably when you brought Tomura home six or so years ago. Only that one was most likely less charged and not quite as bitter. You also don’t recall that fight nearly making you cry. Letting out a sigh and taking a long drink from your glass, you rest your head against your knuckles. The alcohol burns on your tongue, a little foreign but not unpleasant.

“This is the last place I expected to see you, Shinku.”

Turning your head, you blink and stare at an almost stranger, head tilted as you take in the handsome face, tired eyes, and unkempt black hair. It takes a moment for it to click and your lips curl up into a frail smile, “I need a drink after the day I’ve had and the bars in Yuno are trash. Almost didn’t recognize you, Eraser.”

He stares for a moment longer then slowly settles next to you, muscles tense, back rigid before ordering a whiskey sour. The bartender is quick to make it and asks if you want another of your drink which you nod in agreement, knocking back the rest in the current glass and taking the new one.

Swirling the alcohol, you ask, “what brings you in?”

“A bad day,” he replies as his fingers curl around his glass, about to bring it to his lips when you stop him by softly clinking your glass against his.

He stares, confused as you say, “to bad days being in the past.”

A blink then he scoffs but you swear his lips tilt up in the faintest of smiles before echoing, “to bad days being in the past.” Both of you take a sip and you find yourself relaxing a little more in your seat. The alcohol helps to loosen the tension and mutes the stress and bitterness sitting in your chest.

Running a finger around the rim of your glass, you find yourself lost in thought again. Wondering how well another conversation with Touya will go, if he’ll be as fired up as ever or if the time apart has cooled his flames. A fifty-fifty shot and one you’re not keen on betting on. The main thing you dread is if Tomura and Himiko will attempt to join into the fight and just add fuel to an already volatile atmosphere. You have a feeling that Tomura will be more inclined to go along with your words but Himiko will most likely side with Touya due to her, at times, chaotic nature. Then again, both of them are incredibly protective of their home, just like their older brother and could easily agree that if the Yakuza is encroaching onto your side of the neighborhood, then they need to be dealt with.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to get so bothered.” Those words knock you right out of your thoughts and you blink then glance at the hero sitting next to you. He watches from the corner of his eye and you huff, sipping from your drink but keeping your attention on him.

Rather than waving him off, you’re a little too eager to have a distraction from your thoughts and reply, “and what made you think that?”

He shrugs and says, voice dry, “you stitched up an unconscious man in a bad neighborhood.”

“You’re hardly the only one.”

“I’m sure. Proving my point that you’re not one to succumb to stress or panic.”

His words have you rolling your eyes and biting back, just a bit, “perhaps when it comes to patients. It’s a bit different when family is involved.”

Eraser turns to face you properly now, leaning against the table with his head tilted to the side, “thought you said you weren’t involved with your family.” There’s a hard note in his voice, almost an accusation.

“I’m not,” you say, eyes narrowed, “family doesn’t always mean blood-related.”

He stops then, gaze unwavering and searching before he relaxes, just a bit, and even agrees, “true.”

You hesitate but the words build up on your tongue, perhaps from the alcohol or maybe from stress or just because Eraser doesn’t seem so bad, and say, “I had a fight with my adopted brother. That’s why it’s a bad day.”

“Wouldn’t know anything about it,” he admits and to your surprise, offers a bit of himself to you, “I have too many problem students this year.”

You blink, surprised, and ask, “you’re a teacher on top of being a pro hero? When do you sleep?”

He scoffs at that and sips from his whiskey sour, voice dry, “whenever I can.”

“Lots of naps, I’m guessing?” He nods and you hum, unable to keep the small smile off your face at the idea of a pro napping constantly. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he did it between classes by how nonchalant he seems to be. Shaking that off, you think then say, “kudos then, Eraser. I hated teaching my younger brothers school material, I can only imagine how rough it is for you.” You hold up your glass and tip it towards him before taking a long drink.

A roll of the eyes but his lips tilt a touch upwards before he finishes off his drink. “Try having a class of twenty with almost half being troublemakers.”

There’s a fondness in his voice, beyond the tiredness and the baritone, and you examine him, thinking then reply, “couldn’t imagine it. I have enough trouble with my patients who can be rather unruly themselves.” Twice instantly comes to mind but there are more than a few others that you picture.

“Seems we both have taxing jobs then.”

“Seems so,” you agree as the bartender comes back around. Rather than having another, you opt for water instead to make sure you can drive back to the townhouse. The bartender quickly fills a glass for you and you drink from it, feeling pleasantly loose from the liquor.

The conversation lulls between the two of you but it isn’t uncomfortable. Eraser turns forward again, another whiskey sour in his hand as his shoulders seem to lose their tension. It’s quiet between the two and… you find it’s actually kind of nice. No forced small talk, no pointless questions or awkward laughing, a very different bar experience and one you wouldn’t mind repeating.

He doesn’t push for anything else and neither do you, content with the silence and the solid presence next to you. It’s far different from what you’re accustomed to but find it a refreshing change in pace. While you love your siblings dearly, it’s sometimes exhausting to constantly be the older sister, the one to steer them in certain directions or hear about their tough days.

While you try to be there for your patients, it can be draining for you, dealing with their wounds, their often prickly personalities or personal woes. All the while you keep everything to yourself. Unable or rather… unwilling to speak up about certain frustrations because of the position you’ve put yourself in as a caretaker.

Finishing the rest of your water, you lay down the money to pay for your drinks and glance at Eraser, telling him, “perhaps I’ll see you around here more often.”

“Perhaps,” he repeats and glances at you, motioning his glass towards you, “get home safe, Shinku.”

“Same to you, Eraser.”

By the time you get back home, all you really want to do is take a shower and go to bed. Of course that isn’t meant to be when you get into the house and kick off your shoes with a yawn. Just as you step towards your bedroom, your eyes meet Touya who sits at the kitchen table, an empty bowl next to him.

You watch him, feeling more tired than before and say, voice soft, “I’m not interested in fighting anymore today, Tou.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, standing up and walking to you without his normal swagger. Before you can step back or say anything, his arms wrap around you, chin resting on your shoulder. You blink before letting out a shaky sigh and return the hug, body heavy and leaning against him. He accepts your weight without protest and says, voice raspy, hesitant and a little awkward, “neither am I. I… took it too far.”

Your lips quirk up into a bitter smile and nod in agreement, unwilling to admit just how deep his words cut you.

His throat clicks and he clears it then says, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I…” he trails off, seemingly lost before forcing himself to continue, tone tighter, clumsy but determined, “I’m sorry, sis.”

Maybe it’s the liquor or perhaps it’s from remembering the fight but your eyes well with tears and you grit your teeth. Pressing your forehead against his shoulder, you let out a shaky sigh, trying your damnedest to keep your voice steady and mumble, “I know.” It’s not easy to swallow down the emotion choking you but you manage, and force yourself to continue, a little shaky, “but I never ever want to hear you say I don’t care about this family again.”

He flinches and his arms tighten around you, fingers digging just a bit into your back as he nods and agrees, “I won’t.” You force yourself to pull away enough to meet his eyes that widen at the sight of your tears but you ignore them, grabbing the collar of his shirt and forcing him to lean down.

Pressing your forehead against his, you take in a trembling breath and whisper, “I love you and Tomura and Himiko more than you’ll ever know. And I want us to be safe, Touya. Fighting the Kuruokai threatens that.”

“And what if they come here? What if they-”

“Then we’ll deal with them then,” you cut him off and tighten your fingers around his collar, “but taking the fight to their doorstep does nothing for us. Only paints a target on our backs. If Dabi fights them because he gets jumped, fine. But I don’t want you to go after them. Especially not for my sake, Tou.”

He takes in your face, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fierce and conflicted before he gives a stiff nod and mumbles, “alright. But the moment they fuck with us is the moment it’s war.”

“I can live with that,” you agree even as dread fills your stomach should that day come to pass. Or really… any day where your family is forced out of the shadows and into the light.

Chapter Text

Somehow it becomes a bit of a routine.

Just like how you and Touya train every Saturday.

Just like how you continue to work with Tomura on his quirk control each night.

Just like how you give Himiko a bag of blood once a week.

You end up at the same lowkey bar, typically on a Friday night and find Eraser there. It’s not every time, there are some Fridays where he is absent and you simply order two drinks then head home. The nights you do end up running into him though are quiet, peaceful, the two of you sharing space without many words.

Your siblings are aware of your escapades and thankfully, you have only gotten a few teasing comments. Himiko naturally wants to know if your apparent friend is cute and if they are more than a friend. Tomura is hardly interested at all and content to leave you to your own devices. Touya teases that if the person turns out to be a jerk he’ll burn their car or apartment down. Something you made damn sure to swat him for.

Tonight is one such night as you sit in the bar chair with a little yawn and wave down the bartender who begins making your usual. With a soft ‘thanks’ you settle back with the glass in hand and take a sip. The burn is growing more familiar, still a little daunting but you can’t deny the release in drinking alcohol once in a while. Knowing that even if someone does knock on your door later on in the late night, there’s little you can do with alcohol thinned blood. Sure, you’ll still bandage them up and give them some painkillers but beyond that, your blood will stay in your system for once.

While sharing your quirk isn’t something you mind, it has become a bit overwhelming and a lot exhausting to constantly give to anyone and everyone. Especially with the Kuruokai being so damn active as of late.

Before your thoughts can spiral down that exhausting rabbit hole, a familiar presence sits next to you and a low voice says, “Shinku.”

“Eraser,” you reply in kind and glance at him with a small smile.

One he doesn’t return but does tip his head forward before asking for two whiskey sours. You raise an eyebrow at the way he knocks back the first one in a matter of seconds before pushing the glass to the side and grabbing the next one. At least he sips from it this time and you say nothing. Letting him relax first seems for the best so you turn your eyes onto the tv screen across the way, one that shows some kind of sports game you have little knowledge about.

Still, it’s easy to zone out a little and watch the players move about the field and take in the scores and teams. You decide what team you prefer based solely on their colors and name. After another goal has been made - your newfound team now in the lead - that is when Eraser comments, “you’ve been here a lot more.”

“I have,” you agree.

“Why?” Straight to the point as always.

After a bit of mulling, you admit, “it’s nice to get away from my house once in a while. To ignore the world for a little bit.”

“Home life that bad,” he comments, neither a question nor a statement but something in between.

You pause, thinking before shaking your head, tearing your gaze from the screen to meet his dark eyes and tell him, “hardly. Just complex. I have three younger siblings and a lot of patients that look for my guidance or help. It can be a bit much.”

He cocks his head and stares, brow a little furrowed and says, “sounds exhausting.”

“Can be,” you murmur, allowing a touch of vulnerability to show but only for a second, “but I wouldn’t change it.”

A hum then he is back to his drink and your eyes are on the tv screen again. Another few minutes go by of silence then he offers, “I come here after I’m done grading my student’s work for the week.”

“I hope you don’t patrol after this.”

He scoffs then and gives you an unamused look, “do I look that irresponsible?”

“No but I wouldn’t judge you if you did,” you retort, almost teasing, a smile tugging at your lips that is easy to hide behind your glass.

“How kind,” he grumbles, taking a large drink before continuing, “no. Friday nights are one of the few nights I have to myself.” A statement that resonates with you considering it’s about the same for yourself. There are few days and nights that are truly yours to enjoy on your own, not that you exactly mind but it is nice to simply have a window of time to exist as yourself.

Not worry about someone bleeding all over the floor. Not be drawn into another silly fight between Touya and Tomura or talk a pouty Himiko into not stabbing the jerk at school who insulted her hair. On Friday nights, you can simply be.

Lifting your drink, you clink it against Eraser's who watches, eyebrow raised and you say softly, “amen to that.”

He blinks then his lips twitch into the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen and he nods, drinking once you do. For the rest of the night, the two of you enjoy one another’s company and to your surprise, the team you decided to like on the tv ends up winning. A good omen perhaps.

A week or two later, you walk into the bar to find it more crowded than normal. Apparently the team you rooted for because of their name and colors is in some kind of championship game which has brought a bigger crowd than normal. Not your favorite thing but you spot Eraser towards the end of the bar with a vacant seat next to him and figure it shouldn’t be that difficult to deal with the eager fans.

Settling next to him, he gives you a sharp look though it quickly melts away into a more neutral one, his shoulder relaxing and you state, “someone seems happy to see me.”

He rolls his eyes, replying in a dry tone, “just glad it’s not one of these obnoxious sports fans. I’ve already had enough of them.”

“And yet you’re still here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were waiting for me.”

“Hardly,” he replies though there’s no heat to the word, “I’ve had to fight for my drink, I’m not leaving until I’ve finished it.”

With a chuckle, you rest against the bar counter and say, “I can imagine.”

It's louder than normal from the excitement and drunken fans and you find yourself focusing more on Eraser than normal. Examining his posture, his face a little, he notices and throws you a curious look, asking, “what?”

“Nothing. I’m not keen on watching the tv with people trying to jump in front of it so I’m watching something else.”

“And for whatever reason, I’m the subject.”

Your lips quirk up as the bartender practically drags herself to your corner of the bar, a tight smile on her face as she slides over your drink, ignoring the boos and whines from other patrons. With a nod of thanks, you glance at the hero and say, “some would consider it a compliment.” He scoffs a little and rolls his eyes but doesn’t actually complain about the extra attention. Merely shrugs it off and keeps his eyes forward.

Eventually, your gaze does drift off to some of the more unruly people around that are vibrating with excitement and cheering whenever their team scores. Other fans pout and moan whenever their team fumbles or fails in keeping their opponents at bay. Not your favorite atmosphere to deal with but it isn’t terrible, Eraser’s solid presence helps bring some type of stability to the charged air.

“How do you deal with someone who can’t control their quirk?” A random question that throws you off, snapping your attention back to Eraser though he seems disinterested in meeting your eyes. Instead, he keeps staring ahead, glass in hand.

You hum and consider the question then reply, “depends on the quirk. One of your students?”

He frowns and glances at you, a dull look in his eyes, “yes.” Yet he doesn’t offer any more information though you’re hardly surprised. Because the reality of it is that even if the two of you have a strange but respectful relationship at this point, there is still a tall wall. One that both of you work on keeping up, unwilling to offer any sensitive information that may cause trouble or harm to each other’s lives.

After all, a pro hero shouldn’t be around someone that conducts illegal practices. Just like an illegal doctor shouldn’t put themselves in the crosshairs of an underground hero.

Shaking those thoughts away, you ask, “is he a danger to himself or others?”

“Himself, mostly. I’ve never had a student go to the nurse’s office so often before.”

A frown forms, that not quite hitting close to home but… it’s difficult for you not to picture Tomura. Recalling the frustration, the way he often felt so defeated at not getting a hold of his quirk and how he nearly ended your life. Your fingers reach up to touch the scar on your collarbone, the skin raised and dark compared to the rest of your complexion even after all of these years.

You think, eyes on the counter and admit, “patience. A lot of it.” Turning to meet his curious look, you continue, “hard work as well. If he’s struggling with quirk control then he needs to work on using it everyday.”

“That’s the problem,” Eraser grumbles with tension in his shoulders, “using it at all hurts him.”

A strange thought and one you can’t help but frown at, a little confused considering a kid in Eraser’s class should be at least fourteen. Then again, Tomura was thirteen when he ended up in your care and unable to control his own quirk of Decay. But that doesn’t quite sit right with you considering how difficult of a school UA is, the kid had to have shown off his quirk to get in.

After all, Himiko’s best friend, Ochako, went through the gruelling process of fighting robots and using her gravity quirk. It’s the only way to get through the entrance exams from your understanding, a point system being used to determine who makes it in and who doesn’t. So the fact a student was accepted into the hero school means he must have shown some sort of promise.

Drumming your fingers on the bar, you consider what can be done - if anything - to help a kid with an apparent destructive quirk. Sure there are similarities with Tomura but you never have to worry about your brother killing himself with Decay, merely harming others. After a bit too long of listening to sports fan cheer or groan, you finally say, “then he needs to start small. Work his way up.”

Eraser raises an eyebrow at you and points out, “you make it sound simple.”

“Oh, it’s not,” you admit and sigh, “it’ll take a lot of time and determination but it is doable. One of my brothers has a dangerous quirk as well but I worked with him on it every day to help his control. Sounds like your student never had that at home.”

A bit of silence, his dark eyes taking in your face then suddenly a small nod and he responds with a simple, “thanks.”

“Why ask me?” You can’t help but question, a touch confused considering the amount of resources and quirk experts he must have access to considering he’s a teacher for a prestigious school like UA.

“Even if what you do is questionable, your medical knowledge is obvious. So, I asked.” He swirls his drink and continues, “I wasn’t expecting you to be someone knowledgeable on quirks, I’ll admit. I was just shooting in the dark.”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, voice dry, “so even if it was a waste of time to ask me, you figured why not.”

“Only rational of me to ask any and all sources at my disposal if it means helping one of my students.”

You shake your head, a bit bemused but hardly offended and say, “sounds exactly like you, Eraser.” You’ll give him some credit, at the very least the man is always earnest and overall bluntly honest in his explanations. “Well, I hope you can figure something out for the kid.” You stop, thinking and find yourself tempted to offer some suggestions when a body practically slumps against you. Tension races down your spine as an arm slings around your shoulder, a sports fan giving you a droopy grin.

“Hey… think I can buy you a drink, pretty lady?”

Wrinkling your nose at the smell of acidic alcohol on his breath, you shrug off his arm and reply cooly, “no, I’m good. Thanks.”

A blink, confusion flickering over his face before he laughs and accuses, “oh, playing hard to get! I get it but I’m being serious, lemme buy you one.”

“The answer is still no.”

There’s a frown on his face now, more of a pout in his inebriated state and he complains, “aw, come on! I’m only being-”

“She said no. She isn’t interested so move on.” The voice is Eraser’s, firm, cold, and a little shiver runs down your spine for an entirely different reason. He leans into your space, arm pressed gently against yours and glares at the guy who shrinks back, hands up in a half slurred apology. Within a few seconds, the fan leaves and slinks off to lick his wounds and you breathe a sigh of relief. A pleasant scent fills your senses, one of warmth and a subtle hint of cinnamon and you blink, a little surprised to find out Eraser has good taste in soap or cologne.

Swallowing and shoving down the blush trying to gather on your cheeks, you look at the pro hero to find he’s lingering close still. Your eyes trace his face, the way his bangs rest on his nose, the stubble on his chin and cheeks, his dark eyes that look oh so tired and find that yes, he is damned handsome for looking exhausted. You grit your teeth and offer a soft, “thanks.”

He clears his throat, seemingly shaken out of his own thoughts and nods, shifting back into his seat comfortably with a, “yeah.” Then he knocks back the rest of his drink and throws some money onto the counter, asking, “you ready to go?”

A touch surprised by the forwardness, you raise an eyebrow at him and comment, “what makes you think I am?”

“That’s your second drink. You only ever drink two.” Such a simple sentence yet it’s still a surprise at how observant he really is. Still, you nod and finish off your glass, standing up to grab money from your wallet but he is urging you out with a careful hand on your mid back, “already paid for. Let’s just get out of here.”

Frowning at the idea of him taking care of your bill, you shoot back, “pretty sure I didn’t ask you to pay for me.” Still, you follow his lead after seeing the pushy fan from before eyeing you from across the room.

“Then get my tab for next time.”

That has the corner of your mouth tilting up and you say, “alright, I will. It’s a deal.” He nods then the two of you are soon outside and suddenly it’s much quieter and the two of you share a relieved sigh. Glancing at him, you hesitate, a little unsure what to do because this is a first but find the words are flowing before you can think them through, “see you next Friday?”

He blinks then gives a tip of the head and a simple, “next Friday. Get home safe, Shinku.”

“Same to you, Eraser.” The routine of bidding one another goodnight feels nice, safe, and you head to your car feeling lighter than normal. You try to chalk it up to the alcohol and being away from such a rambunctious environment, pointedly ignoring the lingering smell of warm cinnamon on your sleeve.

The last thing you expect while trying to drive to the grocery store on a Monday is to nearly run over a teenager, swerving the car to the side with a curse. Touya tenses, his hands on the roof as he braces himself with the motion and you manage to come to an abrupt, uneasy stop. Quickly throwing the car into park, you hop out, jogging over to the teen that is trembling, bent over with sweat.

Before you can even ask if he’s alright, he’s upright, eyes filled with a panicked determination and his words are to the point, breathless, “I’m sorry for being so careless but I have to go.”

You reach out, grabbing onto his arm when he tries turning only to nearly tumble onto the asphalt. He’s shaking, adrenaline rushing through his blood and you say, “hold on a minute, you’re in shock. You need-”

“I can’t linger, my class is in danger!”

That has you blinking and staring, taking his attire for the first time which is a little ridiculous. A suit of armor of some sort, silver in color and incredibly bulky along with strange pipes out of the back and legs. A hero’s costume. You frown, going over the words he just said again and realize that he must be a student at UA, the only hero school around for miles. Yet… the school is in the other direction, nowhere close to where he is.

He’s trying to leave again, gently shaking you off and about to go into a sprinter’s position when his leg gives out and he is forced to kneel. Sweat drips off his brow, his lungs desperately trying to draw in breath and you crouch next to him.

“What’s happening, kid?”

He looks at you, eyes frantic behind his glasses and says, “there’s been an attack on my class! I… I have to go get the other teachers to fend off the villains.”

Glancing in the direction of where you think the main campus is… you find a frown on your face because it’s a good distance away. At least a thirty minute drive and this kid is trying to get there by running. It does seem he has a speed quirk of sorts - the only thing that probably stopped you from hitting him in the first place - but even with that, you imagine it’ll be nearly an hour to get to the school. And not just get to the school but relay the message, assemble other heroes and make the journey back.

A long window of time and plenty for injury or worse to occur.

“I appreciate your concern, ma’am but I have to leave, my teacher is counting on me!”

“Who is your teacher?” You ask, helping him stand back up and glancing towards the car where Touya has opened the door, leaning against it with a frown, “got any water in there, Tou?”

A nod and a bottle is promptly thrown your way, something you frown at but catch and give to the teen who clears his throat then quickly guzzles the water down. You wince a little, figuring he must be extremely hot underneath that suit even if it is officially autumn now. A stiff bow is given to you and he says, “Mr. Aizawa, the Erasure hero. Eraser Head.”

That makes you freeze, taking the bottle back and repeating slowly, “Eraser…?”

“Yes, a group of villains descended on our class when we arrived at the USJ facility for rescue training.” The teen takes a breath and gives you a look of gratitude, his shaking seemingly under control for the moment. “Thank you for the water, ma’am!”

Before any other questions can be asked, he takes off in a roar of engines and a hot rush of air. You watch as he sprints down the road, steadfast and on a mission.

“What was that all about, sis?” Touya calls to you, leaning heavily against the door as you wander back to him, mind racing with what you’ve just been told.

Eraser is a capable hero, this is a fact that nobody can deny yet… something tugs at you. The fact that a hero in training - if one can call someone who looked at most sixteen such a thing - had been sent out, on his own, to find help spells trouble.

Clearly no adult either could do the job or is available to do the job, leaving the task to the speediest student in the hopes that he could bring help before it’s too late. A bad feeling settles in your stomach, a sickening sensation and you get into the car, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Touya watches and rests back into his seat, eyes sharp and knowing, waiting, and you finally say, “seems that friend at the bar might be in trouble.”

“Didn’t realize they were a hero.”

“Didn’t see a reason to say he was,” you throw back and put the car into drive, spinning the wheel and ask, “know where the rescue building is for UA?”

“What, the USJ? Yeah, a buddy of mine pointed it out to me a while ago. That where we’re going?”

You nod and listen as he gives you directions towards the place, speeding along as a tension builds in your body. It takes only ten minutes to get to and when you do, all seems fine. A large white building that has a huge dome for a roof with obnoxious golden letters out front spelling ‘USJ’, yet nothing seems wrong.

Rather than trying to park in the lot, you opt to do so across the street in the nearest, most legal, looking parking spot you can. Hopping out, you pause and grab your medical bag from the back seat then close the door. Touya is close behind, practically vibrating with energy as the two of you jog towards the front door of the building.

“You do realize we’re playing heroes here, right?”

It’s a strange statement, one that nearly has you stopping but you shake it off and nod, admitting, “apparently so. Since when do you hesitate?”

He laughs and throws a grin at you, blue eyes burning, “oh I’m always itching for a good fight. But it’s you I’m worried about, sis. You don’t like being in the spotlight.” A true statement and one that almost makes you second guess yourself.

But then the panicked teenager’s words float through your head again, “Mr. Aizawa, the Erasure Hero. Eraser Head.” And the idea of simply assuming things will be okay is outrageous. If there is anything you have learned from your time of being around Eraser, it’s that he is one of the most rational people you have ever met. Almost painfully so with his words and actions.

If he sent one of his students, kids that he seems fiercely protective of even if he refuses to acknowledge it, on their own to find help, then clearly he needs aid. Something you can offer in the form of your skills and quirk. Plus, having Touya with you is an even bigger bonus.

“I don’t,” you finally agree as you two find the main doors shut, “but in this case, I’ll deal with it. Think you can make our own door?”

“Eh, I dunno about a door exactly but I’ll get us in.” He reaches out, blue flames fierce and bright before putting his hand on the metal. Instantly it heats up with a sizzling sound then within a few minutes, there’s a brief explosion of flames that melt a decent chunk of the door away. The metal pools onto the ground, red hot and bubbling that you ignore and step over.

Inside is an expansive room, huge and staggering in size. You falter at just how stupidly large the facility is but quickly shake it off at the sight of terrified teens turning towards you, some raising their fists, others cowering near a crumpled… spacesuit? You blink and frown, wondering why the fuck heroes insist on such strange themes before glancing at Touya as he saunters through the hole, hands clasped behind his head. “Ground rules. No mortal wounds and no fucking around. Got it?”

“Yup,” he replies and grins at the kids, “hey there kiddos. No need to be all freaked out.”

You sigh as the teens naturally don’t believe him and huddle closer towards the clearly unconscious hero in the space suit or go into a true fighting stance. Before you can say anything to defuse the situation, a shout of pain catches your attention and you quickly step forward, until you can peer down a staircase to a sight that has your blood running cold.

At the bottom of a near endless staircase is Eraser and a man that you recognize instantly. Eraser is in bad shape, you can see by the way he holds an arm, body defensively positioned and you grit your teeth. Curling your fingers into fists, you glance sharply at Touya who tilts his head and steps closer to you. He looks down and gains a frown, arms falling to his side and asks lowly, “what’s the plan, sis?”

“I know the one near Eraser,” you spit out and glance to the side, searching for a student that looks even somewhat responsible. One comes into view and you stare then say, “Ochako.”

She looks up, confused, then her face morphs into one of relief, tears pricking at her eyes, “big sis!” She is up and rushing over to you as the classmates around her trade looks but at least lower their guards. “We-”

Reaching out, you put a hand on her shoulder and cut her off with a soft, “no time to talk. I need a favor.” You carefully push the bag into her arms and she cradles it to her chest. “Keep that safe and if I call, bring it to me. All my medical supplies are in there.”

“O-Okay, but…” her eyes widen behind her pink helmet as you take the first step down the stairs, “wait, you’re not gonna fight are you?!”

“Kind of why I’m here.”

“But!” She grabs onto your wrist, face full of concern with panicked and scared brown eyes, “you have a healing quirk, you can’t fight!”

Your heart clenches, just a bit, at her words and you take in a breath then release it to ease the tightness in your body. Glancing at her with a calm look, you ask, “says who?” She stares, taken aback, and you repeat, “who said I couldn’t fight?”

“Well, nobody but….”

Gently you tug your wrist away and say, “I’ll be fine, Ochako. Trust me. Stay here and keep that bag safe, okay?”

Any other protests she has are caught off when Touya grabs onto the back of her strange suit and tugs her away, “we got this, kid. Just stay outta the way, alright? Wouldn’t want you to get burned.”

She frowns then forces herself to nod though pleads, “be careful, please.”

“Always,” you reply, then head down the steps.

It’s tiresome but you and Touya quickly go down the stairs, quietly talking to one another about a plan and come up with a simple one. He deals with the riff raff that seem to be C-classed villains while you handle the one still trying to square up with Eraser. From the hero’s posture alone, you can tell he’s exhausted and it looks like his left arm is broken by the way it’s limp by his side.

A few other students have entered the scene now, a boy with green hair, another in an odd purple suit and lastly a girl with a tongue poking out of her mouth. It appears that the three of them are attempting to help their teacher yet seem to be more of a detriment than helpful. Rather than focusing on just one villain, he’s forced to pay attention to everyone, hair waving in the air to show his quirk being activated to keep the kids safe from the villains closest to them. He tries to get closer, to put himself between the kids and everyone else but keeps being cut off. The kids seem to be trying to come up with some kind of plan, panicky in their motions and attempting to use their quirks but it isn’t enough to keep some of the more tenacious villains at bay.

Then Eraser is slammed into the ground and you can only watch in muted horror as a fist comes down on his head, over and over and over. Blood spills and pools underneath him, his only cry of pain is sharp and heart wrenching but silence follows afterwards.

Perhaps it’s the amount of blood or the knowledge that Eraser very likely has multiple skull fractures and may be bleeding out or just the fucking smirk on your cousin’s face but you fly down the remaining steps. Faster than you’ve moved in years, you follow through with instinct, mind cleared and launch your foot forward in a precise kick to his face.

Your kick lands and you can hear the faint sound of crunching and see blood gush all over his lips, down his chin but don’t think. Using the momentum to twist your body, you regain balance and jump back a little to put distance between the two of you. Furious eyes that are all too familiar meet yours, the man who is a few years older than yourself reels back with a fist against his broken nose. Lips pull into a snarl before he blinks then lets out a scoff as he really takes you in and says your name, venom in each syllable.

Giving a tight lipped smile, you offer a dry, “Ryuu.” With careful movements, you step around Eraser and keep your eyes on your cousin, unwilling to be distracted at this moment. It’s a little painful to assume that the fallen hero is alive but you can’t afford to let your guard down. Not with this monster you know a little too well.

Ryuu Shinku.

His father is an uncle of yours, making him an older cousin. You can’t help but recall how eager your uncle was to rub in your mother’s face that his son’s quirk was superior compared to your own. More powerful, more useful than yours. You remember the many training sessions the two of you were subjected to where you always ended up in tears on the floor and blood running down your face. Something that had your mother looking on in annoyance, grabbing the back of your shirt to force you up and insisting that you ‘try again’.

Shaking off those bitter memories, you refocus and feel a sudden burst of heat to the left. With a quick glance, a wall of blue flames swirls and hisses while there’s a sharp yelp from someone - an enemy? - before Touya’s voice calls out, “I’ve got the rest.”

A nod is all you can afford before Ryuu is there, his speed still as amazing as ever and it’s all you can do to lift your hands up and block his punch. Blood instantly runs down your wrists, wet and warm and he grins, green eyes gleaming with delight. Rather than pushing him off, you turn your body to the side and sidestep away to shake your hands out. All along his knuckles are a series of serrated spikes, made out of blood and hardened into the strength of steel. You huff, asking, “what, the brass knuckles aren’t good enough anymore?”

He laughs, holding up his hands in glee and retorts, “why settle for just breaking bones when I can break them and cut flesh with these? What, don’t like my upgrade?” His fingers ball up into fists again and you ready yourself.

Activating your quirk, scleras bleeding black as your irises glow, you reply, “I see your sadistic tendencies haven’t gotten any better.” It’s a gamble to fight this man, you know that but just like him, your own abilities have improved. And hopefully, will give you the edge you need.

Unlike when you heal people by pushing your blood into them, you focus your efforts on healing yourself and soon the faint stinging on your hands disappears. He whistles then his mouth turns upwards, a giddiness on his face that makes you sick as he says, “well, well, seems your healing is actually a bit useful nowadays huh? Guess that means you’ll last longer than most.”

He moves but you’re ready this time and dodge before backing up and stepping side to side in measured, careful steps, hunched over, arms loosely and ready. Ryuu scowls at you then lifts his hands up in an all too familiar boxing pose but you’re ready this time. With a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the pain and the blood to fly. Only this time, you’ll win unlike when you were a child.

Chapter Text

Pain is nothing new and you ignore the bruises on your knuckles and the gashes that run along your arms, eyes fixed on Ryuu. His cocky attitude is a little different now, lips pressed together in a thin line, green eyes narrowed while he favors his right leg. His other knee is swollen, clearly painful by the way he has to shift his body weight. From the looks of his face, he isn’t accustomed to being hurt, teeth gritted and the irony isn’t lost on you.

If not for the present situation, you might laugh but shove that away and keep moving, dancing from side to side in wait. He’s on the defensive now and seems wary of initiating so you do it for him, rushing forward.

The blood around his knuckles changes from serrated spikes to knives, half a foot long and you’re forced to retreat to avoid being stabbed. He presses on, large body clumsy but strong as he swipes at you, aiming for your chest or stomach but you cartwheel away and bring a heel down on his wrist. He grunts then swipes with his free hand which you’re not quite fast enough at dodging this time, ending in a gash along your calf.

Still, you drop to the ground and roll away before standing up, irises flashing as you try healing the leg wound rather than the others. Ryuu snarls at you, voice harsh and you swear there is a twinge of desperation in there, “you fucking cheat!”

Rolling your eyes, you begin swaying once more as a small, tight smile forms on your face, “a cheat? I remember you saying my quirk was useless.”

“It’s different now, you shouldn’t be healing this rapidly!”

You consider his words, flipping them through your head and find that he’s right. At one point in time, your quirk was only good at closing minor wounds like cuts and bruises expected out of a child. Now though, your blood is capable of healing burns, near mortal wounds and even broken bones if given enough time. Quite different and you find yourself shrugging, admitting, “I practice a lot with it.”

He growls and charges again, knives longer, bulker and you wait before diving to the ground and sweeping for his legs. It seems he expects it, stumbling away then bringing his arm down in a striking motion, one that catches your shoulder.

Hissing, you force yourself to curl up, feet firmly planted on his chest then drive him back with a forceful push just as his other arm tries to cut your throat. It’s a risky maneuver but somehow, you’re strong enough to pull it off and he’s off balance enough to stumble away, footing unsteady. Another opportunity and one you’re not going to let go, rolling into a crouch and launching yourself at him.

Ryuu lifts his hands up to fend you off but you’re faster and hit him square in the chest with your elbow, swinging your leg around behind his wounded knee to trip him up until he falls, landing with a hard thud. The air rushes out of his lungs, his green eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling and you pin his arms down using your knees.

After taking a few seconds to get some air into your lungs, you ask, “why are you attacking a bunch of kids?”

He glares, teeth stained with red, “are you kidding me? These aren’t kids, they’re fucking wannabe heroes. Trash that needs to be dealt with before they’re old enough to cause real harm.”

“So you and a bunch of thugs decided to raid this place?” Narrowing your eyes, you say, blunt and a lot fed up with this entire situation, “you’re not smart enough for that. So who is?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Curiosity,” you reply and run a hand through your hair to push it out of your face.

He blinks then actually laughs, throwing his head back and demands, “that’s it? You showed up here to fuck with Kuruokai because you had nothing better to do?! Oh you’ve seriously fucked up.”

Frowning at the mention of the Kuruokai, dread fills your chest and you question, “since when does a Shinku join a Yakuza branch?”

“Tch, seems that someone’s pretty damn outta the loop. Not that I’m surprised,” Ryuu gives you a sickening smile, one that makes your skin crawl, “you never were cut out to be a true Shinku. Too bad. That quirk of yours is actually useful now.” His strength surprises you, entire body shifting then pushing off the ground to the point you’re forced onto your feet and hop back a few steps.

He’s unsteady, swaying a little from his injured leg but keeps upright. A warm presence startles you into looking over your shoulder only to meet the lively eyes of Touya, his body tense, ready for more fighting. Behind him, the C-class villains have been forced into a fiery circle that is big enough to make sure they don’t die from the heat but small enough to force them to huddle together.

Before you can say anything, Touya shoves you to the side and you blink then freeze at the sight of Ryuu going after your brother, arm raised up with serrated knives along his knuckles. Your heart hammers in your chest before your irises go from their natural vivid color to matching your black scleras. Instincts that you have long buried rear up, demanding and impossible to ignore so you follow through with the motions.

Forming a needle of blood where you usually do transfusions, you make it longer, thicker, and recall the sensation of Touya’s flames from all those years ago when he gave you a scarred shoulder. The heat, the searing pain, the agony that lingered for an entire day. You remember it, just like your blood does, having had to heal such a devastating wound and then you move. Faster than Ryuu, faster than even Touya who lifts a hand up to defend himself and in one fluid motion you’re on Ryuu’s back and jabbing the needle into his neck.

The reaction is instantaneous.

Your cousin’s legs buckle and he is screaming, ear piercing, horrific and animalistic but you ignore that and focus on the task at hand. Turning your blood from a soothing healing balm into a torturous liquid of fire. It takes only a minute but by the time you stand up, Ryuu is writhing on the ground, fingers clawing at his neck and throat.

Touya stares at you, confused, and you grimace and look at him, noting the way he jolts a bit at the sight of your pure black eyes.

“Sis… what did you do…?”

You hesitate, frowning and stepping around Ryuu, admitting, “I used my quirk on him. The… awakened form of it, anyway.”

He blinks, so many questions on his face but there’s no time for it and you move past him towards the crumpled form of Eraser. Around him, the three kids from before are sitting by, faces pale and nervous from the sounds your cousin makes.

Something you pointedly ignore and say, your eyes returning to their usual state of bright irises and dark scleras, “let’s get him closer to the door. I can examine him better there.”

“How do we know you’re not a villain?!” The one in purple demands, voice shaking with a lisp.

You shrug and state, “you don’t. But pretty sure villains don’t bother with pleasantries like this. You kids gonna help or what?”

It’s a bit of a struggle but eventually, you end up back up the stairs with the kids, Touya and a terribly injured Eraser. He doesn’t even stir as you brace his head, a worrying sign and you try not to think too much about the fact this could be a horrible mistake. Moving someone with such injuries without some kind of stretcher is risky, especially if his spine is compromised but you don’t see any other options. Not when it’s possible that some of the Kuroukai can break out of their fiery prison or get a second wind.

So you have Touya and the green haired student - Midoriya - carry him up the ways while the girl - Asui - helps to keep his broken arm from waving about. The last student, one you don’t bother to learn the name of due to his obnoxious behavior, marches ahead in his strange pants that make it look like he’s in an oversized bowl… or perhaps a diaper? You really have no idea what he’s going for.

Blood thoroughly coats your hands by the time all of you reach the top and you have the two put Eraser on the ground before going to work. Touya doesn’t stay, returning to the edge of the stairs with his flames crackling around his fingers and you’re grateful for his foresight to play defense.

Midoriya lingers, panicky and asking if he can help any further which you have to shake your head at and shoo him off. Asui remains where she is, head bowed with eyes closed and you have a feeling that she might be feeling a bit guilty for her teacher’s current condition. A ridiculous notion but you can’t comfort her, not when said instructor is bleeding everywhere.

Instead, you ask her to stay as she is, gently holding his arm and she nods without a complaint. “Ochaco,” you call as your fingers run along Eraser’s face, feeling how bone moves underneath his right eye. Not good. You shake it off and spare a glance to the side when the young girl rushes over, bag in hand and opens it up. She’s shaking, clearly scared at the sight of her teacher so wounded but you have to brush that aside and instruct her, “should be a smaller pack inside. Grab that.”

She follows your directions as other kids, still hesitant with your presence, wander closer but you ignore them and keep your attention to the task at hand. Clumsy fingers find the item, unzipping it and you motion for her to put it next to you. Scanning the different vials is a bit difficult, your vision beginning to waver from the blood loss but you push that to the side. “You can fix him up… right…?” Her words are soft yet deafening in the silence that’s fallen over the class.

“That’s the plan,” you reply and let out a sigh of frustration as your sight is still too blurry to read the little words on the vials. “Are any of your classmates good at reading medical words?”

A confused and unsure expression crosses over her face but Ochaco's brow furrows in thought before snapping her fingers, “I bet Momo can!” She turns her head and calls out to a girl in a rather revealing outfit, “Momo, we need your help!”

Surprise crosses the apparent Momo’s face but she doesn’t hesitate to jog over, “yes, ma’am…?” Her voice isn’t confident at all, nerves clear from the way she rubs her hands together.

You stare for a moment then nod at the case of medical vials, “if I ask for something, can you find it?”

She drops onto her knees to take in the pack, delicate fingers tracing over the different medications before she nods, voice a little stronger, “yes.”

“Good. Here’s what I need,” you start off with a strong painkiller which she gives you after only a few seconds of looking along with a syringe. Fingers tremble as you push the needle through the vial's top and you grit your teeth together, trying to steady your hand. It’s slow going but as you name a few other medications, she grows more confident and even helps fill the syringes. You notice whenever you push the needle through Eraser’s skin, all three girls look elsewhere and try to do it quickly for their comfort.

Behind you there are mutters, confused tones and whispers but you ignore all of that, even when a question is flung in your direction. The adrenaline in your body is beginning to wear off and you can feel the beginnings of weakness in your limbs. Using your blood for healing unfortunately means less blood to circulate your system, meaning soon you’ll be feeling the effects of moderate to heavy blood loss. Still, you do what you can for Eraser, trying to make him comfortable and more importantly make sure he doesn’t bleed out before the ambulance shows up.

Once the medications you can think of have been used, you ask, “stupid question, but do any of you have a pen and paper? We need to write down everything I’ve given him.”

Without missing a beat, Momo gives a firm nod and says, “I can make them.” A strange statement but one you understand as her skin glows and suddenly a piece of paper is there along with a pen after a minute or so. She writes everything down in perfect cursive and you have to admit it is a little impressive.

Realizing her quirk of being able to make items, you press, “can you make a neck collar? Like one you see in the movies? Or a splint?”

She is a little surprised but an eagerness spreads across her face, most likely born out of yearning to help and she agrees as soon as she’s finished writing. It takes a few minutes but soon enough you have a collar around Eraser’s neck to keep his head still. You shift to crouch next to Asui, taking his arm from her and gently nudging her away. She gives you an uncertain look, eyes flickering to his bloodied limb and you say, “he’ll heal from this. Might have a few scars but he’ll be fine. Move over.” That seems to be enough for her and she shuffles to the side so you can really take in his arm. Just as you try to cut away his sleeve there’s a sudden jolt and his hand wraps around your neck, fingers tight, unyielding, cutting off your air.

There’s a collective shout from the students but you ignore that, eyes on Eraser’s that have managed to crack open, bloodshot, unseeing, clearly not entirely there. Seems that the medication is working better than you expected and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, giving a soft squeeze and manage to say weakly, “Eraser.”

A flicker of wonder and uncertainty crosses his bloodied face before he croaks out, “Shinku…?”

Nodding, you tug at his wrist until he finally lets go, fingers spasming and you lower his broken arm over your lap, offering a gentle, “hey.”

“What… how… are you here…?”

“Long story,” you retort, “stop moving. You’re in bad shape.”

“My students… protect my students….”

A wry smile forms on your face and you pat the back of his hand, “they’re fine.” Of course the first thing he asks about isn’t if he will make it or demanding to know what’s going on with the villains, it would be about his class. “Now seriously, stop moving. Relax, I’ve got you.” A slow blink but he listens to you, letting himself go limp and you go back to fixing up his arm. It’s only after cutting away the sleeve with a pair of scissors that you see where exactly the break is and wince a little at how bad it is. Compound fracture, blood oozing from the open site and you can hear the girls gagging a bit but you ignore it. Carefully putting the split on either side of the break, you tape it up as best you can so the bone will stop moving and causing more damage.

Now at a crossroads of sorts, a question brews in your mind over whether to give him blood or not. With the open wound on his arm and the skull fractures, it seems like a good idea but at the same time… you don’t want anything to heal incorrectly. Usually when you fix someone up with broken bones there’s a lot of careful resetting and use of a portable x-ray machine. Neither are luxuries here.

Not only that but… your vision blurs more from your quirk still being active and closing the wounds you’ve sustained. With a sigh, you figure it’ll be for the best not to heal Eraser. At least, not today and settle with traditional medicine for the time being. If he somehow ends up in the neighborhood or actively seeks you out, that’s when you will offer him blood. For the time being the medications and bandages will simply have to work until the ambulance arrives to take him to a hospital.

Grabbing the piece of paper with all of the medications on it, you squint and scan over the lovely cursive then look up and tell the three girls, “this needs to be given to the paramedics. Yell at them if you have to or block them until they listen but make sure this paper makes it into their hands.”

“You’re not staying?” Momo asks with an alarmed look.

“Can’t,” you reply and stand slowly, trying not to sway too much as your vision briefly goes black around the edges. A grimace crosses your face as you deactivate your quirk and take a look at the damage littering your arms. Though not nearly as deep as before, the gashes along your forearms throb and your knuckles sting, bruised and bloodied, not to mention your calf still aches. You sigh, knowing that with these wounds you’ll be down for at least two days, needing time to rest and heal.

Touya walks back towards you, phone in hand and says, “we gotta go.”

“Those caught in the fire will be fine for now?”

He shrugs, “pretty sure. The cavalry will be here any moment from the sounds of it.” He flashes the phone screen in your direction and the only thing you can really read is ‘Brat’ at the top, his nickname for Tomura.

Nodding, you say, “then I guess it’s time to go.” The kids around you protest but you shut them down as best you can by pointing out, “we’re not exactly heroes, kids. I just happened to nearly run over one of your classmates who pointed us in this direction.”

“Wait, you ran Iida over?!”

Rolling your eyes, you reiterate, “almost, children. He’s fine. Anyway, Eraser should be alright as he is for the time being.”

Too many questions are thrown your way, voices overlapping, some demanding, others scared, but one question keeps coming up.

What are the names of the heroes who saved them?

It’s something you’re unsure how to answer, uncomfortable with being in the spotlight and having a few too many starry eyed teens staring up at you. Before you can manage anything though, Touya slings an arm over your shoulders with one of his little smiles and answers, “call me Dabi. And that’s all you kids need to know. Good luck out there…” his eyes suddenly cut to a student with hair that is half white and half red, his smile tighter, more feral, “don’t get yourselves killed. Wouldn’t want to disappoint dear ole dad, huh?”

“Dabi…?” Midoriya mumbles to himself before he snaps his fingers, eyes alight with amazement, “wait, Dabi, as in the Blue Flame Vigilante?!”

It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at the way Touya preens from being recognized, a full smirk on his face as he rasps, “the one and only.”

Before he can say anything else, you push at him and say, “stay alive and I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention us too much.” Touya snickers but offers a lazy wave of the hand before he is ushering you away from the students and the front doors.

Confused but trusting, you grab your medical bag and follow his lead as he picks up the pace and the two of you go into a light jog as he texts on the phone. Further and further the two of you get from the front doors and just as you go to ask him where he’s going, a portion of the wall suddenly shudders then crumbles into nothing a few yards away from the two of you. On the other side is Tomura with an annoyed look as he slips his phone back into his pocket and slides his thumb back into his glove. Behind you is a rather loud and obnoxious, “I am here! Fear not, students!” That can only belong to All Might, the number one hero.

Wincing, you step through the hole with Touya right behind as Tomura leads you through some of the pretty shrubs and trees planted alongside the USJ building. You realize the reasoning for the strange exit once you look around. There’s a whole host of activity, ambulances, police cars, personal cars, all of which makes you a little ill. But Tomura doesn’t stop or waver, confident and light footed as he leads you to the sidewalk that is at least a little ways from the swarm of officials.

The three of you quickly get into his car that’s parked at the curb, Touya sprawled out in the back and you sink down in the front seat as Tomura shifts into drive. Sirens go off all around as he pulls off and manages to slip past the police setting up a barricade by taking a tight side street. It’s only when there is about ten minutes of distance between the car and the USJ that you let out a sigh of relief.

Letting your head fall against the headrest as you loosen your death grip on the medical bag, you mumble, “thanks Tomura.”

Red eyes glance in your direction, his lips pulled down into a frown, “why did you do that?” You can practically feel his gaze, concerned, confused, maybe a bit judgey, lingering on your bloodied arms and… you really don’t know how to respond.

“That bar friend of hers is apparently a teacher for UA. He got banged up back there.”

Tomura wrinkles his nose and looks back at the road, “seriously? A pro hero? At least tell me he’s a decent one.”

“Eh, he got his ass kicked but to be fair to him, it was a one versus twenty kind of situation.”

Huffing, you reply, “does it matter? What’s done is done. I helped him because I wanted to, that’s it.” Neither of your brothers seem very convinced by your words but thankfully, they don’t push.

Instead, Tomura moves onto a different subject with a simple, “we’re going to have to get your car later.”

“Yeah, I know. Good thing Tou and I didn’t actually make it to the grocery story before this mess happened.”

“Considering all that fighting, I say we get takeout tonight,” Touya declares.

An easy enough statement to agree with from you and Tomura.

Once you get home the first thing you do is tend to the fresh burns that Touya’s given himself. He frowns at you, pointing out your diminished blood supply but you wave him off with a simple, “I’m fine.” Thankfully his burns are barely second degree and you only need to give about half a pint of blood, figuring that he’ll be fine in a few hours.

Tomura frets, as he does, once he sees your still healing gashes and insists on wrapping them up. You don’t have the heart to deny him, knowing it’ll help settle his nerves so you let him clean them out with warm soapy water and bandage you up. His hands are gentle, fingers delicate and dainty in that way of his and you can’t help but smile tiredly at how he so meticulously works on each arm and your wounded leg.

Himiko is a hurricane when she returns home, tears in her eyes as she throws herself at Touya first, hugging his waist before running to find you on the couch. Her golden eyes scan your exhausted face then she is on you, arms curled tightly around your neck. “Ochaco told me what happened, are you two okay?!”

“Fine, Himi,” you offer back and run a hand down her back.

Her words run together, a bit mushy, tears at the corners of them as she talks about what she heard and how you and Touya went to her best friend’s aid. Something you really aren’t sure how to respond to and instead focus on hugging her, letting her ramble. She lets out a little sniffle and pulls away to meet your eyes then asks the dreaded question of, “why did you do that though? You’re not a hero, sis.”

You answer the same way you did for the boys, “I wanted to, that’s it.”

Of course, Tomura is the one to say, “apparently that bar friend of hers was there and hurt.”

“Seriously? Wait, sis, do you have a crush on someone…? Why didn’t you tell me?! Who is it? I bet they’re super cute!”

Letting out a groan and glaring at the silver haired young man, you shrug and tell Himiko, “it’s not a crush. We’re just friends, that’s it.” You make no attempt to comment on if Eraser is cute or not and sink further into the couch.

She pouts at you and stares with unsure eyes, leaning away to really take in your form and asks, voice softer, “are you sure you’re okay…? I’ve never seen you hurt before.”

You wave a hand and reassure her, “this is nothing. I’ve been through worse.” She tilts her head a little, a question clear in her gaze but you have no intentions on elaborating further.

Rather than pushing, she accepts your answer and instead says, “it sounds like this is a big deal. Ochaco mentioned that everyone is being interviewed by the police and they’re trying to figure out who you two are.”

“Did she give them our names?”

A shake of the head and she replies, “uh-nuh. But…” she frowns, worry flashing across her face, “what are we gonna do if it does get out? About who the two of you are, I mean.”

A valid question and one you really don’t know how to answer, much less what to do with. Already, you can hear some grumblings from your patients, not to mention strange stares and wondering why you made the choice to aid a hero. A lot of people around Yuno can be extremely loyal, yes, but they can be overly suspicious, questioning, sometimes even hostile towards actions or thoughts that don’t align with the norm of the district.

You helping a pro hero certainly isn’t normal. It’s not even done.

Yet… you still can’t bring yourself to truly care.

Something you admit by replying, “I’ll deal with whatever fallout happens. It was my choice to help Eraser so none of you need to get involved.”

“Bullshit,” Touya says, eyes heated as he insists, “I was there too and participated just as much. We’ll deal with it together.”

“Tou-”

“I’m already involved,” Tomura interrupts as he rounds the couch with a few mugs in his hands. His red eyes are hard as he stares into yours, passing out the cups, “technically, I aided and abetted two suspicious people from a crime scene. And I’d do it again.”

“But that’s-”

“And I know about it from a witness but won’t report it,” Himiko jumps in as she grabs a mug from Tomura. She gives a small smile and shrugs, “so I think we can say we’re all involved and that’s okay.”

You slump against the couch at the resistance you get from the three of them. Finally coinciding, you mutter, “alright. Alright. If the three of you are insisting, then… we’ll deal with whatever happens together. Happy?” Even though it’s not quite what you want… it does warm you to see how determined each of them are to protect you.

Each of them nod and settle onto the couch with you, Himiko curled up against your side, Tomura on your other, and Touya decides to sprawl out across all of your laps. You roll your eyes at his antics but have to smile a little and lean back against the couch, mug of hot chocolate in hand.

Rather than dwelling on the piling thoughts in your head, if Eraser would be okay, why Ryuu was there, what he meant by you being out of the loop, how the Kuruokai fit in… you focus on just enjoying this moment. The fallout and research can start tomorrow, after you’ve slept and had time to decompress.

Chapter Text

The fallout is… something.

The attack on the USJ building spreads like wildfire. On the news there are reporters discussing how terrible of an incident it is with two teachers hospitalized and no student injuries. Supposed ‘experts’ on security go over the possible weak points in the building yet nobody is quite able to figure out how the villains got in. There are talks of a quirk being used or perhaps an underground tunnel, survey teams of all types descend on the building to look for any possible entryways.

At the center of it all is you and Touya.

Touya is recognized instantly thanks to his scars and blue flames, many quickly realizing he’s the infamous Blue Flame Vigilante known as Dabi. Many talk show and radio hosts go back and forth about his origins, where he came from, his prowess as a hero, some arguing if he’s good for the community or a determent. It’s a true split down the middle, some demanding that he be certified as a pro hero while others insist he’s testing the system and proving its faults.

Then there’s the other question being asked amongst everyone that knows about the incident. Who is the woman that took on Ryuu Shinku? Not only fought him but ended up the winner and later rendered aid to the fallen Eraser Head? The amount of insane theories you hear or read are exhausting and at times a little outrageous.

Some say you’re not from Japan and just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Others confidently speculate you were once on the hero track but fell off it due to injury or some tragic reason but still want to do good.

A few even insist you’re the result of government experimentation due to your quirk’s duality, apparently a healing quirk that can also cause harm is unheard of.

The last one makes you roll your eyes but you do find it at least a little amusing that the more conspiracy theory types believe your quirk is from government tampering. When really, it simply is what it is due to a chaotic and traumatic awakening. One you’re not keen on thinking about, much less talking about.

Your siblings thankfully don’t talk too much about it, each of them going on about their lives as normal. The only major change is that Touya sticks almost exclusively around Yuno for the next week, not keen on being in a more public or ‘safe’ area and having a bunch of people recognizing him. Something you’re glad for just because you have a feeling the police would pick him up in a heartbeat. The last thing you need is for him to end up in a jail cell and have to deal with the court system to bail him out.

Himiko gives you little bits of information from Ochaco about how she and the rest of the class is doing since the attack. Thankfully the school is providing counselors for the students that are having a difficult time with what they saw during the incident.

Tomura decides to do a lot of the grocery shopping himself, insisting on lists from everyone in the house and dragging Himiko along rather than you or Touya. Something you frown at and try reminding him that you can still do the shopping at the corner store. Something he rolls his eyes at and retorts, “for twice the money if you go there for everything. It’s not a big deal, sis, I got it.”

Then… beyond the constant public inquiry and curiosity or your siblings' determination to carry on as normal are your patients. Each of them have a variety of reactions.

Some are confused about why you chose to go to the aid of a hero, not exactly angry but almost disappointed. Understanding your morally grey compass can be applied to anyone and everyone yet still unhappy your compass led you to do what you did.

Others feel outright betrayed. That you have turned your back on Yuno, that you will stop treating them, that you must want to be in the spotlight and wish to be acknowledged by those not living in the dark. Something you do listen to, quiet and tired, as they rant and complain until you put your foot down and tell them how it is. That you can’t change the fact you healed a pro hero nor the fact you would do it again for Eraser but it doesn’t mean you plan on changing your life.

You have every intention of aiding those that come to the townhouse in need of help and will keep quiet about their identities and everything else, as you always have. In a way, you have to fight to remind them of your policies and even of your loyalty to Yuno as a whole. Pointing out all the times you could have called the cops while doing delicate procedures or when someone was passed out from blood loss on the futon.

Thankfully those that are the most vocal do back off. While not completely pleased or happy with your words, they do at least hear them and settle down. A few even admit they were wrong to attack your character and even apologize for doing so. The others refuse to do that much and instead sulk in silence whenever they show up to your doorstep. Even with their childish antics, you still take them in and you make sure to roll your eyes at their stubborn behavior.

There are a few, more the vigilantes such as Nocturnal or the criminals that know you well such as Twice, that are indifferent towards the entire situation. Reassuring you that they really don’t care because at the end of the day… it’s who you are.

You share your quirk with those that are wounded and those you like.

And if you made the choice to heal a pro hero then that hero must not be so bad. Plus, as Twice put it, “it’s none of my damn business anyway.” And even agreed with himself with a harsh, “who cares what you do? I don’t.” A rather touching conversation and one that makes you feel infinitely better about so many things.

Due to being stuck in Yuno until the heat dies down, you try doing more research into the Kuruokai on the usual forum sites. There is a whole host of talk on there but none of it is actually helpful.

A lot of people are surprised by your prowess as a fighter, commenting on your fighting style, even posting a few short videos of you and Ryuu trading blows. Something you ignore, not needing a reminder of how the fight went when your dreams have been plagued by it. There are other talks, comments about the villains there, their names, where they came from and how they got caught up in the USJ incident.

It takes a few days after the incident to find anything that is actually useful and even then, it’s not much. Just a single post that makes a rather bold claim that the Kuruokai are hardly finished, that they haven’t even gotten started in their plans.

That the USJ attack is only the beginning.

Leading to a flurry of others to ask what the poster means, demanding for more information, some even volunteering to help. Yet the poster doesn’t give much else beyond a simple warning that it’s not only the heroes that should be wary of their moves, it’s also the Shie Hassaikai.

Something you don’t know how to take, frowning at the computer as you reread the rather bold statement. The idea that the Kuruokai are making enemies of not only fellow Yakuza branches like the Shie Hassaikai but the heroes at UA seems rather ambitious. And no amount of searching or coded asking gives you any answers over who the new management of the Kuruokai is.

It seems that everyone is in the dark about the new leaders in both gangs. Something you hate it hear and find it difficult not to worry, in some ways, about. Especially now that you have exposed yourself a bit to the public and possibly put a target on your back.

Another thing that worries you enough to keep you up late at night, on the computer, is Eraser. Though you try your best to remind yourself that he’s in a hospital and is going to survive his wounds… your mind wanders to his condition. How he’s doing, how bad are the fractures in his skull, has it affected anything such as his quirk or worse, his brain? Are you even going to find out if things take a turn for the worse or will you simply have to sit around and wait for the news?

All questions that you have no answers to.

Which leads to you sitting up way too late at night, poking around the internet for answers that simply are not there.

It’s Tomura who catches on first, noticing your exhaustion in the mornings and he goes out of his way to force you into bed. Naturally, once Touya and Himiko see their brother doing it, they begin to as well. Forcing you to shut off the computer to go to bed or at least to watch movies with them on the couch. None of them dare to comment when you end up falling asleep halfway through and you don’t comment on the fact you often wake up with pillows and blankets that weren’t there before.

Even the cats notice. Felix and Dumpling sitting in your doorway, giving little unhappy mews and cries until you drag yourself away from the laptop to see what they want. Of course Dumpling rushes up to either Himiko’s or Touya’s room the moment you stop, those two beds being where she prefers to sleep. Meanwhile Felix leads you into your own room and jumps onto the bed with pissy green eyes. It’s easier to just flop on the bed than argue with a cat and you try not to smile when he curls up in your arms the moment you’re comfortable.

Still, you can admit that just maybe you’re obsessing a little too much and have been homebound for far too long. Long enough that it just might be getting to you. So you figure after a week of being cooped up in the house with nothing but your siblings, cats and patients for company, going for a walk might do you some good. At least to get out of the house for a little while and be by yourself.

The last person you expect at eleven at night is Eraser though.

You step out of the townhouse, closing the door and locking it before facing the street and pause at the sight of him sitting on the stoop stairs. Surprised and a little startled at the sight of him, you tilt your head and ask, a little tentative, “Eraser…?”

He stands up and turns so you can see him better, giving you a chance to look him over. Examining his form with careful eyes, you have to admit for it only being a week since the incident he doesn't look so bad. The right side of his head is bandaged, his right eye the only thing visible along with his mouth and one of his arms is in a sling but beyond that, he seems okay.

It’s a relief and your heart skips a few beats at the fact that he’s walking, standing, looking at you with a somewhat annoyed look. At least he’s okay.

“Looking for more healing?”

He shakes his head and replies, “you’ve done enough for me.”

A fair enough statement but… “why are you here then?” Not that you can complain with the sight of him talking to you rather than bleeding out on a concrete floor. Though it does make you wonder why in the world he would risk his safety to walk to your side of town in a not so great condition.

“I wanted to talk.” Blunt as ever and you hum, stepping down the few stairs and motion for him to follow.

“Alright. Then we’ll talk.”

He doesn’t ask or comment on not being invited into the townhouse, falling into step next to you and it’s a little awkward. Different than normal, charged in a way that you can’t put your finger on. Rather than trying for useless small talk though, it’s easier to keep your eyes forward and focus on walking. Eraser doesn’t say anything either and seems content to wait to discuss whatever it is that’s brought him to your neighborhood.

After fifteen minutes or so, the dilapidated park sits before you, not a soul in sight and you head to a bench. He waits a moment to sit next to you but does so, slowly, and examines the rather sad playground nearby.

Seconds or perhaps minutes go by until you finally ask, “how are you holding up?”

“Fine, all things considered,” he shrugs and glances at you with tired eyes, “a few skull fractures, a broken arm and a concussion.”

Sighing, you admit, “I figured as much.” You take in his face and hold out a hand, offering one more time, “sure you don’t want an extra boost?”

At first he doesn’t do anything, eyes on yours until, finally, his hand moves and rests against yours. Without a word, you flip his arm over and cover his wrist with yours, irises glowing and scleras turning black. It’s easy enough to pierce his skin to begin a transfusion and he doesn’t even flinch, still and quiet as you begin feeding blood into him.

“The police are looking for you.”

Quite the opening statement from him, one that has you raising an eyebrow and replying, “that’s not a surprise. I’ve heard as much. You haven’t told them about me?”

“No,” he answers without hesitation and even elaborates a bit with, “there’s no reason to.”

“A bold thing to say considering you’re a pro, Eraser,” a bit of warmth sparks in your chest, relieved that he doesn’t seem interested in sharing your name.

He frowns and shrugs a shoulder, “there’s not much good that will come out of you being questioned by the police. Other than them being overly curious about what you do for a living and your quirk.”

“Some would argue I should be monitored by the authorities,” you counter, knowing full well many would want to keep an eye on your activities. And more specifically, who your patients are and how often they visit.

“I would say it’s pointless. You’re not going to stop doing what you’re doing.”

You pause, thinking over his words before daring to ask, “should I?”

He blinks, brow furrowing and you stare right back, waiting for a response. One that comes in a simple, “I don’t know.”

“Honest as ever,” you chuckle and look ahead, thinking then murmur, “and I appreciate it.”

“Even if my answer isn’t really an answer?” He inquires, a bit weariness in his voice.

You wave your free hand and say, “why would it be so black and white? What I’m doing can be looked at as good or bad. Good that I’m healing people, bad that I’m helping people who tend to do crimes. It all depends on how you want to look at it.”

He goes quiet and you don’t mind, letting the silence settle and turn your attention onto the sky. The moon is half full, shining down with only a few clouds drifting about. A peaceful night and one you find to be soothing considering the past week’s troubles and heavy questions.

His voice is so low, you almost miss his next words, “most would say it shouldn’t be a hard choice. That villains are villains.”

“Perhaps… but are they really villains or just people doing what they can to survive?” You look at him and say, “hero society tends to leave the most vulnerable in the dark.”

His tired eyes narrow at you, unreadable, as he replies, “those in the dark tend to not ask for help.”

“True,” you admit and give a small smile, “but we’ve learned not to. And… sometimes the light hurts more than it helps.”

Eraser doesn’t give anything away, face blank though you can see that he’s thinking about your words. At least he’s considering them, in some manner, and that’s enough for you.

It takes a few minutes until he speaks again, “it’s bold of you to do this in the open, Shinku.” His eyes flicker down to where your wrists are connected.

“This is considered my territory. I can do what I want, Eraser.”

He actually chuckles a bit at that and says, “I can’t tell if that’s confidence or arrogance.”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back with no heat, “it is what it is. I didn’t decide on that, the people around Yuno did. I’m just taking advantage of it for once.” Glancing down at his wrist, you think then confess, “just know this won’t help with any scarring. We’d need multiple sessions for that.”

He scoffs and states, “I’m a hero. Scars are part of the job.” Somehow you manage to keep your smile from growing and stop the transfusion once you feel he has enough blood. Lifting your wrist away, you swipe the blood trickling from the small puncture mark and press your thumb against his skin. A few seconds is all it takes for the bleeding to stop, clotting into a tiny scab. He watches, curious and holds his arm up to examine where the transfusion took place while you clean your thumb with the hem of your shirt.

“There’s some heroes that would disagree with you, I think,” you murmur. Some of the heroes constantly on the magazine covers come to mind with their perfect looking skin and amazingly styled hair. There’s little doubt in your mind that if any of them gained a scar, they would be furious and upset.

“I’m not them now am I?”

“No,” you agree in an instant and meet his gaze again, “if you were, we wouldn’t be talking.”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of something on his face, a bit of amusement you think before he asks, sudden and off topic, “what do you know of the Kuruokai?”

Raising an eyebrow but humoring him, you reply, “they’re a bunch of troublemakers that are fighting with another Yakuza branch. Been causing all kinds of issues on the other side of Yuno.” Though it’s risky to share information with someone like Eraser, you don’t see the harm in it. Not on this topic at least. After all, there’s not many in Yuno that actually care for the Kuruokai. Most find their meddling frustrating and their strong arming disrespectful or even insulting.

“And your family being involved…?”

You wince and sigh, leaning back against the bench and staring up at the sky. It’s the question you have tried researching the most. Inquiring on questionable forms online, with your more criminal patients, even asking Touya and Nocturnal… and you still don’t have an answer. Most are aware of the Shinku reputation - beyond yours - yet nobody can offer any real information on their whereabouts and connections with the Kuruokai.

Hell, quite a few didn’t even know who Ryuu Shinku was until he became a popular talking point on the news.

“I don’t know. Ryuu told me I’m out of the loop. He implied I’ve made an enemy out of the Kuruokai.”

He watches with a frown and asks, “your family tends to stick to their own, don’t they? I find it strange they’d suddenly align themselves with a Yakuza branch.”

“I’ve had a similar thought,” you confess before reminding him, “but I’ve been out of touch with them, I left as soon as I was able to and that was about ten years ago at this point. A lot can change.”

“True. So the question remains, is Ryuu Shinku the only Shinku in the Kuruokai or are there more.” Though it is a valid inquiry, his tone suggests it’s a statement rather than an honest question and you feel a bit of relief that he doesn’t press. That he may in fact actually believe you.

Leading you to offer him at least some type of warning, “if there are… then Ryuu is the least of our worries. His quirk isn’t so strong when compared to what some others can do.”

“Not a surprise to hear… I’ve read the files on those already in Tartarus.”

You have to give a bitter smile and agree, “I know of at least one that could put a few of those imprisoned to shame. She’s capable of controlling people with her blood.”

A disturbed look crosses his face and his eyes scan your face, sharp and piercing, voice low as he inquires, “do you think she’s part of the Kuruokai?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You frown, rubbing at your arm, uncomfortable with the topic but determined to continue, “she believes that blood is thicker than water and keeping family close. But depending on who all is in jail, dead or missing, I can see her fanning out.”

“What’s her name?”

You hesitate, the words thick in your throat and impossible to get it. Nothing comes out of your mouth and you look away, chest tight as a few too many uncomfortable memories come to mind. For the briefest of moments, there’s the taste of blood in your mouth, metallic and bitter and you swallow hard to get rid of the memory.

“Shinku,” your last name is said quieter, softer, and a hand rests on your own. It’s a gentle touch but it’s enough to make you tense until you take in a deep breath and press into the cool skin of his palm. His fingers are loose, curling just lightly around your skin and it’s not quite hand holding but… it is something. What, you’re in no mood to figure out.

It takes a few moments and he starts to say something else when you interrupt after taking in a breath, “Rin Shinku.”

He looks at you, face unreadable and you stare right back, unwilling to give anything else. Thankfully, he seems to understand the boundary and doesn’t push. Instead he offers a soft, “got it. Thanks.”

Nodding, you clear your throat and force out a few words, “how are you students?” A clumsy attempt to change topics however he’s kind enough to overlook it.

“Fine, overall. I’ve been cleared to teach in the classroom again. Currently, I’m trying to get them ready for the sports festival.” He must see the confusion crossing over your face and explains, “students show off their quirks in specific competitions, hoping to gain favor amongst agencies by showcasing their abilities and prowess. A lot of heroes gain sidekicks and new interns this way.”

It clicks then and vaguely you do recall hearing of this event, in fact, you’re pretty sure Touya insisted on watching it the first year he moved in. “Seems like a lot of pressure.”

“Can be,” he admits, “but most students enjoy the opportunity to let loose. I see you’ve never watched it.”

“No, never been interested. Heroes tend to make me uncomfortable, so why watch a sports event that features nothing but heroes or students trying to become one?” Though you have no doubt it’s fun for the teens and that there is enjoyment to be had, it reminds you a little too much of how your house was growing up. Competitions and fights that went far beyond friendly or fun, often turning savage and bloody.

Eraser watches you with narrowed eyes though he doesn’t voice whatever it is he’s thinking, saying instead, “the students wanted me to thank you for them.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Doesn’t change their feelings.”

Waving your hand, you try to insist, “tell them it was no problem.”

“Fine. I will.” He stands up and motions back towards the townhouse, admitting, “I need to get a few hours of sleep before school. I’ll walk you home.”

Glancing at your phone to find it reads midnight and you nod before following his lead. It’s quiet on the way back to the townhouse but the previous tension is gone, a pleasant silence between you and Eraser. Neither of you break it, enjoying the cool night air.

It’s only when the townhouse is in sight does he speak again, “thank you for protecting my students. And… for coming to my aid.”

Raising an eyebrow, you examine his face and how he stares down at you with impassive dark eyes that give nothing away. Rather than teasing him, you offer a small smile and say, “yeah. Anytime, Eraser.” You turn, making it up two steps when he stops you with a single word.

“Aizawa.” Your breath catches and you turn back to face him, blinking and he stares right back, “call me Aizawa.”

For a moment, you don’t know how to react or what the implications are but your lips curl up into a soft smile as a warm feeling fills your chest. “Anytime then, Aizawa… get home safe.”

His posture relaxes and he nods and says, “stay out of trouble, Shinku. And try not to play hero again.”

“I’m not planning on it, at least, not anytime soon.”

“Yet you did it for me,” the words burst out of his mouth and even he seems a little surprised by them.

You stare, a little unsure about how to respond and sigh, folding your arms with a soft, “you’re different.”

“How?” He asks, confusion flickering across his features.

A simple question that isn’t so simple to answer, it being a complicated and difficult thing to try to put into words. Especially when there’s so many things that seem to set him apart from the other heroes that you dislike and distrust. Rather than stumbling over your words or trying to explain it, the words you offer are to the point, “you’re a hero I actually can stand. And… I like to think we’re somewhat friendly at this point. I don’t know about friends exactly, but, you’re something.”

“Something, huh…” he repeats then shakes his head and says, “just try to stay out of trouble.”

“I will so long as you and every other person I give a damn about stop getting into trouble.”

He rolls his eyes with a frown, giving a half hearted wave, “right… I doubt that. Goodnight, Shinku.”

“Goodnight Aizawa.”

You wait until he is out of sight before going back into the townhouse, locking the door behind you and resting against it. Letting your head thump softly onto the wood, you run a hand over your face with a shaky sigh and try to calm your fast heartbeat.

It’s a bit difficult, your thoughts rushing through your head that are impossible to slow down. Eraser is no longer a hero that you can admire from afar now, not when he’s given you something personal to call him by. And while it might not seem like much being able to call him by his last name rather than his hero one… the implications are too glaring to ignore.

He trusts you in some capacity, small as it may be.

And that makes your heart flutter a little too much in your chest.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the inquiries and public thirst for knowing more about Dabi and the mysterious woman that helped in the USJ incident dies down.

You’re relieved that they finally turn their attention elsewhere and no longer need to stay strictly in the Yuno district. Still, you do take some caution by going out during school and common work hours along with styling your hair a little different. Nothing crazy but just enough to keep people from having a spark of recognition.

Tomura tries to accompany you as well when he’s out of class, disliking the idea of you doing certain chores by yourself. It’s a little funny and any protests are met with deaf ears and eye rolls. Especially when you try to say that Touya can tag along. He gives you a dull look at that and points out that your last attempt to go with Touya ended in a mild disaster.

You even get to go back to the bar on Fridays and continue your usual routine with meeting Aizawa there. The usual atmosphere between the two of you takes a moment to go back to normal but within two visits, the tension is gone and the familiar comfortable, almost cozy, feeling is back. In fact, it’s during one of those moments that he says something strange.

“Would you be interested in seeing the sports festival?”

Cocking your head to the side, you look at him in bewilderment and reply, “where is this coming from?”

He takes a sip from his whiskey sour and comments, “you mentioned you’ve never seen it.”

“I haven’t,” you agree, then frown a touch, “and what about it?” It’s a bit hard to imagine yourself really enjoying anything with sports considering it’s not your thing. Something that you point out, “I’m not exactly a sports person.” The last sports related event you watched was in this bar and it hadn’t been by choice, merely a happenstance.

“There are sport events, yes, but it’s more about quirks. The sports part is merely a way of letting the kids show off.”

Raising an eyebrow, you say, “and you want me to go.”

“It’s just an offer.”

“I see…” you swirl your drink, thoughtful with a hum, asking, “maybe. Could I bring my family along?”

There’s a pause, just a small one, his eyes on you as he says, “your adopted siblings, I’m assuming.”

“Naturally.” You roll your eyes and grumble, “who else would I be talking about?”

He doesn’t respond to that question, sidestepping it by saying, “I think I could manage that. Perhaps even get you decent seats.”

A warm feeling settles in your stomach that is beyond the alcohol and you hum as you consider his words. You can admit that Himiko and Touya would probably be interested in the event, one for cheering on her best friend and the other because he’s a bit of a chaotic gremlin that loves fighting. Tomura on the other hand… you’re really not too sure. He has never been the most keen on quirks, let alone his own, so you can see him struggling with the event.

Still… you figure there’s no harm in asking each of them their opinions. Plus it would give you an excuse to get out of the house for something other than groceries and medical supplies.

“When do I need to let you know if I want the tickets or not?”

“Next Friday.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you if I’m interested or not by then.”

“Alright,” he echoes and takes another long sip of his whiskey sour. Something you mirror with your own drink as the silence settles over the two of you once again.

It turns out that your siblings are all for the idea of seeing the sports festival.

Himiko loves the idea of being able to physically cheer Ochaco on and even insists on making a ‘Team Uraraka’ shirt. A shirt that she takes a few days to make and the finished product has you wincing. Just a bit. It’s obnoxiously pink and horrifically cutesy, the letters of Ochaco’s last name floating up and down across the back and front in big bold print. “Get it? Cause she has a gravity quirk?” She asks, a cheshire grin on her face as she proudly presents the shirt to you, uncaring of how you cringe just a little.

Touya, of course, likes the idea of being able to see other quirks in action and measure up the heroes to be. In fact, he seems almost giddy with the idea of seeing his youngest brother in action. He admits that the boy you saw - briefly - with white and red hair is the sibling his father replaced him for. A concerning thought and when you try to tell him there’s no reason to go if it’ll be too painful or difficult for him, he laughs. Lips pulling up into a carefree grin and reassuring you, “na, I’m pissed at my old man instead of him nowadays. Besides, I wanna see what my little brother can do, if he could keep up with my fire one of these days.”

Tomura is a little indifferent but does comment that he doesn’t mind considering it’ll be an excuse for him to get some ideas for a class project. One of his projects is to create a fictitious trailer for either a video game or a movie and seeing the sports festival might help spark an idea of what he wants to do. You accept his answer but make sure to remind him to try to have at least a little fun and not just focus on class. Something he huffs at but does at least promise to. Even comments that he is looking forward to seeing what kind of games there might be for the public during lulls or intermissions.

So you tell Aizawa the next time you see him that your family likes the idea and he gives you a handful of tickets. An action that has you raising an eyebrow and having to ask, “and what if I had said no?”

“Then I would have thrown them away. It’s not like I bought these.”

A bit amused, you examine the papers and notice that each of them says in bold print, FAMILY SECTION. A little confused by the words, you glance at him and ask, “what does it mean by family section?” You know for a fact that many people show up for this event after some digging on the internet. Heroes, sidekicks, PR experts, reporters, but then there is the public of families, friends, even just random strangers looking for a fun time. So to be put into such a specific area is a little strange considering you have no connections with anyone to the festival. Well… other than Aizawa.

“It’s an area specifically for UA staff friends and family. A perk of working at UA, I suppose.”

You have to hide your face briefly behind your glass of water, unwilling to show him how your cheeks have flushed a little. After a drink or two, you dare to look at him and say, “is that right. I bet there were questions being asked why you needed four tickets.”

He sighs and admits, “there were. So don’t be surprised if some of my fellow teachers poke around to stare at you and your siblings.” A daunting statement that has you shifting in your seat, suddenly nervous with the idea of being scrutinized. And not by just random people but by heroes, the type of people you have done everything in your power to avoid and keep at arm's length.

It’s worrying, in a way, to be caught out in the open so soon after the USJ incident. The last thing you want is for someone that is a little too observant or has watched the surveillance tapes a thousand times to recognize you or Touya. The questions, the demands, you can hear them already and it makes you tired, slumping a bit more in your seat.

Aizawa notices, because of course he does, and he reaches out with careful fingers to pat your arm. “It’ll be fine, Shinku. I told them I owe someone a favor and the tickets were how I’d repay them.”

“Somehow I doubt that’ll keep some of your fellow teachers from poking around to see who all you brought.”

“True,” he agrees but points out, “however it’s none of their business. And I’ll remind them of that.” There’s an edge in his voice, one that takes you a little off guard from how protective he sounds.

It does help ease the nerves of going to the festival but nothing for the blush that burns on your face. A pleasant feeling settles in your stomach and you turn your arm to catch his fingers and hold them in the lightest of grips. He pauses, eyes on you but you ignore his gaze, taking another long drink of water. Rather than pulling away, his fingers loosely curl around your own.

Neither of you comment on the action, both content to ignore it and you say, “thanks for the tickets. Seems like we’ll get decent seats.”

“Yeah. I’ll be announcing the events this year with another teacher so I probably won’t get to see you much.”

“That’s alright,” you say and give a light squeeze of his hand, “I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

When you arrive at the sports festival, you kind of regret telling Aizawa that you’d be fine. It’s massive and obnoxious and way too many people, far worse than when you took everyone to the amusement park a few years back for Himiko’s birthday.

There’s booths everywhere, all kinds of t-shirts, mugs, backpacks, food, drink, anything you can think of is being sold. It’s overwhelming and Himiko practically vibrates from the chaos while Touya is completely at ease. It seems only Tomura and yourself struggle a little with so much going on, the silver haired twenty year old staying close to your side. He has his hood up but you can read the mild unease on his face, noting how his red eyes flicker about the crowd.

Nudging him, you reassure him, “it’ll be easier when we’re in the stadium, Tomura.”

He glances at you and shrugs, insisting, “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Rather than harp on the issue or drag it out, you try to herd everyone towards the entrance but of course get side tracked at every turn. Himiko insists on buying a few cutesy accessories while Touya drags his feet to take in the heroes, sizing them up.

You practically have to start pushing Touya and link your arm through Himiko’s to keep her from running off to another booth. Both of them pout but do listen. Kind of.

Of course that’s how you end up bumping, literally, into a hero when you try wrangling Himiko away from a booth that has a bunch of homemade cat toys and dog treats of all things.

Blinking up at the tall man, you wince once you realize that he’s a hero if his outfit is anything to go by. One that is a silver and white tunic of sorts with fur lining his shoulders, fitted pants and heavy leather boots, reminding you vaguely of a viking of sorts. He grins down at you, all teeth and asks, “you doing okay, miss?”

Giving a nod, you reply, “just fine. Sorry for the trouble.”

He chuckles then, a deep sound and examines your little group, eyes a shocking shade of light blue, almost white, before he offers, “I can escort you to the line if you’d like.” Something about his gaze unnerves you, intense, searching, a predator and you push down the shivers trying to race down your spine.

Shaking your head and forcing yourself to smile, even if it is tight, you say, “no, no need, I can manage but I do appreciate it.”

A small tilt of the head, those cold eyes scanning your little group before he chuckles again and says, “well alright then. Have fun.” And with that, the large man wanders off to bark at some of the more rowdy crowd.

You relax and let out a little sigh of relief, Himiko frowning and shuffling closer to you, apologizing and asking, “are you okay, sis?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. He just…” you trail off, really not sure how to put it into words. Only that being underneath that strange hero’s gaze set you on edge in a way you haven’t felt in some time.

Touya rests a hand on your back and says, “we got you.” He looks at the blonde teen, his usual playfulness gone as he states, “no more fucking around. Let’s get in line, alright?” Himiko doesn’t pout or protest, nodding and settles on your other side, her arm linking into yours in a show of silent support. A hand brushes against your shoulder, fingers lightly squeezing just above the scar on your collarbone and you pat the hand in thanks, knowing it’s Tomura.

Thankfully the quiet atmosphere melts away as you stand in line, your siblings' antics making it difficult to stay tense. Himiko quickly becomes a ball of energy and excitement at being able to watch her best friend and all the other cute students try to be heroes. Touya and Tomura arguing with one another about where certain students will place because of course both of them have already looked into their quirks.

You content yourself with observing those around, both heroes and civilians and find it a little strange how so many people try to get their attention. People practically cat calling a man that seems to be made out of wood, others swooning over the idea of seeing All Might, a couple of boys whispering how attractive Midnight is.

It’s all so very different from Yuno.

Night and day when compared to what you deal with on a daily basis.

It makes you appreciate the way your home works. The respect you get from those around Yuno doesn’t come in the form of cat calls or people wanting autographs, it’s by people looking out for you or listening to your opinion. Not mindless and obnoxious attention for good deeds and just being a decent person.

Yet so many around you are almost reverent in their reactions towards certain heroes. Viewing them as celebrities or gods rather than just normal people who happen to have gotten lucky and been born with a decent quirk. Who then trained that quirk into something that can be used for helping and aiding people, just like what a doctor or a firefighter would do.

Yet neither of those professions - or any for that matter - get the same brainless praise as the heroes do.

“Hey you found the line!” That booming voice takes you out of your musings and you look up to meet the hero from before who gives you another grin. It still sends little shivers throughout your body.

“We did,” you agree, staring up at him with a confused look, “is there a problem?”

“I realize I might have come off a bit harsh is all,” he says with a little laugh, scratching at his short black hair. “It’s just, uh, well, my name is Kenji Mochizuki and I know I can catch people off guard with my presence.”

His name means absolutely nothing to you, one you’re not aware of at all and after a quick glance amongst your siblings, they too don’t seem to know him. He must read the confusion of your little group, a look of surprise flitting over his face and he lets out a booming laugh. One that grabs the attention of other people in the line and quite a few of them instantly gasp and murmurs fill the air.

“Look, look, isn’t that Shatterfang?!”

“He’s even more muscular in person, I want to feel his arms!”

“Do you think he’ll sign my book?”

Annoyed with how many eyes are in your direction, you say, “sorry, I don’t really know many heroes that aren’t in the top ranks.” Not a lie but even then, you really only know All Might, Endeavor and Hawks, the rest are just a blur of names and colors.

He doesn’t really seem offended, giving you another smile that has too many teeth and replies, “no offense taken at all! I’m Shatterfang, the Wolf hero. I just recently made it to the top fifty.”

You try not to look too lost on what the hell that’s supposed to mean, assuming that must be at least somewhat impressive considering the ranking does count every hero in Japan. And hearing he’s apparently the ‘Wolf hero’ does shed some light on the feeling he’s been giving you this entire time. It helps you to relax a little, not feeling as tense with the knowledge his quirk is wolfish, quite literally, in some aspect or another. Most likely a transformation quirk, one that causes him to exhibit some odd behaviors even when in his normal state. You’ve read plenty about such quirks, how some users whose quirks are from an animal tend to act in certain manners or have preferences based on that animal.

Refocusing, you say, “congratulations on increasing your rank.”

He grins at you, nodding almost eagerly and gives an earnest, “thank you!” For a moment, he continues to stare a little too long at you, still smiling but there’s a strained look forming on his face. One you can’t place and raise an eyebrow at him, waiting to see what else he has to say.

It’s awkward with him just outside of the line that keeps moving and the many people around still hoping for the chance at an autograph. It must dawn on him because he blinks and runs a hand roughly though his hair, chuckling and says, “right, sorry. Here,” he grabs a piece of paper from his pocket and holds it up to you with trembling fingers. You stare at the folded up paper, confused but honestly a little tired of being the center of a hero’s attention.

Without reading it, you grab it and say, “it was nice meeting you.”

He nods, a bit jerky and his next words are a little stilted, odd, nervous in a way you can’t understand, “same here, miss. Uh, stay safe and try to enjoy your time at the festival.” And with that, he wanders off, stiff and quick and you’re left standing with a slip of paper and way too many jealous eyes.

“That was fucking weird,” Tomura mutters behind you.

A statement that Touya and Himiko nod in agreement at and you can only shrug and shove the paper into your pocket. There’s far too many people that seem ready to mug you for a damn autograph so you see no point in reading whatever he wrote. Touya even has the nerve to whisper in your ear, “what if he gave you his number?”

Wincing at the very idea, you give him a glare and hiss, “then you can burn it.”

He grins, eyes twinkling in delight and nods.

Thankfully, the rest of the wait is uneventful other than a few pouting fangirls that throw you dirty looks. But even that doesn’t last terribly long because soon enough your little group is escorted to a rather nice part of the arena. Towards the front and in a section that doesn’t seem as crowded as others. A few people give you curious looks but the seats you’ve been given are next to a divider wall that helps to block the sound of the screaming crowd beyond.

You make a note to thank Aizawa for being thoughtful, you highly doubt it’s just pure luck that your family is in the front and without many others around. You and Tomura sit closest to the wall, Himiko and Touya insisting on it, something that has you rolling your eyes but being a little grateful for their mindfulness.

Within a few minutes of being seated, an energetic announcer comes onto the tv large screens around the stadium and calls out, “Hey-ooo! Make some noise, all you rabid sports fans!” Something the crowd does with gusto, screaming and shouting their joy at the event finally starting. “Get those cameras prepped, you media hordes!” You can see cameras nearest to the field making their last adjustments. “This year we’re bringing you some of the hottest performances in UA’s festival history, guaranteed!” Somehow the crowd grows louder and you adjust in your seat, very much glad for the divider wall.

The announcer continues, his voice carrying a charisma and excitement that is infecting everyone around. Especially when he demands for everyone to cheer for the students making their way onto the field. Himiko jumps up and shouts, excited and flushed when she sees Ochaco. Who… you’re pretty sure actually sees her if the way she shyly waves in the direction of your section is anything to go by.

It’s a little surprising when he introduces every class, starting with the heroes course, then general studies, support next and lastly, business. Humming, you admit, “I didn’t realize UA had more than just heroes courses.”

Tomura hears you and leans over so you can actually hear him, his low voice never having a chance in the screaming crowd otherwise, “not everyone can be a hero, sis. Quite a few of those kids are probably going to end up being the number crunchers for agencies.”

Nodding, you say back to him, “true enough. I’ve never really thought about it.”

The next few minutes are a bit dull with a rather pretty woman by the name of Midnight taking center stage and you can practically hear the drooling in the crowd. Touya slumps in his seat, leaning back against a thankfully empty seat and groaning, “this is so boring, why can’t they just get on with it?” He earns a few glares from the others in the section but thankfully nobody actually says anything, far too enamored with the ‘R Rated hero’.

“They can’t exactly just have the kids start beating the hell out of each other, Tou,” you shout to him, a little amused how he and Tomura show hardly any regard for the provocatively dressed hero. Himiko comments on her hair and that she is rather cute but little else. After a bit of a dice roll, it comes out that the first challenge for the students will be an obstacle race. Something Touya groans even more about, sinking further into oblivion while you shake your head and Himiko tries cheering him up.

You watch as the kids rush to the doorway and blink when you hear the familiar baritone of Aizawa chiming in when the first announcer prompts him. Insisting that he gives some sort of commentary and asking what the crowd should pay attention to during the start of the race. Dull and to the point, it brings a small smile to your face when he says, “the doorway.”

The obstacle course is at least interesting, Touya even sits up once he sees his little brother in the lead for a good length of time. The one who ends up winning though, to your surprise, is the green haired student, Midoriya. A pleasant outcome considering he didn’t even use his quirk to do so, relying fully on cleverness, intellect and a bit of luck.

The next event is one you find a bit ridiculous yet the crowd loves it, screaming and cheering as the students who qualified move onto a strange calvary game of holding one of their teammates up. It’s a little silly watching the kids run around the field and trying to use their quirks but you can admit some of them have bits of genius there. Especially those that choose their teammates not on friendship but on skill, merit and good synergy.

Aizawa and the other presenter, Present Mic, make commentary about how the teams do and what to notice as the game advances. While quite a few teams end up being disqualified, in the end, those that make it to the last event are a good group. Or at the very least will be entertaining to watch for a tournament style event of fighting one another until one stands as the winner.

This is the event Touya’s clearly excited for, eager to watch while Himiko jumps up and down, shouting in delight when her best friend makes it to the final event. Tomura watches idly next to you while you take in the matchups on the screen. Some of them are certainly going to be interesting while others… well… you can’t imagine how well it’ll go for the student who has a tape quirk against Touya’s younger brother. His determination reminds you of Touya’s in a lot of ways, only colder, more detached.

With that though, there’s a call for an intermission and you gladly take it, needing to stand up and tell your siblings that you’ll be going for a minor walk to stretch out your legs. Himiko agrees and comments that she wants to grab some food which Tomura agrees with and promises to bring some back for yourself and possibly Touya. Who waves his hand lazily and slumps back into his seat, intent on staying where he is and relaxing until the next event starts.

Heading for the nearest entrance, you go into the hallway and stretch a bit, cracking your back when you hear a, “hey, hey, are you Eraser Head’s lady friend?!” A strange question that has you turning to find the loud presenter in front of you, his eyes glinting behind his tinted glasses.

A little unsure how to respond but wanting to be polite, you shrug and say, “I guess? He gave me and my family tickets if that’s what you mean.”

“I had no idea that he had such taste in the ladies!” He laughs and strides up to you, holding out a hand, “Present Mic! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh…?” You tilt your head and slowly take his hand to shake it, having to ask, “does he talk about me a lot?”

A chuckle and he shakes his head, admitting, “hardly, I had to pry that info outta him. I figured you were just shy.” It warms you a bit to know that he hasn’t shared too much about you to others, even when it’s clear that this man must be a decent friend.

While a little unsure how to go about this, you try not to come off as rude and say, “I’m not keen on the limelight.”

“Ah, it’s not for everyone,” he agrees with an easy going smile, “it can be a little much sometimes.” Raising an eyebrow as you take in his rather flashy costume of leather, studded shoulder pads and knee high boots. Something he realizes and laughs at, waving his hands as he confesses, “I personally love it. I like entertaining people, I’m a pro hero but I’m also a radio host.”

Blinking, you ask, “is that right? What station?”

For the next few minutes he tells you all about his show and what he does, not only putting on good music but also interviewing heroes and other interesting entertainers. It's not exactly your cup of tea but it is interesting to hear him talk about how he goes about interviews and who he likes to highlight. While he does get those that are flashy and up there in the ranks, he does also try to give a spotlight to the newer heroes that are just starting out. Something he admits is due to some of them being previous students of his that are a little timid around strangers and formal settings.

Hardly anything you would ever consider doing yourself, it is nice to see another perspective when it comes to a hero and their job.

“I thought you were going to get food and not hassle the public, Mic.”

“I would never!” The blond says, looking scandalized as he turns towards Aizawa who gives a minor glare as he walks towards the two of you. “I was just introducing myself to this wonderful lady because you haven’t yet!”

A long, suffering sigh is the first response and the second is a low, “Mic…” before dark eyes meet yours and he asks, “he hasn’t been asking any unneeded questions, has he?”

Shaking your head, you say, “nothing outlandish at all. Hello, Aizawa.”

“Shinku.”

“Wait, wait, your name is Shinku…?” There’s a tone in his excitable voice now, not quite accusing but more surprised or shocked.

Waving your hand, you say, “my last name is Shinku. And before you start saying anything, I haven’t been a part of that family for years now.”

“Huh…” is the only thing the man can say, still looking you up and down in a new light.

Aizawa sighs, again, and pushes at his friend’s shoulder, reminding him, “if you’re going to get food then get it now. We’re starting in ten minutes.”

“Shit, alright, alright, well, it was nice to meet you. I hope you might become a listener for my station!” And with that the blond is off, jogging away and you watch before turning your attention onto the tired looking man.

He meets your eyes and says, “just ignore him.”

“Easy to do now that he’s gone.”

A twitch of the lips is the response, not quite a smile but close, and he asks, “are you enjoying yourself?”

“For the most part,” you say and fold your arms in thought, “it’s interesting to see quirks in action. I don’t get to watch that very often, just see the aftermath.” Quite a different experience compared to having to put people back together again after dealing with a particularly devastating quirk.

He nods a little and you take a moment to admire his form in person rather than through a tv screen. The last time you saw him, he still had a few bandages around his head and his arm was in a cast. Now, there are no bandages on his face, showing a deep scar underneath his right eye but little else in terms of damage. His arm is in brace now as well.

“Mostly healed now?”

“Yeah,” he flexes his fingers and continues, “this brace is mostly a cautionary thing. I won’t need it by next week, hopefully.”

Without thinking, you reach up and touch the scar on his face, tracing it with a thoughtful look and say, “considering the damage that was done… it looks pretty good. Any lingering issues? Is your quirk acting like normal?”

“You’re not my doctor,” he reminds you without any heat and allows you to feel around his cheekbone. He even humors you by saying, “no. Surprisingly. There was concern that my quirk would be weaker but I haven’t seen any change. A few were surprised considering the damage to that side of my face.”

“Well if you do notice any changes, come find me. I might be able to heal the issue before it becomes permanent.” An unlikely scenario considering such complications should have made themselves known by now but you figure there’s no harm in leaving an open door. After all, problems can happen down the road when brain injuries are involved.

You swear he leans into your light touch and agrees with a simple, “fine.” It takes everything in you not to linger too much, letting your hand fall back to your side. This close, you can smell his cologne that has the notes of warm cinnamon and you resist the urge to lean into his space.

There’s a bit of tension between the two of you now, different, a little awkward and slightly charged. You’re not sure what to do with it and try to ignore it by saying, “thanks again for the tickets. My siblings have been enjoying themselves.”

“Good.” He opens his mouth when the excited voice of Present Mic booms over the stadium, calling for everyone to get back into their seats since the next event will be starting in a few minutes.

A sigh is shared between you and Aizawa though you shove that aside and nod, “right. Perhaps I’ll see you after some of the matches?”

“Perhaps,” he echoes and motions to where your section is, “enjoy the rest of the festival.”

“Will do.”

Of course the moment you get back into your seat with only a few seconds to spare, the three troublemakers are staring at you with knowing eyes. Himiko practically wiggles her eyebrows at you as she shoves a bag of food into your arms while Touya snickers and Tomura wrinkles his nose. It’s easier to ignore them and eat the burger and fries, pointedly not meeting their eyes as Midnight comes back onto a newly made fighting ring to talk about the next phase of the festival.

The matchups are on display and you frown a little at the sight of Ochaco going against the hot headed Katsuki Bakugo. His quirk is nothing to take lightly and you have a feeling that it may be a quick fight. Considering her ability is mostly environmental based and the fact her opponent can lowkey fly, it’s not a good match up for her. Still, Himiko tells you how excited she is to see her dearest friend in the finals and win or lose, in her eyes, Ochaco is a winner. A sweet and wholesome declaration that makes you smile.

The only match up that really holds your attention at the beginning is with Midoriya, his opponent being a student with a psychological quirk. Not a common type at all and one that you’re sure has caused the kid grief due to it being ‘villainous’. Controlling people is never looked at kindly, not really, even if the person with the quirk has a noble mindset. Not that you have ever experienced a kind hearted person with such an ability.

Still, you hope the student will be able to utilize all of UA’s resources and form an image that shows his good intentions and yearning to help rather than harm.

The rest of the fights are a bit dull for you, not because the competitors are doing poorly but merely it ends up being over in a matter of seconds to a few minutes. Touya’s little brother utterly decimates not just the ring but his poor opponent by releasing a huge wall of ice. Touya whistles and says, “kid’s got a lotta ice. I bet it pisses Endeavor off that he won’t use his fire.”

Another match up ends in a draw between two that can harden their skin to the likeness of steel and rock. One student with an electricity quirk ends up being thrown off by a girl with vines for hair. The kid you almost ran over, Tenya, is forced to deal with a support student’s gadgets for a good five minutes who goes on and on about her inventions until she willingly steps out of the ring herself. It’s all very dull and you notice that most of your group feels the same.

Touya plays on his phone, only giving half hearted glances towards the ring, Himiko is sprawled out over Tomura’s lap and asks him random questions. Which he answers in a dry tone and flicks her cheek for insisting on using him as a pillow. Sighing, you try to keep your attention on the event and not come across completely rude to the other patrons in the section. But even they seem a bit bored, giving half hearted cheers or flag waves.

It’s only when Ochaco and Bakugo enter the ring that Himiko jumps up, eager and focused, your brothers also paying attention. Even if the fight is quick, all of you have known the girl for years and want to show not only respect but support.

The fight isn’t what you were expecting.

Ochaco is tenacious and determined in a way you’re not accustomed to, her bubbly nature nowhere to be seen as she runs at the blond over and over. It does make you wince a bit each time she is blown back by an explosion yet she doesn’t stop. The amount of debris in the ring is impressive and it dawns on you what she might be trying to do. Especially with how she sticks low to the ground, forcing her opponent to keep his explosions at her level.

Himiko frets and watches in mild horror, tears in the corners of her eyes and says, “this is hard to watch.”

“She’s doing it on purpose.” Touya responds, gesturing towards the pair fighting, “she wants him to do that. Give her a chance.”

Tomura clicks his tongue and comments, “can’t expect the hot headed kid to hold back. This is a competition, Himi.”

She pouts at her brothers and glances at you, waiting for your input. Which you give a nod and a soft, “they’re right. Just watch. Let’s see how this turns out.” Even if it is a little difficult to see the kind hearted girl be constantly thrown back like a ragdoll, this is the reality of being a hero. While most will never walk away with scars, there are some that will and need to get accustomed to the pain.

Plus, she does have a plan considering the collection of concrete floating above the stadium, ready to rain down at a moment’s notice.

Then someone in the crowd shouts for Bakugo to stop ‘toying’ with his opponent and send her out of the ring. Claiming that he’s being a bully and unfair, a cruel kid that is taking pleasure in harming his classmate. You blink and frown as many others begin to agree, quite a few of them heroes who actively start booing the blond.

Present Mic even begins to agree when there’s a rustle and Aizawa’s voice booms over the speaker, voice hard and demanding, “is the person who started this uproar a pro? Because if you are, you can go home and hang up your cape right now.”

The crowd instantly goes quiet as Aizawa admonishes everyone in the crowd who booed at the conduct in the fight. Telling them how his student is fighting with such ferocity because he has to, because Ochaco is a worthy opponent and because he is doing everything in his power to come out on top. It brings a smile to your face to hear him be so passionate about his kids and you decide to tease him a little for it later.

After another few blasts, Ochaco finally releases the debris hovering above the stage, a meteor shower of sorts and you watch with bated breath to see the outcome.

It’s a harsh one, one that ends with the blond blowing away the rocks and her last, desperate maneuver. One that ends in her collapsing from exhaustion. One that ends with Bakugo being the winner.

Himiko still cheers, crying out that Ochaco did her best and is fantastic. Tomura and Touya both agree, Touya even commenting, “girl’s got some smarts. Too bad her opponent was just a bit stronger this time.”

With the ring now thoroughly wrecked, another thirty minute break is called for it to be fixed, allowing people to grab more refreshments. Again, you stand and head for another quick walk, something your siblings agree with and also go out for either a bathroom break or for drinks.

It’s when in the hallway that you reach for your phone, curious to see the time when a paper meets your fingertip. Recalling that a hero gave it to you does give you pause but you figure it’ll need to be looked at sooner or later. And if it does turn out to be a phone number then you have every intention of giving it to Touya for burning.

Leaning against the wall and unfolding the little paper, the words are not at all what you’re prepared for and all the air leaves your lungs.

So you’re still around, darling daughter.

It’s such a simple note, the handwriting crisp, the words innocent… yet you read them differently. Threatening, blunt, a dangerous promise and one that sends you into a state of panic.

You press your knuckles against your lips, biting down on the base of your index finger to muffle a distressed whimper. The pain helps ground you but isn’t enough to keep your heart from racing or the faint taste of bile away. Squeezing your eyes shut and pressing against the wall, you try to control your breathing and get yourself together.

Faintly, you can hear the crowd cheering, singing and clapping, a distraction that you’re grateful for. There’s not a soul around in the hallway, giving you a few minutes of privacy to fight off the panic attack.

It’s difficult, your chest burning from trying to take in proper breaths and you bite back a growl of frustration. Anger bubbles in your veins over the fact you have been reduced to this over a fucking note. Holding onto that emotion helps center you, at least, to some degree and you focus on it.

Remind yourself that you’re no longer a child that is under the thumb of an abusive household.

Remind yourself how you aren’t the powerless teenager who has a ‘useless’ quirk that will never, ever, live up to the Shinku name.

Remind yourself it’s different now, you have a family that cares about you and a family that will stand at your side.

And yet… in the back of your mind, there are still little flashes of doubt. Have you truly changed so much? It seems not considering a piece of paper has been enough to stop you in your tracks and send your mind spiralling. Those thoughts are vicious and sound similar to a soft, cool toned voice you know a little too well.

“Shinku?”

Your eyes snap open, scleras going black with glowing irises as your entire body tenses, ready for a fight. The person who stands a few feet away is Aizawa, staring with keen eyes and a frown. Seeing him makes you wince a little and you force yourself to reply, voice tight, “Aizawa.”

“What happened?” He steps in front of you, searching and maybe just a touch worried.

Glancing away, you force yourself to lower your hand, ignoring the bruised and bloodied skin of your finger and mumble, “nothing. Not really.”

“I don’t believe you,” he states, blunt and harsh.

Instead of fighting him, you level him a look and reply, “then don’t. Shouldn’t you be in the announcer box?”

His eyes narrow at your attempt to deflect and states, “with the ring being fixed I wanted to stretch my legs.”

Letting your head rest against the wall, you murmur, “I see.”

“If something happened here then-”

“Nothing did,” you say but expand, “nothing threatening, at least.” With a deep breath, you hold out the piece of paper and wait until he takes it. The second he does, the strength in your legs goes out and you slide to the ground.

He reads over the sentence, confusion on his face as he crouches in front of you and asks, “your mother wrote this…?”

The corner of your lip twitches and you focus on cleaning up the blood around your finger with your shirt, unable to meet his eyes as you reply, “Rin Shinku did, yes.”

From your peripheral vision, you can see the way his entire body reacts, tension in his shoulders, fingers twitching into not quite fists. You tilt your head up to meet his dark eyes, listening to his next words. They sound almost like an accusation, “she gave this to you and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“No,” you answer and let your hands fall onto your lap, feeling tired and frustrated as you continue, “I received that from a hero.”

“A hero…? Wait,” a deep frown forms on his face and there’s an edge in his tone, “you mean a hero could be working for Rin Shinku?”

Gently, you remind him, “she can control people, Aizawa. All it takes is a bit of her blood and some words.” A few too many bitter memories try to crowd into your mind at once, all of them featuring your mother forcing people to drink her blood. She would practically shove it down their throats without a care, face impassive, annoyance flickering in her eyes until her quirk took effect. Then she would whisper to them, quiet little words and those poor souls were under her control.

His hand rests on your scarred shoulder, the touch enough to have you flinch a bit and grab onto his wrist. Something he doesn’t react to and instead asks, “what exactly is her quirk?”

With a sigh, you tell him, “if someone digests her blood or her blood is forced into their bloodstream, she can control them for minutes or hours or even days. It all depends on how much she puts into a person.” Perhaps one of the most powerful quirks in the Shinku clan that you’re aware of. And the most undermining and cunning of them all, making it a threat you’re really not keen on dealing with.

“I’m going to assume she doesn’t just let them go afterwards.”

Nodding, you murmur, “no. Those that are useful are chained up with quirk suppressors until they’re needed again. Other’s… well, I’m sure you can figure out what happens to them.”

“And she’s using heroes to do her bidding,” the words aren’t a question, sounding bitter and holding a quiet rage you’ve never heard before.

You examine his face then, take in the emotions there, the anger, the horror at the idea of people being forced to do someone else’s dirty work. Taking his hand from your shoulder, you move it to your lap, tracing lines along his fingers. The next words aren’t as difficult to get out as they should be, to the point and honest, “she’s been doing it for years. She likes the boastful ones, the ones in flashy colors and capes. Finds it’s nice to take them down a few pegs.”

His eyes burn against your skin as you hold his hand loosely now and wait for him to process that information.

“Those are the heroes you dislike.”

“Yeah.”

“You said it was because they tend to not care for people and because they’re only doing it for the glory.”

“Am I wrong?” You dare to ask before saying, “there can be multiple reasons for people distrusting heroes, Aizawa. I don’t exactly enjoy talking about this shit.”

He goes quiet then, seemingly thinking about your words and you don’t push him.

“Yo, Sho… oh, man, you can’t be serious, you snuck off to see your lady?” The two of you freeze, turning to look at Present Mic. At least he seems to realize the dense and heavy air, quickly holding his hands up with a panicked, “sorry for not reading the room, I didn’t realize it was such a serious topic!” He clears his throat and scratches at his chin, clearly nervous, “it’s just, uh, we need to be in the announcer box early.”

Suddenly you recall exactly where you are, in a hallway of the damned sports festival and you have to sigh, forcing yourself to stand up. “Right… sorry for taking your time, Aizawa.” His hand wraps around yours, sudden yet gentle and he stares down at you with a blank expression. One you raise an eyebrow at, not breaking out of his grip, waiting.

It takes him a moment but eventually he does speak, “I’m going to give you my number. Text me about the hero who gave this to you”

“It won’t help, not really, but… fine.” Taking out your phone, you listen to the numbers he offers and soon have a new contact, Aizawa. A thought suddenly pops into your mind and you chuckle, a tired and sad sound, admitting, “didn’t think this would be how I’d get a guy’s number.”

He hesitates, lips pursed together before he squeezes your hand, gently, and says, “we’ll talk more, later. And not just about this.”

“Right… I’ll hold you to that. Now get going and don’t worry about this mess for now. Focus on your kids.”

“I don’t have any kids.”

Rolling your eyes, you bite back, “whatever you say.”

You watch him and Mic walk away before forcing yourself to as well.

You force yourself to go back to your siblings and sit down as though nothing has happened.

You force a smile when asked what’s wrong and tell them you’ll talk about it later.

The rest of the event is a blurr, the matches far more interesting, far more heated, but you just can’t pay attention. Not with the dread filling your stomach or the yearning to get back to somewhere familiar. This place is too open, too loud, and you know it’s ridiculous but you swear that somewhere nearby, there are eyes watching you.

Then again… it’s entirely possible that Rin Shinku is watching. Perhaps not with her own eyes but with the eyes of Shatterfang and whoever else she may have in this crowd that is under her will.

Your siblings all notice, can see the way you’re jumpy and tense, and ask if you want to go or not. Something you’re hesitant to do, not when Touya looks so into the fights and Himiko is cheering on whoever she thinks is the cutest and even Tomura watches with interest. You reassure them that you’re fine, that you want to see the end just like the rest of them.

It goes by a bit slowly but eventually, the winners are crowned with Bakugo being first, followed by the youngest Todoroki and two students tie for third. It’s only then that you insist on leaving and ignore the worried and confused looks thrown at you. They don’t complain, merely follow your lead until you get to the car and that’s when the questions are thrown your way.

Questions that are difficult to answer and ones that you decide will wait until you’re back at the townhouse with the door firmly locked. Thankfully they are patient enough to wait and once you do get home… it’s harder than you expect but you tell them some of the information.

Mostly that the hero Shatterfang is most likely under the control of Rin Shinku who happens to be your mother and just maybe connected to the Kuruokai. It’s a chaotic few hours, Touya is upset at you for not coming forward with the information sooner, Himiko is astounded that you also come from an abusive household and Tomura is annoyed that you didn’t speak up at the festival.

All valid reactions. All understandable thoughts. All exhausting.

It’s only after reassurances are made and promises are given that they let you go to bed. A bed that you know won’t help you sleep so you end up texting Aizawa what hero gave you the note.

He responds in quick, simple sentences, asking for more details on the interaction you had with Shatterfang. If he seemed odd or had any strange habits? How does someone who is under Rin Shinku’s control act?

By the time it reaches midnight, he gives you a few requests, mainly that you keep an eye and ear out for Shatterfang and contact him if the hero comes around again. Something you agree to but remind him that in Yuno things are different. If you end up being attacked, there will be retribution. Not necessarily by your hands but certainly by someone in the district.

Something he’s not keen on but does at least acknowledge. His last text to you warms your heart more than it should, so simple but meaning quite a bit considering it is coming from Aizawa.

Stay safe, Shinku. If you need anything, call me.

Chapter Text

It’s difficult not to dwell on the fact Rin Shinku knows you’re still around. Though you try to put such thoughts on the back burner, the worries and anxiety simmer and at times bubble over. Leaving you frozen in bed or on the bathroom floor, curled up, fingers digging into your palms in a futile attempt to ground yourself.

Being a Shinku means a few facts that you have accepted long before now.

Such as the fact it’s safer for you to live in the Yuno district rather than any of the more stable and peaceful neighborhoods.

Such as the fact most heroes or police or anyone involved in the criminal justice system will be overly suspicious of you.

Such as the fact that you’ll have to carve out your own space and find a way to live your life with a few too many burdens on your shoulders and scars on your heart.

Those are facts and are ones that you can deal with… but the possibility of facing the matriarch of the clan isn’t an easy thing to swallow. The scars have seemingly been ripped open again, leaving you bleeding and with no way to stem the blood loss. Resulting in panic attacks and recurring nightmares that haven’t plagued you for years now. Too many thoughts crowd your mind, too many fears, and you try your best to grit your teeth and just go along as you always have.

Healing patients, watching over your siblings, going out with Aizawa on Friday nights, you do your best to be normal.

Yet… you know it’s not working. And everyone else that cares about you can see it too.

Touya looks at you with a frustrated glint in his eyes, often trying to urge you into resting and not pushing yourself. Tomura worries in that quiet way of his, insisting on making meals when he’s out of class and doing extra chores around the house. Himiko is the most vocal, asking you what’s wrong and insisting you watch movies or go on walks with her. Even Aizawa has picked up on the quiet anxiety, his presence solid and comforting, his words confused and concerned, a hand often on your arm and the scent of cinnamon on your clothes.

But it’s so hard for you to voice what’s happening inside your mind to anyone. You try to soothe them as best you can with reassurances and little explanations that knowing you might be targeted has caused previous nightmares to rear up again. Words that most of them take with concerned eyes or frowns and seem to help ease at least some of their worries. But there’s a sinking feeling that you don’t dare to voice. One that grows more and more intense as the days drag by after the sports festival.

The dreadful, horrid feeling that something terrible is on the horizon has only gotten worse and more difficult to put to the side.

The dam breaks on a Friday night, a few weeks after the festival when you run into the hero Shatterfang at the bar you and Aizawa meet at. You notice him immediately and are wary at the sight of the tall man. He doesn’t wear his hero outfit this time, in a pair of jeans and a puffy jacket to help deal with the chilly early winter air outside. Pale blue, almost white, eyes meet your own and he gives a small smile. One that you can’t return and instead avert your eyes as you settle at the counter.

Aizawa hasn’t arrived yet and you’re a little grateful for that when the hero makes his way over to you and leans against the counter. He smiles, a little too wide and with too many teeth, offering a simple, “hey.”

“Hi,” you manage to bite out, forcing yourself to be polite.

He raises an eyebrow then runs a hand through his hair before asking, “I guess whatever was on that paper wasn’t very nice, huh?”

Wincing a touch at the reminder of what’s caused your mental state, you give him a flat look and ask, “are you here to deliver another message from her?”

“Na,” he replies and slouches more against the counter with a sigh, “nothing like that. I just happened to be here. Like you, I’m guessing?”

“I see. What I do isn’t any of your business.”

His fingers tense for a brief second before he sighs and admits, “yeah, I deserve the chilly reception you’re giving me. After all, you know who’s keeping me on a leash.”

Blinking at the admission, you tilt your head and really study his face in the hopes of figuring out his angle. If he’s playing the card of a victim to gain sympathy or if he truly is one. It’s hard to tell and you’re not keen on giving him that much grace, stating in a flat tone, “I find it difficult to believe that she’s left you off that leash. From what I remember, she never lets anyone go without one.” The only time you can think of Rin Shinku freeing a hero is when she kills them. Or if that hero manages, somehow, to escape from their restraints and quirk suppressors. A very uncommon occurrence but you do recall it happening once or twice.

It left your mother in a cold rage and with a determination to never let it happen again. Often she would attempt to find those heroes, wishing to force them underneath her will again with no hope of freedom. Thankfully for those lucky few, they stayed away from her reach, often moving to completely different parts of Japan or even out of the country entirely.

“It’s rare but on occasion, I get to go on a walk on my own,” Shatterfang’s words bring your attention back and you stare at him, a little surprised.

“And instead of going to the authorities you’ve decided to go to a bar,” you reply, dry and disbelieving.

He chuckles at that and waves his hand, smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “don’t have much of a choice. Her reach is pretty far these days.”

Still dubious, you take in his face and body posture before daring to say, “because she’s the leader of the Kuruokai.”

There’s a long pause, the man seemingly wrestling with something internally until he offers, “probably.”

“You can’t or won’t confirm?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“Bit of both. She’s looking for you,” he says suddenly as his face grows blank and his eyes glint in the dim light of the bar, “just so you know.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugs then and huffs, admitting, “I’m just her guard dog that she occasionally lets wander off.” There’s a pause before he continues, “probably because of your quirk? Maybe because of the name you’ve made in Yuno? Who knows.”

“And when you wander back to her, what are you going to say?” Your fingers clench on the counter as you stare at him with glowing irises.

He smiles then, a more honest one than before and replies, “simple. I went to a bar and enjoyed my freedom for a bit.”

“Freedom that you could have right now if you just walked away from her,” you retort, trying to understand why this man doesn’t tell anyone what’s going on. That he’s practically a puppet and has a rather cruel master behind the strings.

A long pause then he sighs and tells you, “I’m in the top fifty ranking because of her. So it’s a bit of a win-win deal.”

You blink once then once more time then grit your teeth, glaring as you hiss, “you’re willing to be a puppet for a stupid ranking? Seriously?”

“It’s not so bad for me,” he replies and shrugs, looking a bit lost, maybe even helpless, “unlike some of the others. I get to live my life as I please. Be the hero I wanna be, be adored by the public.” He takes in a breath and waves a hand, “the main drawback is I have a cruel boss and sometimes have to get my hands dirty. But I’m dealing with villains and sometimes get to do it in public which then raises my ranking. Get what I’m saying?”

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond, shocked and a little disgusted by his attitude. That he’s seemingly able to turn a blind eye to his role in this whole deal if it means being more adored by the public even if he’s nothing more than a pawn. That he’s somehow able to accept being under the whim of Rin Shinku and doing what she wants. Even if it means killing or harming people who don’t deserve such a fate.

Gritting your teeth together, you have to look away and mutter, “the fact you’d sign your freedom away for some fame and glory is ridiculous. Depressing, even.”

“Yeah, well… I haven’t regretted anything as of yet. I still get to be a hero.”

“I doubt everyone you’re sent after is a bad guy,” you say, daring to look him in the eye.

There’s a twinge of discomfort on his face but it’s quickly replaced by a smile as he agrees, “perhaps but when that happens, I’m not in control of myself then. So it is what it is.”

You scoff and shake your head at the fact he’s able to comfort himself by writing off whatever atrocities he creates because he wasn’t in control at the time. That somehow even if he has to watch and see his hands commit whatever crime it is, he has a free conscience because it wasn’t his will to do those things.

Thoroughly frustrated by his mindset, you say, “I feel bad for anyone that’s a fan of yours.”

He laughs at that, a bitter and ugly sound and replies, “I still do good deeds, believe it or not.” Shatterfang stands straight and takes a few steps towards the door but pauses, seemingly thinking and suddenly looks at you, offering, “in fact, I’ll do a good deed right now. Rin is aware of the three kids you took in and seems curious about them. I’d keep them close if I were you.”

Those words send shivers down your spine and your scleras turn black as your irises burn bright in the dim lighting, glaring and promising, “if she tries touching any of them, there will be hell to pay. You can tell her that.” A wave of the hand is your response and you find yourself alone at the bar, a wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

But then… the panic begins to take over.

The thoughts of what Rin Shinku could do to any of your siblings are horrifying but especially if she got her hands on Touya or Tomura. The amount of destruction she could force them to do isn’t anything you want to think about. Buildings ablaze or bridges crumbling to dust, all while your brothers are forced to watch in muted horror, unable to control their actions. Your heart clenches, knowing that for both of them it would be beyond traumatizing considering their pasts of not being able to control their quirks. Himiko being forced to use her transformation quirk is terrifying as well considering she could infiltrate all sorts of organizations and be forced to kill anyone.

The need to get home is overwhelming and you stand, muttering an apology to the confused bartender and quickly head for the exit. Before you can make it through the door, Aizawa is there and blinking blearily down at you.

Whatever tiredness there is in his eyes melts away the moment you stare up at him, his lips pulling down into a frown and he asks, “what’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you deflect, “I need to go.” Stepping around him, you make it through the door and the outside air is chilly, a little brutal but refreshing and stinging. It grounds you in a way, helps ease the flood of panic.

“Shinku,” fingers are around your wrist and before you can respond, Aizawa is outside with you and holding your wrists. It’s a loose hold, gentle, and he stares down at you, brow furrowed and asks again, “what’s wrong?”

You try to pull away from him, trembling and insisting, “nothing, I have to go. I need to check on my siblings, make sure they’re okay.” The dread that has been building for weeks is on the cusp of devolving into a meltdown and you’re simply not willing to deal with it.

Not right now.

Not in front of Aizawa.

Not when you need to make sure your siblings are okay.

But then Aizawa’s hand is in your hair and tipping your head back, enough to fully meet his dark eyes that shine with concern and the dam breaks. Tears gather and fall without your permission, lower lip quivering a bit as you look away, squeezing your eyes together. Little noises build up in your throat and suddenly there are arms around you.

Strong and solid, you gasp at the feeling of Aizawa embracing you, supporting you… and you find yourself crying against him. Fingers pulling on his jacket, either to push him away or get him closer, you don’t know, but you hold onto him. Pressing your face into his scarf, you let out muffled noises, not quite sobs but something close to them as all the stress and pent up anxiety spills out.

One hand presses against your back while another wraps around the nape of your neck, the pressure light and comforting. Grounding as you fall apart against him, shaking and gasping in the chilly winter night.

He doesn’t say anything, standing there as a firm, unyielding presence and it’s exactly what you need at this moment. There are no prying questions or demands to know what’s going on, just silence and you’re grateful for it.

Twisting your fingers in his coat and gritting your teeth, you manage to voice what you’ve been holding onto for these past few weeks. The words aren’t entirely coherent, a little fumbled but you force yourself to say, “she’s going to take everything I love and twist it. Ruin it. It’s what she does.”

“You’re mother…?”

Forcing yourself to nod, you continue, words thready and strained, “she knows about my siblings. She’s going to try to use them, I know she will and if… if she manages to then,” you force yourself to look up, meeting his dark eyes as you state, “it’d be a fucking disaster.”

He blinks, seemingly thinking on your words and asks, “because of their quirks?” You nod and let your cheek rest back against his soft scarf, sniffling and trying to breathe.

The air burns as it goes in but you relish the discomfort and close your eyes, forcing out more words, “Touya has a fire quirk… Tomura can turn things into dust… Himiko can transform into people. All of those are useful to someone like her.” It’s strange to talk about your siblings but you figure that just this once, it won’t hurt anything.

Not when the one listening is Aizawa, the two of you have been building a delicate trust for months now. Even if you don’t trust heroes and often find yourself wary of their presence… he’s an exception. He really is your type of hero, honest and realistic in a way that none of the others you have dealt with are.

“What happened?” He asks then continues in a firm tone, “and don’t give me some bullshit. Something happened to make you so upset.”

Sighing heavily and leaning further into his warmth, you take in a breath before murmuring, “ran into Shatterfang again.”

“Just now.”

“Yeah… he left before you showed up.”

Tension races through his body and he pulls away enough to take in your face, eyes searching and hard in the streetlights, “did he hurt you?”

It’s a question that shouldn’t make you smile but it does, just a little, through the tears at how blunt and demanding the words are. Or rather, how worried he sounds. Still, you manage to shake your head and reply, “no. Just said a bunch of nonsense that I don’t understand.”

“I see…” he trails off then suddenly turns his body and pulls you away from his chest, hugging you to his side and urges you to follow. Confused but willing to go along with him, you fall into step until the two of you end up beside a sleek black car. He opens the passenger side door and motions for you to get in, something you hesitate at, briefly, before sliding into the seat.

He closes the door and slips into the driver’s side, starting up the car and pulling away from the bar. A touch confused and a bit exhausted, you have to ask, “where are we going?”

“Drinking doesn’t seem like a good idea for this. I’m taking you somewhere else.”

That somewhere else being, of all things, a late night cat cafe.

The baristas don’t even blink when the two of you wander in, one even waving with a bright smile and a, “oh hey, want your usual?” Towards Aizawa who nods before she turns her attention to you.

A little put on the spot, you hesitate and look over their menu and figure it wouldn’t be good to get something with a ton of caffeine, so you decide on a, “chai latte, please.”

Aizawa pays without looking at you and soon, the two of you are tucked into the corner of the room that is filled with cat trees, little toys and fairy lights. The felines wander over at their leisure, one even resting on you while a kitten rolls around on the table. The antics lift your spirits a little, getting you to smile as you sink your fingers into the silky fur of the tabby on your lap.

The next few minutes are tense, neither of you talking but eventually, you find the words to talk about everything Shatterfang said. How he’s been under Rin Shinku’s control yet is somehow content with the idea. That it’s a strange coexistence that both of them are okay with for the sole purpose of him reaching higher rankings even if it means doing horrific things to get there. That he seems to have no interest in actually getting rid of his so-called boss and is fine with their bizarre arrangement.

Dark eyes have a hard glint in them by the time you’re finished talking, his shoulders tense as he mulls over everything you’ve said. You take a few minutes to simply decompress, scratching the chin of the tabby cat and slumping further in the cushioned chair.

With the emotional release you’ve been forced to have, you find yourself exhausted and wishing for a bed more than anything else. Still, you do your best to focus on the hero in front of you, waiting for what he has to say on the whole matter.

It takes him a little bit, your latte about half gone by the time he speaks again, “we’ll figure it out. I’ve been in contact with a few people since the last time we talked about Shatterfang. I’ll see what information they’ve gotten so far.”

“And they believed you?” It’s a bit hard to think that most people would be okay with the idea of going off a piece of paper and an eyewitness that most would consider to be questionable.

There’s little doubt in your mind that some would write off your strange interaction with Shatterfang as being just that. A strange interaction with a well known and well loved hero, nothing more.

He takes a sip of his black coffee and states, “they were dubious but agreed to look into the matter, discreetly, once I mentioned Rin Shinku.”

Not surprising at all considering your family’s reputation. Still, it does help you relax, knowing that even if it amounts to nothing in the end, Aizawa is trying. Still… you can’t help the uneasiness building in your chest over one factor.

“I don’t want you to get involved in this, Aizawa. Not anymore than you already have.”

A surprised look crosses his face, his eyes narrowing and he leans forward with a frown, asking, “why?”

Swallowing and gripping onto the cafe cup, you meet his eyes and state, “it’s not your problem, not really.”

He scoffs at that and replies coolly, “I’m a hero. This is a matter of public safety so of course it’s my problem.” You try not to wince a little, glancing away from his words. A hand rests on top of yours, bringing your attention back onto his face as he stares at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something warm, something gentle, and he continues, “I want to help you, Shinku.”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. There’s meaning in those words that goes beyond a hero being a hero. A personal implication there that has your cheeks warming in a blush and you turn your hand to catch his.

Staring at his fingers, you take in a breath and meet his gaze again, voice soft, “I want to trust that… I do… but what if she controls you too, Aizawa?” It’s a fear you haven’t dared to confess out loud even if it has flashed in the back of your mind.

Because the simple fact is, Rin Shinku would do such a thing if it meant getting what she wanted. And for whatever reason, whether it be your reputation in the Yuno district, your fighting prowess being broadcasted across the nation or even just due to the blood relation, your mother wants you back under her thumb.

And you have no doubt that she will use anyone that you care about to get what she wants. While you’re a bit more confident in keeping your siblings safe if for nothing else they keep to themselves and live in Yuno, Aizawa is a completely different story. Being an underground hero that works solo, it would be so easy for her to get her hands on him. An idea that scares you almost as much as her taking control of Touya, Tomura or Himiko.

Aizawa takes in your face, his eyes piercing before he replies with a confidence you yearn for. His words sound so final as he says, “she can’t.” His eyes flash red then, his quirk activated and you find yourself smiling at the reminder of what he can do.

That perhaps you're worrying for nothing, at least in his case, considering he does have the perfect quirk to cancel out Rin Shinku’s.

You tighten your grip on his hand as you consider his words then finally admit, “true. Not that it makes me feel completely better but… you’re right about that at least.”

He nods and grumbles, “I can’t say anything about everyone else around you but I don’t plan on being anyone’s puppet.”

“I’d hope not.”

Silence settles between the two of you that is only interrupted by the occasional mew of a needy cat or the cheerful baristas. It’s a different atmosphere than the bar, more open, more airy, and while a little strange, it’s not uncomfortable. You intertwine your fingers with his and he does the same, even giving a gentle squeeze as he plays with the kitten on the table.

Neither of you seem to have any more words to offer and you find yourself perfectly okay with that. Leaning back into your chair, you rest your head against the back of it with a long exhale, slumping further and feeling tired enough to sleep for days. It’s a type of exhaustion you haven’t felt in a long time, one that isn’t born out of anemia or too little sleep but from tears and letting out volatile emotions.

Not exactly a feeling you have any intention of repeating anytime soon, however you don’t regret it. Better you do it in the presence of Aizawa rather than any of your siblings considering their overly protective natures.

It’s only after you have finished your latte that you ask, “why did you take me here of all places?”

“Don’t like it?”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to lift your head and meet his eyes, offering a half smile, “no… it’s really cute. But nothing like the bar.”

“I come here a lot,” he explains and runs his free hand over the kitten’s back, “after a tough job. Or looking for some coffee. The cats help me shake off some of the shitty things I see on the job.” He grabs his cup to drink from it, eyes averted and not looking at you.

You blink and tilt your head, taking in his face, considering his words then say, softly, “you must see a lot of shitty things.”

“Part of being a hero. I’m sure you do too.”

“Yeah…” you murmur and squeeze his hand, “I do. That’s the price of helping people.”

His eyes meet yours and curiosity flickers across his face as he asks, “why did you become a doctor?” It warms you a little to hear him refer to you as an honest doctor. As though you have gone through the proper schooling and training rather than learning on the fly with the help of textbooks and online medical lectures.

“If I answer that, will you tell me why you became a hero?” You shoot back, not entirely sure if he’ll agree.

This is new territory for the both of you, going beyond lending a hand to one another for the sake of repaying favors or just being a decent person. These questions are personal and vulnerable.

He presses his lips together then finally nods.

Leaning your head against the palm of your free hand, you examine him and say, “I wanted to help people and prove that I wasn’t like the rest of my family.” Taking in a breath, you press on, offering a little more of yourself, “there was a half dead man outside of my job when I was twenty… I was already studying for med school so I healed him. Then I came across others that needed healing, then people started looking for me, then I ended up with a clinic in my living room.”

“Your clinic is in the living room? That sounds unsanitary.”

Huffing, you roll your eyes and reply, “was in my living room. That was when I was living in an apartment. I have a room in the townhouse that’s specifically for patients now.”

His lips curl up into the smallest of smiles and he says, “well that’s good to know in case I ever drop by.”

“I assure you that I take sanitation and all of that quite seriously. Haven’t had a patient die of an infection because of me.” At least… none that you know of but you’re rather confident in your abilities to clean and sanitize the room. Especially whenever someone comes around that is more dead and bloody than alive.

“Yet,” he says in an almost… teasing tone? While a bit morbid, it does make you chuckle and his smile widens. “My turn, I suppose… well… I wanted to be a hero to help people. Simple as that.” You raise an eyebrow, waiting to see if he will offer anything else. For a moment, it seems that is all you will get until he sighs and forces out another sentence, one a bit strained, “it wasn’t easy for me. I second guessed myself a lot during school.”

“Why?” You have to ask, confused by the idea, “your quirk is amazing.”

He stares at you, eyes scanning your face before he shrugs with one shoulder and says, “thanks. I wasn’t the most confident kid. It took me time to figure out how to utilize my ability and the best way to fight.” His free hand clenches then he reaches underneath his scarf to show a pair of yellow goggles. “A friend gave me these… before he died. So you could say I’m a hero for not just me, but him as well.” Your heart clenches and you run your thumb over his skin, taking in the goggles.

“I’d say that you’re doing a good job so far then.”

“I’d like to think so but who knows. Oboro might have been a better hero than me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, then narrow your eyes, “but you don’t know that. So all you can do is be the best you can be.”

Aizawa chuckles then, the tiredness on his face evaporating and he gives an earnest smile, the first you’ve seen, “yeah. And I plan on continuing to do that. Plus ultra style.”

You tilt your head and admire his smile, repeating, “plus ultra?” It’s probably one of the strangest phrases you have heard.

“It’s UA’s motto. Meaning to go further and beyond your limits. Push the boundaries of expectation and break through them.”

“Huh,” you mumble, considering the phrase and say, “a decent motto, actually.”

He nods and opens his mouth when one of the baristas wanders over with a pleasant smile, saying, “I’m sorry Mr. Aizawa but we’re about to close. It’s almost one.”

The two of you share a look of surprise and you clear your throat, gently shooing away the sleepy cat on your lap to stand up. Grabbing the two empty cups, you hand them to her. “Right… sorry for lingering so late,” you offer, feeling a touch bad if the girls have been waiting for the two of you to leave this entire time to close the shop.

She laughs, waving her hand and replies earnestly, “no, no! I’m sorry for cutting into your date. Please come back anytime!”

Instantly your face grows warm at the mention of a date and you have to look away, words stuck in your throat. Aizawa doesn’t seem to be much better as he stands up, his pale cheeks having just the faintest of pink as he replies, “have a good night.” He gives one last chin scratch to the kitten on the table then heads to the door, opening it and waiting for you to step through before following.

You swear that the moment the two of you are out of the cafe, the girls are giggling and staring at the two of you as they lock up. Only causing the blush to grow worse and you clear your throat, folding your arms and mumble, “didn’t realize it was getting so late.”

“Neither was I,” he agrees and motions for you to get into his car. “Do you want me to drive you back to the bar to get your car or to your house?”

You ponder over the idea then find that you’re a little too worn out for driving and say, “the townhouse is fine, if you don’t mind. I’ll ask Tomura to drive me in the morning to get it.”

He nods and puts the car into gear, pulling off the curb smoothly.

It’s silent between the two of you again, only interrupted by the quiet radio that plays a mix of alternative and soft rock. A pleasant enough selection and one you don’t mind, watching the buildings go past. The drive isn’t too long and soon enough you’re stepping out of the car and facing the townhouse.

Rather than driving off, Aizawa follows you to the steps and you have to tease him a little, “pretty sure I can make it to the door myself, Aizawa.”

“Yeah, I know,” he retorts with a roll of the eyes.

Examining him, you smile tiredly and say, “thanks for showing me the cafe… it was cute. I wouldn’t mind going again with you.”

“We can do that,” he agrees and reaches out, a touch hesitant before his fingers wrap around the back of your neck. It’s a gentle grip as he leans down, an action that has your breath catching in your throat. His lips press against your cheek with just the lightest of pressure. An action that has your face burning and butterflies taking flight in your chest.

It lasts for only a few seconds and he is pulling away, dark eyes peering down at you, curious and you stare right back then dare to lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. You breathe out against his skin, “good night Aizawa.”

“Good night, Shinku.”

He lingers, fingers not letting go right away until he takes in a deep breath and forces himself to step away. You smile a little and reach up to touch the scar underneath his eye before heading up the stairs. With a glance back and a wave, one that he returns, you slip into the house and sigh the moment you close the door.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you hold a hand against your collarbone, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. A sudden rustling in the kitchen has you jerking your head up with wide eyes to find curious red ones staring right back as your youngest brother comes into view.

For a moment, you and Tomura hold each other’s gaze until a knowing smile forms on his face and he asks, “wanna talk about it?”

Glaring, you hiss, “no. And don’t you dare tell Tou or Himi.”

He chuckles and motions back towards the kitchen, “don’t plan on it. Want some pizza rolls?”

You wrinkle your nose and complain, “I could have sworn I taught you how to cook.”

“You did,” he says easily but counters, “I’m also crunching for a test at noon today. Don’t have time to cook.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and follow him back into the kitchen, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table and say, “alright, you get off this time. Can I help you study?”

Though bed had been on your mind, you push that aside to eat pizza rolls and quiz Tomura for his test. Even if a lot of the programming code makes your head hurt. It goes on until about three in the morning when you finally have enough and insist that he turns in for at least a few hours of sleep.

You follow him up the stairs to make sure that he settles into his bed, something he grumbles about though does take a moment to press his forehead against yours and mutter a low, “good night, sis.” Something you respond to in kind and wait for him to flop on the mattress before shutting the door.

Rather than going straight to bed, you take a moment to peek into Himiko’s room and smile at the sight of her hugging one of her many stuffed animals, hair a golden mess on the pillows. The not so little black cat, Dumpling, looks up at you with a confused mew and you hold a finger up with soft, “sh”. She blinks at you then curls back up on Himiko’s pillow, seemingly content to go back to sleep.

The last stop you make is Touya’s room, relieved to see him sprawled out on the bed, his breathing slow and deep. You shake your head at the sight of him not having any blankets even though it’s winter. Squinting in the darkness, you see a sheet on the floor and figure he must have kicked it off in his sleep. With light steps, you lean down and grab it before draping it over his sleeping form. He shifts a bit but shows no signs of waking as you tiptoe out of his room.

It’s pure relief to see each of your siblings are okay and you let out a sigh, leaning heavily against Touya’s closed door. A grumpy meow catches your attention and you lift your head to find Felix staring at you, eyes accusing as he sniffs in your direction. Smiling a bit, you bend down and pick him up, whispering, “oh stop… I didn’t bring any of those cats home.” His tail swishes back and forth but soon enough is a pile of purring fluff in your arms once you scratch his ears. “Come on… let’s go to bed.”

You head down the stairs and make sure that all the doors are locked before retreating to your bedroom. After putting Felix on the bed, you run quickly through your nightly routine and settle down for sleep at nearly four in the morning. Sleep that thankfully comes quickly and without nightmares.

Chapter Text

It’s hard not to be on some sort of cloud nine after your interactions with Aizawa. The first time you’ve really felt this way, in a great mood, a small smile on your face as you go about the day and wondering when you’ll see him again. Your siblings of course pick up on it - though only Tomura knows the actual reason - and tease you here and there.

Though the run in with the hero Shatterfang does make you worry, you figure there’s no point in dwelling on it. At least, not for the time being when you have no idea when he’ll make his next move. If he’ll make a move against you. It’s still unnerving to know that Rin Shinku wants to know where you are and get back in contact but you try shoving that aside.

Living in fear and looking around each corner won’t do you much good and that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.

Not the easiest mindset to adopt but you manage, somehow, to keep yourself focused on other things. Such as your siblings, such as your patients, such as yourself and sometimes, even Aizawa.

And if you still poke around online to see if anything else has come up between the two warring Yakuza factions… that’s your business. Unlike before where you let it consume you, you try to just skim around the questionable forms and other websites for clues or info. Curious, yes, but also needing to make sure that no major moves have been made by either the Shie Hassaikai or the Kuruokai.

Every search ends in the usual petty and not so worrisome crimes that you have a feeling might be adding up to something. What that something is, you haven’t the faintest idea. So you turn to your patients when they wander in and the story is always the same no matter who you ask or how you go about asking.

The Yakuza are not tolerated in Yuno and nobody has any intentions of dealling with their bullshit. Leading to more clashes for territory with people being quite firm, on your behalf, in keeping Yuno as Shinku territory. Something you have to sigh a little at and try to remind them that you don’t have claims to the district.

Not that your words really do anything, most of them wave you off or insist that they’ll keep fighting for your turf even if you don't. It’s frustrating, yes, but also strangely sweet.

Rather than harping on the issue or insisting otherwise, you turn your attention elsewhere, namely, Aizawa. While many of your previous texts with him haven’t been much of anything, you start texting him earnestly. First asking if he’s learned anything more about Shatterfang or Rin Shinku, then mentioning the Yakuza’s movements… then finally asking more personal questions. Namely, how is he doing?

He responds to your more business-like texts in blunt and bland manners, short and sweet, and the answers aren’t all that satisfying. Mainly being that unfortunately there hasn’t been much development. Shatterfang is still considered a well loved hero with no known shady business going on and Rin Shinku remains in the shadows.

The personal texts on the other hand show more life, more sarcasm with a hint of fondness. Perhaps you’re reading far too much into some words but you can practically hear him when you read the words. Stating that he’s fine and can’t complain about how his work day is going before asking you the same question.

It’s stilted at first, the ‘how are you’ being the first and only question either of you throw at one another but eventually, things get even more personal. Mainly thanks to you being exhausted one night and barely awake, surviving off coffee and a strange need to finish the newest medical lecture, you send him a random text of, ‘what’s your favorite color?’

He doesn’t respond right away, busy or sleeping, but when he does it’s a little funny to see. ‘? Grey. Why?’

You really aren’t sure and admit it in the next text and say, ‘curious, I guess. Why grey?’ It’s not what you expect and brings a tired smile to your face.

Still, his explanation is a little interesting with how he finds grey to be calming and likes that it’s a neutral color that doesn’t bring a lot of attention. He then asks about your favorite color.

Something you reply back and soon enough the two of you are texting randomly back and forth about favorite or least favorite things.

It doesn’t happen all in one night, spreading out to random texts at all hours of the day and night but it’s a little amusing. You learn quite a bit about the hero known as Eraser Head and find he’s certainly particular about his tastes.

Favorite food? Doesn’t really have one but has a thing for salty licorice.

Favorite activity that doesn’t involve work? Napping or visiting a cat cafe.

Favorite place to vacation? Hasn’t travelled enough to say but enjoys catching up on sleep.

All silly questions but for each question he answers, he asks that you do the same in return. An easy enough request and it’s a little hard for you not to smile when he offers the occasional quip or even teases about your favorite things.

He asks questions as well, different and a little more complex, such as your biggest pet peeves, any fears or phobias that you have, your feelings on cats. The last one makes you smile and you send him a picture of Dumpling and Felix cuddled in one of the many cat beds around the townhouse. He demands for more pictures and comments that he really will have to drop by one day. A statement that makes you a little too giddy.

Himiko sees your improved mood and teases you, constantly, enough that two weeks after going to the cat cafe with Aizawa, she insists on a girls day. Something you roll your eyes at but agree considering it has been quite a while since you’ve been able to have time with your little sister. Between the USJ incident and the sports festival, you’ve found that a lot of your time has been around the boys.

Something you decide to rectify by driving to a little shopping center on a late Saturday afternoon for a bit of shopping and some bubble tea. While you’re not the fondest of wandering around, you figure it’ll be a treat for Himiko. Especially with her grades being relatively good as of late and the fact she hasn’t had any major incidents in regards to her quirk.

She drags you around some of the shops, insisting on needing more hair dye for herself and Ochaco, even mentioning that she’s going to help another UA student with her hair. You’re pretty sure she’s talking about the girl with the frog-like quirk and shrug, telling her to get whatever she thinks is needed. Which naturally leads to her buying quite a few different products and way too much bleach.

Giving her a look as you pay for everything, you have to ask, “and how many people’s hair are you bleaching exactly…?”

“I don’t know yet, maybe a lot, maybe just a few,” she responds with a giggle, grinning up at you before thanking the cashier for the bag.

“Uh-huh… and you’re not planning on doing anything too crazy right? Last time you bought this much bleach, you nearly melted off Ochaco’s hair.” That had been a disaster just before the school year actually started, the girls panicking in the bathroom and trying to figure out where everything went wrong. Leading to you sending Touya out at one in the morning to get brown hair dye while you dealt with two hysterical teens. Thankfully it all worked out and the crisis was averted with Ochaco going back to brown hair and swearing off dye for the remainder of the school year.

A pout forms on the blonde’s face and she shakes her head quickly and says, “we’re doing highlights! Not full bleaching, promise!” Well that explains all the foil and brushes….

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “and you’re confident that you can do highlights?”

“I’ve watched all kinds of tutorials and if it all goes wrong, we’ll just dye everything back. Besides, I did Touya’s pink spikes, remember?”

“With Tou’s help, yeah. He took out most of the black so you could.” She huffs at you, cheeks puffing out and you shake your head with a smile, “well… I can’t stop you. Just make sure it’s nothing too crazy, alright?” Not that you actually mind if she wants everyone to have a crazy hair color like green or lavender, you just don’t want anyone to lose their hair.

A hum and Himiko skips forward, eyes darting to different shop windows as you follow at a slower pace, letting her decide where to go next. It’s only after passing by another boutique that she suddenly stops with a gasp and turns to you with wide eyes, asking, “can we go in here?”

The shop isn’t at all what you expect her to be interested in, a place full of dresses in bright colors or covered in gaudy rhinestones. Blinking, you wrinkle your nose a little and have to ask, “why here?” None of the dresses in the window look even remotely like Himiko.

A blush dances across her cheeks and she gives an almost shy smile, swaying back and forth on her feet, “Ochaco asked me to be her date for the UA winter formal.”

Not entirely surprised but still a little taken aback, you inquire, “you can attend even though you don’t go to the school?”

“Yes! We made sure!” She digs out her phone and fiddles with it before bringing it up to your face. Blinking at the sudden light, you step back and take it from her to read the text messages and scan through them. It’s cute and brings a smile to your face at the way the girls gush and shyly exclaim their excitement with the idea of going to a formal together. You figure that Ochaco must have asked in person since those texts are nowhere to be seen and pause at the sight of a website link.

Clicking on it, you’re taken to the official UA website and FAQ page, one that is seemingly miles long. Rather than scrolling through it manually, you examine the table of contents and click on the section that is in regards to formals and dances. Thankfully the questions are clearly laid out and it only takes a moment to find the one that deals with students bringing friends outside of school as their dates.

Though a touch strict and quite firm in who is allowed and not, you find that Himiko meets all of the needed criteria. Mainly that she is of a similar age group as the UA student in question and she is currently in school herself. There are a few other little things such as Himiko will need to get permission from her school to go and that UA isn’t responsible for transportation, all easy enough things to deal with.

After making sure to read through all of the fine print and finding there isn’t anything to suggest she can’t go, you glance at her and find she’s staring at you. She sucks in a breath and blurts out, “so…? Is it okay?”

“Sure,” you say with a wave of the hand and give her back the phone, “me or one of the boys can drop you off and pick you up from UA. And I’ll send an email to your school to get the proper permission.”

A slow nod is what you get but she keeps staring at you, an anxious glint in her golden eyes. One you don’t understand and frown a little at, confused as to why she seems to be waiting for something else. “What?”

“You’re not mad that I’m going with a girl?”

For a moment, you have no idea what to say considering you’ve never thought about any of your siblings' sexualities before. While you have talked to them throughout the years about the birds and the bees to some degree and reminding each of them of safe sex practices, you haven’t really considered who they’d be interested in.

This is an entirely new subject and one you have no idea how to handle so rather than overthinking things, you shrug and give a tired smile. Reaching out and putting both hands on her shoulders, you tell her, “nope. I don’t care who you end up with, all that matters is they treat you right and make you happy.”

She’s still for a long moment and seems to be searching for any hints of deceit before a blinding smile spreads across her lips. Arms lock around your waist and Himiko presses against you in a full on hug, excitement in her voice, “you’re the best, sis!”

Returning the hug and resting your cheek against her wild blonde hair, you hum and reply, “I try. Now, are you sure you want to look for a dress in this shop?” Your words have her looking into the prom shop with a more critical eye this time and she presses her lips together in thought.

It takes only a few seconds before she looks up and has to say, “they’re all pretty ugly, huh?”

“Yup,” you agree as you pull out your phone and poke around Google for possible other dress shops. It only takes a few moments before you find others that seem closer to what Himiko would want to wear. Less tacky prom dresses and more dresses with a bit of an edge that you think might be more up Himiko’s alley. A few of them have more cute elements too if she prefers to go that route.

Holding out the phone and nodding to it, she takes it with wide eyes then begins to fawn over some of the showcased styles. “This is the place,” she declares with a smile and hands you back your phone.

Putting it into your pocket and nodding, you agree, “it’s a bit late so we’ll go tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“Perfect! I’ll pick out all my favorites tonight and we can see them as soon as they open,” there’s glee in her voice, a giddiness on her face as she puts in the name of the shop into her own phone before grabbing onto your hand. “Now that’s done, let’s get some bubbles!”

Chuckling and shaking your head, you follow her lead and allow her to pull you into the bubble tea shop. There’s not too many people around so ordering is quick and easy and soon the two of you are seated in the corner. You ask for details on how Ochaco asked her to the winter formal and the story is rather cute.

One where there was a lot of fumbling and blushing until the words came rushing out over, of course, bubble tea and mochi. “She was so cute, sis,” Himiko sighs with a dreamy look on her face, “she was all nervous and scared until she just blurted out she wanted me to be her date.”

“When is the dance?”

“It’s about a month and a half away. Just before winter break starts.”

A relief to hear since there is plenty of time to get a dress and not have to take Touya to help deal with potential rude shoppers. “Good, so we have time to get everything.” You have to pause and raise an eyebrow, asking, “wait, why are you doing highlights now?” You know for a fact that any dyeing or highlighting or anything else will not last for almost two months and still look freshly done.

She beams at you and explains, “to practice of course! I don’t want to mess anyone's hair up before the big day, I want everyone to look cute and feel cute.”

Spoken like a true stylist and it brings a smile onto your face, “well so long as everyone knows you’re not a professional and they’re okay with that then… go for it.”

“All the girls know. We’re actually going to get together next Saturday, if that’s alright?”

“Sure,” you respond with a small shrug, “so long as everyone’s parents know. Are you going to someone’s house?”

She giggles and whispers over her tea, “no… I’m going to the UA dorms.” A bit of a surprise and one that has your brow furrowing a little. From everything you have heard from Ochaco and Himiko, the school has opted for students to stay on campus most of the time due to the USJ incident. Visitation is limited to after school hours and visitors must leave at eight thirty. You’re pretty sure that sleepovers aren’t a thing.

“Since when does UA allow sleepovers?”

“Well… about that,” she admits with a sly look, “we were hoping you could maybe ask Mr. Aizawa-”

“No.”

“Wait, wait, let me finish!” She pauses to take a deep drink from her milk tea then continues, “it’ll be on the weekend and I’ll make sure to stay in Ochaco’s room. I won’t leave or do anything crazy, I promise!”

Rolling your eyes and letting out a little sigh, you say, “I don’t know, Himi.” Though you have little doubt Aizawa can handle her, it’s more than likely against UA policy.

She gives quite the pout that is complete with puppy dog eyes and pleads, “just ask? Pretty, pretty please?”

Letting out a little groan at how determined she is to make you cave… you find yourself doing just that, “if he says no then that’s it. No sneaking out, no other begging, nothing like that. Got it?”

She does a happy little dance in her seat and throws her arms up with an enthusiastic, “got it!” It’s a little hard to regret your decision and figure the worst that can happen is Aizawa says no. While he has quite the soft spot for his kids - even if he denies it - he is still a teacher of UA and may not be keen on bending the rules. Even if it is a harmless sleepover. Then again… he can do things a little unorthodox and just maybe he’ll be willing to overlook Himiko’s presence.

“I’ll ask him when I see him next.”

Another nod and she launches into what she is planning on doing for everyone’s hair. Apparently she has gotten to know quite a few of the girls in Ochaco’s class and each of them like the idea of having their hair styled or colored. You’ll give your sister credit for managing to convince so many to let her have a hand in changing their looks rather than going to a professional. Perhaps it’s Himiko’s charm or just maybe the fact that their hair will be changed for free.

The sun has set by the time the two of you leave the tea shop, bundled up in winter jackets and you try not to shiver too much in the chilly air. Though it hasn’t snowed yet, the wind is biting and you have little doubt snow will be arriving soon enough.

Heading back to the car, you listen to Himiko but find a different sort of shiver going down your spine.

One you know a little too well.

You carefully glance around the stores and find the only thing that seems out of place is a woman bundled up on a bench. Though it is cold, she seems to huddle in on herself with a scarf, hat, gloves and a puffy coat, clothing that is a little overboard for the current weather. She sits a little ways from the car but you and Himiko still need to pass her to leave.

Frowning, you place yourself between the bench and Himiko, a move that the blonde doesn’t really notice and continues chatting about this and that. You try your best to listen to what she’s saying but her words are noise in your ear as an all too familiar feeling of dread washes over you. This one is different from the ones you have felt recently, more familiar, a chill that won’t leave your skin that goes beyond the winter wind.

Hyper focusing on your surroundings doesn’t help because you simply cannot place anything odd other than the woman on the bench. Everyone else seems normal, high schoolers giggling as they head home, couples leaning on each other as their day winds down, nothing that out of the ordinary. Trying to shake it off and reminding yourself that the car is only a few yards away, you walk a little faster. Just as you open your mouth to say something… you feel it.

It’s a twinge of pain in your neck, barely noticeable but every muscle locks up and will not move. Your voice is robbed and you find yourself staring at Himiko who looks up in concern, you’re able to hear her voice and understand the words but unable to respond. “Sis? What is it?”

Then there’s a quiet sigh and you force yourself to glance to the side to find the woman moved. Just a little, her hand is now resting on the back of the bench and there’s a whisper that is thunderous to your ears, “give her the car keys. Tell her you forgot something and will be right back. Be normal.”

Without your permission, your hand dips into your pocket as you retrieve the keys and hand them out to Himiko. A fragile smile curls at the corner of your lips and you say, “go ahead and get in the car. I’ll be right back. I forgot something….”

“Forgot what?” She asks, a frown on her face as she takes the keys from you.

Words leave your mouth before you can even think about them, “forgot to get the boys a drink.”

She blinks and tilts her head with narrowed eyes, “Touya doesn’t like bubbles and Tomura isn’t home right now.”

“I’ll be right back,” you repeat, then swallow hard and say, “just go to the car.”

Himiko stares at you for a few seconds then finally nods and says, “‘kay… just… don’t take too long.” To your relief, she heads to the car and lets herself into the passenger side.

Once she is relatively safe and away from the woman, you glance down as she stands up and lowers her scarf. Eyes the same color as yours stares right back, only her scleras are permanently black as she gives a cool smile. Even though she is nearly a decade older since the last time you saw her, Rin Shinku looks practically the same.

“Hello, darling daughter,” she greets you and turns towards the tea shop, telling you, “let’s take a walk.” Your legs are leadened and move without your input, following the commands of Rin Shinku who leads you back towards the tea shop. She speaks again, “you’re free to talk. Just don’t yell or call for help.”

Suddenly the invisible grip around your throat is gone and you suck in a breath and hiss, “what the fuck do you want?”

She lets out a soft ‘tsk’ sound and gives you a disapproving stare, delicate lips pulling down into a minor frown, “you know better than to curse at me like that. Don’t do it again.” Yet another command you have no choice but to follow, gritting your teeth as the curses building in your throat feel like molasses, sticky and impossible to get out. “Good. Now ask again. Nicely.”

“What do you want?” You repeat, voice softer, civil and she nods her head with a satisfied look.

“Much better. And it’s simple, I want you to work for me.”

You can’t help but laugh and give her a disbelieving look, “why?”

She shrugs and says, “because you’re more useful than I realized. A mistake I’m seeking to rectify. Plus… having you will be a nice counter to the Shie Hassaikai and their little secret weapon.”

“What are you talking about?” Alarm bells ring in your mind as you try to unpack everything she says but nothing is really making sense. Who in the world is she alluding to? Is there someone who is a captive to the Shie Hassaikai?

A shrug and she says, “the details are probably too much for you pretty little head, darling. No need to worry, I’ll deal with them when the time comes. I just need you to help those I bring you.”

“You want me to heal Yakuza members.”

There’s a flash of pride that crosses her face as she looks up with a little smile, agreeing, “yes, that’s correct. My, my, look at how smart you are. If I would have known you’d be so useful, I would have never accepted your cousin into my ranks. A silly mistake on my part.”

Bitterness wells in your chest and you so badly want to spit out the words but can’t, not while under her control and have to settle for a neutral tone of, “so you’re the leader of the Kuruokai.”

A wave of the hand and she responds, “you already knew that, darling.” She steps into the tea shop with you but rather than ordering anything, she asks the cashier, “excuse me, may we go through your back door?” The request is met with a bewildered expression and a bit of side eye.

The young woman shakes her head and says, “uhm, no, sorry, that’s off-”

“Oh come now,” your mother interrupts and leans a little against the counter as the girl lets out a sharp hiss. Glancing down, you find the reason and your blood goes cold. A small syrette is stuck in the girl’s hand and you watch in muted horror as Rin continues, “you can let us through the back door, hm? Then after that, you can forget it ever happened, how does that sound?”

The poor woman flinches back and has a look of disbelief and fear though it rapidly disappears. A moment later, she is nodding her head sluggishly and motions for the two of you to go. A nod and Rin takes out the syrette then walks towards the back and you have little choice but to follow. Through the door and in an alley, she walks for a good few minutes then finally says, “don’t worry, we’ll be going home soon. So tell me, what do you need to stay healthy while you use your quirk?”

“Clean O negative blood, plenty of iron and rest if I’ve used it too much,” you reply, words falling out without your permission, dull and to the point.

She nods with a hum and comments, “easy enough things to gather up. Now, let me have your cell phone.” It hurts you to take it out of your pocket and hand it over no matter how hard you try resisting.

Dainty fingers take it and she pokes around the screen before there’s a sigh and she turns towards a dumpster. The sight has you reacting, voice pleading in a way you absolutely despise, “please, don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow at you and replies, “it’s not as though you’re going to need this any longer.”

“Don’t,” you say again and continue, a little desperate, “it’s important to me.”

For a moment she watches you with pursed lips then finally rolls her eyes with a long, suffering sigh, “fine. I suppose I’ll hold onto it for now. Do anything to upset me and it’s going into the trash or the ocean. Got it?” To your relief she does slip it into her pocket after turning it off.

A nod is all you can offer and she hums then glances at her watch before folding her arms with an impatient noise. Minutes tick by and you can start working your fingers again and shifting your weight from one leg to the other when there’s another sting in your neck.

Glaring at her, you watch as she pulls away, an empty syrette in her hand and she shakes her head, admonishing you, “none of that now. I won’t need to keep you under as much control once we get home so just be good and stand there. Quietly.”

You do just that, a puppet on a string without the ability to fight back or twist away from the cruel puppeteer next to you. The minutes are long and miserable, Rin fiddling on her phone while you remain where you are. A car pulls up, sporty and silver, and Shatterfang steps out with a toothy smile and an apology.

Something your mother barely seems to hear, rolling her eyes with a hand wave and comments, “I hate lateness. Do better next time Kenji. Darling,” she says and looks you in the eye, “get in the backseat and put on your seatbelt.”

Dark thoughts race through your mind, mainly the fact that Himiko is sitting in the car, waiting for you to return. Only you can’t and won’t be able to. That once she realizes you aren’t coming back, she’s going to panic and not know what to do. You can only hope she calls Touya and Tomura sooner rather than later, the last thing you want is for her to be wandering around shops after dark. Then there’s the boys who you know are going to be beyond concerned and are possibly calling your phone already. Looking for you, wanting to know what happened. Yet you’re powerless to tell them a damn thing.

Numbness spreads through your mind though you do your best to fight against it, determined to stay in the present rather than disassociate like you used to as a child. You force yourself to stare out the window and take in all the buildings and places you pass by. Soon the well lit streets turn into something darker, the clean looking neighborhood growing more dilapidated with worn down buildings.

Finally the car stops in a warehouse parking lot and Rin tells you, “let’s get you settled into your new home. Come on, follow me.”

Chapter Text

The warehouse is rather innocent from the outside, looking just like the other buildings surrounding it and blending in perfectly. Inside is much the same but it changes the moment you go into an elevator. When you step out onto the third floor, the graffitied walls and cracked concrete have turned into nice flooring and clean paint.

Rin ignores you the entire time, content with chatting with Shatterfang who also doesn’t glance at you. Leaving you to feel frustrated in a way that you haven’t in many years. Yet you can’t do anything or say a word, remaining quiet and demure, exactly how your mother prefers.

You pass by quite a few doors until one is opened for you, one of the furthest from the elevator. Inside is a room that has no real color or personality, a small bed, a nightstand with a lamp, a table with a single chair and a decent sized armoire. Of course, that’s when Rin tells you, “this is your room. Don’t worry about a thing, you’ll be escorted to your meals and taken to your soon to be patients afterwards.”

Then you’re being pushed forward by a hand on your back and Shatterfang offers a small smile, reassuring you, “don’t worry, it’ll get easier. Just try to relax.” And with that, they close the door, leaving you in a small, impersonal room and you can hear a lock being flipped. The sound echoes through your mind and you grit your teeth.

For a good five minutes, you just stand there and try curling your fingers to see if you have control again. Once you’re finally able to form a fist, you take in a deep breath then sink onto the floor as too many thoughts crowd your mind.

Is Himiko safe and sound at home by now?

Has Tomura been clawing at his neck again due to feeling anxious?

Is Touya prowling the streets to look for you?

Will Aizawa just assume you’re ignoring his texts?

How in the world are you going to get out of this place?

It’s too much and tears cloud your vision as you try to come to grips with everything that’s happened. You refuse to let out any noises though, curling forward and pressing your face into your knees as you just breathe. A difficult thing to do but you force your diaphragm to expand in control bursts even as the tears overwhelm you.

Coming up with a plan is not easy, not in this environment and not when you have no idea what exactly is expected from you. Healing, yes, but when and how often are the real questions. And if you don’t do as they say then… you have a feeling what the consequences will be. Beyond being controlled and forced into action, pain of some kind will be in your future.

After what could be only a few moments or an hour, you finally force yourself to stand up and wander over to the bed. Toeing off your shoes and shredding off your winter coat are all you do to get ready for bed. Though sleep is going to be difficult and most likely impossible, it’s still something you want to try. If you’re going to escape from this place then you’ll need to do what you can to keep yourself healthy.

Laying onto the bed is uncomfortable, the firmness is unwanted and strange, the sheets are itchy and there aren’t enough pillows. Still, you try to force yourself to settle and close your eyes. You yearn for so many things but at this moment… you yearn for the soft fur of Felix and grab one of the few pillows, hugging it to your chest. It’s a shallow comfort but one that you’ll take for the time being.

There’s a knock on the door that wakes you up from your not so great sleep, one that is riddled with nightmares and memories. Bleary eyed and tired, you force yourself to sit up and watch as the door is opened by your mother. Dressed precise as always in a designer dress with little snow boots and perfectly styled hair, your mother stands out amongst the basic furniture. She raises an eyebrow at you then sighs and says, “there are plenty of clothes in the armoire for you. Use them.”

“What do you want from me, exactly?” You counter and watch with wary eyes as she folds her arms.

With a wave of a manicured hand, she replies, “I already told you. I want you to work for me and heal anyone I tell you to. Simple.”

“Why?”

“Oh darling, the why’s hardly matter, all that-”

You interrupt her, firm and biting, “I’m not a kid anymore and I suggest you remember that.”

She blinks then, actually looking a bit taken aback and seems to consider your words before sighing, “yet you’re acting childish as ever.” Though she does at least humor you by replying, “fine, I suppose I can overlook this little outburst. Perhaps an explanation will make the transition easier.” With that she turns the chair at the table to face you and sits down, legs crossed, hands folded on her lap. “Why you asked? Well simple, your quirk is quite useful.”

“You didn’t think that before,” you remind her with a bitter tone.

Something she barely blinks at and nods, admitting, “you’re right. I won’t lie, I was disappointed to see you had a healing quirk of all things. I’ll even admit, I was shortsighted in what it could be used for.”

“But now that you’ve seen my capabilities, you’ve… what? Realized you were wrong?”

Her brow furrows for a second before she clicks her tongue and says, “I merely didn’t have all of the information. You were hiding your potential. Or, perhaps, you weren’t aware of it as a child.” She gives a small, cool smile and shrugs, “either way, I know it now and think you should come home.”

The way she says the word ‘home’ sends shivers down your spine and you force yourself to sit up taller. Unwilling to show any weakness and point out in a dry tone, “and it has to be me. There are other doctors or medics.”

Another wave of the hand and she replies, voice a bit terse and dismissive, “but none that can claim Shinku blood.” She gives you a disapproving look and says, “what happened to my little girl who was always so eager to prove herself? Who was always training to get stronger?”

Gritting your teeth and taking in a deep breath to not explode as uncomfortable memories press into your skull, you reply in a tight voice, “I was training to make sure I didn’t get killed, mother.”

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head and rolls her eyes, “you were never in danger of being killed.”

“The fact my quirk went through a reawakening says otherwise,” you snap back.

She laughs then, just a little, and gives you another smile, replying in a tone you despise. It’s condescending, a little slow, as though you’re an upset child that needs smoothing, “darling, you were never going to die. Stop being so dramatic. Was I a little rough with your training?” She pauses and seems to think about it before finally giving the smallest of nods, “perhaps, I can agree to that. But you were hardly in any danger since you can just heal yourself.”

You’ve always known your mother to be a cold person who struggles with people. Why should she listen or come to an understanding or even a compromise when it’s so much easier just to control someone. But to hear her dismiss your childhood and the pain, the torture you went through just because you can heal yourself is… it’s difficult to put into words.

It’s infuriating and the frustration you’re feeling is beginning to boil over into something else. Something dangerous, something far closer to hate.

Twisting your fingers deep into the blankets and taking in a deep breath, you say, doing what you can to keep cool headed, “I have a life.”

“Yes, yes,” she agrees but is flippant and dismissive, “three troubled teens you’ve taken in and practically raised on your own. It’s sweet, adorable even, but,” her eyes lock onto yours, a coldness in them, “they aren’t blood, darling. They’re distractions. Nothing more.”

“They’re my family,” you hiss and glare.

“Blood is far more important-”

“No it’s not!” You cut her off as your scleras bleed black, matching your mother’s in a way you cannot stand. Still, you keep going, knowing this may be one of the few chances you have to speak your mind. “Blood doesn’t mean a fucking thing when your biological family is abusive and made up of terrible people!”

Her lips curl into a frown and she stands up, shaking her head and you wince at the feeling of something entering your shoulder. A quick glance shows a syringe-like weapon that rapidly depletes the blood inside and you glare, defiant as you wait for her to take control.

“I was getting you ready for how cruel this world is to people like us. If you wish to consider it abuse, so be it. But you can’t tell me the skills you learned haven’t helped you.” She sighs then and says, voice soft and commanding, “now… take a shower and get dressed in some fresh clothes. The bathroom is right over there,” she points to a door near the armoire before continuing, “I’ll come to collect you in ten minutes. We’re going to eat and then I’ll show you to your first patient.”

Her words echo in your mind and you have no choice but to follow, slipping out of the bed and heading to the bathroom. Once underneath the warm water of the shower, you allow yourself a few moments to disassociate, to think about other things, better things. By the time you force yourself to focus again, you’re in front of the wardrobe in a towel and staring at the clothing hanging inside.

All dresses in different colors but all are sweater dresses to go along with the season of winter. Easy, simple, perfect, exactly how Rin Shinku prefers things to be. Recalling the designer dress she wore, you go for the opposite color, picking one that is burgundy. Though it’s not much of an act of rebellion considering you’re under her control, it is still something you know that will irritate her. Just a little.

Sure enough, once you dress and wait to be ‘collected’ your mother opens the door then wrinkles her nose at your choice. Rather than commenting though, she turns her heel and says, “come on then.”

The next thirty or so minutes are incredibly uncomfortable, sharing a breakfast with your mother in an empty room on the second floor of the warehouse. What little you can see of this floor seems to be relatively normal amenities, a room with a few couches and a large tv, one with a pool table and a wet bar, the one you sit in with a huge dining room table and kitchen just out of sight. Putting it together in your head, you figure that the first floor must be a ‘dummy’ floor so to speak, one that suggests an abandoned building while the other floors have what a hideout would want or need. Smart and discreet enough that most wouldn’t think twice when passing by it.

Breakfast is tasteless in your mouth and the atmosphere is tense, not that your mother seems to notice or care. In fact, she barely acknowledges your presence and only does so to remind you of proper table manners or to sit up straight. It’s a miserable time and one that you try ignoring by thinking about other things. Mainly what seems like the best way of escaping from this place. Unfortunately you’re not able to come up with much thanks to the limited time and limited ability to wander around the building.

Once breakfast is finished, Rin Shinku leads you to the elevator again but rather than going up, you go down this time. Into a basement floor and one that is all sterile white lights and pristine tiles. It reminds you of a clinic or a hospital, something you’re not far off from once you’re taken to a room that requires a keycard to even enter. Inside is eerily similar to a hospital ward of some sort or even an ER with the amount of patients lying about on cots. The one closest to you is a man that is clearly out of it due to an injury to his chest. One that has been poorly taken care of, leaking blood and puss and who knows what else through the bandages.

“And here is where you’ll be spending a lot of your time,” Rin tells you, gesturing to the man, “as you can see, the art of medicine isn’t exactly something my men are good at. So if you could be a dear and heal everyone in here, that would be wonderful. Any questions?”

Glad you can at least voice a few things, you remind her, “I need blood for myself, remember?”

“Of course,” she motions to a fridge on the other side of the wall, “there’s plenty in there for you. Medical supplies are in the cupboards and if you need anything at all, just hit this button right here.” She points to a small metal plate that stands out from the rest of the room, one that you realize must be some sort of intercom system. “Now… do your best and I’ll see you in a few hours.” And with that, she walks out of the room and you can hear the door lock behind her.

You wait until her control has worn off before trying the door for the hell of it. Of course it doesn’t open and you sigh, debating on what to do. While the idea of helping the Kuruokai makes you feel a little ill… you’re really not sure what choice you have at this point. The consequences haven’t been made clear yet but knowing your mother, they will be harsh and painful.

Plus… though you loathe to admit it, it’s entirely possible that half of the people in this room aren’t here by their own free will. Just like you, they might be puppets and have little choice in going forward with whatever Rin Shinku dictates.

Choosing to believe that for now, you go around the people in the room to see who needs urgent attention and who can wait. Triaging isn’t something you often do but it makes the most sense with this many wounded patients. Once you’ve examined everyone and taken in their wounds, you get to work.

First with the man who has the wound on his chest, one that appears infected and oozing all sorts of disgusting pus and blood platelets. It seems whoever was in charge of taking care of the wounded really didn’t know what the hell they were doing. It takes an hour or so to really clean him up and flush out everything that needs it, the skin weeping blood and is so damaged you’re not sure how well stitching will go. Still, you do your best with the sutures before switching to bandages then finally using your quirk on him.

Once you’ve done all you can, you move onto the next patient.

Then the next.

Then another.

Then a fifth.

Then a sixth.

By the time you’re finally done with the room, you’ve gone through practically all of the blood packets in the fridge. Allowing yourself to rest on the floor, you close your eyes and wonder if this is how your days will be expected to be spent. Minimum interaction with anyone and with unconscious or half dead people.

A bleak future and one you have no interest in.

However… you know that for now, your best interest is to play along. At least until you can get your bearings and maybe even a bit of trust in your corner. Just enough to use it for later and make an escape.

Your mother comes to retrieve you and looks pleased, even satisfied at your work, praising you coolly before insisting on having dinner. Of course that includes injecting you with some of her blood so she can control you and after dinner you find yourself back in the same plain room for sleep.

The next day it’s much the same and the day after that.

The days begin to blur together, the routine the same, the tasks the same, and you do your damnest to stay in the present. At night you try not to get lost in daydreams or disassociate but find that it’s difficult not to. Not when there’s so many emotions bubbling in your chest, ones that you have no interest in truly examining, not when all of them are so negative, so anger fueled, it simply isn’t who you are.

Yet… every time you wake up to find you’re in that bleak little room with no personality and you’re forced to shower and put on another fucking sweater dress, those emotions deepen just a little. It’s only a matter of time before they burst, something you’re wholly aware of and don’t know what to do about. It’s easier to think of other things, happier times, to disassociate, especially when the dark emotions threaten to overwhelm you. The guilt of not being stronger, the hatred for your mother, the rage at being forced to do things you don’t want to.

On occasion, others talk to you who are in a similar state.

Heroes, usually, that you patch up and clean their wounds, mostly young and once vibrant people who are now former shells of themselves. Upset that they’re being forced to do the work of someone like Rin Shinku, angry at themselves for not being stronger. They talk to you with tears in their eyes and all you can do is listen and let them vent. Because the sad truth is that once they’re healed and better, it’ll be back into a small room with quirk suppressors.

You never know what to tell them and opt for silence rather than false words. Telling them it’ll be okay rings hollow, pointless, even a bit insulting because the fact is that you have no idea if it will be or not. Not for them and… not even for yourself.

Days or even weeks must have gone by and it eats you up inside to know that your siblings are probably losing their minds. Not just them though… you have little doubt that the people of Yuno are just as upset at losing you. If for nothing else but your abilities as a doctor and the fact you don’t discriminate against anyone that needs help. And just maybe, Aizawa is concerned too.

When you're in a particularly dark mind space, that’s the one person you find yourself thinking about most. Reminiscing about the times the two of you met up at the bar… but especially the memory of the cat cafe. The vulnerability the hero showed you that night, how he even smiled and gave you the softest kiss on the cheek…. All memories that help a bit of light in an otherwise gloomy and miserable situation.

Eventually at dinner, more people join you and Rin at the table. All of them have conversations around you, not a single person really acknowledging your existence or asking for your opinion. Content to chat with your mother or amongst themselves and slowly you catch onto important bits of conversation.

Talks about movement from the Shie Hassaikai, suspicious deaths that are too perfect because there’s seemingly nothing wrong with the victims, whispers of a drug. One that can undo quirks and turn people into quirkless, normal people. There are even talks about a raid on the Shie Hassaikai headquarters itself to search for whoever is responsible for such a dangerous creation.

Rather than dreading dinner after an exhausting day of healing Yakuza members, you look forward to them. If for nothing else it’s a chance to learn about what’s going on outside of this dreary warehouse. And what the Kuruokai are planning.

Information that while might not be useful right now, could end up being key later on. There are nights where it isn’t all that exciting or worse the dinners are just yourself and your mother but what you do overhear is interesting. Funny enough it would seem being under Rin Shinku’s control in these moments are beneficial if for nothing else than most members treat you like a doll. Allowing you to listen and observe without needing to interact with anyone.

After about a month - at least you think it’s that long - of being forced to play doctor is when you end up with the strangest patient.

It’s another typical day of wearing the same sweater dress and eating a perfectly fine breakfast when Rin tells you, “there’s a new patient for you to see today, darling. Quite different from the rest.”

You glance at her, disinterested and barely present, replying in a dry tone, “and why is that?” Using your voice has become a bit rare but in these moments you relish being able to say whatever you want.

All she does is smile at you and say, “you’ll see.”

Sighing but accepting her need to be frustrating and secretive as always, you ignore her for the time being. Even when you’re forced to stand with her in the elevator, it’s easy enough to keep your eyes forward and away from her.

At least… until she takes you into the usual hospital-like room in the basement and you find yourself staring at the last patient you ever expected to find. One that breaks through the fog of simply going through the motions.

It’s a little girl with bandages covering her limbs, long messy white hair and large red eyes, a girl who stares at you with a mix of fear and resignation. She sits on the bed furthest from the door, huddled against the wall with a pillow clutched against her chest. You blink, then do it again and glance at Rin Shinku, eyes narrowed and waiting for an explanation.

One that is given in the form of a simple, “this is the Shie Hassaikai’s secret weapon.”

“A kid…?” You mumble and look back at her. She seems normal for the most part, the only feature sticking out to you is a single horn on the right side of her forehead that is a few inches long.

“Indeed,” your mother agrees with a sigh and wave of the hand, “I want you to look over her. See if there’s anything wrong. Then, well, I haven’t decided what to do with her yet.” Those are the last words she offers before she walks out of the room and locks the door behind her, leaving you and the little girl alone.

It’s hard but somehow you manage to take in a deep breath then approach the girl. She tenses, fingers digging into the flat pillow harder and you take a seat on the bed across from her. For a moment it’s silent and both of you examine each other until you finally break it with a soft, “what’s your name?”

Silence.

There’s distrust in her eyes and you give a wry smile, sliding off the bed to sit on the floor instead and offer your name. She blinks then but still doesn’t respond. So you say, “are you hurt anywhere?”

A shrug and you scan her body in search of any obvious signs of trauma. The bandages around her limbs aren’t dirty or red in color which suggests there aren’t any serious injuries underneath them at least. Without a proper examination though, you’re really not sure but figure that’ll simply have to wait.

“Alright,” you finally say and rest your head against the bed, “if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay.”

“Is it…?” Her voice is soft, barely audible but loud enough for you to open your eyes and meet hers again.

Nodding, you say, “sure, I don’t mind.”

She seems to struggle with what to think before she finally says, “I’m Eri….”

“Eri,” you repeat, then offer a smile, “that’s cute.”

She hugs the pillow tighter to her chest and stares with her big eyes, a look of surprise crossing her face. “Really?”

“I think so,” you agree.

It’s silent again for a long time but you don’t mind, just glad to have a bit of time that doesn’t involve stitching people back together. You have so many questions about how a child has ended up in a rather dark underworld but push that to the side. But asking a clearly traumatized little girl isn’t going to get you anywhere so you get comfortable and relax as best you can on the floor.

You’re practically dozing when you hear a soft, “you’re not like them. Bad I mean….”

That has you opening your eyes to meet hers and noting that she now has the pillow across her lap. “I like to think so,” you say with a hum.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t want to be,” you admit and give a rueful smile, “unfortunately I don’t have much choice right now. But I plan on escaping.”

She perks up then, just a little, sitting up straighter with wide eyes and her fingers twist into the fabric of the pillow case, “I… I want to escape too.”

Keeping a soft voice, you ask, “from what, Eri…?”

For a moment she seems speechless but presses forward and says, “from… from everything.” Her face suddenly falls and tears press up into her eyes as she whispers, “but every time I try to leave… he kills people. He tells me I’m selfish and it’s my faul-”

“Hey, hey,” you interrupt and push off the floor until you’re kneeling in front of her and gently put a hand on her knee. There’s a bit of a flinch but she doesn’t pull away as you continue, “it’s going to be okay.”

The tears come faster and she reaches out, little hands clenching your upper arms and she whispers, “but he always finds me.” Hearing the fear in her voice tugs at your heartstrings and you don’t think, pulling her against your chest and sitting back on the floor.

Gently, you curl around her in a hug and let her cling to you, her little face pressing into the collar of your dress as she trembles against you. Running a hand through her messy hair, you rest your cheek against the side of her head and tell her, “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that right now.” Not that it means she isn’t out of danger considering she’s gone from one Yakuza branch to another. However, you don’t believe Rin Shinku will be quite as cruel to Eri as whoever is in charge of the Shie Hassaikai.

From what you’ve heard and picked up from all of the forced dinners, all that really matters to your mother is that she takes away the Shie Hassaikai’s ‘secret weapon’. Why she is so determined to be the reigning Yakuza boss is honestly beyond you.

Hearing your name has you blinking and quickly shaking off your thoughts to look down at a concerned looking Eri. She swallows, shoulders tense, little fingers gripping the sleeves of your sweater harder as she dares to ask, “how come you’re here?”

“The woman you saw earlier… she can control people with her blood. She took control of me when I was out with my little sister.”

“Sister?” She blinks and looks curious, “you have siblings?”

“Sure do. I have three of them.” She stares at you with a look of almost awe and you give a small smile, offering, “wanna hear about them?”

A little nod is all it takes and you begin with Touya, telling her about his easy going and usually relaxed nature, little quirks of his such as how he doesn’t like seafood but enjoys soba. You mention to her what he looks like such as he has white hair but it’s currently dyed black, blue eyes and even mention his faint burn scars.

“Scars?” She asks suddenly and looks up at you with a curious look, “he has them everywhere?”

“Yeah, his quirk can hurt him if he isn’t careful. He has a fire quirk with very hot blue flames that can burn him.”

There’s a bit of hesitation then she is pulling at some of the bandages on her arm and the sight of her skin breaks your heart. There are scars everywhere, criss crossing her skin, some older, some fresher and she asks, “like these?”

Shaking your head and gently touching her scarred skin, you say, “not quite. Do these hurt?”

“No.”

“If they ever do, let me know.”

“You can heal people?” She tilts her head, curious and wonder in her eyes.

Nodding, you say, “yes, I can help with scarring too. They won’t ever fully go away but I can make them less noticeable.”

She snuggles closer to you before whispering, “what about your other siblings?”

“Ah, well, there’s Tomura and Himiko.”

Talking about your siblings makes you feel better, more grounded, more determined and you decide that enough time has gone by of being a puppet. And you have no intention of letting Eri be a captive for Rin Shinku.

Chapter Text

Eri becomes a constant patient for you and you see her nearly every day. You have a feeling it’s due to Rin Shinku having no idea how to be around a child on a good day, much less a child like Eri. So she leaves you to care for the little girl which is mostly just sitting with her in the usual medical room and talking here and there. Well, talking whenever you’re not trying to stitch someone back together. It bothers you to expose someone so young to your work, especially when someone is partially torn apart, but Eri does well with handling such sights. Most likely due to her own trauma and terrible experiences from the Shie Hassaikai.

It’s a bit of a task trying to get her to talk but with patience, she begins opening up to you. It’s nearly a week into her being the ‘prized guest’ of the Kuroukai when she admits she’s terrified to be near you.

A confusing statement and one that makes you pause, thoughtful, before glancing at her from where you rest on one of the cots and ask, “is it something I’ve done?”

“N-No,” she shakes her head quickly, clutching a pillow to her chest and pressing her face against it, “but… but my quirk hurts people. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sitting up with a curious look, you say, “do you have any control of it?” She shakes her head again with a miserable look and you hum then reassure her, “I’m not worried. What can you do, exactly?”

It’s a question she doesn’t seem to know how to answer and stumbles over her words. Still, you do your best to listen and ponder over what she does manage to tell you. Mainly that she’s apparently been told she’s a monster for accidentally killing her father and others by making them not exist anymore. Recalling the forced dinners and the conversations you’ve overheard, you remember talks about a drug that can erase quirks and wonder if she has a type of erasing or even a time quirk.

Both are incredibly rare, in fact, the only person you know with an erasure quirk is Aizawa and you’ve only read about a few people with a time quirk.

Either way, you’re pretty sure that she has a mutation, similar to Tomura. One that can be devastating if the user isn’t trained correctly or forced to use it against their will. Judging by the way Eri curls into herself and voices her fears… you have little doubt it’s a mixture of both.

“Okay,” you say finally and turn to her, glad that the two of you can have a few hours of alone time thanks to not needing to stitch anyone up today, “then let’s practice.”

She stares, confusion swimming in her red eyes and repeats, “practice…? How?”

Giving a tired smile, you stand and wander over to the cupboard full of medical supplies to search for something she can use. It takes a moment of examining everything before you decide on a vial that’s typically used for lab work. After filling it with some water from the sink, you walk back to her and hold it out. Hesitation is on her face but she does take the glass and wraps her entire hand around it.

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” you say and sit on the cot across from her, leaning forward, “that’s normal. But let’s see if you can do something with the water.”

Over the next few minutes, absolutely nothing happens. Even with Eri staring at it or playing with it, the water remains unchanged. Leading you to wonder if perhaps there is more to her quirk or perhaps a very specific requirement to use it.

Her words are soft, barely audible, “I’m sorry….”

“For what?” Blinking to rid of the thoughts running through your head, you reach out and take the glass from her, “we’re figuring this out together.” Those words seem to comfort her, a little, but there’s a solemn look on her face as she curls around her pillow.

It takes a bit for her to answer but when she does, your heart clenches a bit, “nobody’s tried helping me before.”

Not a surprising thing to hear though you school your face to not show how frustrating that sentence is. Quirks can be difficult to work with or seemingly impossible depending on the child and what their ability is. Things you know all too well thanks to your siblings and the trauma each of them have been through.

Touya’s quirk being technically too powerful for his body due to him having ice resistance rather than fire and leading to scarring. Tomura didn’t even know how to control his ability and relied on never touching anything with all his fingers to avoid it turning into dust. Though Himiko’s quirk technically hasn’t caused any issues, she deals with urges and cravings that are seen as disturbing or unsightly. All issues that have been - mostly - solved so that each of them can live a comfortable life.

Eri reminds you of them.

Lost and abused without a clue how to use her quirk due to everyone around her failing her, or worse, using her for their own twisted purposes. True villains. Completely different from those you surround yourself with around Yuno and people that deserve nothing but punishment.

Forcing yourself to focus and look up to see Eri staring with wary, unsure eyes, you offer a smile and say, “I was thinking about how much you remind me of my siblings. That’s all.”

Her guard falls a little and she murmurs, “how come?”

“Nobody tried helping them either,” you reply with a sigh before giving another smile and saying, “okay, then we’re going to try something else.” You stand up to put the vial back as you mull over everything Eri’s said over the past few days. Though she has done her best to give you as much information as possible in regards to her quirk, there’s so many unknowns. It seems that it doesn’t work with inanimate objects… and considering her ability can apparently be made into a drug then… perhaps it works on living things.

And only living things.

Realizing that might be it, you put the vial into the sink then search the cupboard for something to cut things with. There are the usual items like scalpels and needles but considering the scarring all over her limbs, the last thing you want is to make her think you’ll harm her. Or that you’re trying to experiment on her.

Finally, in the very back, you find a pair of sharp scissors and roll your eyes considering you could have used them weeks ago. Still, you figure that this is the best tool and move back to the cot, sitting on the edge.

With a deep breath, you open the scissors and press one of the sharp blades against the inside of your index finger before slicing the skin. Blood instantly wells up and Eri protests, jumping up with a panicked, “stop!”

Quickly putting the scissors down and reaching out with your uninjured hand, you reassure her, “it’s okay, I just want to see something.”

She freezes when you touch her shoulder, just the softest of touches and she bites her lip, eyes flickering between your face and the deep cut on your finger. One that is bleeding pretty good and you wonder if perhaps you put a bit too much pressure on the skin but shake that off.

“Can you heal this?”

She stares at you, confusion clear on her face before seemingly looking at the cut, lips pressing together before she whispers, “I… I dunno....”

“And that’s okay. Do you want to try?” The last thing you want is to push her into doing something she isn’t comfortable with or worse, make her feel that she has no options.

Her fingers bunch up fabric of the ugly dress your mother insists she wears and her shoulders hunch as she stares at the ground. You have to strain your ears to hear her next words, “what if I hurt you?”

“How would you hurt me, Eri?”

“That’s… that’s all I do,” she whispers.

Instantly you counter her words, “I don’t think so.” Her eyes go wide then and she glances up, unsure, and you smile, moving your hand from her shoulder onto her head. Gently, you stroke her hair and say, “you would have done so already if that’s all you do.”

A blink and her mouth falls open to retort but nothing comes out. In fact, she seems a little stunned by the idea until she stammers, “b-but that’s what he says-”

“Well he’s wrong,” you shrug and give her a calm look. “A lot of quirks can hurt people, some can even destroy people. Do you remember what I said about my brother Tomura?”

She nods, slowly, and steps closer, “you… you said he almost killed you.”

“Right,” you agree and use the hand not on her head to tug at your stupid sweater dress, uncaring when blood smears on the fabric until you can show the raised and discolored scar on your collarbone. “See this? He caused this scar. And I have this one…” you trail off and move the sweater dress again to show off your right shoulder where the burn scar stands, “from Touya.” You let go of the fabric and tell her, “I don’t think my brothers are bad people for hurting me. Just that they were young, scared kids that couldn’t control their quirks. Like you.”

“Like me,” she repeats then tilts her head a little, “do you think I can control my quirk?”

An easy question to answer and one you do with a small smile, “absolutely. So…” you lift your bleeding finger up, “want to try to heal this?”

“I can’t turn it off,” she says suddenly and looks up, nervousness in her eyes and she continues, “once I start, I can’t stop.”

Cocking your head to the side and considering her words, you ask, “how do you try to stop, usually?”

What she describes next is painful, her voice shaking as she explains, “I-I tell myself to stop. And then… I’ll hear his voice, it’s scary, he tells me I’m a monster, that I can’t, that I won’t and… and I just-”

“You lose control after that?” You interject, soft, not wanting her to spiral down that path.

A little nod is all she can give you, tears glittering in the corner of her eyes and you hum, considering her words. The last thing you want is for her to go into an absolute panic if she uses her quirk and is unable to control it. Another reason to yearn for Aizawa but you shake that off and try to think of a way to get past this.

“How about this… have you ever tried only using a little of your quirk?”

“A little?” She echoes with a confused look then shakes her head, “no….”

“Okay, then… if you’re comfortable, we can try that.”

She frowns and asks, one hand reaching up to touch her horn, “but how do I do that?”

“When you usually use your quirk, what does it feel like?”

For a moment, she seems unsure how to answer but does, describing the sensation of itching then sparks before it turns into an explosion of energy. Her words are jumbled and a little confusing but you get the jist of what she’s trying to tell you.

Nodding, you say, “want to try to use only a little energy then? Where it just feels like sparks?”

She examines your finger then takes your hand into her little ones. For a long moment, she just stares at your cut, lost and unsure, shoulders tensing all over again so you try to comfort her by stroking her hair. Softly, you tell her it’s okay, to take her time, and if she can’t do it, then it’s no big deal because you can heal the cut yourself.

Words that do seem to help and slowly she stops being such a ball of nerves, seemingly relaxing then… her horn begins to spark with energy. It’s not a lot but it is interesting to witness and suddenly the cut is gone. As though it’s erased from the skin but then she’s pulling away in panic and throwing herself onto the cot behind her.

The sparks build up, you can see them so you talk to her, voice calm and smoothing, “you did a good job Eri. You know… you remind me a lot of Tomura. He also couldn’t control his quirk.”

“R-Really?”

“Mhmm… I’ll tell you a little more about how I found him.”

Over the next thirty or so minutes, you describe how your younger brother was with his quirk and how he too didn’t have a clue what to do with it. Only that he knew it could hurt people because he had done so before. But with hard work and constant practice, he not only has control but has gone on to be a relatively normal twenty year old that’s in college. You admit to her that the two of you still practice to this day just to help expand his control and comfortability in not relying on gloves to cover his hands.

The sparks die down the more you talk until her horn is inactive, dormant and she looks at you in a mix of relief and amazement, “you’re still here.”

Raising an eyebrow at her odd words, you reply, “I am. And you healed my cut.” You hold your hand out to show the skin is perfect, not an imperfection in sight and tilt your head, examining the digit closer. The skin not only is healed but your nail is different too, the nail length not matching the others, a bit longer than it should be. Confused, you take a closer look and find that it’s probably around the same length as before you cut your nails a week or so ago.

Blinking, you look up and ask, “Eri… do you have a time quirk?”

She swallows and gives a little nod.

One that you hum at and say, “interesting.” Before you give a smile and tell her, “you did a good job.” She stares before ducking her head against her pillow and though there isn’t a smile on her face, there is a content look. One that you’ll take gladly.

It’s at the next dinner that you hear whispers about something about to happen, plans of fortifying the building or even abandoning it all together. Rin Shinku scoffs at all ideas other than hunkering down and guarding what they have in place. She insists that nobody can or will ruin what she has created and demands for there to be higher security measures. Even mentioning that she will go out and find another top hero that’s a higher rank than Shatterfang to guard the warehouse.

Something you notice that he frowns at, seemingly displeased, and it brings you more joy than it should to see his reaction at hearing how replaceable he is.

You listen more to everything they talk about and find that the best chance for escape is going to be during this possible raid. Though you have thought of how to escape and know that so long as Rin Shinku isn’t around, you have a decent chance, you’re hesitant to act. Not with Eri being in the mix now.

With her being constantly locked behind keycard doors and bodyguards, you’re not confident that you’ll be able to keep her safe when trying to get out. Though you’re a good fighter and can, if absolutely needed, incapacitate someone with the awakened version of your quirk, you aren’t sure what will happen if Eri ends up in the crossfire of a fight. Especially if it turns messy and a group tries overwhelming you rather than just one or two people.

But… with a raid seemingly on the horizon, that would be the perfect chance to slip out of the Kuruokai’s clutches.

There are more talks around the dinner table and when you hear the name Dabi, you feel a mix of pride and worry. A thought crosses your mind, one that you share with Eri the day after the enlightening dinner.

“Do you remember how I described Touya to you?” You ask once you have stitched up everyone that needs it, sitting in the corner of the room with the young girl.

She tilts her head a little, thoughtful, and nods, saying, “black hair and lots of scars.”

“Right,” you agree and motion to your lower jaw then down to your neck, “the most obvious ones are here and along his arms. He also has blue fire.” You try to think of anything else that can help her identify him but find there’s really not much else to say. Especially since his signature flames are pretty hard to miss.

She nods again though there’s confusion in her eyes as she questions, “why?”

“I want you to remember how he looks because he might be coming here.”

Her eyes go wide and she asks, fear in her voice, “they got him too?”

Quickly shaking your head, you reassure her, “no, no, I mean he’s looking for me and may have an idea where I am.” Something you hope to be true for your plan to work. Having Touya in the mix will certainly cause a good amount of chaos, maybe even enough to escape this place.

“Oh…” Eri mumbles, a gloomy look coming onto her face.

Having an idea where her mind is going, you reach out and put a hand on her head, “I want you to know what he looks like so you can run to him.”

Her head jerks up with wide eyes and she sputters, “r-run… to him?”

“Yeah. He’s someone I know will protect you. So if you see him, I want you to run towards him and yell his name, Touya, as loud as you can.”

Considering there are very few people that actually know his name, you have little doubt it’ll be a shock but you’re confident Touya won’t hesitate in helping her. After all, the only way for Eri to know his name is if one of his siblings told her.

“But what about you?”

“Believe it or not, I can fight,” you say with a shrug though have to sigh and admit, “I haven’t been able to due to Rin Shinku’s quirk. But I’m hoping that if this place does get raided, she’ll be taken by surprise.” Even if she is aware of the possible raid, she doesn’t know the time or who will be behind it and with those unknowns, you hope that’ll be enough for you and Eri to slip away.

She nibbles on her lip, seemingly thinking about your words and asks, “what if he doesn’t protect me?”

An honest question but it’s one that makes you chuckle and answer, “then he’s going to face a very upset big sister.” She lets out a little sound, almost a giggle but not quite, as you continue, “but I know he will. There aren’t a lot of people that know his actual name. He goes by Dabi as a vigilante and keeps Touya for his family.”

“How come?”

A question that has you hesitating, thinking on how to keep your brother’s story short and sweet even though it’s complicated and bitter. After a bit of mulling, you say, “he doesn’t like the idea of people knowing who he is. His biological family, the family he was born into, didn’t treat him very well and he would rather keep his distance from them.”

“Didn’t treat him well…” her shoulders slump and she mumbles, “they hurt him.”

“Yeah, they did,” you admit and put your hands on her shoulders, waiting for her to look up to meet your eyes again, “but he’s doing good now.”

Those words seem to comfort her and she looks into your eyes and says, “you’re a good big sister.” It’s a compliment you don’t expect and one that warms your heart. A smile comes onto your face as you wrap an arm around her, hugging her close.

One she returns with eager arms and you murmur against her head, “thanks, kiddo. I’m not gonna leave you behind, alright?”

“Even if he shows up?”

“Yeah,” you gently squeeze her as her fingers twist into your dress, “even if he does.”

‘He’ being the leader of the Shie Hassiakai, the person that has caused Eri so much trauma and too many scars to count. Someone that you really don’t know the name of, only that ‘he’ as she calls him, is a man that covers his entire body in clothing and wears a strange mask. One that she describes as bird-like and you have a feeling it’s similar to a plague doctor’s mask from ancient times. A bizarre fashion choice in your personal opinion but villains and heroes rarely make sense when it comes to their costumes.

The only hero costume you can say you actually like is Aizawa’s.

“I don’t want you to fight him,” she says into your shoulder.

Something you hum at and reply, “I don’t plan on it but if I absolutely must, I will if it means keeping you safe.” A tiny shake of the head is what you get in protest and you nod in response, murmuring, “it’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here.”

She doesn’t agree or disagree with your words, just presses further against you and you don’t say anything else, accepting that this is the best she can offer. After all, you can only imagine how many times she has been disappointed in the past or perhaps tried escaping only to be captured again.

Though you dislike taking on the role of being a hero, this is one of the few circumstances where you find yourself not even thinking about it. Unlike the USJ incident where you had doubts before rushing in with Touya to help Aizawa and his class, you feel compelled to act. Just maybe Aizawa has rubbed off on you a little.

Or perhaps it’s the fact that Eri is a kid in need of help and you have a long history of taking in those that need it most.

Leaning back until you lay down, you get comfortable and let her cling to you, offering other little stories of your siblings' antics throughout the years. Most of them are silly or only a little exciting but Eri listens to each and every one of them, sometimes prompting you with soft questions or little comments.

Of course the time comes to an end when your mother shows up with an indifferent look and insists that it’s time for dinner. Something that you ignore at first to sit up and let go of Eri, offering a comforting look before leaning down to press your forehead against hers. She blinks at the gesture and you whisper, “just stay strong for a little longer, kiddo.”

She examines your face, confusion clear on her own but does give you a little nod and whisper back, “okay.”

Your name is said sharply and you finally stand up, giving her one more hair ruffle, before forcing yourself to walk over to Rin Shinku. She examines you for a moment then looks back at Eri and says, “Kenji will be by shortly to collect you, just be patient.” And with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you to close the door after giving a quick wave.

Rather than stabbing you with a syrette like usual, she actually allows you to have control of your own actions for the first time in weeks. Something that you relish and take advantage of by asking, “what’s wrong?”

Eyes the same color as yours glance at you and you can see a bit of annoyance flickering in them before she responds, “I know you’ve heard the rumors swirling around the dinner table.”

“So a raid is happening.”

She waves a hand as the two of you get onto the elevator and she hits a button, seemingly thinking over her words. After a few seconds, she offers in a blunt tone, “most likely. Tell me, darling, what do you know of the Shie Hassiakai?” Blinking, you click your tongue and wonder just how messy the next few days are going to be.

“They’re a rival of yours, that’s about it,” you answer, not pressing for more information in the hopes that she gives it up willingly.

A gamble that pays off when she sighs and folds her arms, explaining blandly, “a pain is what they are. We’ve been stepping on each other’s toes for some time now but it seems that it’s finally coming to a head.”

“You did take Eri from them,” you say then dare to inquire, “why have you been butting heads so much with them anyway?”

She glances at you as the door dings, seemingly thinking then clicks her tongue and replies, “simple, they threaten me and my branch so I threaten theirs.” Blunt as ever and hardly a surprising answer but you still find yourself curious… mainly as to why in the world your mother would decide to run a Yakuza branch of all things. It’s something you don’t care about, not really, but do find yourself at least a little curious.

If a raid is on the horizon then you figure now is the time to ask while you’re forced to be in her presence, “why are you a Yakuza boss?”

She pauses, staring out the elevator and ignoring when there’s a soft ding again, the doors wanting to close but not able to with the two of you still being inside. The words she says are low and simple and… surprising, “there’s no Shinku left.”

Raising an eyebrow, you reply, “you had Ryuu.”

She scoffs and steps off the elevator, throwing a cool glance at you until you follow. The moment you step behind her is when she starts walking and replies in a clipped tone, “who turned out to be useless. But other than him and us, there are no more Shinku. Either dead or locked away.” Information that you’ve known for years considering the nature of your family but it does take you aback to hear she became a mob boss because of it. In a way, strange as it is, it sounds as though she wants a family again. And has decided to force you to be a part of it.

Even though her version of loving someone means doing so through fear, pain and utter indifference.

Even though she has always thought your quirk as being useless until recently.

Even if you are wholly against the idea and have been fighting her every step of the way.

Even when you have every intention of escaping and wouldn’t mind if this entire place burned to the ground.

In this moment, you find yourself staring at your mother in a slightly new light. Twisted and horrible as she is, there is a brokenness in her that you’ve never noticed before. A new revelation that makes you wonder - only for the briefest of seconds - what caused it but that thought quickly drifts away.

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is leaving this cage and taking Eri with you.

Not being under her control is strange but you figure this is a test of sorts, a way of seeing how broken down you’ve become or if you are still ‘defiant’ as she loves to call it. Rather than taking the bait, you walk behind her. Something that she seems happy with, even glancing over her shoulder with a pleased look and a cool smile. A smile that is wiped away at the sound of an explosion going on below your feet.

One that rattles the entire building and quite a few Yakuza members rush over with wide eyes, voices overlapping with one another as they try talking at the same time. To your mother’s credit, she listens as best she can before interrupting with a firm, “one of you will take my daughter back to the basement. Restrain her before you do. The other, come with me.”

Her hand is quick and you twitch at the feeling of a needle piercing your neck. Giving her a glare, she returns your look with a raised eyebrow and a simple, “I don’t trust you quite yet, darling. No need to look so offended. Now then… go downstairs and wait with Eri. Don’t do anything else. Be still and quiet. I won’t be long.”

Seeing no point in replying as her quirk takes control, leaving you motionless and silent as she leaves with one of the members. The other one, a young kid by the looks of it, leaves you by the elevator for barely a minute before he’s back with a pair of handcuffs. He doesn’t say a word as he takes your arms and forces them behind your back to put the cuffs around your wrists.

Being restrained is a hindrance, one you weren’t expecting and ponder on a way of getting out of them. With your body following Rin Shinku’s orders, it’s easy to think of other things.

Mainly how you will get out of this entire situation.

You’re somewhat confident that taking down the young Yakuza member will be doable even with your hands behind your back. The one good thing about your style of fighting is that there are plenty of kicks and leg sweeps in your arsenal. And if it comes down to it, it isn’t out of the question to simply kick him in the face.

Then the question is how to get out of the handcuffs but you hope he had enough forethought to at least grab the keys. And if not then… it’ll be interesting to escape without using your hands.

There’s a ding of the elevator and you shake yourself from your thoughts to find you’re back in the same room with Eri. She has curled up on the furthest cot, underneath the blanket with the pillow clutched around her head.

The words you want to say are trapped in your throat, sticky and impossible to get out thanks to Rin Shinku’s quirk. She doesn’t look up until the Yakuza kid barks a few orders at her, something that has her going so still on the bed but at least looking in your direction. Her eyes go wide and she says your name, slowly sitting up as a conflicted look flitters across her face. With a weak smile, you mouth slowly - hoping she can read your lips - that it’ll be okay.

Then the waiting game begins with the Yakuza member trying to call and text people for more information, pacing about the room as you sit down on a cot near the door. Your shoulders are beginning to ache so you allow yourself to disassociate a bit. Not enough to lose complete track of time but enough to give your body some reprieve and to relax before you begin testing your physical prowess.

Something you haven’t done earnestly in who knows how many years.

The rambling and rising panic in the kid’s voice is easy to ignore as you focus on breathing and testing your fingers. At least fifteen minutes go by until you can twitch the tips of your fingers. Another five go by and you can curl your fingers into fists. It seems that your mother was wrong about being quick with seeing what the problem is and you know it’s now or never.

Once the Yakuza member drifts by again, you strike, kicking out his legs and not giving him a chance to recover, slamming your knee against the back of his head. A sickening crack follows from his skull bouncing off the hard floor and you wince, just a bit, feeling a touch bad for the savage takedown. Still, you shove that to the side at the sight of him slumping over and try maneuvering him as best you can onto his back.

It’s a task but you manage then try locating any keys, twisting your arms uncomfortably for your hands to flutter about his pockets and belt. Your name is said again, scared and unsure and you look up to find Eri shuffling forward, her pillow hugged tightly against her chest.

Softening your voice, you apologize, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m trying to look for keys to get out of these handcuffs.”

She gives a nod, shifting on her feet, then asks, “can I help?”

“I’d love your help, kiddo. They should be small, silver. If you can’t find them then look for a card so we can get out of the room,” you stand up to relieve the pressure on your shoulders and watch as she looks for the items.

Unfortunately it seems that he never had any keys for the cuffs but at least she finds a keycard for the door. You motion for her to go to the door to unlock it and it takes a try or two but there’s a soft ‘beep’ and you let out a long exhale at the sight of the door being unlocked.

Eri looks up at you as you step next to her, tugging at the door and asks softly, “where are we going?”

“We’re leaving,” you respond, not entirely sure if the elevator is a good idea but figuring it can’t hurt to try. At least until it dings to reveal Shatterfang who blinks at the sight of you two before his lips curl up into a vicious smile. One that has you tensing and quickly motioning for Eri to run down the hallway.

Fear fills her face and she protests with, “I can’t leave you.”

“Yes you can, I’ll be fine, go.” You shift your body to stand in front of her, not too keen on your odds but unwilling to back down. “Now, Eri.” She tries protesting as another loud explosion shakes the warehouse, the lights flickering briefly and you glance up, wary and unsure of what the hell is going on upstairs. Shatterfang gains your attention again when he suddenly grows bigger, hairy, more wolf-like. A transformation quirk no doubt and one that you assume is why he has the nickname of ‘Wolf Hero’. Glancing down at her as you activate your quirk, you demand in a firm voice, “go, Eri!”

Thankfully she does this time and runs down the hallway in the opposite direction of the elevator. A choice you hope desperately you won’t regret as Shatterfang pounces at you with clawed hands.

Something you’re able to dodge by crouching down and twisting, pushing your hands against the floor to give some leverage as you deliver a kick to his stomach. One that is only somewhat effective due to your handcuffs limiting your range and sharp nails dig into the skin of your ankle, ripping into your flesh and blood spills across his fingers. Biting back a noise of pain and glaring in defiance, you manage to roll away.

“Not bad for being handcuffed,” he compliments as you stand again, grumbling and trying to shake off the pain.

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “rich coming from a supposed hero such as yourself.”

A comment he doesn’t take kindly to, lunging at you again and forcing you to hop backwards to avoid his grapple. Your arms scream in protest with each defensive maneuver you do and you try your damnest to ignore the pain. Unfortunately your quirk can’t ease the discomfort when technically nothing is wrong and you begin looking for an exit or chance of incapacitating the hero. A task you know all too well will be much harder than the Yakuza kid you took out.

He notices as well and gives you a sickening grin. He even plays with you by swaying back and forth in the hallway, arms outstretched and claws ready to tear at flesh. Unwilling to give up so easily and forcing yourself to remain light on your feet, you ready yourself to dance away again when you hear something.

Something that has your eyes widening and twisting to look in the direction Eri ran, hearing her voice loud and clear.

“Touya!”

Chapter Text

It happens almost in slow motion before your eyes.

Eri runs towards Touya who has just rounded a corner, blue fire crackling around his fingertips. The cry of his name makes him pause with a confused look though he shakes it off and extinguishes the fire in one of his hands. Just in time to lean down and scoop up the little girl who clings to him, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief. 

An iron grip clamps around your upper arm and you’re thrown against the wall, air rushing out of your lungs as you let out a sharp, pained, cry. You can feel one of your shoulders pop out of its socket as you slump onto your knees, tears gathering in your eyes from the unexpected attack. 

Before you can gather yourself up for a counterattack, the hallway is filled with fire. You press against the wall and close your eyes as the heat rushes past you while Shatterfang curses and shouts. When you reopen your eyes, you see him diving into the medical room to escape the flames and use the chance to stand - shakily - and run towards Touya.

He glances at you with a frown and eyes your predicament of being handcuffed then says, “the brat should be able to help.” 

“Tomura’s here?” You ask, shocked and unsure how to feel about him being a part of the raid when he’s not much of a fighter. 

He motions down the hallway and says, “we’re all here.” 

“Tou-”

“No time to talk, sis,” he puts Eri down and ruffles her hair though his eyes focus behind the two of you, “we’ll have a happy reunion later.” You glance behind to find Shatterfang has emerged from the room and give a nod, nudging Eri in the direction he pointed out. 

Before you go though, you rest your forehead against his shoulder and murmur, “be careful.” 

“I will.” 

With that, you break away and urge Eri to follow you. Behind the two of you, Shatterfang snarls something but you don’t care enough to actually listen to his words. Far more intent on getting the handcuffs off and finding a way out of this place. Running jolts your shoulder too much and your ankle throbs so you settle with a brisk walk, something Eri copies and soon all you can hear is a fight going on behind you. 

Something you refuse to focus on, not right now and not when you know that Touya is a capable fighter. Following the hallway leads to what should have been a deadend but the wall has crumbled away, turned to dust, and you realize why at the sight of Tomura standing in the mouth of a crude tunnel.

Relief fills his face and he quickly steps out of the tunnel, his voice soft as he says your name. 

Offering a weak smile, you say, “hey, Tomura.” 

He huffs at you then frowns and asks, “are you okay?”

“Could be better,” you admit and turn to show the handcuffs, “think you can get these off?” 

He doesn’t respond and instead reaches out to the metal which disintegrates within seconds and you let out a shaky sigh. With trembling fingers, you reach for your messed up shoulder and force it back into the socket, gritting your teeth as the pain increases until you get it back in place. Though still sore and throbbing, it feels far better than it did and you figure that the discomfort will go away after your quirk has time to ease the lingering pain.

Rubbing at your shoulder, you raise an eyebrow and ask, “why are you here?” 

“I wanted to come,” he replies and steps back into the tunnel, motioning for you to follow him. Something you do, stepping over some of the rubble before turning and reaching out for Eri who grabs onto your hands for balance in getting over the bigger pieces of concrete. “Himiko and a few others are here as well.”

Confused, you repeat, “where, from Yuno? Who?”

He shrugs and says, “Twice and Nocturnal. Some of the others helped track this place down.”

A warmth fills your chest and you have to shake your head with a sigh and mumble, “guess that means I’ll be healing some people for free for a bit then.” Not that it makes you happy to hear Himiko is involved in this mess but you know there’s no point in saying anything. Bending down, you grab Eri and hoist her into your arms when she stumbles over the uneven flooring. 

Tomura slows down the pace, eyeing her, then pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight to make the journey easier. Something that you’re grateful for and follow his lead at a slower pace due to your leg injury. 

“What’s your name, kid?” 

She glances at Tomura with a shy look, her little fingers digging into the fabric of your dress before she murmurs, “Eri.” 

“Tomura,” he offers.

“Hi….”

His brow furrows but he does respond with a simple, “hey.” 

“Where does this lead?” You ask, glancing around at the relatively well done tunnel. One that seems to have been made with a combination of your two brothers' quirks if the dust around your feet and charred concrete are anything to go by. 

He responds, “to a nearby building. We’ve been working on it for a day or two.”

“And who is attacking the front door?” 

Red eyes glance towards you and he replies, “a few heroes, actually. Also… Endeavor is here.” You frown at the idea of Enji Todoroki being around. He’s the last person you expected to help in a raid and dread the idea of him realizing just who Touya is.

“And has he and Tou butted heads?”

“Yeah,” Tomura admits with a shrug and continues, “but they’ve been working together thanks to Eraser Head.” Hearing that Aizawa is somewhere nearby and helping instantly eases your mind. It’s a comfort to know that there’s at least one level headed hero around to help with the raid. And just maybe, you find yourself a little eager to see Aizawa. 

Your name is whispered and you look down to meet Eri's eyes, “what happens now?”

An innocent question and one that shouldn't be so hard to answer. Yet… you find yourself unsure what to say. Because you really don't know what comes next or what to expect. 

Still, you figure anything will work to comfort her so you say, “we get out of here. Then… probably a trip to the hospital for both of us.”

“And then?”

Tomura chimes in, blunt yet careful, almost gentle, “then you can be a kid. And worry about kid stuff.”

“Kid stuff…” she echoes then mumbles, “I don't know what kid stuff is.”

“That's alright,” you ruffle her hair and shrug, “we can figure that out together.”

Those words seem to ease her and she presses further against you. It's silent between the three of you though there's tension in the air. One you can't shake and know it's because you’re all too aware of what is coming. More fighting. More pain. More uncertainty.

Still, you figure that even if things do go south - and you feel they will to some degree - you're confident things will work out in the end.

Though you have to admit, you weren't expecting to face Overhaul of all people. 

One minute you’re stepping out of the tunnel with Tomura into a small house of sorts that has been abandoned for some time, the next, the house is all but caving in. It happens so fast that your head spins but you force yourself to remain somewhat calm as you and Tomura rush out into the street. Eri shivers against you as your feet hit the frigid air of winter and you wish you could comfort her but can’t as a cool voice calls out, “there you are, Eri.” 

Her fingers twist into your shoulders, entire body curling up as you turn to find an only somewhat familiar face staring you down. You have never met him and barely know anything about the man, only seeing the occasional post on the questionable forums you frequent but… he’s certainly something. Covered from head to toe in clothing, including white gloves for his hands though you find yourself staring at the strange plague doctor’s mask over his lower face. It really does make him look bird-like as Eri described. 

“It’s time to come home, Eri.” 

A noise escapes her then, barely audible in the frosty wind but you pick it up, a tiny, “no” and your heart clenches as your resolve hardens. 

Lifting a hand up to tangle in her messy white hair, you rest your cheek briefly against the side of her head, murmuring, “hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Your eyes move onto Tomura and take in the way he is tugging off his gloves, shoving them into his jeans pocket before nudging Eri with your head, “you hear me? We’re going to be fine.” 

Her response is so little, shaky, almost tearful, “we are?”

“Yeah,” you answer and carefully bend down, hating yourself for doing this but you put her down on the cold concrete of the sidewalk. She flinches, fingers digging into your shoulders but you don’t have a choice and pull away as Tomura steps in front of you. It’s hard to smile but you manage one and place your hands on her little cheeks, something she blinks at but leans into the warmth of your palms. “Listen to me, kiddo.” 

“Eri,” Overhaul says, cold and demanding.

She almost looks towards him but you say, voice low and firm, “ah, no, ignore him. He doesn’t matter.”

She whispers your name then swallows and continues so softly, “but… but that’s him.”

“I know,” you reply and nod, knowing all too well this is the nameless man that has inflicted so much pain on this little girl. But that doesn’t matter right now and you focus on giving clear instructions, “and I’m going to deal with him. So this is what I need you to do.” Your mind is racing, really not too sure what instructions you can exactly give in a moment like this, especially as you see Tomura shifting on his feet, readying himself for a fight. There’s not enough time and you don’t know where she’ll be safe.

Touya is still locked in battle with Shatterfang and you can’t send her back down the tunnel by herself, not when the house it’s connected to has collapsed. Having her run around on these darkened streets in this part of town will not bode well either, not in this cold. 

While you could keep her by your side, you just don’t know if she’s strong enough to resist Overhaul and his demands. From what little she has told you, he always manipulates the situation, forces her hand, makes her think by going back to him, he’ll not kill innocents that tried helping her. 

Then someone pops into your mind, someone you know so well, someone that makes you feel safe and you say, “the warehouse we just left, I want you to go back to it.”

She blinks, confusion clear on her face and whispers, “but why…? We just escaped-”

“Aizawa will be there,” you cut her off gently and give a quick description, “he’ll be dressed in all black with a long grey scarf and yellow goggles. Black hair, a scar on his cheek.” 

She stares at you, absorbing the information with wide eyes then gives a little nod and repeats, “Aizawa.”

“Right.

“But… but what if I run into someone else?” 

Your eyes flicker towards the warehouse that is maybe a block away, noting that there is certainly a lot of activity there, distant shouts and cries. However you’re rather confident that most of the fighting will be happening inside of the building, not outside and tell her, “then you say you’re looking for Aizawa. And that Doctor Shinku sent you.” While you have never used such an esteemed title for yourself, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to do so this time. 

You need to put distance between yourself and Rin Shinku after all and everyone in Yuno knows you as a healer, a doctor, some even call you ‘doc’. So if she runs into anyone that is more villain than hero, they’ll know exactly who she means and will protect her until Aizawa can be found. 

She stares then and echoes, “Doctor Shinku.”

“Yeah.”

Her lower lip quivers and she says, voice weak and frightened, “I don’t want you to die.”

Your eyes soften, knowing this isn’t going to be an easy fight even with Tomura at your side and lean forward to press your forehead against hers, murmuring back, “I know. And I don’t plan on it. I need you to be brave, kiddo, can you do that for me?” 

Nails dig into the skin of your hands as she holds your palms closer against her cheeks and leans against you. There’s a little hiccup of sorts but she gives a nod and says, “I can try.”

“Good,” you take in a deep breath then gently tug your hands away before standing up and staring down at her, “now… go. Go and don’t look back.” 

She wavers then, fingers curling into her sweater dress but she does suck in a breath before turning and running towards the warehouse. 

You take a deep breath and steel yourself, aware all too well what’s coming next. Only… you didn’t think it would be quite so painful, so brutal and so annoying because Overhaul is a fucking cheater.

You’re so damn thankful that it’s Tomura by your side for this fight, his movements while sloppy and not nearly as refined as your own or your other two siblings, are enough. Mainly, his quirk is turning out to be a godsend for helping to deal with Overhaul’s. You’ve never heard of someone being able to reconstruct and deconstruct matter but the mob boss is certainly capable and must be incredibly intelligent to pull it off. 

Tomura’s quirk control is something you’re in awe with too, how he is able to turn concrete spikes into dust with a mere brush of his fingers and even affect small areas to render Overhaul’s quirk useless. 

Not to say he hasn’t gotten some decent hits in, your side throbs from a mistimed dodge and Tomura is outright ignoring the blood running down the side of his face, wiping it away absentmindedly. The two of you are running low on stamina though while Overhaul stands where he has for almost the entire fight, face emotionless other than a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. The street between you and him has become a misshapen, hazardous mess, one you’re not really sure how to navigate to get close enough to him. 

Each time you try, he moves the asphalt and concrete under your feet, transforming it into an uneven, jagged terrain that threatens to shred you apart. 

“Sis, this is getting nowhere.” 

“I know,” you mutter and try looking for a clue on how the fuck either of you can close in on him. 

Tomura shifts a bit on his feet then glances at you and asks, “if you get close enough, can you use your quirk on him? The awakened form?” 

Throwing a dull look at your brother, you snap at him, “the getting close part is the problem.” 

“I think I can cancel out his quirk long enough for you to get close.” 

You blink then, taken aback by the admission and raise an eyebrow, asking, “how?”

He hesitates then, red eyes unsure as he gives a little shrug, fingers twitching at his sides and mumbles, “I just… I think I can. If he can use long range attacks, I'm sure I can as well.”

Tilting your head, you glance in the direction of the mob boss who is still crouched down, seemingly waiting for the next move. He hasn’t said a whole lot during this entire battle to be honest, merely telling you that Eri is more trouble than she’s worth and a monster. Things you have been ignoring and just focusing on staying alive, having no interest in listening to a monologue from someone as twisted as him. 

“Can you do it and not hurt me?” 

Red eyes widen and Tomura frowns, a wariness in his eyes and he mumbles, “I don’t know. I don’t want to try, I’d rather clear a path and you-”

“Tomura,” you interrupt, gentle but honest in your next words, “I’m not going to be fast enough. We have to work together on this, you making a path as I run.”

Red eyes glance towards the street, really taking in how much of a mess everything is but there’s tension in his shoulders as he replies, “I don’t want to hurt you. Not again.” His gaze returns to your form only he’s staring at where the scar on your collarbone is, the one that he gave you. 

“Then don’t.” 

He bristles, frustration in his voice as he snaps, “you make it sound so easy!” 

Feeling bold and maybe a bit fed up with this entire situation, you reach out and grab his hand, ignoring how he goes so tense and tries to yank away. You cover his fingers with your own and stare hard into his eyes, squeezing the trembling digits and say, “look. I’m still here.” 

Shock is on his face then as he looks at where you have his hand clasped between your own then up to your face. “You’re… you’re not turning into dust.” 

Nodding, you agree, “I’m not. Because your control is nothing like when you were a kid, Tomura. You’ve grown a lot, far more than you’re giving yourself credit for.” You find a smile forming on your face, tired and weary but there as you say, “I’m proud of you.” 

He blinks, face slack with shock before his other hand comes up to cover your hands, watching you closely, seemingly needing to make sure you won’t crumble away. Yet you stand as you have been without any pain and watch as he slowly relaxes. 

He swallows hard and glances at Overhaul who watches with a raised eyebrow and finally says, “okay. What’s the plan?”

“Any time he tries turning my path into a deathtrap, nullify it. Turn it into dust. I’d rather dodge holes in the ground than his bullshit.” 

“And what if he starts throwing other things at you?” It’s a fair question but one that you really don’t have an answer to, at least, not a satisfying one. 

Still, you try to give him something and say, “then I dodge it on the safe terrain you give me. We’ve got one shot at this, are you ready?” The not so pleased look you’re given shows that he isn’t keen on your answer but he does nod and slowly crouch down, hands on the cold asphalt. 

With a deep inhale, you ready yourself for what could be a death march, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat as you focus your quirk. The needle you make where your hand meets your wrist is thicker and your eyes change, irises matching your black scleras. You recall the pain of Tomura’s quirk, the feeling of flesh dying, blood curdling, the agony of your skin peeling away and your muscles spasming as they disintegrated and your bones aching. 

It’s not a pleasant memory and you almost switch to the one of Touya’s flames but you force yourself to keep going. To remember how you nearly died at the kitchen table all those years ago and how cold you felt throughout the entire experience. 

Then with a deep breath, you kick off into a run. 

One that Overhaul responds to by making your path one of jagged, uneven asphalt meant to skew flesh. You keep going though, placing your faith in your brother and just before one of your feet is impaled, the road becomes unassuming again, smoother, the obstacles turning into dust. 

Something Overhaul snarls at and tries again to make a dramatic change in the road, twisting the asphalt even worse than before but Tomura answers right in kind. His quirk control is something you wish you could marvel at since his quirk only destroys what’s on your path, not the trees or other buildings nearby, just the straight line you run towards the enemy. 

The mob boss is on his feet by the time you get to him, his hands up, ready to touch you and turn you into a bloody mess when there is a shifting in the ground below him. Suddenly, he’s falling, hands waving uselessly to try to regain balance and you don’t think, jumping after him, hand poised as you desperately look for a weak spot. He’s so covered though, the mask still on his face, his neck impossible to reach, and you almost falter until angry, hateful eyes meet yours.

You blink… then jab the needle through his left eye. 

His hands rush up, ready to throw you off but the two of you hit the ground, stunning him long enough that you can finish the transfusion, only needing to force half a pint or even less of your blood into his system. You quickly scramble away from him as he begins to claw at himself, voice full of pain and rage as writhes in pure agony. 

Your body aches a little from the landing in what seems to be a sinkhole as you force yourself to stand up and glance up to find a worried Tomura kneeling on the edge of the hole. His voice is hoarse, panicky as he demands, “are you okay?” 

Nodding, you glance back at Overhaul then figure leaving him in this hole will be for the best and look back to Tomura, “yeah. Are you?” 

He glares then and reaches out with a bare hand, “just fine. Come on.” You have to give a weak smile then and grab onto his hand, letting him hoist you up though you take a moment to just lean against him. There’s a bit of hesitation then but his arms do wrap around you in a hug as he lets out a shaky breath and murmurs, “we were worried.” 

You ignore the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and let out a long breath, nodding and hug him back. The words are difficult to get out so you settle for squeezing him tightly, something he does in return and you allow yourself a few moments to just enjoy the comfort. 

It hurts a little to cut it off so quickly but you know there’s still a raid going on, one where Touya, Aizawa and possibly Himiko are involved. “Let’s go see how everyone else is doing.” He nods and gives you one more squeeze before standing up, helping you when you stumble a bit from the wounds on your leg and side. 

Patting his shoulder in thanks, you take in a long breath and start walking, ignoring the cold as you head back towards the warehouse. There is a whole slew of Yakuza members, each of them tied up with quirk suppressors, sitting on the side, seemingly waiting for proper transport. You only glance at them before scanning the others that are hanging about who seem to be watching their soon to be prisoners. 

All of them heroes or sidekicks and you see no sign of Eri and continue towards the front door of the building. Something that someone calls to you, protesting with, “you can’t go in there! What are you doing, you-”

“I’m going,” you say and give him a frown, “where’s Aizawa?”

“Uh, Eraser Head? He’s inside, but that doesn’t mean-!” 

Tomura interrupts this time with a simple, “we’re going. Keep look out.” Somehow his presence is enough to keep the gripping down to a minimum and you give him a confused look but step through the broken door. He just shrugs and says, “they know I’m part of the raid.” You have a feeling it goes a little more than that but decide against commenting and instead look about the first floor in search of familiar faces. 

You barely have to look when one is rushing to you, voice excited, watery, “sis!” 

Himiko barrels into you, nearly knocking you over in your weakened state if not for Tomura stepping behind you to help shoulder her weight. Arms wind around your neck, her face pressing against the collar of your ruined dress and you don’t hesitate and return the affection. 

Her fingers dig a little into your hair, a touch rough but you find it difficult to mind as you let your head rest against hers. There’s a soft noise that leaves her - not quite a sob but close - before she is pulling back with teary golden eyes to stare at your face. Before you can say anything, her lips press into a frown and she is shaking you, “you can’t do that! Never again!” 

“Himi-”

“You left me!” You go still at the accusation, eyes wide as guilt churns in your chest and you have to look away. Tomura admonishes her or tries to with a sharp sound of her name yet you barely hear him. 

It’s not a fair accusation, not really, and you have a feeling she knows that but… it doesn’t make it any less true. The fact is that you did leave her. 

Alone in a car. And not only did you leave her, but you left Tomura and Touya too and… you left Aizawa. 

Your eyes burn but you refuse to allow yourself to cry, not now, not yet, not until everyone is safely piled up in your living room and you can reassure yourself they’re okay and breathing. So you suck in a breath and agree, “I know.” That has both of your siblings going still and looking at you as your face crumples, just a bit, but you don’t give into tears as you make yourself repeat, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Himiko’s eyes go wide and she falters, the anger and hard edge on her face evaporating and her hands are out of your hair and on your shoulders. She holds onto you tightly, as though afraid you’ll disappear again, and says, “you can’t do that. Not again.” 

“I don’t plan on it.” 

“Promise you won’t do it again.” 

“Himi…” you murmur and press your forehead against hers, “I can’t. I don’t want to make a promise I’ll break. But what I will promise is that I’ll never do it willingly.” You can only hope that’ll be enough to help calm her and Tomura. Knowing that you never abandoned them willingly as they have been in the past, that you were kept away from them against their will and your own.

She stares hard into your eyes before finally relaxing and giving a little nod, leaning against you more and mumbles, “alright.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and lift up your head up to glance around the warehouse, curious and wary as you ask, “did a little girl come here? White hair, red eyes?”

“Eri?” Himiko nods and says, “she’s okay. Jin and Nocturnal are taking her to the hospital.” Though a little daunting to think that Twice is along for the ride, it’s still a relief to know Eri is with two people you trust and know will guard her.

It helps you to relax and let out a relieved noise as you nearly slump between the two of them, their arms being the only thing to keep you off the ground. Though your wounds ache and you know a trip to the hospital might be a good idea for you as well, you can almost see a light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in over a month.

Of course the moment that thought crosses your mind is when an all too familiar sting enters your neck. You freeze, eyes widening before you shove the two away and back up, fingers grabbing the syrette in your neck and pulling it out. Throwing it to the side is useless though, the blood is already in your system and anger sparks deep in your chest. Only it feels a little too close to hate. 

Rin Shinku slowly walks into the room, bloody but alive, her usually indifferent eyes heated and angry. Even with her disheveled appearance, hair a mess and dress ripped in a few places along the hem with blood staining her arms, your mother still manages to hold an air of confidence and determination. 

Her voice is cold and harsh, “it’s time to leave.” 

Your heart jumps into your throat but you shove it down to give her a glare, snapping, “then leave. You don’t need me.” 

She sighs, annoyance bleeding onto her face as she walks over, ignoring the way Tomura tenses and Himiko steps in front of you with a blade in hand. “You don’t belong here, darling. I don’t understand why you can’t wrap your head around that. Blood is blood and-”

“You’re not taking her,” Tomura interrupts, glaring as he wraps a hand around your upper arm. 

To your surprise, Rin lashes back with harsh words, “she’s my daughter! She merely took in you brats to fill the void of family, nothing more and nothing less. You know nothing about her.” You stare at her, speechless at just how delusional she truly sounds. She says your name and meets your eyes with a glare, demanding in the next breath, “come here.” 

Against your will, your feet begin to move even when your siblings try to grab at you to keep you with them. You glance over your shoulder, opening your mouth but what words you have to offer are gone at the sight of Himiko.

There’s an anger there you have never seen before, her fingers gripping the hilt of her knife so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. Her golden eyes glint, red hot, fury clear and then she’s rushing forward with speed you have to admit is impressive. 

Two words echo through the ruined room, ones that make you sick, “protect me.” 

The command takes control and your vision tunnels, the room sinking in on you at the thought of harming Himiko. Blood rushes through your ears as you react and though it’s so tempting to disassociate from your next actions, you don’t and try to figure out what to do. It’s such a broad command, one that suggests harming Himiko, yes, but… you realize what to do and ready yourself for what happens next. 

Pain bursts through your system and the entire room goes quiet as Himiko stares up at you with huge eyes, her mouth parted in shock. Her fingers tremble around the knife that is embedded in your abdomen. Even Rin Shinku has gone still behind you and you let out a shaky breath and tell her, shoving aside the pain and focusing on comforting her, “this isn’t your fault.”

She stutters out your name and you swallow down the bile trying to build in the back of your throat, reaching out to touch her cheek.

Again, you repeat, voice so firm as your irises burn brightly, activating your quirk to help deal with some of the damage, “Himiko. Look at me. I chose this.” 

She shakes her head and tears rush down her face, little sobs and she demands, “why?! Why did you do this, I-I-!” 

You interrupt with a soft, “I had to protect her and I’m not going to harm you to do so.” Your legs feel weak and your vision begins to swim as you sink onto your knees, gasping out, “doing this keeps you safe. And I can heal myself.” You don’t dare admit that your quirk is being spread thin, that there’s a limit to how much more you can heal yourself. Truly, you’re not sure how much more blood you have to spare.

Himiko is right there with you, her hands going towards the knife but then dancing away, brow furrowed as panic truly takes over. Rin Shinku is suddenly next to your sister and shoving her to the side as she stares down at you in a mix of confusion and disgust, “why would you do that?! Get up!” 

With her blood still in your system, you try to follow her demands even though everything hurts and find yourself on your feet - barely - and staring at her with disdain. She reaches out to grab the knife and your eyes go wide, smacking her fingers away with a snarl of, “leave it!” It hurts to constantly be shifting with the blade inside of your body but you have little choice. Removing it is a surefire to bleed out. 

She flinches, confusion on her face but before she can say anything, a fist smashes into the side of her face and Rin Shinku is sent to the floor. You blink, surprised, confused, slumping a bit as arms wrap quickly around your shoulders to help keep you standing. 

Glancing back, you meet fierce red eyes and feel comfort at the sight of Tomura there and holding you up before realizing, head swimming, that someone else is here. Once you manage to get your vision to refocus, you find Touya, his entire frame shaking, flames crackling around his body before he goes over to your mother just as she starts to say your name, sputtering, coughing, “a-attack-”

She lets out a pained cry as the words are cut off by a boot kicking her square in the chest and Touya doesn’t stop. Every time she tries to say words or call your name, he is there to silence her with a vicious snarl and a sharp, “shut up!” 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him in such a feral state and realize that if this continues, he’s going to kill her. It’s difficult but you manage to say his name, barely audible, “Touya….” He doesn’t hear and continues his assault on Rin Shinku who has curled into a ball with little pained cries, shielding herself from the kicks and stomps Touya delivers to her body. 

Others are on the scene now, you can hear a sharp, “Dabi!” And a glance towards the sound has you seeing Endeavor for the first time and you frown before your eyes flicker to a far more familiar figure. One who stares at you with wide dark eyes and one you stare right back into, lips managing to form his name though you can only mouth it.

Aizawa. 

Aizawa is here. 

Suddenly you feel a surge of strength and glance back towards Touya just as his hand lifts up, blue flames crackling along his knuckles. That is what spurs you into action, shoving Tomura away and finding the energy to run, ignoring the sharp pain from your abdomen. Even with your legs throbbing, even though there’s a horrible migraine pounding behind your eyes, even if you feel about to collapse, you force yourself to move.

What feels like minutes of running is only a few seconds before you throw yourself in front of Touya, shaking hands outstretched and say, desperately, “don’t. ”

He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, not exactly. Though he stares at you, there is defiance in his gaze, that fire of his burning out of control and threatening not just himself but everyone around. Behind, you can hear the wheezing breathing of a barely alive Rin Shinku but put that out of your mind. Fierce blue eyes stare into your own until they shift and you’re forced to reach out and grab onto the collar of his coat. Though he doesn’t lean down like you hope, his eyes meet yours again and you say, voice weak and fragile in this moment, “enough, Touya.” 

Briefly he reels back and that fire is roaring to life as he spits out a hard, “you’re asking for fucking mercy?!” 

“I’m asking you not to do this!” You yank on his collar, giving him no choice but to bend down and press your forehead against his, eyes squeezed shut to avoid the tears and whisper, “don’t go down this path. Please, Touya. You’re not a killer.” 

That seems to knock him out of the haze of bloodlust, eyes widening and he goes so still in your grip. The seconds tick by and are only filled with the sound of crackling fire and harsh breathing until he slowly leans into you.

He trembles - just a bit - then lets out a growl of frustration and lifts a hand up and away, releasing a stream of fire into the air. It lasts for a little too long but eventually he lets his arm fall back to his side and lets out a deep breath then finally mutters, barely audible, “fine.” Relief crashes over you and you have to force yourself to remain upright even though you want nothing more than to sink to the ground.

Carefully pulling away from him, you keep a grip on his collar and tug at him to walk away from where Rin Shinku lays. Rather than being stubborn, he goes along with your wishes and follows as you head for the door, desperately wanting to get outside for fresh air and to get him away from your mother. 

Touya breaks away from you once the two of you are outside though he lingers long enough to help you sit on a curb in the parking lot. His eyes flicker to the knife in your stomach, lips pulled into a deep frown but you murmur, “I’ll be okay.” 

He hesitates, seemingly wanting to say something when the other heroes rush out of the building and he scowls at the sight of his father. After giving you a shoulder squeeze, he turns and heads off, probably to take a walk to cool off with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He avoids Endeavor who stares at him a little too intently and with an emotion that’s a touch too close to recognition in his eyes. Something you really don’t want to deal with right now, not with a migraine and the feeling of heavy bloodloss weighing on your body. 

Instead, you remain on the ground a decent distance away from the main group of people which is an odd mix of heroes, vigilantes and even criminals, and just try to breathe. Easier said than done. 

Footsteps catch your attention and you look up to find Aizawa quickly making his way over to you. He crouches in front of you, eyes searching, then greets you with a quiet, “Shinku.”

“Aizawa,” you answer tiredly. The familiarity of your greetings warms you and as you stare at him, you realize just how much you've missed this. Missed him.

“How are you holding up?” 

Rather than putting on a front like you have been doing for your siblings, you admit, softly, “not so great. A lot of things hurt.” It’s been years since you have dealt with this amount of pain but nothing feels right and you simply don’t have enough blood to fix it all. Everything hurts, your head, your leg, your shoulder, your side, everything around the knife stuck in you. 

There is a look of alarm on his face as he really takes you in, eyes lingering on the knife and says, “we’ll get you to a hospital.” 

A word you’re not exactly fond of but one you can admit is for the best. There’s simply too many things wrong and your quirk has been overused. Using anymore of your blood to heal the wounds at this point will put you in a precarious situation, one you have no interest in experiencing. 

“Overhaul is somewhere over there…” you motion weakly towards the road and find yourself slumping forward. It’s difficult to keep talking but you do admit, “hospital… is good.” 

“Shinku-” 

You cut him off with a murmur of your name, eyes sliding shut as you feel the last drops of adrenaline wearing off. 

“What did you say? Shinku, stay awake.” Hands are on your shoulders, giving you a firm little shake but your body is simply too heavy and exhausted. You lean against him, taking in a long breath and relaxing at the familiar, comforting scent of cinnamon. 

Licking your lips, you try again, voice low and weak, “my name… it’s….”

You fall unconscious before you can tell him.

Chapter Text

It’s a struggle for you to keep track of anything. 

A fog settles over your mind, thick and deep, one that blankets your senses and most sensations. 

Occasionally, you do feel or hear someone. Or rather, a few someones.

An overly warm hand will hold your own, the voice it belongs to is raspy and often grumbles about different topics. Mainly annoying younger siblings and frustrating media attention. Sometimes he will even read the newest medical journal about quirks to you though not without a wiry sigh here and there or a muttered, “how do you stomach this shit, sis?”

There's another set of fingers that will take yours, skin cooler, careful, almost dainty when handling your limp hand. That voice tends not to speak too much but that's mostly because he’s listening to what sounds like college lectures. At times you get to hear a quiet, calm mumble about nonsensical computer code and it's soothing.

Lastly are a pair of hands that take yours, fingers small but strong and tend to grip a bit too hard. The owner of them talks the most, voice chipper, eager, chatting about school and how much everyone misses you. Sometimes you can hear tears in-between the words, held back sobs and murmured apologies. You always try to squeeze those hands holding yours whenever you hear crying. It's not her fault.

You're really not sure how long it's been since entering the fog but it's lonely and exhausting and you find yourself fed up with it.

Enough so that you finally gather enough strength to open your eyes and see that you're in a static white hospital room. Only… there's color everywhere. Just not from the floor or wall color.

Flowers and cards and balloons seem to fill your room, obnoxious and overwhelming. There’s an entire table off to the side that’s filled to the brim and the little side table has quite a few gifts as well. Some gifts are simple, a few purple tulips with a little ribbon or a simple card while others are elaborate bouquets of flowers or boxes of chocolates and you’re pretty sure you spot a hydrangea plant of all things in the window. 

It brings a small smile onto your face and you turn your head to take in what is on the side table beside your bed. The main thing that catches your attention is a rather cute cat plushie. Reaching out is a bit of a pain, your arm feels heavy, clumsy, but you manage to pick it up and put it on your chest, taking in the details. Everything from the deep green eyes and the soft white fur, it’s incredibly well made and not cheap by the looks of it. There’s even a collar in your favorite color around its neck and you notice a piece of paper tucked against the fur. 

Curious, you pull out the note and find crisp handwriting, oddly neat and the words make your heart flutter a bit too much.

Send me a text once you’re awake, I’ll come visit as soon as I can. I was able to get your phone from the police. - Aizawa

Forward and simple yet you find yourself smiling, eyes flickering back towards the table and find your phone waiting for you. The cat plush must have been hiding it, a thoughtful gesture to keep nurses and doctors and even visitors from trying to poke around. 

Grabbing your phone, you turn it on to find an overwhelming amount of text messages, voice messages and missed phone calls. You simply don’t have the energy to look through everything and click on Aizawa’s name. 

There are quite a few texts waiting for you, at first simple and blunt but the last few read as concerned, worried, almost desperate. 

‘Shinku, what’s going on?’ 

‘Why aren’t you answering me, did something happen?’ 

‘Are you safe?’

‘I’m coming over to see you. I don’t care if you’re mad at me, I need to make sure you’re okay.’

The last one has your heart clenching and you don’t know what to say. For a long moment you stare at your phone, feeling that any sentence you send him won’t be sufficient enough to describe how much you want to see him. Rather than agonizing over it, you take in a deep breath then send him a simple text.

‘Hey… I’m awake. See you soon?’ Then after a moment of consideration, you add and send before you can overthink it, ‘I’ve missed you.’

Just as you go to put your phone back, it lets out a chime and you blink, surprised at how quickly he responded. His words have you smiling, a warmth spreading throughout your chest, ‘leaving school now, I’ll be there soon. I’ve missed you too.’

You put the stuffed animal back in place and tuck the note into the collar again, fingers lingering on the plush fur before you take in a deep breath. It takes a bit of doing but you manage to push yourself up into a sitting position and rearrange the pillows of your hospital bed until you can lean back. Now up and a little more alert, you examine the rest of the room which is oddly spacious before your eyes land on a cot. Sheets and blankets are rumpled, signaling it’s been used recently though by who, you’re not entirely sure.

There are signs of your siblings all over the cot and little table near it, Himiko’s favorite stuffed animal is on the pillow, Tomura’s college laptop sits on the table, Touya’s preferred coat hangs off the side. It’s comforting to see their items around but what you really want is to see them with your eyes. To confirm that they’re safe. Just as you go to the group chat you have with your siblings to text them you’re awake, the door opens.

A nurse wanders in, eyes on her clipboard before she looks up and jumps a little, surprised, before she smiles and says, “well hello, Ms. Shinku.” 

Tilting your head, you aren’t exactly sure how to respond but settle with a quiet, “hi.” You hesitate then put your phone on the side table, figuring that you can text them after you’re done talking with the hospital staff.

She holds up a finger then darts out of the room, leaving you feeling a touch confused until she returns with a cup and a pitcher of water. Suddenly you realize just how thirsty you are and gladly take the cup, tipping your head back as you down the entire glass. She refills it and goes to put the pitcher down but falters when she takes in just how crowded the side table is. After a moment of debate, she places it on the larger table, scooting over a vase of lilies and roses to do so. 

“Right, so, how are you feeling?” 

You think over the question and try to really pay attention to how your body. There’s a numbness of sorts over your limbs still, body heavy, weak even, but there isn’t much in the way of pain. Faint twinges of discomfort but nothing that truly hurts. 

Clearing your throat, you offer, “not bad, actually. I feel… weak and tired more than anything else.”

“Any pain?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “not really.” 

She nods, writing a few things on her clipboard before taking in a breath, shifting on her feet, and says, “well… I’m sure you have questions. I’ll go get the doctor for you.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you hold out a hand and say, “I’d rather just read my chart.” 

A blink and she stammers, “o-oh, well, I suppose I can get that for you. Give me a few moments.” You watch her walk out and wonder if what she has on hand is simply a chart meant for the day. After all, having your entire medical history for the past few… days? A week? Weeks? Would be a hindrance to carry around.

The wait isn’t long and soon enough you have a folder that holds a good amount of paper, all of which you quietly read through. The words are cold and dry, emergency surgery for your abdomen to repair sections of intestine and removal of your appendix, multiple blood transfusions, minor surgery for your leg and side, concerns of a torn rotator cuff in your shoulder. Still, you continue to look through all of it and get a decent picture of the state you were in. 

Bad. At least… that’s the modest word for it. A more adept description would be a bloody mess. 

Finally, you look up to see the nurse watching with unsure eyes and hold out the folder, asking, “how long has it been?” 

“Five days,” she replies and clears her throat, “we were… a little concerned for a minute there. It was touch and go when you first arrived.” 

You sigh, sinking further into the pillows and offer, “well I appreciate all of the effort that went into saving me.” 

“I heard you have a healing quirk… correct?” 

Nodding, you say, “my blood has healing properties.”

She wavers then and says, “it’ll take a good amount of time for you to use it again. I think most of the blood in you at this point isn’t yours.” Not a surprising thing to hear considering you’ve had about eight units of blood transferred into your body over the past week. Still, you do wish you could activate your quirk if only to speed up your recovery period. 

With a sigh, you nod and say, “I’ll probably be able to use it after another week or two of rest.” 

“Even that seems a little soon, Ms. Shinku.” 

Seeing no reason to argue with her, you shrug instead then motion over to the door, asking, “when can I be discharged?” 

“Not for at least another day, maybe two. We’ll need to observe you now that you’re awake,” she replies, jotting a few notes down before looking up to see your furrowed brows and frown. She falters a bit and explains, “we just want to be sure you’re feeling okay before sending you home.” While probably true, you have a feeling there’s more to it than that. What, you don’t have the energy to consider and just nod with a sigh. 

Before you can say anything else, a familiar figure enters the room, hood up, seemingly not paying attention and you listen to Tomura grumble into his phone, “yeah I know she’s mad but she can’t keep skipping school to sleep here.” He lets out a groan and complains, “you’re the oldest that’s why you’re dealing with her tantrums. Also, I have class unlike you who can lounge around all day.” There’s a pause, seemingly listening to whoever is on the other line - Touya, you’re pretty sure - before he snaps, “and? It’s my turn to stay at the hospital, you get tomorrow. I’ll let you know…” he trails off and blinks when he finally turns his head to find you awake and staring at him.

Shock is clear on his face and you have to smile, giving a little wave as you say, “hey Tomura.” 

He stares for a long moment then says into the phone, “Tou, she’s awake. Get here soon.” Then he hangs up, tossing his backpack onto the cot and makes a beeline for your bed, completely ignoring the nurse who shuffles out the door. 

Before you can say anything, Tomura is pulling you into a hug that is a touch too tight causing a flare of brief pain but it’s perfect. You don’t think and reach up to wrap your arms around him as well, not minding when he presses you against the pillows, practically on top of you. You lean your head against his and take in a shaky breath, murmuring, “missed me?” 

“You have no idea. We…” his grip tightens and you push down the urge to wince as he hisses out, “we didn’t know when you’d wake up.” There’s an implication in those words, one that has your heart breaking a little. 

They didn’t know if you were going to wake up.  

Shaking your head, you tug at his hood until it comes down and you see his silvery white hair is a bit of a mess. It’s tangled and the bluish roots are showing quite a bit but for now you ignore all of that, carefully stroking his hair. With a gentle hand, you pull out the knots whenever your fingers catch them and murmur, “well I’m awake and fine. So that means no more neglecting your self-care, okay?” 

He tenses, just a bit, then lets out a shaky sigh and nods, muttering, “okay.” 

He seems hesitant to part with you and you don’t mind, fingers continuing to tug out the tangles in his hair. You’re not entirely sure how long the two of you stay like that but, you find yourself resting your head against Tomura’s shoulder, eyes closed, almost dozing but not quite.

And that’s how Touya and Himiko find the two of you. 

Touya practically breaks down the door as he kicks it open and you jump, lifting your head up to see him and Himiko. There are tears in her eyes as she rushes forward, crying out, “sis!” Before she ignores Tomura completely and jumps onto the other side of the bed to wiggle her way into your embrace. You let out a little amused huff but move the arm not in Tomura’s hair to wrap around her slender frame. There’s a grumble from your youngest brother but he does shift a little to make room for her as she says your name, voice desperate and relieved. You hum in return and press your cheek against Himiko’s blonde hair and look to where Touya is. 

His entire frame is tense, his fingers clenched at his sides before he storms over. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he is on the bed as well, long arms wrapping around the three of you and he places his chin on top of your head since your shoulders are currently occupied. His heat is familiar, comforting, and you lean forward to rest your forehead against his collarbone. Slowly, the tension bleeds out of him until he’s slumped between your younger siblings, you can feel his fingers clenching the fabric of your hospital shirt. With your other hands currently occupied, you settle for leaning more against his form, something he accepts without complaint. It takes a few long moments until there’s a long sigh and he rasps out, “don’t do that again.” 

Smiling a touch, you ask, “which part?”

“All of it,” Tomura replies.

Himiko nods instantly and says, “you scared us to death.” 

Your heart swells and you find yourself beginning to tremble as so many things come crashing down all at once. 

You are alive and safe.

Touya, Tomura, Himiko and Aizawa are all breathing and whole.

Rin Shinku will never enter your life again. 

Without your permission a noise leaves your throat, emotions choking you as the rest of the mental fog lingering lifts and reality crashes down on you. 

That things are going to be okay. 

That you will be okay.

That everyone is okay. 

Tears fill your eyes without permission as a little sob leaves your throat and you move your arms to hug the two at your side then reach out towards Touya in an attempt to embrace him as well. It’s a little difficult to do but you manage to at least grip the sides of his coat and shove your face against his shirt to hide your tears. 

There’s an uncomfortable noise from Himiko, her voice panicky and quick, “sis? Are you hurting? What’s wrong?” You shake your head, unable to get any words out and explain that you’re just happy, just so relieved .

Touya shifts, you can feel him trying to get a look at you but you twist your fingers to keep him still. He says your name, confusion in his voice, a strained tone there, nerves clearly on edge at the sight of his older sister breaking down.

It’s Tomura who snaps, his voice quiet but firm, “both of you shut up and let her have a moment.” 

That pulls a little laugh from you between the sobs and thankfully the other two do quiet down, allowing you to get out a torrent of emotions. You’re really not sure how long the four of you sit bunched up on a tiny hospital bed, but by the time your tears have slowed, Touya’s shirt is damp, your legs have fallen asleep and you feel overheated. 

With a quiet sniffle and a deep breath you say, voice hoarse, “sorry for scaring all of you.”

“Are you feeling a little better?” Himiko asks, her fingers rubbing at your back.

Letting out a soft noise, you nod and agree, “yeah. Guess I’ve got a lot of pent up emotions and seeing the three of you safe just… made it hard to hold them back.” 

“So long as you’re not in pain, that’s all that matters,” Tomura replies with a little shrug. 

Something Touya scoffs at and says, “while true, did you have to soak my shirt, sis?” 

Snickering, you lean back with a small, tired smile, meeting Touya’s face and say, “oh shut up. Your shirt will dry out in ten minutes but next time I’ll use Tomura’s hoodie, how about that?” That has him laughing while your youngest brother wrinkles his nose.

Himiko snickers and offers, “or you can always use one of my stuffed animals.” 

“I guess I could,” you agree then clear your throat and ask, “but the three of you are fine, right…? No injuries?”

Slowly they untangle themselves from you, Tomura and Himiko sitting on either side of the bed while Touya settles at the foot of it, crossing his legs. You examine each of them in search of any hints of wounds but don’t find any bandages or signs that they were hurt. Even Tomura’s head injury seems to have healed, you don’t see any staples or gauze underneath his messy hair.

“We had a few bumps and scrapes. The brat got a gash on the head but one of the heroes at the scene was able to fix him up right quick,” Touya tells you with a shrug.

“Tou did get a few scratches on his arms from that werewolf man but he’s all better now,” Himiko chimes in. Something that has you frowning and glancing at Touya who rolls his eyes but does tug up the sleeves of his coat. There are a few scabs along his forearms but overall, his skin looks as it always does, pale skin with faint burn scars.

Tomura sighs and says, “honestly only Himiko was able to make it out without injury.”

“I wasn’t really in any of the action,” she admits, looking a touch uncomfortable, “the boys here insisted that I take a backseat to the entire raid.”

“As they should have,” you reply blandly and let out a sigh, admitting, “I still can’t believe all three of you were involved in a raid… and you managed to convince some of my regulars from Yuno to join up.” 

“It was for a good cause!” Himiko interjects and folds her arms with a pout, “of course they wanted to help you, sis! Jin was beside himself!”

“Nocturnal wasn’t much better,” Touya says with a scoff and a shrug, “that guy looked like he was ready to barge into any shady building in town.” 

Tomura tugs at his silver earring, a thoughtful look on his face as he points out, “you’re kind of a pillar in Yuno, sis. Without you, a lot of people would fall apart.” A statement that you feel the need to push back against even if it does warm you to hear. 

Before you can, an unfamiliar voice comes from the door, “and that’s something we’d like to talk to you about, Ms. Shinku.” You turn your head to find a police detective standing there with an easy going smile. “Of course we also want to know about everything with the Yakuza branches as well.” Instantly the warmth in the room shifts and you can see all three of your siblings are on edge, tension in their bodies and glares thrown at the detective.

Raising an eyebrow and not at all keen on dealing with the police, you sigh and fold your arms, biting out, “couldn’t have waited until after I had ample time with my siblings, could you, sir?” 

He wavers then, a little sheepish, and says, “sorry, but I really would like to talk to you about what you went through.” 

Wrinkling your nose, you eye the detective up and down before giving a curt nod, “fine. Out with the three of you.” You make a shooing motion with your hands, not at all surprised by the insulted looks they give you.

There are some protests but you don’t back down until finally they shuffle out the door, promising to be back in thirty minutes. Something you can accept and give a nod, waiting for the door to close before watching the policeman with wary eyes. 

He gives you a bit of time to decompress, wandering to the large table of gifts to examine them with a curious look. He glances at you and says, “you have a lot of people that care about you, huh?”

“Is that a crime?” You shoot back, hardly in the mood to deal with conversation icebreakers or awkward pleasantries. 

Something he thankfully picks up on and grabs a chair, pulling it up to the side of the bed and says, “no. So you just want to get down to it then?”

“Please.” 

He nods, tapping a camera on his chest and explaining that everything is being recorded. Something you shrug at, unbothered and motion for him to begin. He does so with some simple questions, confirming who you are, your connection with Rin Shinku, who your siblings are to you. Things you can reply to without thinking about it, your full name and being from Yuno, how Rin Shinku is your mother and the names of your siblings. All things that he listens to and occasionally takes notes on. 

Then the questions turn into something darker, not quite accusatory but close enough that it ruffles your feather. Still, you give honest or blunt answers, voice growing clipped as you tell him that you haven’t had any interaction with your mother in years and you are not a Yakuza member. 

Your frustration flares when he dares to imply that you might be lying and give him a cold look, telling him, “I’m only going to say this once. Rin Shinku means nothing to me. The Yakuza means nothing to me.” Seeing him open his mouth has you pressing onward, voice raising a little, “I am not a gang leader. I’m a person who got caught up in my mother’s bullshit because of my ability to heal people. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“So your connections with certain criminals is just… what? You’re friends with them?” He asks, eyebrow raised as he motions towards the many gifts on the large table.

“I help them out when they need it. I give them a place to stay, some food, and tell them to keep out of trouble when at my house.” You don’t dare mention what your very much illegal profession is, the last thing you need is further scrutiny on your life. 

His eyes narrow a little as he taps his pen against the notebook and asks, “have you ever used your quirk to help people?” 

“Would that be a crime if I did?” 

He wavers then, just a touch, but presses on, “yes. Only professionals that are monitored by the government are allowed to use their quirks freely.”

Shrugging, you reply, “then I think you know the answer to that question.”

“Ms. Shinku… look, I’m not trying to get you into trouble.” Doubtful, and you give him a harsh look.

“No?” You shoot back, a bit of venom in your voice now, “because that’s certainly what it sounds like. My mother is a horrible person with a powerful quirk. She used that quirk on me to force me to do what she wanted against my will.” 

He falters then and gives a slow nod, clearing his throat and keeps his tone light, “nobody's accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get the full story here.” Scoffing, you shake your head, hardly believing his words considering how accusatory this entire interview has been. Though he’s never outright said it, it’s in the way he weaves his questions, how he frowns at your answers, the way he looks at you. You’re sick of it because you can tell what he’s thinking.

A Shinku is always a Shinku. 

And a Shinku can never do anything good. 

So even if you are a victim in this case, that doesn’t mean you’re not guilty of other crimes or know about others.

“Look,” you say, exhausted and over this entire conversation, “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say but I’m done talking.” 

“I only have a few more questions left,” he protests and quickly asks another, “do you know anything about the drugs? What about-”

There’s a loud knock on the door that startles the detective and you look up to find a rather fancy looking man in the doorway. He wears a five piece business suit, tailored perfectly for his body, a neat haircut and has a sharp smile on his face. He looks at the detective and says, “my client doesn’t need to answer any more questions.”

“She didn’t ask for a lawyer.” 

“No but she did just say she was finished talking to you,” your apparent lawyer replies, head tilted, almost daring for there to be more protests.

Only then does the detective waver and sigh, glancing at you and acknowledges it’s time to leave, “alright… alright. I’ll contact you later.”

You watch as he leaves, confused but grateful to this stranger who wanders in and holds out his hand, smile a little warmer now, “nice to meet you, Ms. Shinku. I was sent by UA to represent you in any possible legal proceedings there might be.” 

“UA…?” You echo, so very confused as you shake his hand.

He nods and explains, “the principal gave me a ring to come over as soon as I was able to. So here I am.”

“The principal of UA decided to send me legal counsel? Why?” 

He chuckles and says, “well considering you're the one that helped out the school with keeping an entire class from harm, I think it’s safe to say they owe you a favor.” You blink, glancing towards your phone and wonder if perhaps Aizawa mentioned something as he was leaving the school. 

With a hum, you debate then admit, “well I won’t turn down a fancy lawyer. So long as there are no strings attached to me retaining you.” 

A laugh and he sits down in the chair the detective was in, eyes sharp but kind as he reassures you, “UA will pay for everything, rest assured. I’ll go over a few quick things then give you my number, does that sound good?” 

“Sounds fine to me.” 

The next few minutes are blissfully painless, the lawyer telling you not to talk to the police anymore and to give them his number if they insist on being pushy. Mostly he asks for a few more facts of your imprisonment and how you were forced to use your quirk to benefit the Kuruokai. He takes a few notes using his phone then nods and stands up, handing you a business card with his name on it. 

Taking it, you scan it and find it’s classy, perfect for an expensive lawyer and have to comment, “do I even want to know how much you charge an hour?” 

“Probably not, but hey, it’s not like I’m billing you,” he teases with a laugh. “I’ll let you rest up now and contact you in the next few days.” 

“Right… it was nice meeting you.”

“You too, Ms. Shinku.” 

And with that your new lawyer wanders out of the room just in time for your siblings to come back and insist on you going to the cafeteria for food. Something you’re really not sure if the hospital staff will be keen on but you figure there’s no harm in doing so.

Especially after you take a moment to examine everything that’s hooked into your IV to find it’s mostly just saline though you do notice a line for morphine as well. Not surprising and you debate then carefully unhook the IV lines, hanging them up and pull off your heart monitor. Of course the moment you ‘flatline’ is when a surge of nurses rushes in, eyes wide with concern only to scold you for getting out of bed. 

Holding your hands up, you tell them, “I’m just going down to the cafeteria… that’s it.” 

“You just woke up, Ms. Shinku.”

“I’m going,” you reply, voice firm.

Something that has them wavering, glancing at one another before they sigh and agree though stress that if you aren’t back in bed within an hour, you will be forced back. A threat you don’t expect but accept with a nod and a simple, “fine.”

Of course trying to stand is a bit too much, your legs like jelly and you nearly fall if not for Himiko steadying you, easing you back onto the bed with concerned golden eyes. Leading to one of the nurses to leave briefly to grab a wheelchair, something you frown at but sigh and push off the bed, leaning on Himiko until you can sit down. Touya instantly takes control of the chair, batting away the hands of your other siblings and pushes you off. 

It’s a little chaotic getting down to the cafeteria but once you have a tray full of hospital food that tastes decent enough, you find yourself smiling at the antics of your siblings. A few people keep sneaking glances towards your little group but you ignore them, at least until you notice a camera or two being pointed in your direction.

“Any of you want to fill me in?” You finally have to ask after a security guard practically drags a guy out that looks suspiciously like a reporter. 

There’s a bit of hesitation, your siblings glancing at each other until Himiko breaks it, nervous but smiling, “well you made quite the stir, sis. So… there’s been a lot of media people trying to sneak into your room.”

Tomura wrinkles his nose and comments, “not to mention bother us when we go about our business. But mostly…” he glances towards Touya who lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

Hair that you realize is showing quite a bit of white at the roots, much like Tomura’s, though his next words have you freezing, “Endeavor figured out who I am.”

You blink, head tilting to the side with a soft, “oh?”

“Yeah,” he hunches over with a frown, “he hasn’t said anything to the media but he has been lingering around the hospital. I’ve been avoiding him.” 

While not shocking… it’s not exactly something you want to hear right now. Not while your family is under so much scrutiny from the police and even reporters wishing for a story. Running a hand over your face, you find yourself yearning for the familiarity of Yuno yet again but force yourself to push that to the side. 

Instead you take a deep breath and say, “we’ll deal with it as we need to. I’m not worried about him right now.” 

There is an uncertainty that passes over Touya’s face but it disappears when Himiko shoves her phone in your direction, smiling and determined to bulldoze through the heavy atmosphere, “Eri’s doing great, look, I managed to get a picture with her!” 

You blink and suddenly feel a little guilty for not thinking about her, having been caught up in your family reunion and the detective’s questions. Still, you take her phone and examine the photo of Himiko and Eri, the little girl looking shy but overall healthy while Himiko grins into the camera. They sit at a small table with bubble tea and what looks to be some coloring books with colored pencils between them. It’s cute and brings a small smile to your face. 

“Is she recovering here?”

Tomura shakes his head and says, “no, she’s at the children’s hospital down the road. We’ve been going to visit her with Aizawa.” 

While a little disappointing to hear that you can’t see her right away, it’s still a relief to know that the little girl is in safe hands at last. “Tell her I’ll visit once I get discharged.” 

“We promised that we’d take her somewhere fun,” Himiko says suddenly, a giddiness on her face, “she deserves to have all the fun in the world.” Something you agree with completely and wonder if it would be possible to steal the little girl away for a day or so to just be a kid.

“We could probably take her to the amusement park,” Tomura comments as he glances at his phone only to freeze with a curse and glances at you, uncertainty swimming on his face. “My class starts in an hour.” 

You wave your hand and say, “I’m not going anywhere. Go.” Before you glance at Himiko, a frown on your face, “speaking of class… why aren’t you in school right now?”

She protests instantly, pointing at Touya, “he signed me out. It was a family emergency!” 

You let out a sigh, figuring that there’s no point in complaining too much, at least not in this case. Still, your energy begins to flag now that you’ve eaten and there’s a faint pain in your abdomen. Probably due to being up and about after laying in bed for so long and you glance at Tomura, asking, “can you take her home first?”

“No, sis! I don’t want-”

“Himi,” you interrupt her, trying to be gentle as you lean back into the wheelchair, “I’m honestly ready for bed again. And you kids don’t need to stay around and watch me sleep.” That has all three of them frowning, looking away, and you can see a bit of anxiety in each of their bodies, tension in their frames, shoulders drawn tight. “Hey, look at me. All of you.” You wait until they do and make sure to meet each of their eyes before saying, “I’m not dying anytime soon. I’m awake, I’m fine, I’m just tired, that’s all.” And maybe growing a little cranky with the twinges of pain beginning to become worse but you don’t dare mention that. 

Hearing that does seem to soften them up, at least a little, Himiko still pouting but finally nodding and mumbling, “I’ll go home… but I’m coming to visit as soon as school is over tomorrow.” That being something you can accept and nod, pushing away from the table to hold out your arms, waiting for her to give you a hug which she does in an instant. You give her a gentle squeeze before letting go and looking at Tomura expectantly. 

He grumbles a little but does lean down to hug you, muttering, “don’t push yourself.”

“I’ll try not to. After class, please do a bit of self-care, Tomura. You deserve it.” 

A grumpy look forms as he throws his hood over his head again but does seem at least a touch receptive to your words, giving you a nod. He ruffles Himiko’s hair and motions for her to follow him, which she does though not before giving Touya a quick hug. Something he rolls his eyes at but does return. 

Leaving you and Touya who stands up and cleans the table of the trays left behind, stacking them neatly with the others by the trash can. Once he’s finished, he wanders back over to you and comments, “alright, I guess it’s time for you to get back, huh?”

“Yeah,” you frown and mutter, “even though I’ve been asleep for five days, I want more rest.”

He shrugs and grabs onto the wheelchair, pushing you towards the elevator and comments, “not a surprise, sis. You’ve had to deal with us, the police and a lawyer of all people. I’d probably want to sleep too.”

Of course it’s just outside of your room when you run into another exhausting person and someone you really didn’t expect to see so soon. Or at all really. 

But it’s someone that has Touya going stiff behind you and you glance up at him, taking in how his face hardens and his eyes burn in frustration. Gently, you pat his hand that is clenched around the wheelchair handle then turn back to stare at Enji Todoroki. 

For a moment, nobody speaks a word, a strange standoff commencing and one that you really have no patience for. 

Rather than trying to dance around the subject, you ask, “what do you want?”

“You took my son away from his family.” 

Those words make you freeze, eyes wide as he stares down at you with a look of disgust and anger, his hands curled into tight fists. 

Slowly, you tilt your head and take in his face before repeating, “I took him away…?” 

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know, that you didn’t realize who he was. That he didn’t tell you . So what is it, do you want money?” For a moment, you have no idea how to respond and can only blink at him as those words echo through your head. 

“Money,” you repeat, tone cool, sarcastic. 

Yet he doesn’t stop and presses on, lips pulling into a snarl, uncaring of the nurses or doctors glancing towards you, “of course that’s why you did it. A Shinku never changes-”

“You actually think I did it for money,” you cut him off, disbelief flashing across your face. Anger sparks in your heart at the way he raises an eyebrow, confident and smug, and you have to bite back what you really want to say. At least for the moment and reply, “I took Touya in because he had no place to go.” 

A dark look passes over his face then and he spits out, “he did. He had an entire family waiting for him.”

“Sure,” you agree, the only thing you can acknowledge but reply, blunt, firm, “an abusive household sounds like the perfect place to raise a traumatized teenager.” 

Something flashes in Enji Todoroki’s eyes then, something you can’t quite pick out but it’s an ugly thing much like the foul snarl curling on his lips, “he wasn’t abused! He gave himself those scars, I told him to stop harming himself!” 

You stand up then, rising to the challenge and uncaring of how weak your legs are, fury sparking in your eyes as you snap back, “and you did a great job getting him the help he needed. A neglectful household like yours is not a suitable place for someone to heal in. I found him, more dead than alive and gave him a stable place.” 

“That wasn’t your choice to make! If you were that concerned you should have turned him over to the authorities, let them decide how safe my house is or isn’t and it is safe!” 

A bitter smile comes onto your face as you say, softer, “oh? The authorities would do a proper, honest check on your household? Endeavor, the Flame Hero, rank number two, now number one which… congratulations on that, but you truly believe they wouldn’t be biased?” He opens his mouth but you cut in before he can get the words out, cold and for the first time, angry, “don’t fucking lie to me or yourself. They would have given you Touya in a heartbeat, no questions asked.” 

For a moment he seems speechless, mouth opening then closing before flames surge around his face and he spits out, “is that what he told you? That he was abused, that he was neglected?”

“No, Endeavor,” you reply, crossing your arms, annoyance flickering over your face, “he didn’t tell me anything. Because he didn’t need to, he showed plenty of signs without speaking.” For a moment you think back to how Touya was when he first came into your life, how angry, how uncaring he was of his own safety, how often he’d hurt himself. With a long sigh, you continue, “I took in a sixteen year old with the worst burn scars I’d ever seen because it was the right thing to do. Because that kid deserved to have a decent place to rest his head.” 

“He belongs with his family, his name is Touya Todoroki!”

“I don’t know a Touya Todoroki!” You finally yell back and motion to Touya who has been frozen this entire time, mouth parted in shock as you snarl, “Touya Todoroki died in a tragic fire at the age of thirteen and I am sorry for your loss, Endeavor, I am. But who you see is my brother, Touya Shinku.” Your words only seem to set the hero off further, his flames hotter, beginning to become uncomfortable to be around.

“I should have you arrested-”

Suddenly his flames go out and a cool baritone voice rings out, “enough Endeavor.” You blink, swaying a touch on your feet as you turn to find Aizawa walking towards the two of you, his eyes red and his hair floating. 

Enji Todoroki scowls and demands, “you knew about this, Eraser? Who this woman is? That she steals children?!” 

“‘Steals children’ is a dramatic and bold statement. Especially when you consider the fact that if what she says is true, then that means you have her to thank for your oldest being alive,” Aizawa shoots back, an arm coming around your shoulders just as you slump, helping you back into the wheelchair. 

Endeavor’s mouth snaps shut then, seemingly lost for words, long enough that Touya finally speaks, rasping, “you know… I did go back to the house once I woke up from my coma.” 

The charged energy dissipates and you blink, glancing at him in surprise, taking in how he shoves his hands into his pockets. Aizawa turns his head as well, a curious look on his face. Even Enji Todoroki freezes, blinking, then glances at his eldest son, disbelief on his face as he asks, “you did…?”

“Sure did,” Touya says, slow in his approach, walking in front of you and the underground hero to stare into his father’s eyes, “and you know what I got to see…? That absolutely nothing changed.” He lets out a laugh then, humorless and pained, voice clipped as he finishes, “same terrible father, same neglected siblings, same absent mom… just a different year. So I left.”

You tilt your head, a frown crossing your face and you say, “you never mentioned any of that before, Tou….” 

“Didn’t see a reason to, sis,” Endeavor flinches at the familial nickname he’s given you. He shrugs his shoulders and looks up at the ceiling, continuing, “so I wandered around the streets for a good while. Until I was forced into an apartment one day and a certain someone insisted on trying to help me.” Suddenly he steps closer to Endeavor, practically in his face and you can hear the feral, darker edge in his voice, “so there you have it, dad. A Shinku took me in, fed me, helped me, healed me and gave me an actual home. So unless you have any more bullshit you want to spew, I think it’s time I get my sister back to her room to rest.” 

Enji Todoroki is speechless for the first time and you say nothing as Aizawa takes control of your wheelchair, following Touya who brushes past his father. Though not without giving a cool warning to the number one hero of, “I will be bringing this up to the committee.” A threat if you ever did hear one and one that brings a small smile to your face. 

It’s only when you’re inside your room that you let out a relieved sigh and watch Touya, taking in how antsy he is before suggesting, “Tou, go let out some of that energy.” 

He sighs, a hand running through his hair then he turns to look at you, scanning your face before looking at Aizawa, voice low, “you’ll be alright?”

Rolling your eyes, you motion to the hero and say, “I’ve got the best hero around, don’t I? I’ll be fine.” He scoffs at that and leans down to give you a hug that lingers a little too long and you ruffle his hair, pressing your head against his and murmur, “you’ll be fine too.” 

He nods, letting out a sigh and agrees, “yeah.” Then he stands straight, a small smirk on his face as he addresses Aizawa, “see you around, Eraser. Try not to keep her up too long.” Scoffing at his joke, you swat his arm as he saunters away, something he chuckles at as he heads out the door.

With him gone, you feel nerves that weren’t there before, a tension you aren’t sure what to do with but slowly stand from the chair and sit back on the bed. Aizawa takes the chair, rolling it out of the room and into the hands of a nurse before returning and shutting the door behind him. You take a moment to examine him, finding that he seems more tired than usual, dark bags more prominent underneath his eyes, his hair not quite as well kept, and his clothing seems more rumpled than normal. 

Finally, you say, “Aizawa.”

“Shinku,” he answers and you can’t help but smile and hold out a hand for him. Something he responds to by stepping forward and taking it, fingers calloused and rough. 

Too many things run through your head before you recall your last conversation with him, how you attempted to give him your first name but failed to do so. So you look up at him, meeting his dark eyes and say it. 

He blinks, confused, then repeats it, voice low, intimate.

Smiling, you say, “that’s my name.” 

“Shouta,” he replies and your heartbeats a little faster as a bigger smile forms on your lips. 

You reach up to grab his scarf, using it to tug him down until his lips are just inches from yours and you whisper, “I’m so happy to see you, Shouta.” He responds by pressing his lips against yours.

Chapter Text

A hand cups your face, gentle, careful, tilting your head up and you follow Shouta’s lead, keeping one hand on his scarf while the other reaches up to tangle in his hair. The kiss is chaste, a mere brushing of lips, tentative, neither one of you really sure what to do but determined to try. Then it turns deeper, his lips parting and you following suit and it’s simply perfect. 

He parts a little too soon but lingers close, eyes opening to meet yours and you stare at him for a moment before daring to press your forehead against his. Something he blinks at then leans against you, accepting your display of affection without complaint. 

For a few moments, the two of you stay like that and breathe one another in. You can smell the familiar scent of cinnamon and it helps relax you further, feeling safe in a way that is difficult to explain. 

Slowly, you pull your hand out of his hair to give him the chance to straighten up from awkwardly bending to your level. Something he does without complaint and instead of stepping away, he sits on the bed next to you. 

For a long moment, it’s quiet between the two of you and you find yourself leaning against his side. Something he accepts without protest, in fact, an arm winds around your waist and you find yourself curling up against him. The two of you simply exist together, basking in one another’s presence and it’s perfect. Something that you have missed and can’t help but nudge your head against his scarf, breathing in his scent. 

Fingers rub up and down your side, the touch soft, delicate and you have to smile a little. There are so many words that you want to say but voicing them proves to be difficult when you have no idea where to start or what to ask. 

It’s Aizawa, no, Shouta, who speaks first, his soft baritone soothing your racing thoughts, “are you doing alright?” 

You consider the question and admit, “I don’t know.”

He nods, head leaning against the top of yours and tells you, “if you need anything, let me know.”

“Like the lawyer you sent my way?” You can’t help but ask, half teasing, half curious. 

He shrugs and replies, “yes. I knew you’d be questioned as soon as you woke up, typical police protocol. I felt it was only fair for you to have someone capable of fighting off the detectives.” You have to chuckle at how blunt and realistic he is, a breath of fresh air compared to the condescending nature of Rin Shinku. 

“Thanks,” you mumble and sigh, admitting, “I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the police. Having a fancy lawyer certainly helped.”

He chuckles at that and responds, “use him as much as you need. I doubt the police will actually bring charges against a victim but I’d rather err on the side of caution.” Sighing, you nod and know he has a point. There’s little doubt in your mind that you’ll be under scrutiny for the next few weeks or even months. 

It’s known that the Shinku clan prefers the company of family over anyone else so even if you are a victim in this case, that doesn’t mean you haven’t done illegal activities in the past. Which… isn’t untrue… you tend to dance in the grey area of the law. Meaning that you’ll need to be cautious with aiding and healing people for the foreseeable future. 

A thought that makes you frown, annoyance and exhaustion mixing together and causing you to lean further against the hero. Determined not to simply fall asleep on him, you force yourself to talk, “how are you doing?” 

He is quiet for a few beats but his fingers dig a little into your side, pulling you closer and you make yourself comfortable, curling into his warmth. “Better, now that you’ve been found.” Your lips tilt up into a smile at the admission, small as it might be, you know he means it. 

Opening your eyes, you reach out to his cheek, urging him to turn his head and examine his face when he does. The usual circles underneath his eyes are worse than usual, prominent and dark, he looks somehow worse than you feel and it makes your heart clench. “You haven’t been sleeping,” you state, perhaps a bit blunt you don’t have the energy to filter or mince words. 

He rolls his eyes and replies, snark in his tone, “I could say the same to you.” His free hand comes up to rub under your left eye, the touch light as he continues, “sleeping wasn’t one of my priorities. And I’m rather good at functioning while sleep deprived.” 

There are so many words piling up in your throat that you don’t know what to say and the longer you stare at his tired but warm expression, the worse it becomes. Finally, you force out a soft, “thanks for finding me.” 

“You’re welcome… just try not to do it again.” 

You have to scoff, lips pulling up into a smile as you reply, “I have no intentions of being taken against my will ever again.” 

He nods, seemingly satisfied and says, “good. That’s all I ask. How long are you going to be here?”

“A few days, from the sounds of it unfortunately,” you have to sigh and grumble, “rest is all I really need at this point. Something I can do at home.”

He raises an eyebrow and counters, “or the doctors want to observe you and make sure you’re doing well after so many surgeries.” 

Wrinkling your nose at his rational point, you wave your hand, muttering, “while true, I’d be fine recuperating in Yuno. At least there I can recover without worrying about a hospital bill.” You can only imagine how expensive the bill is going to be once you’re actually discharged and dread paying for it. Not that you don’t have a decent amount of money to spare but you have a feeling it’s going to be far more than what you’re comfortable paying.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Throwing him a look, you push back, “and why not? This room alone is probably a few thousand a day .” 

“I know,” he replies, completely unconcerned, “I told the nurses to move you to a private room and I’d cover the cost.” 

Blinking a few times, you stare at him with wide eyes and ask, “you what?” 

Amusement shines in his eyes as he repeats, “I’m covering the room cost.”

“Aiz…” you shake your head and try again, his name still so new that it sits strangely in your mouth, “Shouta. Why?” 

He looks utterly unbothered as he explains, “there were too many reporters and journalists trying to sneak into the room they had you in. It was stressful for your siblings and the staff,” he shrugs and finishes with a simple, “so I asked the nurses to move you.” 

“And you’re fine with paying for this…?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have done so in the first place.”

A breathless laugh ripples out of your throat and you say, “that’s the most romantic thing someone has done for me.” 

His brow furrows and he responds, “noted. I’ll be sure to do something more personal next time.” 

Another laugh escapes and you shake your head, amused and touched, teasing him, “I didn’t take you as a romantic.” The idea of him buying flowers or chocolates or anything cliche is difficult to picture but you find the image to be adorable. Especially since you can see him doing such tasks after work, still in his hero suit, uncaring of any stares he may get while examining flowers at a store. 

“I’m not,” he admits and tilts his head against your hand, “but I’ve never tried to be before.” 

“And you’re willing to try for me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate in his response, “yeah. If that’s alright with you.” 

A blush warms your cheeks and you smile up at him, agreeing, “sounds nice.”

“Good.”

Your eyes begin to grow heavy as you lean more into him but you’re determined to stay awake for a while longer. So you ask, “how are your kids?” 

“Fine. They insisted on leaving you a gift, it’s that large card over there.” He motions towards the endless pile of gifts on the table and you try to stand but find your muscles locking up. Shouta doesn’t say anything as he gets up, his hands firm as they guide you to lay back on the bed. Rather than fighting or protesting against it, you let him, following his urging to rest against the pillows. 

Once he seems satisfied with your posture, he moves over to the table and picks an obnoxiously large card. It seems to be custom made with embellished words on the front that say ‘get well soon’ with a hand drawn vase of flowers. Once you open it, there’s a chaos of different handwritings and you realize why the card is so huge. While there are a few simple words with the student’s name at the end, there are a number of paragraphs written by others.

Ochaco’s handwriting jumps out first, familiar and bubbly, wishing you nothing but a speedy recovery and hoping to visit soon. There are others that catch your attention with little doodles or strange requests such as wishing to fight you or learn from your techniques. Overall, most of them are heartfelt and sweet enough that it brings a smile to your face. You even spot Shouta’s name with a little note of ‘feel better’. 

It’s an adorable gesture and you finally look up to meet Shouta’s eyes, asking, “did you come up with this or them?”

“Them. They’ve been bugging me for weeks to have you come to UA as a guest.” 

A strange idea and one that has you tilting your head, repeating, “a guest…? Why?”

He shrugs and admits, “probably to learn from your fighting style. Or how to perform decent first aid.” 

“You haven’t mentioned that to me before,” you point out.

He seems to hesitate a bit, brow furrowing, arms crossing as he explains, “I figured you wouldn’t be interested. Coming to UA, in any capacity, tends to… put people in a spotlight. That’s something you avoid.” A true statement and one you can’t deny considering your work and family situation. 

Any attention from heroes or regular society has always been something you’ve avoided like the plague. Attention means scrutiny, unwanted questions, frustrating assumptions, all of which you don’t need in your life. Especially when prying could lead to the discovery of your questionable activities of helping villains or Touya’s true identity or Rin Shinku finding you. 

Though… you find yourself a bit open to the idea with how things have turned out.

Not now while everything is still so murky and uncertain thanks to the police activity and eyes on you for being both a victim and part of the Shinku clan, but just maybe, you could briefly step into the light. 

“I’ll think about it,” you finally say and meet Shouta’s eyes, noting the surprise in them, “it’ll all depend on how things go with the mess my mother pulled me into. And… with Endeavor knowing about Touya.” 

He nods and says, “when you’re feeling up to it - if you ever do - just let me know. I’m sure it can be arranged.” 

“I’ve never taught kids before,” you confess as you close the card, unable to imagine being a teacher. 

“Seems to me like you’re good at it. You’ve taught your siblings how to be functioning adults, haven’t you?” 

You freeze, blinking as a frown forms and you shake your head, meeting his eyes again and tell him, “that’s different.” 

“How?” He inquires, sitting on the edge of the bed with a raised eyebrow, arms still folded.

It’s difficult to put into words and you don’t know how to tell him that it’s simply not the same. Still, you fumble with your words, “I didn’t have a choice but to take them in. Nobody was there for any of them and they needed a safe place to just… exist. To learn how to control their quirks, to figure out how to function in school and around people.” 

“Sounds like a teacher to me,” he retorts, ignoring the little frown you throw his way. He says, “you did have a choice. You could have just left them wherever they were. Turned a blind eye.” 

“No,” the word is harsher than you mean it to be but you don’t dare take it back. The fact you could have ignored any or all of your siblings leaves a horrible taste in your mouth and has your heart twisting in your chest. 

The idea of passing by Touya while his scars were at their worst, dark purple and withered, his flesh teetering on being more dead than alive is sickening. 

The thought of ignoring Tomura while he was curled up behind a building, untrusting, hungry, unable to touch anything without fear of it turning to dust is heartbreaking. 

The concept of letting Himiko return to her parents where all that waited for her was disgust and pain, misconceptions and anger is revolting. 

A scowl is on your face and you put aside the card to avoid ruining it, eyes hard as you meet Shouta’s and state, clear and firm, “I’ll never regret taking any of them in and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Kids should have the chance to figure themselves out, do stupid shit, just… be kids. If I hadn’t taken them in, who would have?” 

“Nobody,” he replies, his voice low but blunt, the truth hurting a little more than it should as he keeps going, “society places too much trust in heroes.” 

It’s startling to hear and you meet his eyes, shocked that he would voice such a controversial statement but it rings true. “I never thought I’d hear a hero admit that.” 

“It tends to be how it goes,” he says with a bitter sigh then motions to the card, “that’s why I think it might be good for you to be a guest and show these brats a thing or two.”

“And how will me teaching them to fight or how to do first aid help change anything? All of them want to be heroes, right?” 

“You come from a different background, a more grounded mindset,” he stands up and slips his hands into his pockets, words reasonable and simple, “you just want to help people, not for fame or money or any of that bullshit. The brats could learn from that alone.” His words have a warmth spreading through your entire body and you have to laugh a little at how he makes you sound. 

Something you voice by pointing out tiredly, “you almost make me sound like a hero, Shouta.” 

He gives a smile, a small little thing but it’s still handsome on his face, “yeah, well, maybe in some people’s eyes you are. But this is completely up to you, if you’d rather not, that’s fine.” He leans down to press his forehead gently against yours, eyes closed as he murmurs, “I won’t push. We’ll make this work, one way or another.” You know he’s talking about the two of you, this connection, attraction, whatever it is the two of you have and you lean into him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. 

“I think some would say that’s a bad idea. That you might as well be dating a villain.” 

“I believe others would be impressed with the idea of me dating a doctor of all people. Besides, I don’t care about other people’s opinions.”

You have to laugh then, leaning more against him as a wide smile spreads across your face. The fact he’s willing to let you stay in the dark that you’ve grown so accustomed to, even accepting that you may never want to leave it is… sweet and unexpected. 

Softly, you offer, “let’s see where everything stands once the dust settles. Then we can talk about this again.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

The two of you linger like that for a while longer until a nurse comes in and insists on rehooking the IV into your arm. Something you both sigh at but agree, Shouta pulling away from you with the promise of visiting again soon. Once he’s gone and the nurse leaves you alone, you’re back under the covers and dozing, feeling exhausted but content. 

The rest of the hospital stay goes by rather slowly, doctors milling in on occasion to talk about how your recovery should look, what to avoid doing, the usual. Nurses wander in to check up on you and chat for a few minutes before leaving you alone. The only bright parts are when you get to see your siblings, the occasional Yuno resident and Shouta. All of them try to lift your spirit in their own way and it helps but there’s an antsy feeling bubbling underneath your skin. One that is difficult to shake because all you truly want is to just go home. 

Eventually you have enough when the doctors begin asking you invasive questions about your quirk, curious about how good your healing ability actually is and decide it’s time to leave. There is a bit of push back until you state firmly that whatever healing you have left can be done in the comfort of your own bed and you’re no longer in any dire state. That thankfully does shut them up and allow you to be discharged and Tomura picks you up from the hospital on his way home from class. 

The cats are beside themselves once they see you, Dumpling mewing as she rushes over to you, rubbing against your legs insistently until you lean down to pet her. Felix waits with a pissy look on a kitchen chair, watching with keen eyes and the moment you sit on the couch he’s there, insisting on pets and refusing to leave your lap. 

Your kitchen counters are filled with the gifts from the hospital minus most of the flowers since many were wilting. Something you ignore in favor of simply relaxing and letting out a relieved sigh at finally being home.

The first thing you do after having some quality time with the cats is take a long shower, enjoying the heated water without being bothered or twisting awkwardly to avoid wetting an IV. By the time you get out, most of the hot water has been used but you can’t feel bad about it. 

Once out of the shower, the main thing you notice is a scar on your abdomen, fresh and pink and a few inches long. You touch it with light fingers, feeling the tender flesh before you look for any others. There is a faint one on your ankle from where Shatterfang grabbed you but that’s the only other one you can find. It’s a bit ironic that most of your scars come from your siblings, each one of them leaving a permanent reminder of their presence. 

Rather than dwelling on such things, you pull on some comfortable sleeping clothes and proceed to collapse on your bed. The sheets smell new and fresh, perfect and you bury yourself into the blankets, eyes closing and find yourself drifting off to sleep without meaning to. 

In fact, you find yourself napping quite a bit as the days go on, your body desperate to catch up on sleep and heal from the trauma of your capture. Not that it always goes smoothly, there are quite a few times where you nearly jump out of bed, eyes wide and blind, fear pumping through your veins as you gasp for air. On occasion you cry out in your sleep and find yourself being comforted by one of your siblings. 

Touya wakes you up with a raspy call of your name and shakes you until you come to, letting you cling to him once you’re present and sound of mind. 

Tomura rubs your back until you jolt awake and the first thing you hear is his voice as he reads out his current school assignment, his voice grounding and familiar. 

Himiko hugs you from behind, her grip surprisingly strong but comforting once you snap awake, humming silly little tunes until your mind clears and you slump in her embrace. 

It’s a little embarrassing, something you wish could be stopped sooner rather than later but you know this is a normal response. Not only because of the many medical journals and lectures you’ve read or listened to but this is how you were the first time you got away from Rin Shinku. Only during that time of your life it was bleaker considering you dealt with the nightmares on your own. 

Not once do any of your siblings comment or tease you later in the day for finding you in such a vulnerable position. In fact, they insist on having ‘sleepovers’ in the living room where everyone sprawls out on the giant couch with blankets, pillows and even stuffed animals. You can’t protest against it and often find yourself waking up to someone sleeping halfway on top of you or your head on someone’s stomach or thigh. 

In the coming weeks you find yourself at the police station with the UA lawyer, talking about your time spent as an unwilling captive and what you were forced to do. Anytime the detective dares to veer into poking for more information or even hinting that you helped with criminal activities, your lawyer steps in.

Defending you far better than you expect as he gives out cool reminders that you are a victim in this case and that it’ll look rather bad if the police try to paint you as anything but. Ignoring the grumblings or protests that are kicked up and staying firm until the police have no choice but to yield. 

Especially when it’s pointed out that you took down Overhaul of all people and saved little Eri.

Though they do try to pin the use of ‘illegal quirk usage’ on you a few times, your lawyer is quick to nip that in the bud. He reminds them you were forced into using your quirk or were defending yourself and others. That while it may have been illegal for you to do so - technically - you had little choice when the other option may have been death. 

It’s during these sessions that you learn what will become of your mother and you can’t say you’re sad with the idea of her being imprisoned in Tartarus. You personally think she deserves worse but that’s an opinion you keep to yourself.

The trial for your mother thankfully doesn’t even need you to be there physically. Not with the overwhelming evidence that has been gathered on her spanning for months upon months. All you do is reaccount everything you’ve gone through to your lawyer who takes it from there, allowing you time to heal without being subjected to seeing Rin Shinku’s face again. When asked if you wish to write a victim impact statement, you hesitate and say to your lawyer, “you can tell her that she isn’t my family and will never be.” 

“That’s it?”

You nod and reply, “that’s it. Anything else I say is just wasted breath. I haven’t thought of her in years and I plan on doing that once this mess is over.” 

“Alright,” he says, not pushing any further as he takes down a few notes.

A thought comes into your mind and you have to ask, “how is Eri doing?” 

He glances up at you and answers, “it’s been a little difficult for her in the hospital. Her quirk control is non-existent so that’s been leading to complications.” 

“I’m not surprised, any chance I can see her?” You ask, hopeful but not optimistic. 

“Probably not until she gets a handle on her quirk,” comes the reply, honest and sympathetic. 

Pressing your lips together, you lean against your hand with a sigh and admit, “I figured that’d be the answer.” 

“Some would argue seeing you again may trigger bad memories and cause her unneeded stress.” 

“I’d argue that keeping her indefinitely in a hospital is causing unneeded stress,” you shoot back. “The kid needs stability and a safe environment that feels like a home, not a place where it feels like she’s going to be stuck constantly with needles.” 

A smile forms and your lawyer teases, “is that the doctor in you speaking, Ms. Shinku?”

Rolling your eyes and waving a hand at him, you retort, “not a doctor. Just a concerned citizen.”

“Noted. I’ll see what I can do.”

The last thing you expect to happen is to get a knock on the door one late afternoon while your siblings are out. Well, the knock on the door isn’t that surprising considering the number of Yuno residents that have been showing up to offer support and money of all things, but who is behind the knock certainly is. 

You find yourself staring into a pair of interesting eyes, one an unfamiliar grey color while the other is a very familiar blue. The young man has a shock of white hair on one side and a fiery red on the other, leading you to say, “you’re Touya’s little brother.” He shuffles on his feet with a nod, face impassive and blank though there is a hesitation in his eyes. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you finally motion for him to come in, telling him, “Tou isn’t here right now.” 

“Okay,” he replies and steps into the townhouse, quickly taking off his shoes as he looks about your home. 

You shut the door behind him then walk towards the kitchen, asking over your shoulder, “want anything to drink?” 

“Sure,” comes the reply, awkward and unsure.

Though you’re not entirely sure what he likes, you figure that hot chocolate is a safe bet. Perhaps a bit childish but you can’t deny that Tomura’s favorite drink has quite a bit of charm to it, especially when dealing with tense or nervous teens. 

As you grab two mugs down, you notice he stands stiffly by the door and roll your eyes, calling to him, “I don’t bite. Sit down or look around if you want.” 

“Glad to know you don’t bite,” he replies, completely serious and you blink then have to turn back towards the mugs to hide a smile at how silly he sounds. Still, you can hear him wandering around at least and go about steaming some milk. It’s quiet the entire time you make the drinks, not that you mind but you find yourself noting the differences already between him and Touya. 

Once you’ve finished filling the mugs and even add a few fluffy marshmallows on top, you turn to find him staring at the collage of pictures on the wall. You can’t see his face but his posture alone tells a story, standing up straighter to look at older pictures and even touching one with gentle fingers. “Here,” you say, breaking him out of his trance so he turns to glance at you and the mugs in your hand. 

Rather than putting them onto the table like you planned and having a conversation there, you walk to where he is and hand him one, leaning against the couch to take in the pictures too. There aren’t any new ones thanks to your unwilling absence, something you decide to fix in the next few weeks. 

You offer your name to him and he nods, fingers cupping his mug.

“My father told me about you.”

Humming, you admit, “I’m not exactly surprised to hear that. But I am surprised he hasn’t tried coming around again.”

The teen glances at you and you take in his face, seeing some similarities to Touya such as his bone structure but also the differences between them, his eyes are blanker, less expressive. “He’s thought about it but I think he’s hesitant to.” 

“Can’t face his oldest?”

“I don’t know,” he says and looks at his mug, a frown tugging at his lips, “but I don’t care what he does or doesn’t do. What I want is to get to know my older brother.” 

You run a hand over your face, eyes focusing on the older pictures of Touya with his undyed hair and his scarring at their worst, warning him, “he may not want the same, kid.” 

“I know,” he mumbles, shoulders hunching before he continues, voice unwavering, “but I’d like to try.” 

“Determined, huh? Must be a Todoroki thing.” 

That does bring a hint of a smile on his face and he gives a little shrug, mumbling, “maybe.” 

“Nothing wrong with that, kid,” you offer and sip from your drink then glance at him and ask, curious, “does anyone know you’re here? And how did you find my house anyway?” 

He shifts on his feet but is honest in his answer, “I asked my classmate Uraraka if she knew where you lived. And no, I didn’t tell my family or anyone I was going to visit.” Of course Ochaco told him where the townhouse is, not that you really mind. A frown forms at the idea of him coming into your side of town on his own, especially when it’s already turning dark outside. 

While the teen can definitely defend himself, you know that Yuno is a little too on edge right now to be kind to outsiders, even if they are young. Quite a few of your regulars have made promises to keep an eye out on the townhouse in particular, none of them keen on letting you be disturbed so soon after coming home. 

“Then I’ll take you home once you’re ready. Or I’m too tired to entertain you any longer.” 

He startles hearing that, eyes widening slightly and replies, “there’s no need for that. I can just walk.” 

“Sure but I don’t think so,” you say and give him a tired smile, explaining once you see the confusion on his face, “the residents around here aren’t going to be kind to anyone unfamiliar wandering around, not this late. It’s fine, I don’t mind.” 

“Why is that?” An honest question but one you really don’t know what to do with.

You shrug and settle with saying, “they like me and tend to be a little too protective.” It’s far too easy to picture Twice cornering the poor kid on his way home and trying to interrogate him. 

He tilts his head and stares at you with a thoughtful look then asks, voice soft, “are you some kind of underground hero to them?” 

Laughing at the suggestion, you wave your hand and reassure him, “no, nothing like that. Don’t start with the conspiracy theories, I’m just someone people go to when they need help, that’s all.” 

“Because you can heal people?” 

You pause, thinking, eyes shifting back onto the pictures, not confirming nor denying his words. Instead you deflect by asking, “what’s your name, kid?”

“Shouto.” 

“That’s right… been awhile since I’ve heard it.” You hold out your hand that’s not currently occupied and say, “nice to meet you. Officially.” 

He tilts his head then nods and takes your hand, grip light and warm and replies just as you hear the front door opening, “nice to meet you too, Ms. Shinku.” 

“Ya know,” a voice calls, rasping and teasing, “you don’t have to be so formal.” Touya enters your sight after he kicks off his boots and stretches out his back as his eyes meet yours before flickering towards his younger brother, “though I do have to ask, what are you doing here?” Thankfully there isn’t any malice or tension in his tone. 

For a second, Shouto seems frozen, entire body rigid next to you and you raise an eyebrow at how he’s reacting. With a nudge against his shoulder, he flinches, eyes turning toward you and you give a small nod towards Touya, urging him to say something. 

There’s a few beats of silence but eventually he speaks, explaining, “I… I wanted to see you.” 

“Well, congratulations little brother, you have. What else?”

Again, Shouto locks up and you shake your head then put a hand on his back, pressure light and guiding as you say, “come on, we’re sitting down for this.”

To say the next few minutes are awkward is a massive understatement. 

The three of you sit at the dining room table in a strange, heavy silence, Touya leaning back in his chair with sharp eyes trained on an awkward Shouto who can’t stop staring at the table. You sit next to your brother and don’t even blink when he decides to drink the rest of your hot chocolate, figuring there’s no point in scolding him. 

Still, Shouto seems to struggle with saying anything and sits there, more akin to a rock than a person. 

It isn’t until you have to let out a sigh and say, voice soft, “hey. Shouto.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, snapping out of whatever trance he has been in and you continue, “just tell him why you came to visit. Like you told me.” 

Though there’s hesitation, that determination you’ve seen from the sports festival comes forth and he finally says, “I want to get to know you.” 

“Now why in the world would you want that? I’m the fuck up of the family, remember?” 

Instantly you smack Touya’s shoulder and give him a harsh look, telling him, “shut up. No you aren’t.” 

“I am in my dear ole dad’s eyes, sis. That’s how I ended up here to begin with.”

While not denying his past, you reply, “you were a neglected kid doing what neglected kids tend to do, lash out and demand attention. That’s not a fuck up.” Touya locks his eyes on yours and stares, something you return and give a firm look, refusing to back down. He huffs at you but looks away and shrugs a little bit, not accepting your words but close enough to it. 

Shouto speaks up then, something in his voice that you can’t quite place but more emotion than he’s been showing, “you really have been taking care of him.”

“Well… yeah. What, did you think something different?” You have to ask, confused as to what in the world Endeavor told his family. 

“The way Father made it sound was you had brainwashed Touya.” 

An outrageous idea that has you sighing while your younger brother barks out a laugh and shakes his head, leaning forward onto the table, “what a fucking joke. I’m here because she,” he jerks a thumb in your direction, “took me in when I was half dead from burns and scars. And I stayed because she became family. That’s it.” 

“I see,” the teen replies, accepting wholeheartedly and without any pushback. 

Touya frowns and runs a hand through his hair that is showing more and more white than black before finally repeating a previous question, “why do you want to get to know me? I’m not going to ask again.” 

“Because… you’re my brother.” It’s a forward answer but one that doesn’t seem to sway Touya.

He waves his hand and replies, “great that you think that. I don’t. I’m a Shinku, not a Todoroki. That ship has long sailed.” 

“Okay.” 

Touya blinks and echoes, “okay? That’s all you’re going to say about it.” 

A nod and Shouto says, “I don’t care if you’re Touya Shinku or Touya Todoroki, I just… I want to get to know you better.” His fingers curl around the mug, knuckles going white as tension gathers in his shoulder and he mumbles, “I was never given the chance to… our father took that away. And now that I know you’re alive, that opportunity is back so I’m going to take it. If you’re okay with it.” You stay quiet to not sway your brother one way or the other, watching from the corner of your eye how he processes those words. 

There’s disbelief first on his face, mouth partly open and eyes narrowed before it turns into something else. A warmer emotion and he lets out a long sigh, kicking back in his chair again and says, “you’re a weird kid.” It’s not quite an insult, more of a statement before blue eyes meet yours and you can read there’s a conflict in them as Touya asks, “what do you think about this, sis?” 

Not really sure how to respond, you still try by saying, “it’s up to you, Tou. But… I will say that there isn’t any harm in getting to know Shouto.” Personally, you have no idea how you’d react to a random Shinku showing up to plead for some sort of bonding, however comparing your family to his biological family isn’t right. As far as you can see, the teen has nothing but pure intentions and an earnestness in his words. 

“And what if more of my family comes out of the woodwork? I still have another brother and sister, technically.” Vaguely, you can recall him mentioning their names once upon a time, that they were thrown to the side due to not having the right quirks. 

Patting the top of his hand, you tell him, “you can let as many or as few people in as you want. There isn’t a rule book on how this goes.” 

“You sure it’s not going to ruin anything we’ve got here?” 

Realizing what the problem is, you give him a smile and say, “now you’re being dumb.” He glares and opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off, now holding his hand, “nothing is going to keep us from being family, Touya. If you get to know your biological family and reconnect with them, great. We’ll still be here. If you decide it’s too much or weird and don’t want to anymore, guess what? We’ll still be here. Got it?” 

“Yeah… I got it,” he replies, seemingly far more at ease and even comforted by your words. His eyes turn onto Shouto and he says, “I’ll come pick you up after school later this week. We’ll… I dunno, get some food or something. Sound good?” 

Shouto’s eyes light up for the first time and he nods, lips curling up into the smallest of smiles, “yes.”

It’s after an interesting dinner when your other siblings arrive home with more than enough food for Shouto to enjoy that you decide to take him home. Himiko is practically all over the poor thing, excitedly chatting about this and that while Tomura gives him a bit of side eye from underneath his hoodie. Still, you have a feeling that he doesn’t mind the teen considering he quietly passed him the last crab rangoon before Himiko could get it. 

After Shouto and Touya exchange numbers, you shoo the teen into your car and listen to the directions he offers you. It isn’t until you pull up to a ridiculously large house that he speaks again, “thank you. My father was wrong about you.” 

“Seems like he’s wrong about a lot of things,” you shoot back but try not to bad mouth Endeavor too much, offering a simple, “but you’re welcome.” 

He undoes the seat belt though hesitates as he opens the door, glancing back at you with mismatched eyes, “Ms. Shinku… can I ask you something?” 

“You can, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive your family?” 

You blink at him, taken aback by the heavy topic but consider his words, really taking in his face. There’s a tension there and it dawns on you that Endeavor’s wonderful parenting seems to have been subjected to all of the Todoroki siblings. That not even the ‘perfect child’ got to escape his abuse. 

It’s tempting not to answer him, to wave him off or deflect as you’ve done in the past but something stops you. Perhaps it’s knowing to some degree what he’s been through in his home or his ties to Touya or even the fact he’s looking with that blank, almost somber look of his but… you answer honestly. 

“No,” you say, eyes on his, “and there’s nothing wrong with not forgiving. Some people may insist on being the better person or that it’ll help you heal, but that’s bullshit.” 

“Why?”

“Healing doesn’t happen just because you forgive a person. It requires time, energy, support and a lot of other things,” you hesitate, not too sure how deep you should go with this topic but figure it can’t hurt to tell him one last thing. “Forgiving an abuser won’t help the hurt, in fact, it can sometimes make it hurt worse.”

He’s quiet, seemingly mulling over your words before giving a slow nod and says, softly, “so it’s okay if I can’t forgive.” 

“It is,” you agree full heartedly. 

“Thank you,” he says again and steps out of the car, turning and giving a small bow of all things. 

You have to smile and tell him, “Tou was right, you know, there’s no reason to be so formal. Get some sleep, Shouto.” 

He closes the door with a nod and heads towards the house as you back up and head home. Once home and in bed after a shower, you text can’t help but Shouta, ‘Shouto’s a weird kid.’

His response makes you laugh, ‘he’s nothing compared to some of the other’s I have.’

Chapter Text

Slowly, you begin to feel normal again. 

Other than the hovering siblings, over protective Yuno residents, sudden anxiety attacks that paralyze you at random moments and nightmares that wake you up at night. 

Beyond all of that though… you’re doing fine. 

Mostly.

It’s during a Saturday when Himiko shuffles over as you nurse a cup of coffee, hands folded in front of her with a nervous look when she says, “hey… sis… can we go dress shopping…?”

“Dress shopping?” You echo and blink at her, confused and mind a little fuzzy. 

She nibbles at her lip, swinging her arms side to side and explains, “so… remember the UA formal? UA moved it back a few weeks and now it’s this Friday annnnd… I still need a dress.” 

For a moment all you can do is stare before you realize just how long you’ve been missing and with everything else going on, it’s completely slipped your mind. Groaning and running a hand down your face, you apologize, “I’m sorry Himi, I… completely forgot.” 

“It’s okay!” She insists, shaking her head and admits to you, “Tou and Shiggy offered to take me but… I really wanted to do it with you.” 

A sweet gesture from the boys and you can’t help but smile, trying to shake off the guilt and exhaustion, replying, “alright, let’s go then.” 

Naturally going during the height of the winter formal season leads to a pretty picked through inventory of dresses but Himiko doesn’t seem to care. She goes from one dress to another, happily picking out the ones that she thinks are cute or declaring that others are ugly. It’s a little amusing though you have to gently hush her when a few other patrons throw annoyed looks towards the two of you. 

It’s during this shopping that you get a phone call from Shouta of all people and answer it without thinking, “hey.” All the while you watch Himiko gather up an almost comical amount of dresses. Some aren’t even close to her style while others are beyond inappropriate for a school dance. 

He replies with your name and asks, “are you busy this Friday night?” 

Blinking at the seemingly random question, you reply, “no, why? Want to meet up at the bar?” Considering everything that’s been going on with talking to lawyers and police or reassuring your siblings and Yuno residents, it’s been impossible for either of you to continue your weekly tradition. One that you do miss and hope to get back to as soon as possible. Though you’ll definitely need a nap beforehand with how tired you’ve been feeling. 

“If you’re up to it, would you be interested in coming to the UA formal?” He inquires, voice calm and unbothered as ever even though the question is completely random and throws you off guard. 

“The formal…?” You repeat, eyes sweeping towards Himiko as she skips towards the dressing room and you follow, settling outside so she can undress in peace. “I thought that was only for students.” 

“Certain teachers are allowed to bring a plus one.” 

You hum and comment, “certain teachers, huh? So what makes you so special?” 

There’s a pause then a blunt, “I can watch the kids and have an adult conversation at the same time, unlike some of my colleagues.” You chuckle a little, a clear picture in your head of the more casual or nonchalant teachers trying to sneak off with their dates. 

“Let me guess, your friend with the blond hair and loud voice isn’t allowed to bring someone?”

A huff comes through the phone then a dry, “naturally. All teachers were originally given that privilege and he was the first one to sneak off like a horny teenager.” 

The chuckle turns into a quiet laugh and you shake your head, bemused at the image in your head as you reply, “so now he’s not allowed.”

“More or less, not that it always stops him from trying,” Shouta responds though you can hear a hint of fondness in his voice. 

You frown a little and open your mouth when Himiko pokes her head out the door and whispers, “hey, sis, can you help me?” 

Nodding, you push off the wall and quickly step in front of the door, reaching in to finish zipping up the dress she has on. One that has you wrinkling your nose and telling her, “that’s hideous.” 

“A bit harsh towards Hizashi, wouldn’t you say?” 

You roll your eyes and reply into the phone, “not him. I’m with Himiko and the dress she has on isn’t fit for any girl.” The fabric is a pastel lilac purple with glittery black lace over the top and the most ridiculous large bow right on the lower back, engulfing her entire backside. 

“The bow is kind of cute though, right?” 

Sighing, you lean against the door frame and tell her honestly, “Himi, that bow is going to make it impossible for you to sit down. You look like a glittery turkey.” 

She snickers and turns to you, grinning up and asks, “but a cute turkey right? Even with a big butt?” 

Snorting a little and pressing a fist up to your lips, you try to stifle some of the laughter and say, “if that’s what you wanna think. Take a pic and send it to Tou, he’d get a kick out of it.” Her entire face lights up as she dives to her purse and fishes out her phone within seconds to take a silly picture, lips pursed into a duck face just to sell the look. 

Quickly trying to get back on track with Shouta, you tell him, “I suppose I can be your date. Should I dress up too? Or can I come in my usual clothes?”

“Either is fine,” he says, completely unhelpful. 

With a sigh, you snark back, “I’ve never done this before so blunt directions are welcomed, Shouta.” 

“You’ve never done what before? Dressed up?”

With a shrug, you say, “not really. Didn’t go to formals or anything like that when I was in high school and I’ve never needed a fancy dress.” 

There’s a beat of silence on the other line before he speaks again, “considering you’re already at a dress shop, I say buy a dress then.” 

You frown and cradle the phone between your shoulder and ear, reaching out to help unzip Himiko out of the dress when she motions for you to, “will you be in a suit? Or… tux? Whatever guys wear to these events?” Though it’s a little hard to picture him in such an outfit, you think he would look quite dashing in one. Well, so long as he doesn’t wear something that’s terribly stuffy. 

“Do you want me to be in one?” He throws back at you, curiosity clear in his tone. 

It’s a question that has you pausing, thinking and stepping out of the dressing room when you see Himiko can put on the next dress by herself. Not really sure what to say, you opt to admit, “I think you’d look nice in one, so long as it’s not too stiff.”

“Stiff, huh? And what does that mean?” 

A good question and one you’re not too sure how to answer, fumbling a little with your words, “I don’t know. One that’s too tight or… complicated to put on? Does that help?” 

“A bit,” he replies, a quiet chuckle in his throat as he offers, “I’ll dress up if you do. Is that a deal?” 

Smiling a touch, you agree, “sure. Just don’t expect too much, I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“Good, neither do I,” he says in kind and you find it difficult to keep a smile off your face. While strange and a little daunting to think about looking around for a dress for yourself, there’s a giddiness there as well. Sure you’re beyond clueless on what exactly would look great on your body considering most of your wardrobe consists of comfortable or even bloodstained clothes but you’re willing to try. Especially since he is. 

Nodding to nobody and taking note of a few glares thrown your way by waiting mothers, you decide it’s time to end the call and say, “then I’ll look for a dress right now. So I gotta go.” 

“Right, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon,” you agree and hang up the phone just as your sister opens the door with a cheshire grin on her face. Wrinkling your nose, you say, “Himi… this is worse than the other one.”

“I know, isn’t it great? I told Shiggy this was the dress for me.” 

Your lips curl up as you ask, “and what did he say?”

“I look like an oversized disco ball.” It takes a little too much energy to keep from outright laughing and you snicker into your hand.

Eyeing the silver, horribly sparkly sequin that hugs her a bit too tight and the reflective mirror trim dangling around her knees, you finally nod, agreeing, “he’s right on the mark. Come on, I’m coming in and choosing the next one.” Something she nods at with a smile and lets you into the dressing room without protest as you help her unzip and shimmy out of the terribly shiny dress.

Thankfully the next ones she has chosen aren’t all jokes but aren’t quite her style either, some colors a little too pale for her skin while others are too simple. Finally the two of you emerge from the room and place all the dresses on the rack to be returned, agreeing that this store doesn’t have what she wants. 

A bit of a let down considering this was the boutique that she had been so eager to try - the one she found right before you were taken - but you reassure her there are still plenty to go to. 

With a quick search on the internet, you drive to the next store that isn’t quite as busy but has even less in stock unfortunately. What dresses the two of you manage to scrounge don’t fit Himiko either, some of them being a little too big or small and none of them having the ‘cute factor’ she’s looking for. 

Not minding that this is taking so long, you search for another store and find one that has you pausing since it seems more of a bridal shop. Still you shrug and tell her, “it’s worth a shot, right?” 

She agrees in a heartbeat and says, “even if it’s nothing but wedding dresses, I know I can find one that’ll work.” 

“I’m not too sure how Ochaco would react to you showing up in a wedding dress.” 

“No… but! I bet I’d be the talk of the whole formal!” Comes her response as she giggles at the idea, something you roll your eyes at even as a smile forms. 

The shop isn’t too far away and after a fifteen minute drive, you park in front of it and find it’s a modest but charming place. Everything in the display window suggests it only has bridal gowns but you shrug and figure it can’t hurt to look. Himiko glances at you, her smile dampening a touch as she asks, “is this too much? You look tired, sis.”

“When am I not tired? I’ll make it,” you reassure her and reach out to ruffle her hair, telling her, “but if we don’t find anything here I would like to get some food afterwards as a pick me up.”

She stares at you with careful eyes then nods and says, “okay. But I mean it, if you need a break, we can take one.” 

A little amused at her sudden seriousness, you reassure her, “I can handle another store. Now, let’s see what’s in this one.” 

A lot, it turns out. 

While many of the dresses are meant for a wedding, there’s a good amount that are simply ‘formal’ dresses that can be used for any event. One of the workers explains, “we like to cater to any special event, wedding or otherwise.” 

You click your tongue and admit, “well that’s certainly good to know for the future.” Motioning to yourself and to your sister who looks beyond excited to start rushing around, you say, “there’s a school formal this Friday and both of us will be there.” 

“Any styles you’re looking for in particular?” 

Before you can answer, Himiko bursts forward, eyes wide, a blush on her face as she says, “something really cute for me! Maybe a little edgy? Or flirty? And something amazing for my sister. Something that’ll make her date wanna take her back to his place!” 

“Himi!” You hiss, a blush threatening to warm your cheeks before you sigh and run a hand over your face, telling the worker, “I don’t really care, this is more for her than me.” Somehow you manage to get those words out as you pointedly ignore the way your sister shakes her head with a pout. 

You give her a glare when she whispers to the bemused worker, “make my sister look hot. Fiery. A sexy-”

“Himiko.” 

Thankfully she falls silent even if she does wiggle her eyebrows at you with a cheshire smile.

Rather than being put off by the weirdness that is your sister or your lackadaisical attitude towards shopping for yourself, the worker gives a friendly smile and says, “I can work with that. Please, follow me, I’ll grab some options once you two are settled in.” 

Golden eyes widen and the blonde asks, “you’re going to pick things out for us?”

“Yes, I’ll start with a few different styles and colors so that you can figure out which ones you like the best and we’ll go from there.” 

She giggles and nods before she looks up to you and says, “I feel like a princess.” 

“Maybe you’ll look like one too, come on,” you reply with a tired smile and follow after the worker who leads the two of you into a little side room that has a large three way mirror and comfy couches.

Once the two of you are seated, the worker gives a small bow then disappears out the door and you wonder how many high end clients the shop receives considering how formal the workers are. Many, most likely considering you and Himiko are sitting in a rather nice fitting room.

The wait isn’t too long and soon enough there are a few dresses being put onto a rack and the employee glances at you, explaining, “I figured we could start with your sister first, if that’s alright.”

“Fine by me, she may want to try on just about everything.”

A simple shrug and a smile are your response as she motions for Himiko to stand and take in the dresses. Dresses that she examines with quick fingers and faster comments. Comments that the store employee listens to closely as she points out what she does and doesn’t like about each dress before trying them on. Some look fine on her - if a bit boring - while others aren’t quite what she’s looking for, too long, too bland of a color, too old lady, too something. 

You watch, amused, at the way she puts on a dress, twirls about and examines herself in the mirrors before declaring it’s not quite what she’s looking for. It doesn’t take long for the store worker to hunt down a dress that matches the following criteria; some shade of red, must be knee length and no longer, is fun to twirl in, super cute. 

The dress that Himiko falls in love with is rather cute on her, it falls a few inches above the knee and is a lovely shade of red. The bodice is sweet and flirty, mimicking a corset without actually being one and has lace appliques that drift down into the skirt. A skirt that is made up of tulle so it flares out beautifully whenever she spins or walks. Rather than being the overly excited teen she has been this entire time with silly comments or over the top poses, Himiko stares at herself in the mirror, eyes sparkling. 

Her fingers dig a little into the skirt before she turns to look at you, face flushed and smile bright as she states, “I love this one.” 

“You look great in it, Himi,” you agree and eye her up and down, thoughtful before asking, “sure this is the one for you?”

“Yes!” She exclaims, arms high in the air as she laughs and continues, “I want this dress. Can I have it?” 

With a chuckle and a nod, you reply, “sure. We can see about getting you some leggings and shoes too.” 

The store employee glances at you as she helps your sister out of the dress, undoing the corset tie in the back and asks, “what are you looking for, miss?” It’s a fair question but one you really don’t know how to answer. 

Never once have you found yourself needing a beautiful dress before, not when you live in Yuno and not with your profession. Finally you sigh and say, “whatever you think will look good. Nothing too flashy, I don’t want to stand out that much.” 

There’s a pout on your sister’s face as she tugs on her shirt and tells you, “you deserve something pretty though.”

Chuckling, you shrug as she sits back down and you point out, “pretty, sure, flashy and over the top? I don’t think so. Does that sound like me?” 

“No…” she admits with a huff then glances at the worker and says, “I still say she needs to look like the hottest lady around.” 

“I believe I can do a bit of both,” the worker offers with a smile before taking the other dresses away. That comment worries you a tad but you stay silent and sink back into the couch, waiting to see what the worker comes up with. You may even nod off a little because a sudden bump to your shoulder startles you, eyes snapping open to find Himiko staring with a smile and a concerned look. 

Blinking a few times and recentering yourself, you sit up and pat her knee to give some silent reassurance before examining the dresses that have seemingly appeared from thin air. Slowly, you stand and wander over to the rack to see which ones appeal to you and which don’t. It’s a bit overwhelming and you glance at the employee who offers a simple, “just try whatever you want.” 

Blunt advice and you figure you might as well try them all, nodding as you undress. Some of the dresses are pretty but you find yourself disliking most of the designs, too much skin shown or too buttoned up and push those to the side. Nothing on the rack really catches your attention and you debate on what to say, thinking, then finally shake your head. 

“What don’t you like?”

A fair question and one you’re not too sure how to answer but you still try, “I don’t really care for any of these colors. I don’t like the really long ones that don’t have any slits, they’re awkward to walk in. And some of these are too… poofy.”

A nod and the worker is grabbing the dresses and whisking them off to try again. Rather than sitting down again and risk nodding off, you stand and glance at your phone to see the time. It’s late, naturally, and you click your tongue and comment, “after this, we’ll pick up some food and head home. What do you think?” 

Himiko hums and kicks her feet a little, a smile on her face as she agrees, “sure! Buuut… I’m going to the dorms tonight.”

“The UA dorms?”

She nods with a grin and says, “we’re having a hair coloring party! Don’t worry, Shiggy is going to take me and all of my supplies over there.” 

“And Shouta is okay with this…?” You hope that he’s at least somewhat aware of the hurricane that will be showing up in a few hours. “And when was this decided?” Vaguely you can recall her asking a question of going to the dorms before the mess with Rin Shinku but it hasn’t come up again. 

She nods instantly, reassuring you, “he is, I asked, promise! It was only a little while ago, once you were home safe and sound.” 

Still a touch dubious since Shouta hasn’t mentioned anything but you figure with everything else going on, he most likely forgot to. Or… worse, he’s forgotten that he agreed at all. Still, you figure the hero won’t turn her away if she shows up armed with bleach, dyes, foils and who knows what else. 

The store worker comes back with a fellow employee with more dresses and the two of them carefully arrange the clothes on the rack for you. Something you thank them for before examining the new dresses and figuring you might as well get it over with. Considering the exhaustion that tugs more firmly on your mind and movements, you figure whatever looks decent enough will work at this point.

The next dresses go by in a blur but one of the last ones on the rack actually catches your attention and you pause, eyeing yourself in the mirror. It’s very different from anything you’ve ever worn but isn’t all frills or lace or unneeded details like the other dresses you’ve tried so far. 

It’s a black dress, simple but charming. The hem is asymmetrical, falling in different heights but no shorter than your knees and no longer than your calves, the fabric light and airy, soft against your skin. The bust is ruched to give the fabric texture that looks like abstract leaves or vines, pretty and discreet along with short sleeves that flutter loosely around your upper arms. To finish it off is a cute belt that separates the ruched fabric of the top and the airy fabric of the skirt. 

You turn to stare at the back and find it’s flattering from all angles though you note the scar on your collarbone is somewhat visible. With a click of your tongue, you glance at Himiko and ask, “thoughts?” 

“I think Mr. Aizawa would take you to bed and I wouldn’t see you for a week.” 

A blush does warm your cheeks this time and you huff at her, shaking your head then tap the scar peeking out of the v-neck, “think this is too distracting?” Not that you particularly care if people stare but you’d rather not have too many questions thrown your way by socially awkward teenagers. 

She rolls her eyes this time and waves her hand, “nope. You look hot in a lowkey, mysterious way.” Golden eyes turn towards the patient store worker, glittering as she asks, “what do you think?” 

“I believe you look lovely, miss. It’s not too flashy but not too plain,” the employee answers with a genuine smile. 

“Alright then,” you say and motion for Himiko to unzip the dress for you, “I guess we’ve got our dresses then.” 

With the help of a different employee who is in charge of accessories, you soon find yourself at the checkout with two whole outfits. There is Himiko’s dress with black leggings that have hints of lace on the sides and a pair of open toed heels that are black with red accents and a red bow. Then there’s your dress with a pair of strappy black heels that aren’t terribly high. Overall the price isn’t the worst in the world and you hand over the money while thanking the workers for all of their time and patience.

Something they just smile at with a bow and a thank you before bidding you a safe drive home. Himiko bounces with excitement as she carries her outfit to the car, glancing at you and says, “we’re going to be the best dressed, just you watch.” 

Something you chuckle at and reply, “I don’t think it’s a competition, Himi. But we will look cute. What are you planning for everyone’s hair?”

For the entire drive - including after picking up food - Himiko describes as best she can the plans for all the girls. She plans on putting thin strands of red tinsel in her hair while Ochaco wants pink ‘money pieces’. A phrase that has you glancing at her, confused, listening as she explains it just means the hair framing her face will be dyed some sort of pink. Shrugging, you comment it sounds cute and let her talk about all of the other girls she will be helping. 

The only names you know - or at least can remember - are Momo and Asui but she also mentions a Mina and a Jirou who you’ve never heard of before but nod along anyway. It seems that it’ll be a rather rambunctious time with far too much bleach, excitement and possible hair disasters. Something you caution her against by reminding her not to bleach anyone’s entire head especially when the formal is in less than a week.

Something she swears up and down she won’t do though you have some doubts. Still, you don’t state them as you pull up to the townhouse and put the car in park. It’s a quick dinner since Tomura is already waiting to take her to the dorms and she almost bolts out of the house with an oversized tote bag but pauses and looks back at you. You tilt your head, motioning for her to leave but she rushes over to give you a strong hug. 

One that you return, a little confused by, until she whispers, “thanks for taking me shopping, sis….” 

Smiling, you murmur, “no problem. Have fun, don’t melt anyone’s hair off or cause Shouta too much trouble. I’ll see you soon.” She pulls back with a wide grin, nodding and leans her forehead against yours before she runs out the door. 

Outside you can hear Tomura complaining about her taking so long and to get in the car already, something you chuckle at and decide to turn in early, exhausted and yearning for sleep. 

Sleep that is interrupted at one or two in the morning by a loud banging on the front door. You jolt awake, at first disoriented and panicky until you feel the soft fur of Felix tickling your leg. With a groan, you slide out of the warm covers and pet the disgruntled feline who lets out an unhappy ‘mrr’ before heading to the door. 

A glance in the hallway shows that only Tomura is home and you wonder briefly where Touya has run off to but shove that to the side as you open the door. The sight of a bloodied vigilante wakes you right up and for a moment you’re frozen, breath caught in your throat until he lets out a weak croak, slumping to the ground. 

He’s not one of your usuals, someone you’ve only met a handful of times but you shove that aside and grab onto him. There’s blood everywhere, the smell of iron heavy and thick, and for a brief moment, your mind flashes somewhere else. Not here where there’s a man clearly in need of medical attention but to a sterile room with far too many patients to count. Your throat closes up and you shake your head, trying to clear it as your chest suddenly seizes. 

For a moment you can’t remember how to breathe.

It isn’t until there’s a moan from the man that you’re able to snap back to reality and force yourself to walk. Even as your limbs begin to shake and a hint of tears gather in the corners of your eyes, you remind yourself this is what you do.

You help people.

You’re doing this on your own terms.

You’ve done this a thousand times.

So what’s the problem?

Why are you panicking?

What’s there to even panic about?

Yet the moment you hoist him onto the cot you use for all your patients, you stop and can only stare at him. It’s obvious what you should do, you need to remove his shirt and find the source of the bleeding. Clean the wound out, see what’s wrong, fix what you can with needles and threads and careful hands then offer him your blood so he can heal if there’s nothing broken.

Steps you have done so many times in the past and that you know extensively, that you’ve trained for since you were eighteen but your hands just won’t move. 

Instead you stand and stare, seeing but unseeing, breathing but not really because your chest is moving too fast and your lungs are burning and everything feels wrong. No matter how much you try telling yourself that you’re fine, that you can do this, your body simply won’t listen and a helpless feeling takes over. A realization crashes over you and it only makes things worse.

If you don’t help him, he’s going to die. And it will be your fault. All because you can’t do your fucking job, a job that you’ve done for nearly ten years now yet for whatever reason, your body just won’t respond. 

There’s a call of your name, distant, confused, then a more urgent one and suddenly hands are on your shoulders and you’re flinching, twisting around with black scleras and irises. Fingers clasp around your wrist when you try to strike, a half-formed needle on your wrist and you find a pair of red eyes meeting your own.

Tomura.

He stares down at you with wide, concerned eyes, flickering between your form, your wrist and the dying man behind you before he moves. Without a word, he is ripping off the man’s shirt and locating the wound, going about bandaging it up while you can only stare, absolutely useless as he does so. 

Then he’s calling for an ambulance and carefully hoisting the man up, taking him outside so the paramedics don’t come into your home. 

It’s only when you hear the sirens that the tears really begin to fall and your legs crumple, leaving you on the floor, pressing bloodied palms up to your face. Shame burns through your body as your lungs spasm between trying to breathe and the hard sobs. 

Arms wrap around you, Tomura pulling you into a hard hug that makes breathing all the more difficult but it’s grounding and familiar. Without thinking, you turn against him and press your face into his hoodie, shaking as it really dawns on you what just happened. 

That for the first time in your life, you froze. You were unable to offer help, give aid, ease the pain of someone suffering. Instead you stood there, paralyzed with a fear that you can’t even describe as a man laid on your medical bed, bleeding and barely alive. Words are spoken, soft, urgent, and it takes a few moments to hear them over the sound of blood rushing through your ears. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Those words are repeated over and over though you really aren’t sure if you are okay. Then, a horrible thought creeps through, one you try to ignore but can’t as it takes root. Did Rin Shinku break you?

Chapter Text

PTSD.

That’s what the therapist tells you, a woman who has a stern face and indifferent eyes, someone you seek out using UA sources. In a way, you feel strange, a little guilty, for relying so heavily on a school that neither you nor your family go to. The only real connection you have to it is Shouta and that doesn’t make you feel any better either.

Still, the second you woke up, finding yourself curled up against Tomura on the couch with bloody clothes was when you called a number you’ve had since leaving the hospital. The receptionist didn’t ask too many questions beyond who you were, how you got the number and when you’d like to be seen. Surprisingly, the therapist had an empty appointment slot in the morning thanks to a cancellation and here you are, describing what you’ve been going through.

Not an easy task to do and she has to urge you, asking questions, making leading comments, and you grit your teeth and deal with it. Not that you’re the most forthcoming, sidestepping anything that deals with your background and focusing on the current and now. It’s a dance of sorts, you deflecting and her prompting, neither giving the full truth or learning it.

Finally, she puts aside the journal she’s been writing in and asks, “have you ever froze before?”

“No,” you force yourself to say, the word tasting of ash on your tongue, “not when it comes to helping people anyway.”

Blank eyes examine your face for a long time and there is a nod, the poised woman pointing out, “but you have frozen before.”

Swallowing hard, you fold your arms with a shrug and say, “does it matter if I have? It’s in the past.” You do your best not to think back to any of the other traumatic events in your life, seeing no reason to. Not when the current sleepless nights, nightmares and apparent inability to do your job stem from recent events.

“True,” she agrees, jotting something down that feels a little too much like judgement, “but knowing that can sometimes help now.” A thoughtful look comes onto her face and she asks, “what do you want to get out of these sessions and how many do you think you’ll need?”

“Sessions?” you echo and shake your head with a sigh, running a hand over your face, feeling so damn tired, “I have no idea, I just want to be able to function again and do my job.”

She raises an eyebrow at you and asks, voice soft, “your illegal job by the sounds of it? You never did tell me what it entails, only that it helps people.” Again, she writes something down and you grit your teeth, annoyance burning through your veins. “What is it you do, Ms. Shinku? I can’t imagine you’re able to offer people much with just a biology degree.”

There is a tone in her voice, one you can’t exactly place but it’s one you’ve encountered and know a little too well. It’s condescending, overcritical, everything a therapist shouldn’t be and as you stare about the too perfect office, you feel you’ve made a mistake. While UA as a school may mean well and offer the best, it doesn’t mean you should use their services. After all, you’re from Yuno and are a Shinku. And your world of shadows and secrecy doesn’t exactly blend well with a place like UA.

Sighing, you shake your head and stand, grabbing your bag and say, “you know what, nevermind. I’ll find someone else.”

“Find someone else- wait, you’re leaving?” Surprise colors her voice and she hastily stands up, nearly tipping her journal onto the floor.

You glance at her and shrug on your jacket, stating, “you're not the therapist for me.”

She sputters, an offended look spreading across her face and she says, “I have to ask the hard questions to get to know you, surely you understand that. Don’t be upset-”

“Lady, I’m irritated at your judgemental bullshit,” shoulders slumped, a wave of exhaustion racing over your form, “I could have diagnosed myself with PTSD but I was hoping for a bit more help than that.” Walking to the door, you ignore her sputtering, debating, then look over to meet her eyes, giving a hard look, “I appreciate the session and seeing me so quickly, but I won’t be returning.” And with that, you leave her office, ignoring the receptionist's confused words and go straight to the car. The moment you slide into the driver’s seat and close the door, you let out a long, suffering sigh and lean back to stare at the ceiling.

You’re not sure how long you sit there when there’s a soft vibration from your phone, one that breaks through your chaotic thoughts and you answer without thinking, “what?”

A long pause then the cool baritone of Shouta speaks, “not having a good day?”

Huffing, you sink more into your seat and say, “no. Not really. What about you?”

“It’s been fine so far. What’s wrong?”

The words leave before you can think them through, “just got done seeing an uppity therapist.”

“One that UA was providing?”

“Yeah,” you agree and finally start the car, no longer interested in the chill seeping into your bones, “shouldn’t have bothered but thanks for trying to help.”

Shouta responds, his voice cool but gentle, “what’s wrong?”

You pause then, not sure what to say or how to react, staring out the windshield at the tall, tidy building in one of the nicer parts of town. There are people milling about, most of them in business attire and long coats though there are a few dressed in casual winter clothing. None of them look like the people of Yuno and a sinking feeling settles in your chest, one that is difficult to describe but one you’ve been wrestling with since getting to know Shouta Aizawa.

Your name is said in a sharp tone, concern bleeding into the word before he snaps, “Shinku.”

The sound of your last name has you flinching, fingers digging into the fabric of your coat and you finally offer, “I’m here. I’m… here.” Only you’re not, not really. There are too many things rushing around in your mind right now, emotions still raw, jagged, probably due to the unhelpful and stressful therapy session you just went through.

Again, he says your name, voice softer, and then he asks a ridiculous question, “do you need company?”

That forces a laugh out of you, a little bitter, and you look at the time, noting it’s not even noon yet and reply, “you shouldn’t skip school. Not when you’re the teacher.”

“I’m on break and if I said it’s a family emergency then I can leave in the next five minutes,” he says it so easily that it takes you a little off guard. It shouldn’t be so simple, so quick off his tongue yet… Shouta claims you as family or something close to it.

It’s an odd thought and you press a hand against your chest, a tired smile forming on your exhausted face. He’s too damn endearing and sweet and a little too much right now if the tears trying to form in your eyes are anything to go by. Pressing a fist against your lips in an attempt to muffle a broken sound threatening to escape your throat, but something slips out, a little, tiny noise.

Loud enough for there to be a sharp intake of breath from Shouta before he asks, “where are you?”

Swallowing hard, you try to deflect, voice raw, “don’t worry-”

“My class can survive without me for half a day. Where are you?” There’s a bit of force in the question this time and you imagine this is probably how he sounds towards his more problematic students.

Though you want to continue pushing him away, insisting that you’re alright, you figure that there’s no point. Not when you can hear the edge in the hero’s voice and finally offer a soft, “I’m still in front of the therapist's office. I’d rather meet somewhere else if you’re going to insist on seeing me.”

“Do you remember where the cat cafe is?”

Blinking, you smile a touch, remembering the coziness of the cafe and the soft fairy lights, sighing you admit, “no, I don’t.”

“I’ll send you the address.”

Your phone lets out a little beep, a new message and you tap the screen, finding the address and pulling it up. It’s not a terribly long drive from where you currently are and you ask, “you won’t let this go will you?”

“Not a chance. See you soon.” And with that, the phone goes dead and you stare at it, brow furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line but… you can’t deny the way your heart flutters.

You compose yourself as best as possible, rubbing your eyes and sitting up straight, then finally pull out of the parking lot. It’s an anxious car ride to the cafe, too many thoughts crowding in your head that you barely hear whatever music is playing on the radio. By the time you park the car, it’s just after eleven and you stare at the steering wheel, anxiety twisting in your chest and stomach.

It’s hard for you to put a finger on what exactly has you feeling so worked up and upset. Well, beyond the fact you apparently can’t do your damn job but there’s more to it. You’ve dealt with far worse in the past, in fact, you would even say you got off lucky this go around compared to what Rin Shinku did to you before. Being forced to heal wounded soldiers and unwilling heroes seems easy compared to the bloody childhood you endured. And yet… for whatever reason, you can’t seem to bounce back.

At least, not as quickly as you feel you should.

It’s been long enough by now that you should be able to pick up your job again and yet… for whatever reason, your mind isn’t healed enough to stand the scent or sight of blood. A frustrating and confusing thought that you honestly don’t know what to do with or how to overcome. Not when blood is something you’ve been seeing since you were a child, surrounded by others with the Shinku last name and all having quirks related to blood.

There’s a knock on the window and you flinch, turning your head to meet the dark gaze of Shouta who stares with an unreadable expression. His eyes are keen, searching, and you force yourself to meet them head on, unwilling to show any more weakness than you already have. He stares for a few more seconds then motions to the door, trying the handle and you take in a deep breath then shut off the car and unlock the door, allowing him to open it.

He doesn’t say anything at first, swinging open the door and waiting for you to get out, which you do and hurriedly throw your bag over your shoulder. There’s a soft thud from him shutting the car door and you lock the doors before tossing the keys into the bag. For a moment, the two of you stand there on the relatively empty street, him seemingly towering over you and you staring at him, waiting. Neither of you speak, there’s only the sound of traffic and the wind before an arm wraps around you, gentle and warm and you blink as you find yourself being pulled against his chest.

Rigid and taken aback by the sudden affection, your mind races until the scent of cinnamon tickles your nose and you swallow hard, fingers balling into tight fists before you press against his sturdy frame. Burying your face against his long scarf, you take in a deep breath, shivering, emotions overwhelming and you clamp your jaw, gritting your teeth. Another arm comes around you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and you let out a little sound, it’s not a sob but it’s something close and the underground hero responds with a hand running down your back. His touch is still a little foreign to you but it’s comforting in a way that is completely different from Touya, Tomura and Himiko. There’s a confidence in his hands, a certainty that helps ease your frayed nerves, allowing you to be vulnerable in a manner you find difficult with your siblings.

Finally, you take in a shaky breath and murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Comes the quiet response.

You don’t really know and can only manage a quiet, “for being needy, I guess?”

There’s a scoff and Shouta replies, “I left work on my own accord and I wouldn’t call this being needy.”

Closing your eyes, you settle with nodding and taking in a long, icy breath, holding the frigid air in your lungs before pulling away. His eyes study your face and a finger moves up to gently trace underneath one of your eyes, “you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I could say the same to you,” you say and reach up to trace the scar on his face.

A softness crosses his face and he steps away, moving towards the cafe and slips an arm around you, urging you to follow. Something you do without complaint and soon the two of you are in the cat cafe that is as charming as ever. One of the baristas perks up the moment she spots the two of you and offers a smile, greeting the two of you with a cheery, “good morning! Can I interest you in a peppermint latte? Or would you be having your usual, Mr. Aizawa?”

You can’t help the small smile at the knowledge that the hero frequents this place at all hours of the day. He says, “my usual.” The barista grins and nods before turning her eyes onto you and you blink, quickly looking at the menu.

All of it reads so festive and holiday that it’s a touch overwhelming, many of the flavors being peppermint, pumpkin spice or eggnog of all things. You try to remember the drink you got and recall, fuzzily, the chai latte was good and say, “just a chai latte, please.”

“Perfect! You two go have a seat and I’ll bring the drinks in a few moments.”

Shouta leads you to the same place the two of you sat last time and you sink into the booth, smiling a touch when a calico cat decides your lap would be a fantastic place for a nap. Sinking your fingers into the soft fur helps loosen some of the tension in your shoulders and you focus on giving light head scratches before daring to look up.

There’s something in Shouta’s gaze but you can’t place exactly what it is. It’s a heavy emotion though and you sigh, leaning back against the booth and confess, “I froze last night.”

“Froze?”

Frowning, you look away, a scowl forming on your face as you elaborate, “someone needed my help and I couldn’t help him. Tomura had to call an ambulance.” You don’t dare mention the way you reacted toward your younger brother, nearly stabbing him with your awakened quirk or how you ended up a crumpled mess on the floor.

“And that’s why you went to a therapist, to see what was wrong.”

Huffing, you reply, “I know what the problem is, it’s not hard to diagnose PTSD.”

Shouta raises an eyebrow as he leans his head against his hand and points out, “yet you went to a therapist. Meaning… you don’t know how to get better.” You flinch and look out the window, ignoring the stinging truth that hurts a little more than it truly should.

“Something like that,” you mumble, fingers idly stroking the calico purring away on your lap.

There’s a beat of silence before the underground hero says, “you seem rather sure the therapist you saw wouldn’t be able to help.”

With a grimace and a sigh, you look up to meet the inquisitive gaze and say, blunt and to the point, “I may have been a little quick to judge but she was just as judgmental as me. I don’t need someone like that trying to help me.”

“Okay,” Shouta agrees without a thought and nods to the barista who puts down two steaming mugs, the scent of coffee and spices filling the air. He grabs his and pushes yours closer, taking a second to sip from his cup before asking, “is there anything I can do for you?”

Rolling your eyes, you hold the cup between your hands, relishing the warmth radiating from the thick porcelain and point out, “you’ve done enough, Shouta. I’ll be fine, it’ll just take… time, I suppose.”

He frowns then and replies dully, “considering what we are, I’d like to think you’d realize I want to help you because I care about you.”

“What are we, exactly…?” You dare to ask, meeting his eyes, unsure how he will respond or even how you want him to reply.

A blink and he frowns a touch before sighing and admitting, “I don’t know. Do you?”

“No. That’s why I asked.”

“Is there anything specific you want to label us?”

A strange question and one you’ve never considered before, debating before shrugging and telling him, “labels are stupid. I’ve lived with them my entire life, labelled a would-be criminal for having the Shinku last name, thought to be a bad person for living in Yuno. I don’t need any more labels.”

“You could always take my last name, you know.” The two of you freeze as those words linger in the air and you stare, wide-eyed at his pale face. Even he seems shocked at what he said, a tint of pink crossing his cheeks and he covers his face with his long bangs and a hand.

Blood rushes to your own cheeks and you have to hide your own face with the mug, drinking deeply out of it as your mind races. It’s a ludicrous and out of pocket suggestion that has never crossed your mind before. Though you can certainly say with confidence you want to be in Shouta’s life for a good long while, never have you allowed yourself to think what the two of you have could be permanent. A forever deal rather than a fleeting, happenstance relationship.

Clearing your throat and staring down at the cat on your lap, you manage a weak, “if that’s a joke, it’s not a very funny one.”

“It’s not,” comes a rush of words, clumsy in a way that is so unlike Shouta, “I didn’t mean right now, or ever, if you’re not interested but taking my last name would get rid of yours.” A logical and sound solution that if you didn’t know the man in front of you would be insulting. However… seeing the way his lips purse into an almost pout and how he can’t meet your eyes and the way he fiddles with his coffee mug is more than enough to show he’s being sincere.

Somehow you manage to giggle, something you can’t remember doing in weeks and offer a soft, “I’ll think about it. How about that?”

Instantly dark eyes meet yours, intense and searching, and you stare right back, trying not to look away as the blush on your own face darkens a shade or two. Then he tilts his head and says, “alright. It’s an offer that won’t expire anytime soon.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

With another soft laugh, you say, “I’ll hold you to it.”

Silence overcomes the two of you and it’s a familiar, comforting one that you have sorely missed. There is no pressure to fill the air with mindless chatter or empty smalltalk whenever the two of you get together and it’s a true relief for you. Though your siblings have been pillars of support for you, they have also been overbearing since you came home. Constantly checking in on you, attempting to fill the air with conversation, insisting on not leaving you alone unless you’re in bed or bathing.

It’s sweet and understandable but it’s so frustrating.

Himiko is completely oblivious to your quiet suffocation, constantly talking or clinging to your side whenever everyone is watching a movie. Touya isn’t much better either, chatting about his most recent vigilante adventures, an arm often thrown over your shoulders. Only Tomura seems to know you’re being slowly suffocated but even he struggles with keeping his distance, antsy hands touching your shoulder when you first get up or brushing against your back when you’re in the kitchen. All of it is something you appreciate, you truly do, but you just don’t know how to tell them they all need to back up so you can fucking breathe.

“They would understand if you told them.”

You freeze, air stuck in your throat as a horrible realization crashes over you. That the words you’ve been thinking about have made their way out of your head and into a vent of all things. Words that you instantly regret and cover your face, gritting your teeth and breathing out shakily, insisting, “I can’t. They’re just as traumatized as me-”

“No,” Shouta cuts in and you look up, surprised as he reaches out to grab onto your hand, fingers warm and steady. “You’re the one that was locked away for weeks on end. You’re the one that endured being mind-controlled by someone who should have protected and loved you.” His eyes soften and he says your name, low baritone voice careful but firm, “stop putting yourself last. You take care of everyone else before you, you’ll feed, cloth or give a bed to anyone who needs it. Hell, you’ll give your own blood without a thought.” His fingers tighten around your own as he finishes, “right now though, you need to be first. If you don’t give yourself time to heal then how are you supposed to heal others?”

Words utterly fail you and you can only stare with large eyes at the underground hero, unable to find a response for him, a rebuttal, an admission, anything. Instead, you can only blink before looking down at the cat on your lap, mulling over everything he said.

A question forms and it’s one that you can’t answer. In fact, you’re really not sure if you’ve ever been able to answer it.

When was the last time you put yourself before someone else?

It’s… probably been years. Before this whole mess with Rin Shinku, before Himiko or Tomura or even Touya, when you were young and barely an adult. The last time you did something for yourself was when you broke away from the Shinku clan, ran away from their bloodstained name and ideals, went to college of all places to learn how to be a doctor. That, you’re confident, is the last time you truly did something just for yourself. Something that you did so long ago, nearly a decade at this point and you sigh, leaning back into the booth, tilting your head up to stare at the ceiling.

“You know… for someone who’s not a therapist, you’re pretty good at it.”

“I might as well be,” comes the tired reply though there’s a warmth in the words, “I deal with stressed, unconfident teenagers all day. Most of whom have nobody to go to with their problems.” You do recall someone of the stories you’ve heard from him in regards to his students though he hasn’t ever named them. Come to think of it, you’re pretty positive he has quite a few kids he looks after, including one that isn’t even in his class but has a so-called ‘villian’ quirk.

With a sigh, you roll your head back to stare at his face, offering a small, shaky smile and say, “so… I’ve got PTSD and tend to be overly selfless, often to the detriment to my wellbeing. That’s quite the mix of issues.”

“And how would a doctor such as yourself try to help a patient with those conditions?”

A good question and one you debate on then say, “seems like I should hit up Tomura and Touya about their therapist to see if he’s interested in having me as a patient. As for the self sacrificing bit… well… I really don’t know. I deal with physical injuries, not… mental wounds.”

Shouta nods, thoughtful, then questions, “will you be able to turn away anyone that needs healing if they end up on your doorstep?”

“No,” you answer, honest and can only give a weak shrug.

There isn’t any annoyance in his face, instead he seems thoughtful, calculating and says, “then what about starting off small. Say… helping some fledgling heroes if they get hurt?”

Narrowing your eyes as you consider his words, you carefully ask, “are you suggesting what I think you are, Shouta…? I can’t imagine UA will be keen on the idea of someone like me being around.” Not including the many parents who would no doubt be horrified at the idea of an unlicensed healer who has some rather deep roots in Yuno being around their kids. In fact, you can confidently say most would either threaten to pull their child out of UA or demand a transfer to a different teacher.

He shakes his head and says, “it’s only a thought. Besides, you would be an independent contractor. Not someone who works with the school.”

“And say I do agree and go, how exactly can you guarantee I’d even be needed…?”

A small smile forms on his face, calculating and bordering on devious, a rather new look and one you find both attractive and a bit unsettling, “simple. I’ll make sure you are.”

“Pretty sure you shouldn’t go out of your way to hurt your students, Shou…” you mutter though you do find the thought to be… interesting. Not exactly appealing or horrible, but something in between, something that makes you a little nervous to consider. Finally, you tell him, “I’ll think about it.”

“We can talk about it again after winter break.”

“Fine by me.”

Another silence overcomes the two of you though this time there are no chaotic thoughts clouding your mind or spilling out of your mouth. It’s honest, pure quiet beyond the purrs of cats and the soft conversation of baristas and a few other patrons. Blissful and you find yourself relaxing further in the booth, thinking and wondering how long it’s been since you’ve felt this at ease.

“Do you want to visit Eri?”

The name has you perking up, lifting your head and asking, “I can finally see her? Are you sure?”

He nods and reaches out with his other hand, fingers reaching, almost asking permission, and you press your hand into his without a thought. Once you hold his hand, he continues, “it took some convincing but yes, you’ve been granted permission to see her.” A relief to hear, especially when you weren’t sure if you would be able to meet the little girl again.

Though your lawyer has been doing his best to pull the strings and convince… whoever he needs to, there has been far too much pushback. Insistence that Eri seeing you would only result in more setbacks, more trauma, more heartbreak and pain. In a way, you understand where her doctors are coming from, concern that seeing you may cause some sort of regression in Eri, flashbacks, things of that nature. But… that doesn’t mean you still don’t wish to see her. Especially when your siblings have been able to visit her.

“I’d like to see her,” you say, eager, squeezing his fingers, “can we go right now?”

“Sure, but let’s finish our drinks first.”