Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku has never had an easy go of it. When his quirk manifested at four years old, having nothing to do with his father's quirk, his father left, accusing his mother of cheating.

His mother worked herself in to the ground to make ends meet. Izuku hardly ever saw her, but he loved her just the same. Whenever she was home, she would pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he was. She would listen to him rant and rave about All Might. She would patch up his uniform when bullies targeted him for his quirk. She spent any extra money they had on taking him out for ice cream. She never complained about having to spend extra money on custom pants that accommodated his tail, or on custom shoes that accommodated his feet.

Midoriya Izuku loved his mother. She was his whole world. Which is why he was devastated when she was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. Admittedly, she had been working too much and not taking very good care of herself. 

Maybe if Izuku hadn’t been such a burden, she would have had more time to see a doctor. Maybe if he hadn’t monopolized all her time and money, she would have realized something was wrong sooner. Maybe if he didn’t have this stupid quirk, his mother might have lived to see his tenth birthday.

Instead, when Izuku was 9, his mother passed. He was devastated. He desperately wished he could go with her to wherever she went, but life, instead, only got worse. 

In her will, his mother left custody of Izuku to the Bakugos. However, the Bakugos were overseas when she passed. They rushed back immediately, but the damage was done: Izuku had already been placed in temporary foster care, which couldn’t be undone. To get him back, they would have to go through the proper channels with the state. Unfortunately, due to a minor criminal record from a drunken bar fight Mitsuki Bakugo got into at twenty-one, the entire household was deemed ineligible to take in Izuku.

Izuku still remembers the feeling of all his emotions draining from his body at the news. Something gnawed at his chest, leaving a gaping wound, empty and cold. He had lost everything — and it was his fault.

Maybe some would argue it wasn’t his fault, but he knew better. After all, his quirk had started the chain reaction behind every bad thing in his life.

His quirk was why his father left.

His quirk was why his mother died.

His quirk was why he was picked on at school.

His quirk was why his foster parents treated him poorly.

There was almost nothing terrible in his life that couldn’t be traced back to his quirk.

For a while, even in foster homes where they didn’t feed him quite enough (claiming, unfoundedly, that his quirk made it so that he didn’t need as much food), or in an elementary school where the teachers assumed he must be stupid based on his quirk (because rodents were inherently dull), he still had his best friend.

Bakugo Katsuki, or Kacchan as Izuku usually called him, was the only thing keeping Izuku sane. They played together at school, and if he behaved at home (pretending he didn’t exist and staying out of the way), he’d sometimes get to stay at their house on weekends.

Then, right after he began at Aldera Junior High, his foster family decided to quit fostering altogether. Izuku must have ruined it for them somehow.

He came home from school one day to find all his meager belongings packed into a trash bag in the living room.

Before he even had time to ask what was happening, his social worker was putting him into a car and telling him he was going to live in another foster home across town. This home, while still in the same city, was a train ride away from the Bakugos — and in a different school district.

Which meant that Izuku’s only lifeline was stripped away.

In his new school, there was no Kacchan to threaten anyone who tugged on his ears or tail. No Kacchan to be his friend to stave off the loneliness. There was no Kacchan to tell him he was smarter than the teachers thought. 

There was no one to stop the other children from drawing skulls on his desk or slipping him notes that said things like, “The CRC should exterminate the rat in our school.”

At first, Izuku didn’t even know what CRC stood for, but after researching it in the school library, he learned they were a niche anti-heteromorph cult that particularly despised people with animal quirks.

Not that it mattered that he clearly wasn’t a rat, he was a squirrel. That didn’t stop people from attaching rat traps to his tail in the hallway or sprinkling rat poison on his desk.

After getting particularly sick after lunch one day, he realized he would no longer be able to partake in the solace of school lunches. Someone had sprinkled rat poison on his tray. Even being allowed three meals a day was a mercy Izuku wasn’t granted.

By the time Izuku was 13, he couldn’t take it anymore. The hollow ache that had filled his chest since the Bakugos couldn’t take him in had expanded until it consumed him entirely. Most days, if he were lucky, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. Some days, however, the hollow space was filled with a torrent of unruly emotions, lapping at his skin and burning him from the inside out. He hated it. Hated the way the tears stung his eyes, and his whole body felt like lead. 

One day, after arriving at school to find spider lilies on his desk and having the end of his tail nearly sliced off by a particularly strong rat trap, he took a different path home. And he was attacked by a sludge villain.

When All Might vanquished the sludge villain, Izuku didn’t even care. He grabbed onto All Might without thinking. He just didn’t want him to leave. He thought maybe All Might would care about a little kid with a creature quirk who was being unfairly mistreated. But when they touched down on a rooftop, and Izuku begged for help, All Might seemed too much in a hurry to even hear him out.

All Might took off, leaving Izuku alone on the roof. He didn’t have his backpack. He had left it when he latched onto All Might. Not that he had anything of importance on him anyway. Anytime the Bakugos tried to buy Izuku a phone, it was confiscated by his foster parents or stolen by his foster siblings. He never could hold onto it for long. Eventually, they stopped replacing it.

Izuku tried the door to the stairs, and the door was both locked and rusted shut. Izuku searched the roof but had nothing to pick the lock with. 

Maybe the Izuku of 12 hours ago would have held out hope that a hero would rescue him, but a hero was the one who stranded him there in the first place. He was stuck. And life was so pointless. No one wanted him alive. Not his father, not his classmates or his teachers, not his foster family. All he ever was was a burden.

Izuku grabbed to rub at one of the soft squirrel ears on the top of his head, a tick he had ever since they grew in. He did it primarily when he was nervous, as he was right now.

His quirk gave him a variety of squirrel-like features. He had the ears, of course, which had soft, long tufts that came off the sides of them during the wintertime. But there were other features as well.

Izuku looked a bit like a human in the front and a squirrel from the back. He had fur that began at the back of his head and ran down his back, down the back of his arms, and down the back of his legs. He had a thick, bushy squirrel tail that curled at his back and was proportionate to his body. The skin on his back had always been loose, which he theorized may have just been weighed down by the weight of the fur. Where the fur stopped on each of his limbs, he had hairless, squirrel-like hands and feet. His fingers and toes were nimble and adept at tinkering and grabbing, and each hand and foot had black claws at the end.

Though his face lacked whiskers, Mitsuki and Masaru used to joke that he had freckle whiskers, because the pattern on freckles on his cheeks looked strikingly similar to whiskers. 

He didn’t have buck teeth, thankfully, but he did find that his teeth were inordinately hard. They were practically indestructible as far as Izuku could tell. The Bakugos used to tell Izuku that he was the cutest kid in the world, that his chubby little cheeks and fluffy little ears were irresistible. But now, he knew better. He was a freak. His animal traits made him less than human. His quirk was a curse. 

Izuku looked over the edge of the building. In the recesses of his mind, something was whispering to him that he could scale down the building with ease. He had never tried before, but he knew deep down it was likely true. He always had a knack for climbing trees and concrete buildings. This building was made almost entirely of glass windows, but he still felt, deep down, that he could do it. 

Izuku never practiced with his quirk anymore, not since his mother died. All of his childlike wonder and ambition died with her. It was seen as improper for him to do anything animal-like, including using his quirk. He stopped climbing on things, even though his instincts screamed at him to get as high as he could. He started ignoring what he used to lovingly refer to as his danger sense, allowing the bullies to strike him without even a flinch, even though he could see it from a mile away. It was easier that way. Constantly “skittering around” or “acting jumpy” just made him a bigger target. There was no point dodging anyway; another fist would just fly right after, with even more righteous fury than the first one. 

And while Izuku was always the fastest kid in his grade, there was nowhere to run to. 

As he looked over the ledge, he wondered, not for the first time, if he wasn’t just better off dead. There were only three people on this planet who would miss him, and he hadn’t seen any of them in weeks. He didn’t resent them, he was just so tired.

His last tiny flicker of hope had been extinguished minutes ago. He always believed that if he just met a hero, they would see he was hurting and help him. But All Might, his idol, hadn’t even stopped to listen. Instead, faced with helping Izuku or helping others, his absolute favorite hero found he wasn’t as important as some nebulous life who may or may not need saving somewhere. 

Izuku was out of options. Without his backpack, he didn’t even have a way to leave a note. He supposed it didn’t matter. 

He stood on the edge of the building for far longer than he thought he had, by the time he swung his first leg over the perimeter fence meant to keep people from jumping, it was already dark outside. Izuku took one last look at the stars before he jumped. 

Chapter Text

Whatever Izuku expected free-falling to his death to feel like, it certainly wasn’t this! He couldn’t even find it in him to be scared at all; in fact, he felt almost… free! 

Izuku’s body was moving without his brain’s input. Distantly, he could feel his sharp claws slashing open the front of his shirt, contorting his flexible shoulder joints to let the momentum rip his shirt and jacket off. He was laughing hysterically by this point, his body contorted itself instinctively so his arms were out and he was facing downward. His tail whipped around behind him wildly in the wind. Before he knew it, he was mere feet from the ground, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel scared. 

Wasn’t dying supposed to be scary?

And, in classic Midoriya Izuku fashion, he hit the filthy alley floor with a pitiful “oof” and exactly zero drama. A scuffed palm, sure, but not even a decent bruise. Figures , he thought, life is so cruel, I can’t even be allowed to die. 

Then he realized he was shirtless. Perfect. Now he was going to get torn a new one for losing his school uniform jacket and shirt, and he was definitely out past curfew. Nothing was going right. At this point, he wasn’t even sure why he was surprised.

Izuku sighed and considered trying again. He eyed the top of the building he’d just fallen from. He hadn’t meant to survive the fall. It just... happened. His brain had shut off from the sheer exhilaration, and his body had taken over.

He was still dazed, mentally filing complaints to the universe, when his danger sense buzzed: someone was coming up behind him.

He whipped around as the man approached him from behind. The man, an unkempt-looking man with a heap of dingy-looking bandages(?) around his neck, a bright yellow-colored pair of goggles, and a baggy black jumpsuit, held up his hands placatingly. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid,” the man said, his voice gruff. “I was just on my patrol when I noticed you when I was on a neighboring rooftop.” The man used one of his held up hands to gesture towards the building he had just come from. Izuku felt his body stiffen at the use of the word patrol. This man was a hero. That didn’t bode well for Izuku.

"You gave me quite a scare, kid. Thought you were trying to kill yourself," the man added, scrutinizing Izuku carefully, gauging his reaction. Izuku said nothing, refusing to give anything away. Not to a hero.

When the man realized Izuku wasn’t going to respond, but that he also probably wasn’t as much of a flight risk, he slowly shoved his hands into his jumpsuit pockets and leaned back casually. 

"You did know you could do that, right?" he asked, eyebrows raised, glancing between the rooftop and the ground.

Izuku blushed deeply and looked down at the ground. He felt like he was under a microscope, probably because he was. 

"My name’s Aizawa Shouta. Hero name: Eraserhead. You got a name, kid?" he asked, trying to meet Izuku’s eyes.

Izuku shook his head slightly. He’d never heard of "Eraserhead," but now that he was sure the guy was a real hero, panic began to set in. He was trespassing, out past curfew, had just unwittingly used his quirk, and had tried to kill himself, which he was pretty sure was technically illegal.

Honestly, he found himself wishing the man had been a mugger instead. Maybe then he could have still achieved tonight’s goal.

There was a long period of silence before Izuku worked up the courage to meet the man’s eyes. Aizawa was no longer trying to meet Izuku’s eyes, he was staring at Izuku’s bare chest and frowning. Izuku followed his gaze, wondering why he seemed so put off by it. 

His chest was the part without fur; surely that wouldn’t upset this man. Unless... was it the scars? The ones left by the quirks of his father, his classmates, and the occasional foster family? No one had cared about the scars before, he couldn’t be sure it was that.

The longer Aizawa stared, the more self-conscious Izuku became.

"Well, if you’re not going to arrest me, I don’t suppose heroes carry around extra shirts, do they?" Izuku asked snippily, feeling bold. "You know, for emergencies?"

Aizawa’s eyes met his again, and Izuku swore he could see a slight twinkle in them. 

“Ah, so he can speak,” Aizawa snorted, “I have no plans to arrest you, kid. That said, unfortunately for you, I travel light. But I know of a place where you can get a hot meal and a new shirt, if you’re interested.” 

Izuku backed up a step, getting ready to bolt if it came down to it. “Where,” Izuku bit out, more like a statement than a question.

“Easy,” Aizawa said, smirking to ease the tension, “I am not gonna take you anywhere against your will. You’ve had a long night, so I imagine the police station or a hospital wouldn’t be a welcomed stop,” Izuku bristled, and the hair on his back and tail stood on end at the mention of both places.

“So,” Aizawa continued in a lazy drawl, “I know this diner nearby. It’s open 24/7, and they sell hoodies as merch. My husband and I often go there when I get off my patrol. What do you say?” 

Izuku eyed the man skeptically. He didn’t trust him.

Izuku stepped back again, the man feigning casualness despite Izuku being able to see his body tensing minutely. “Show me your hero license,” Izuku demanded.

The crinkle near Aizawa’s eyes returned as the man telegraphed his movements to pull out his license from his jumpsuit’s utility belt. He held it out to Izuku, who snatched it from his hand and leaped a foot backwards in case he made a grab for him. 

Aizawa just huffed and buried his face into what Izuku could now tell was some crude imitation of a scarf. 

Izuku examined the license carefully, determining it matched what Aizawa had said, and then handed it back. Nine-year-old Izuku would have been over the moon to hold a real hero license. Thirteen-year-old Izuku found he couldn’t have cared less. Izuku gestured out to the mouth of the alleyway they were in, as if to say “after you,” so he could follow Aizawa to the diner. 

Aizawa nodded at him and sauntered out of the alley and onto the dimly lit streets of Musutafu. He followed a few paces behind Aizawa for about three blocks, neither one saying anything, until they finally arrived at the diner. 

Aizawa opened the door for Izuku, and Izuku allowed himself to be shepherded inside. 

As his first order of business, Aizawa said something to the host in hushed tones, gesturing at a hoodie that hung on the wall and then back to Izuku. The man nodded and showed them to their table, rushing off for a moment before returning with a bright yellow hoodie with the diner’s logo on it in Izuku’s size. Izuku thanked both the host and Aizawa and then put it on, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the garment. 

Izuku had always been thin as a child, but now, he was exceptionally so. He could never keep fat on his body, and his ribs were visible year-round. Despite the plush fur lining Izuku’s back, he could never seem to get warm. He was cold constantly, and he sought the solace of warm and soft things. 

Aizawa, who had been watching the display from Izuku, buried his face into his own scarf. His face looked as impassive as ever, but his eyes were twinkling like they had when Izuku had gotten sassy with him. Izuku felt his ears heat up.

“Order whatever you want,” Aizawa said casually.

“Are you paying?” Izuku asked warily.

Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Obviously, problem child.” 

Izuku squealed in indignation at the term of address, but Aizawa just smirked. “What? You won’t tell me your name. What else am I supposed to call you?” Aizawa asked challengingly. 

“Izuku,” he replied, cheeks puffed out in annoyance. 

For a split second, surprise flashed across Aizawa’s face before he schooled his expression. “Order whatever you want, then, Izuku . It’s on me,” Aizawa said, pleased with himself.

Izuku looked at the menu and decided quickly what he wanted, before turning around to fully examine the diner they were in. It was an American-themed diner, with an exposed kitchen surrounded by a wrap-around counter with bar stool seating. On the perimeter of the bar were booths, which Aizawa and Izuku were currently inhabiting. 

The floors had big square tiles alternating in red and white, matching the trip of the counter and the leather of the booths. The walls were wood paneled with a warm-toned cherry wood, and every inch of them was covered in art, knick-knacks, and merch for the diner. The table they were sitting at had a permanent layer of stickiness from maple syrup, and their feet stuck to the floor when they walked. Truthfully, the place was a little gross. Not something Izuku would have chosen for himself, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Izuku tried not to think too hard about the sanitary conditions of the restaurant as he told the waiter what he wanted. He ordered a traditional American-style breakfast with bacon, sausage, over easy eggs, and pancakes, with orange juice as his drink. Aizawa ordered a breakfast sandwich and a black coffee, which Izuku turned his nose up at slightly.

Aizawa snorted at Izuku’s reaction, “Good, you shouldn’t be drinking coffee at your age anyway.” 

“Oh, yes, of course, oh wise one,” Izuku said sarcastically, “You know your hero license has your date of birth on it, right? You’re not even old enough to be my dad.” 

Aizawa practically choked on his coffee, clearly not expecting the sass he was getting.

“I could have been a teen parent. You’re what? Ten? I’m 27, I could easily be your father.” 

“Ten?!” Izuku squawked. “I’m thirteen!” 

Aizawa frowned at that revelation, “Oh, you’re small for your age.” 

“Gee thanks, as if I hadn’t heard that one before,” Izuku said with an eye roll, pouting into his orange juice. 

“It’s not an insult,” Aizawa said, “just an observation.” 

Izuku continued his pouting until they brought the food out, at which point he became too excited about the pancakes. He hadn’t eaten them since his mother died. He could no longer find it in himself to give a damn about what the man in front of him thought of him. He dug into the sugary breakfast item with gusto, practically moaning when he got his first taste of it. Izuku was so lost in thought that he forgot to keep control of his tail, which had a habit of giving away his emotions. 

As he ate, his ears and tail twitched like they had a mind of their own, and by the time he finally looked up, Aizawa was trying — and failing — to pretend he wasn’t smiling like some softhearted weirdo.

Izuku just huffed and moved onto his other dishes, which he finished in rapid succession after his pancakes. It felt nice to have a hot, filling meal for once. 

His foster parents didn’t starve him or anything. They just seemed to think “squirrel quirk” meant “feed him trail mix and hope for the best.” He was used to only getting one decent meal a day, and he intended to savor this one. 

“Want anything else?” Aizawa asked when they were both finished eating. 

Izuku thought about declining, but he noticed the place at milkshakes. Plus, he needed to see how far Aizawa’s persistent generosity went… purely for scientific purposes, obviously.

“A milkshake sounds nice,” Izuku said nonchalantly, tossing the ball back into Aizawa’s court.

"Okay," Aizawa replied, flagging down the waiter. Izuku ordered his milkshake, and Aizawa ordered another coffee.

Izuku happily sucked on his milkshake while Aizawa closed out their tab. He was getting ready to tell Aizawa he could leave and Izuku would head home alone, when the man spoke again.

"Listen, Izuku," Aizawa said awkwardly, not wanting to break the fragile peace between them, "are you safe at home?"

Izuku bristled. He fought down the urge to let his tail slash the air or his ears flatten against his head. He was shocked by how quickly his guard had lowered, but he was determined to hold it in check. 

He didn’t respond. He just sucked harder on his milkshake and kept his eyes fixed on the table. He didn’t want to lie or tell half-truths, so he simply wouldn’t answer.

Aizawa sighed. “Did you jump knowing your quirk would let you land safely? You’re not in trouble for illegal quirk use, I just need to know.” 

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Izuku snapped. “Some kind of hero charity project? You collect stray kids or something?”

Aizawa chuckled at that, “Usually just stray cats, much to Hizashi’s displeasure.” 

He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the ceiling contemplatively for a moment before meeting Izuku’s eyes again. “I care because you’re only thirteen, and you’re a person. Your life matters, so it matters to me.” 

Izuku stopped dead in his tracks. He genuinely can’t remember the last time someone called him a person. He knew, obviously, that he was one, but it was nice to hear someone else say it.

Izuku felt the familiar burning of tears in his eyes and swallowed forcefully, willing them not to fall. He didn’t want to show weakness over something as simple as this. 

“I didn’t know,” Izuku said softly. “I mean, knowing what I know about squirrels, it makes sense. Squirrels are masters of physics. Biologists theorize that they can fall from any height and survive. But I didn’t jump with that in mind.” 

Izuku wrapped his tail around himself and stroked the end for comfort, focusing on it so he wouldn’t have to see the disgust he was sure would be on the other man’s face. When he finally looked up, there was no pity or disgust in Aizawa’s eyes, only pain and sadness. He looked sad… for Izuku.

When they met eyes, Aizawa nodded. “Thanks for telling me that, Izuku. I just want to make sure when we part ways that you’re going to be safe.” Aizawa’s gaze was locked on Izuku’s and the weight of it felt severe.

“I’m tired, Aizawa-san,” Izuku said after a moment, letting his eyes flutter back down to his tail. He hoped the meaning of his words would come through. He didn’t want to talk about it, he just wanted it all to go away.

“Technically, I am supposed to go back out for patrol after this,” Aizawa said thoughtfully, “but I’m pretty beat too, kid. What do you say you come home with me? And we can both get some rest?”

Izuku’s head shot up. Go home with Eraserhead? Izuku gawked at him like Aizawa had just offered to adopt a raccoon out of a dumpster, which, honestly, was a little bit too apt of an analogy. 

"Why?" he asked harshly. "You don’t even know me."

Aizawa hummed, staring at his now-empty coffee cup. "That’s true," he said after a beat.

Izuku deflated a little. He knew it was too good to be true.

“What’s your favorite color?” Aizawa asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Red…” Izuku said skeptically, “Why?”

“Mine’s yellow,” Aizawa said, blatantly disregarding his question. “Favorite genre of music?” 

Izuku, completely baffled, answered the question anyway. “I like pre-quirk pop punk bands. Why?” 

Aizawa smiled fondly at that, “You’ll like Hizashi’s music then.” 

“Any hobbies?” Aizawa asked.

“No,” Izuku said curtly. He was getting frustrated.

“Okay, next question, are you allergic to cats?” 

“No, but-”

“Do they scare you because of your quirk?” Aizawa asked, pressing on.

“No, I like them well enough, but what’s this got to do with-” 

“There,” Aizawa said, like that was the logical conclusion to whatever fever dream this conversation had become. “I think we know each other well enough now, don’t you?”

He raised one eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Izuku stared at him, wondering if Aizawa had a concussion he didn’t know about.

Aizawa stood up before Izuku could say anything else. “Let’s head home. I’ll just explain it to Hizashi in person. I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

Izuku was far less confident in Aizawa’s supposed husband’s ability to be spontaneous and accepting. 

Aizawa was a Pro Hero! Was he allergic to self-preservation or something?!

Oh well, Izuku thought, one man’s poor self-preservation is another man’s treasure. Or whatever people say.

Chapter Text

Izuku skeptically followed the man back outside. Aizawa, Izuku gathered, was absolutely not one for small talk. In fact, he seemed to be almost allergic to it, as evidenced by their absolutely cursed conversation in the diner. 

By the time they arrived at Aizawa’s apartment, Izuku had nearly worked himself up into hysterics. He was becoming absolutely convinced that Aizawa was going to murder him. He had no proof, but the more he stewed with his thoughts, the less this whole situation made sense.

Izuku, against his better judgment and his danger sense’s frantic pleas, followed Aizawa into an average-looking apartment building with above-average security. The more security checks they went through, the more Izuku realized that he definitely didn’t have an easy escape route, should he need one.

By the time they reached the apartment, Aizawa was blissfully unaware that Izuku was cursing whatever god may exist that his quirk wasn’t combat-related, just in case he needed it.

“Zashi!” Aizawa called as he kicked his shoes off in the genkan, “I’m home.” 

‘Zashi’ did not make his appearance right away, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a welcoming committee.

“The black one is Bastard, and the white one is Cloud,” Aizawa said as the cats made their entrance. “Cloud is old, but sweet. He’s deaf, you can tell by the blue eyes.  Bastard, on the other hand, is a selective little shit, hence the name.”

Izuku hummed, kicking his shoes off and leaning down to scratch Cloud’s chin. Bastard puffed up at the sight of Izuku’s tail, eyeing it warily. In a matter of seconds, Bastard had made his choice. He shimmied down onto the ground, wiggling his hips and tail as he calculated the trajectory needed to pounce onto Izuku. 

Aizawa, clearly aware of Bastard’s plans , snatched him up before the cat could launch an attack. “Oh no you don’t, asshole.”

Izuku laughed, “I believe the word you’re looking for is Bastard.” 

Aizawa chuckled, “See, you get it.” He turned towards one of the bedrooms. “Just give me a sec to grab Hizashi and put Bastard away.” 

While Aizawa was out of the room, Izuku took a moment to look around the apartment. It looked way homier than he’d expected, but he suspected that had more to do with Hizashi than Aizawa. The living room was awash in pastel blues and vibrant yellows. Plush pillows and soft throw blankets dotted the couch. The bookshelves lining the walls were filled with books and pictures of Hizashi, Aizawa, and their friends. Izuku looked around, fondly appreciating the space.

He was lost in thought, absentmindedly testing the texture of various items on the couch, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hizashi emerge from their bedroom with Aizawa.

The pair looked a bit tense, but Izuku assumed they hadn’t argued at least, since he hadn’t heard anything. 

“Izuku, meet Hizashi, my husband,” Aizawa said, gesturing to the blonde man.

“Oh, Sho, he’s so cute! Look at his tail!” Hizashi exclaimed, clearly trying to whisper unsuccessfully. 

Izuku blushed furiously and greeted him, “It’s nice to meet you,” a bit awkwardly.

“You too, little listener!” Hizashi replied, grinning.

Izuku’s eyes widened at the address. It was obviously Present Mic. 

“Oh my god, you’re that one hero!” Izuku said cheekily. “Presentation Michael, right!” 

Hizashi burst out laughing at that, while Aizawa just tucked his face into his scarf, a habit Izuku was quickly learning was to hide his facial expressions from others. 

“I’ve never had someone say that to my face before,” Hizashi said, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he caught his breath. “Normally, kiddos are too shy to make that joke when we first meet. It’s one of my favorite memes, though.” 

Izuku beamed at him. Mic was such a dad; hearing him say ‘meme’ in person was a little cringey, but Izuku liked it. He did genuinely like Present Mic as a hero, so it was cool to meet him in person and see that his persona wasn’t totally far off. 

Both adults showed Izuku to the guest bedroom and pointed out where they kept the extra bedding in case he needed more. Then, much to Izuku’s shock, they just… left. They left a stranger alone in their house. Izuku strained his ears to listen for the soft click of their bedroom door, and when it finally came, he felt even more baffled.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Izuku made a beeline for the closet. He gathered everything that looked remotely soft or warm. Then he stripped the bed of its blanket, fluffed the pillows, and set about building his masterpiece. When he was done, there was a proper bedding heap on the mattress, arranged like a little nest. He hunkered down in the middle, tossed a blanket over the whole thing, and made a small air hole near his feet.

He had no idea why, but sleeping like that always made him feel safe. It was also the only way he could stay adequately warm at night.

He’d never had enough bedding to do this in foster homes. Sometimes, he’d use his clothes and make a pile in the closet, but this? This was a luxury. No way he was passing up the chance to do it properly.

As Izuku drifted off, he felt the warm air inside his little nest begin to make his lungs feel oddly heavy. He’d never felt that before, but figured it was just something about nesting for the first time in forever. Heavy lungs or not, sleep came quickly.

When Izuku woke up, he was gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat. Every breath felt wet , like there was water in his lungs.

Panicking, he clawed at his chest and threw off the top blanket—and his hoodie—hoping that would let him breathe easier. It didn’t. His lungs still fought for air, and the sensation of suffocating was as terrifying as it was painful.

He knew he needed help. He had to call someone. If he didn’t get help now, he was going to die.

And as much as that prospect might’ve seemed like a relief just a few hours ago… now it was very much not . He didn’t want to drown on dry land. He didn’t want to find out how long that would take.

Izuku did the only thing he could do in his panic: he made a distressed, high-pitched chirping sound, which he knew in the back of his mind he used to make to his mother after his quirk came in. 

He made the call over and over again until Aizawa finally burst into the room. 

He took one look at Izuku and immediately kicked into action. He rushed to the bedside, rubbing Izuku’s back, trying to place one of Izuku’s hands on his own chest. Aizawa thought it was a panic attack.

“Izuku, it’s okay, you’re safe. Match my breathing.”

Izuku shook his head wildly and pushed Aizawa’s hands off. In between ragged gasps, he panted, “Can’t. Not panic. Can’t breathe.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed skeptically but to his credit, he chose to believe him. Without another word, he scooped Izuku out of bed, grabbed the discarded hoodie, and bolted for the door, keys already in hand.

Izuku didn’t remember a single thing about the drive to Musutafu General other than his extremely concentrated efforts to maintain consciousness. 

They got Izuku into a room immediately after a nurse listened to his lungs. They asked him if there was any chance he had gotten a liquid into his lungs, and at first, Izuku was going to deny it, but then he thought about the sludge villain from the hours prior, and he vigorously nodded his head. 

He wanted to explain what happened, but the staff cut him off gently. “Later,” they said. “Let’s get your breathing stable first.”

They connected him to an oxygen mask and immediately got him into an X-ray. Once they understood the extent of the problem, they started him on an IV, with fluids, antibiotics, and a medication to reduce inflammation in the lungs. 

After 15 minutes on the oxygen, Izuku finally felt like he could breathe. 

Aizawa hadn’t said a word through the entire ordeal. But now that Izuku was stabilized, he gave him a long, pointed look, raising one unimpressed eyebrow.

Izuku tugged on his tail, sheepishly. “I may or may not have gotten attacked by a villain made out of sludge yesterday.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows shot into his bangs. “And you didn’t think to mention that , problem child?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I specifically asked you yesterday if you needed to go to the hospital.”

Izuku shrank back under the weight of the glare. “I forgot, okay! It wasn’t at the front of my mind, geez.”

“How does a villain attack slip your mind?” Aizawa asked, exasperated.

“Because what came after was worse,” Izuku said in a small voice.

Aizawa exhaled slowly, irritation melting into concern. “What happened, Izuku?” he asked, much more softly this time.

Izuku told him the entire story, including the part about All Might ditching him on a roof. Aizawa was visibly seething. 

Aizawa looked like he was ready to rip All Might a new one when the doctor came in. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but now that the patient is stable, we need to know his information for billing and charting.” 

Izuku began rapidly scanning the room for an escape route. His vacation from reality was over. He needed to get out now .

“Izuku, calm down, you’re alright,” Aizawa said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Izuku flinched violently.

His earlier breathing problems might not have been from panic, but suddenly, the tightness in his chest came rushing back.

He had to get out.

“Can you give us a second, please?” Aizawa asked the doctor.

The doctor frowned, took one look at Izuku’s mounting panic, and nodded before stepping out.

Once the door closed, Aizawa sighed. “You know, kit, you’re not exactly inspiring confidence in the safety of your home, panicking like this.”

Izuku let out a mirthless laugh. “I never said I wanted to go home.”

Aizawa frowned. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

“No one wants me there,” Izuku snapped. “They probably haven’t even reported me missing.”

His panic flared into anger for a moment before simmering into resignation. Being at the hospital might actually be the best-case scenario. Maybe if he lied, he could tell his foster parents he’d been here the whole time. Then they’d only be mad at him for being a burden, not for breaking the rules.

“Who do you live with?” Aizawa asked, switching tactics.

“I’m in foster care,” Izuku admitted quietly.

“Ah,” Aizawa said, recognition flickering across his face.

“Yeah.”

Aizawa studied him for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “I need to make a call. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out into the hallway. 

Izuku turned, checking the little ER room for a window. Nothing. He cursed under his breath. There was a vent, but after nearly drowning twenty minutes ago, crawling into a dusty air duct didn’t seem like a great idea.

He spotted Aizawa posted outside the door, talking on the phone.

Fuck, I’m stuck.

Izuku was still mentally mapping his nonexistent escape route when Aizawa returned. The man raised a brow, finding Izuku out of bed, examining the ceiling vent like it owed him money.

“Going somewhere?” Aizawa asked dryly.

Izuku blushed, shook his head, and tugged at his ears, retreating to the bed.

Once he was properly nestled under the blankets again, Aizawa sighed—one of his three default reactions to stimuli so far.

“If you don’t feel safe in your foster home, my husband and I would be willing to take you in,” Aizawa said, completely lacking any tact or bedside manner.

Izuku’s jaw dropped.

“Why?” he asked, skepticism creeping back into his voice.

“Are we doing this again?” Aizawa replied, fondly exasperated. “Izuku, you’re a good kid. You get along well with me and my husband, which isn’t easy, since we’re two very different people. Zashi’s always wanted kids, and I have a habit of collecting strays. Win-win-win.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes. “You don’t care that your foster kid is a pest?”

“A pest?” Aizawa echoed. “You’re not that annoying, kid. Zashi was way worse at your age.”

Izuku’s ears flattened against his head, and he reached for his tail. “No, I mean... because I’m a squirrel. People hate that,” he muttered, trying to make himself smaller.

“You’re not a squirrel,” Aizawa said firmly. “You’re a person with a squirrel quirk. There’s absolutely no comparison between the two.”

Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but Aizawa cut him off.

“No, listen, Izuku,” Aizawa said, his tone offering no room for argument. “Your quirk doesn’t matter to me, and it doesn’t matter to Zashi. You could be quirkless, for all we care. We’d still offer to take you in.”

Izuku stared at Aizawa like he’d grown a second head.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, tail twitching behind him, “that you’re just gonna… what? Collect me like a lost kitten and bring me home to your husband like, ‘Surprise, we’re parents now! It’s a boy’?”

Aizawa deadpanned, “That is exactly what I’m doing.”

Izuku blinked. “You’re joking.”

“I’ve never told a joke in my life.”

“That... I actually believe.”

A huff of breath escaped Izuku—half a laugh, half a disbelieving scoff. He dropped his face into his hands for a second, then peeked up at Aizawa through his fingers.

“You really don’t care that I’ve got a rodent quirk? That I’m loud and weird and I talk to myself and I probably come with a lifetime's worth of trauma?”

Aizawa shrugged. “You’re thirteen. All kids are weird and loud and full of drama. It’s part of the deal.”

“Trauma,” Izuku corrected.

“Same difference,” Aizawa said dryly. 

Izuku looked at him like he was trying to find the catch. “And you’re sure about this? Like, really sure? Because once I move in, I’m probably never leaving. You’ll wake up in ten years and realize you adopted a gremlin who eats snacks upside down and hisses at fluorescent lights.”

“I already live with that,” Aizawa replied. “His name is Hizashi.”

That finally broke something in Izuku. He laughed, a real one this time, sharp and surprised and a little wet. He wiped at his eyes before they could fully betray him.

“Okay,” he whispered. Then louder, “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Understood, problem child,” Aizawa said, and ruffled his hair gently. “But don’t think you’re getting out of a lecture about self-preservation later, what with the jumping off buildings and forgetting about being attacked by a villain.”

Izuku groaned and scrubbed his hand down his face, “You’re one to talk! You took a total stranger into your home!”

“That’s different,” Aizawa said and curled his mouth into a horrifying grin, “I could easily take you in a fight. We were in no danger.”

Izuku shuttered at the smile. What am I getting myself into?

Chapter Text

If Izuku thought Aizawa had been horrified by the events of the past twelve hours, he hadn’t seen anything yet. Hizashi nearly shattered the apartment windows when Izuku casually mentioned the early morning ER visit over breakfast.

Izuku could barely remember a time when an adult had ever been mad for him. Mitsuki was always a little mad in general , but she never showed this kind of righteous fury on his behalf.

Aizawa informed him he’d head to the police station once his contact was in, to make the new placement official. After that, he or Hizashi would take Izuku to his old foster home to collect his things.

Meanwhile, Hizashi was seething about All Might, muttering under his breath what sounded like increasingly creative death threats, or possibly revenge fantasies, all involving All Might meeting colorful and humiliating ends.

Izuku giggled when he caught one about Gang Orca using his connections to find a crocodile pit to throw All Might into.

“Should we loop in Nedzu about this?” Hizashi asked as Aizawa got up to do the dishes.

“What would the rat do about it?” Aizawa grumbled.

“Well... maybe he could at least wring an apology out of All Might. Or slap him with a reprimand for endangering a minor. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Why’d you call him a rat ?” Izuku asked, ears twitching. His tone was sharp, and Aizawa paused, dish in hand.

Izuku’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we didn’t call people with animal quirks stuff like that. Or was all that hospital talk just for show?”

“Oh, but he is a rat… sort of… he’s some sort of rodent creature,” Aizawa said, brows furrowed. 

Izuku leveled a glare at him. “He’s not a person with an animal quirk,” Hizashi said quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. “He’s a quirked animal.”

“You’re right, though, Izuku, it’s not nice to refer to him like that,” Aizawa said placatingly.

Izuku blinked. “A quirked animal ?”

“Yup,” Hizashi confirmed. “His quirk gives him superhuman intelligence. He’s literally the smartest being in Japan.”

Izuku burst out laughing, full-on cackling as he doubled over. Both Aizawa and Hizashi turned to stare at him like he’d just lost it.

“Oh man, that’s priceless ,” Izuku wheezed, dramatically wiping a tear from his eye. “All my life, people assumed I was cheating on tests because, and I quote , ‘rodents don’t have the brainpower for that kind of work.’ And now you’re telling me Japan’s Einstein is a rat? That’s comedy gold.”

Neither guardian looked nearly as amused. They exchanged a look that screamed deeply concerned , the kind therapists probably gave each other behind their patients’ backs.

“That’s quirk discrimination,” Aizawa said seriously, eyes narrowing.

Izuku shrugged, eyes dropping to his tail. Yeah, duh , but knowing that didn’t change anything. Nobody cared that the kid in foster care with an animal quirk was being mistreated. 

“Little listener, look at me?” Hizashi asked gently, squatting down in front of Izuku. Izuku hesitated, then met his gaze.

“If that ever happens again, you come to me or Shouta. Immediately. We’ll handle it. You should be able to ace a test without people baselessly accusing you of cheating.” 

Izuku held his gaze, then gave a reluctant nod. Hizashi stood with an exaggerated groan, cracking his knees like a man twice his age. He ruffled Izuku’s hair and scratched gently behind one ear.

Izuku bit down on the chirrup that nearly escaped, but he still leaned into the touch, just a little.

Hizashi chuckled and gave him one more affectionate scritch before pulling back.

“What school were you at, anyway?” Aizawa asked. “We might transfer you somewhere closer, if that’s okay with you.”

Izuku shrugged again. “Don’t care,” he mumbled. School was school. It all sucked the same.

As it turns out, Izuku’s old school wasn’t the closest one to his new guardian’s house. Cool , Izuku thought, On my third school for Junior High. Totally normal. 

Over the next few days, he was officially enrolled in his new school, legally registered as a resident of the Yamazawa household, and taken back to his old foster home to grab what few possessions he had—an errand that had Hizashi squawking in outrage over the pitiful amount of stuff Izuku owned. They went shopping for clothes, shoes, school supplies (since his backpack had never resurfaced after the sludge villain incident), and even picked out decor to personalize Izuku’s brand-new bedroom.

Everything was going shockingly well. His guardians were kind. They were reasonable. They talked through expectations on chores, curfew, and responsibilities, and actually asked for his input. They didn’t just lecture him, they listened to his input. It was so weird, he kind of didn’t trust it.

The only real source of conflict in the house right now was Bastard.

Turns out, he was a quirkist little menace. In his mind, Izuku was prey, and Bastarrd was determined to assert his feline dominance at every opportunity.

Izuku thought it was hilarious.

He constantly taunted Bastard with his tail, instinctively knowing how to flick it just like a wild squirrel would. It had become a whole routine between them, a private little game. And thanks to danger sense, Bastard never actually managed to catch him. It was all in good fun… from Izuku’s perspective .

Aizawa and Hizashi, on the other hand, were horrified. Bastard’s constant sneak attacks had them on edge. At dinner one night, they casually mentioned they’d had Bastard for five years and, despite his name, loved him to pieces. Izuku thought it made sense. He was a fun little dude.

Izuku was watching TV when he caught the sound of hushed whispers coming from their cracked bedroom door.

“We should start talking to Nem about taking him, Sho. Izuku deserves to feel safe in his own home.”

Aizawa let out a long sigh. “We’ve had Bastard since he was a kitten. Both options feel cruel. Can’t we try managing it a little longer?”

“We can’t keep him locked up in the bedroom forever. Every time we let him out, he goes straight for Izuku. If he can’t leave Izuku alone, we have to start thinking about alternatives.”

Izuku inhaled sharply. Wait… They didn’t think Bastard was tormenting him, did they? 

Eavesdropping was rude, sure, but this felt more like an emergency. Izuku grabbed Bastard off the back of the couch, right as he was preparing to pounce on his tail, and scooped him up like a baby. He nuzzled Bastard’s cheek with his own, and the cat immediately melted into a purring loaf.

He gently nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, startling both adults inside.

“You can’t get rid of Bastard!” Izuku blurted.

Aizawa turned to the contented little loaf of cat in Izuku’s arms and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Izuku, honey,” Hizashi said carefully, “you deserve to feel safe in the house. We don’t know why he’s acting out, but it’s not fair to you.”

“But we’re just playing!” Izuku said quickly, placing Bastard on the bed. “I’m the one goading him into it. Watch!”

He pointed at the cat, who was currently calmly lying on the bed and looking at the three of them peacefully, then at his tail. With a practiced flick, he wiggled it just right and Bastard instantly shifted into predator mode, eyes locked in, haunches tensed.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, casually moving his tail out of reach without taking his eyes off Hizashi. “My quirk gives me a kind of sixth sense. I call it danger sense. It tells me when something’s about to happen, so Bastard never actually gets me. I’ve just been messing with him because… well, it’s funny. I didn’t realize I was getting him in trouble.”

“You’re not just saying that to placate us?” Aizawa asked, narrowing his eyes warily.

Izuku shook his head vigorously. “I’m not. Promise.”

Aizawa exhaled something close to relief.

Hizashi didn’t look entirely convinced. “Okay, how about this: no tail flicking for a few days. We’ll see how Bastard behaves when you’re not tempting him. Fair?”

Izuku nodded. That seemed fair.

So he stopped teasing, and by the weekend, harmony had been restored. Bastard even started joining him in the cozy nest Izuku built in his bedroom.

Hizashi couldn’t refrain from taking pictures of Izuku and Bastard snuggled together on the couch when he thought the teen wasn’t looking. And Izuku made Aizawa laugh with the ridiculous acrobatics he managed to bait out of Bastard. Everyone was relieved, or ecstatic, really, that Bastard got to stay.

In fact, it was… kind of perfect.

Izuku started a new school with a bit of a chip on his shoulder. So far, Hizashi and Aizawa seemed… unreasonably reliable. They’d been ready to give up their beloved cat for him, and they’d spent more on him in one week than all his past foster parents combined.

But Izuku knew there had to be a limit to their constant generosity and care. There always was. He couldn’t decide what would be worse: finding that limit right away and shattering the fragile little fantasy he’d built over the past week… or living in fear of it, constantly tiptoeing around some invisible line, praying he didn’t cross it by accident.

Hizashi told him that if he had problems at school, he should tell them but… should he? What if he was too much? Too needy? What if he became a burden, like always?

There was always a line, even if they swore there wasn’t.

So Izuku entered his classroom on Monday morning fully intending to just suck it up. Whatever was thrown at him, he would just overcome it. 

Things started off okay. He introduced himself and his quirk, Squirrel, and took his seat. He was pulled out that morning to complete a few placement tests in the principal’s office to confirm he was on grade level, and returned just in time for lunch.

At lunchtime, he didn’t bother trying to talk to anyone. Hizashi had packed him a bento, so he just grabbed it and headed outside. No one would look for him out there.

He kept his head down and made a beeline for the first tree he saw. Tucking the bento under his chin, he climbed it easily and settled into a comfortable perch.

Up in the branches, he finally relaxed. Now that he was getting regular meals, he even had enough food to share, so he tossed a few snacks to the squirrels around him. People always asked if he could talk to them. He couldn’t. But there was something there. A kinship. They trusted him more than they trusted other people. 

About halfway through his lunch, he noticed someone approaching, a kid from his class with fluffy purple hair and a cafeteria tray. The boy sat down beneath the tree and ate in silence.

Izuku watched him the whole time. Not because it was particularly interesting, but because it was easy. He kind of hoped the kid would leave before he climbed down.

The last thing he needed was someone spotting him in a tree. That would just give the bullies ammo.

The boy didn’t look up as he ate, but after a few bites, he casually called out, “You nesting up there, or is this a hostage situation with the squirrels?”

Izuku froze, then cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, finally tilting his head back just enough to make eye contact through the branches. “You’re just… up there. In a tree. Hanging out with squirrels. Kinda gives cult leader vibes.”

Izuku blinked, then snorted. “Wow. Bold words from someone who looks like they haven’t slept since the entrance to kindergarten.”

“Insomnia’s a lifestyle,” purple replied dryly. “You wouldn’t get it. You look like you voluntarily go to bed at nine.”

“I do not,” Izuku said, mildly offended. “I just don’t look like I’ve been cursed by a vengeful spirit every morning.”

Purple cracked a smile at that. “Touché, Tree Gremlin.”

“Y’know,” the boy said after a minute, “if you’re trying to avoid being perceived, maybe don’t nest in the most obvious tree in the courtyard.”

Izuku blinked. “I wasn’t hiding.”

“Sure.” He tilted his head lazily. “Just happened to make a beeline from the classroom and then scale a tree with ninja-like agility during lunch hour on your first day at a new school. Totally normal behavior.”

Izuku scowled. “I am normal. Also, how did you even see that? You were still inside.”

“You’re eating a bento with actual woodland creatures. And, hey, I’m not judging, just pointing out the facts. Also, they made this really amazing invention called windows . Heard of them?”

Izuku tossed a peanut at his head. Shinso dodged it without moving much, like he was used to dodging food-related projectiles.

“I’m sharing,” Izuku said defensively. “It’s polite.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Manners definitely had ‘squirrel diplomacy’ in her top ten tips for social success.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Who even are you? You can’t be any more socially successful than I am if you’re out here too.”

“Shinso Hitoshi. Local sleep-deprived menace. I sit two rows behind you and slightly to the left.”

“...You memorized where I sit?”

Shinso smirked. “I memorize where everyone sits. It’s a coping mechanism. That, and caffeine.”

Izuku snorted. “Well, I’m Izuku. I have a tail and poor impulse control. Also, I apparently attract weirdos.”

“Congrats,” Shinso said dryly. “But now that you’ve bantered with me, you have to come down and eat with me tomorrow. It’s the rules.”

Izuku cocked his head. “What rules?”

Shinso shrugged. “Mine. I just made them up. Don’t make me enforce them. I will drag your feral ass out of that tree.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “You and what army?”

Shinso pointed upward. “The squirrels.”

Izuku scoffed. “Please. They would never betray their leader.”

“So you admit it’s a cult?” Shinso asked.

Izuku stared down at him for a long second, then burst out laughing.

Did Izuku just make a friend? His first real friend since Kacchan?

Izuku grinned to himself and flicked his tail. Maybe this school wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Izuku held off on telling his guardians about his new friend in case things went sour. By the end of the week, when Shinso hadn’t turned on him, he began wondering if he had somehow managed to make an actual friend. 

Mmmm, maybe he should press his luck and try to see if one of his adults would take him to see Kacchan. 

Friday, after Izuku’s first full week of school, Hizashi broached the topic of weekend plans with him.

“So, kit! Any thoughts on what you wanna do this weekend?”

“Well…” Izuku started, pulling his tail into his lap, “I was wondering if I could see my best friend. He doesn’t really live close to here, though, and I don’t have a way to ask him to come here, and I also don’t have any money for the train…” Izuku trailed off, and his ears flattened against his head. This was one of the worst parts of being in care. No phone, no cash, no agency. Everything depended on Aizawa and Hizashi.

“Oh!” Hizashi said, surprised. “Jeez, that's a pretty huge oversight on our part, huh? Tell you what, tomorrow morning, we’ll get you a cell phone and a pre-loaded Suica card, and you can ask your friend if he’s free on Sunday. Sound good?”

“But a phone is so expensive!” Izuku blurted out. 

“And we can afford it, problem child,” Aizawa retorted. “Besides, if you’re going to be anywhere other than school or home, you need one. For safety. It’s only logical.”

Aizawa's tone left no room for debate.

Izuku felt dizzy. A phone and unsupervised time? He could text Kacchan! Maybe even get Shinso’s number, too!

True to their word, the three of them ventured out Saturday morning to get Izuku a phone. The trio decided to kill two birds with one stone and took the subway to the cell store. 

Izuku bounced along beside them, trying not to vibrate out of his skin.

“I don’t need anything fancy,” he said quickly. “Just something that can text and call. Like a brick with buttons. That’s fine.”

“You’re not getting a brick, Izuku,” Aizawa said flatly.

“But those old Nokias were indestructible!” Izuku insisted. “You could bludgeon a villain with one!”

“We’re not prioritizing ‘bludgeoning’ as a phone feature,” Hizashi said helpfully. “But duly noted!”

They walked into the electronics store together, with Izuku hovering just behind Aizawa like he wasn’t sure he would be allowed in. 

Hizashi, in full dad-on-a-mission mode, announced to the first employee he saw, “We’ve got a first-timer, folks! Hit us with your shiniest, sturdiest, most enviable smartphone options!”

Aizawa sighed. “Something durable. Child-proof, preferably. Maybe feral-teen-proof.”

Izuku, mortified, covered his face with his tail. “Please stop talking.”

The sales associate, who was either deeply trained or completely numb to chaos, launched into a pitch about waterproof cases, protective screens, and parental control settings.

“Let’s do one with those emergency contact features,” Aizawa said. “And tracking.”

“I don’t need to be tracked !” Izuku yelped.

Aizawa turned to level a glare at Izuku, “Need I remind you of the circumstances in which I came to acquire you, problem child?” 

“That’s… fair,” Izuku admitted.

They eventually settled on a mid-range smartphone with a decent camera (“So you can get cute pictures with your friends!” Hizashi said), extra shock protection (“For when you inevitably yeet it,” Aizawa muttered), and a bright red case so Izuku could “find it even if it gets swallowed by a bush.”

While the employee set it up, Hizashi narrated the settings menu like a game show host, and Aizawa toggled every safety feature like a man preparing for a war zone.

Izuku clutched the phone with both hands as they left the store, tail flicking with excitement.

“Can I text Shinso and get his number?” he asked.

“You can text whoever you want,” Hizashi beamed. “Though if you’re planning to flirt, I recommend emojis. They soften the blow of your terrible impulse control.”

“I am not flirting!” Izuku squeaked. “Shinso is just a friend!”

Aizawa deadpanned, “Don’t send any eggplant emojis. That’s not what they mean.”

Izuku shrieked and dropped the phone. It bounced harmlessly off the pavement.

“See?” Aizawa said. “Already worth the investment.”

Izuku scooped it up and cradled it like a newborn. “I’m gonna cherish you forever,” he whispered.

“Name it!” Hizashi cheered. “Every phone needs a name.”

“…Phonezawa,” Izuku said solemnly.

Aizawa didn’t respond. He just walked back toward the subway station, muttering something about “feral squirrels” and “why do I do this to myself.”

Izuku skipped after him, clutching Phonezawa, tail swishing with pure glee.

When they got home, Izuku immediately scampered off to his room and shut the door so he could call Kacchan. 

He was a little worried he wouldn’t pick up, since it was a strange number, but given how long it had been since the Bakugos had heard from him, they would likely be expecting a new number to contact them at some point.

“What?” came the voice on the other end, sharp and annoyed, but to Izuku’s ears, it was tinged with trepidation.

“Didja miss me?” Izuku said with a shit-eating grin.

“DEKU?! ” Kacchan screeched. Izuku had to hold the phone ten inches away. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?! ”

Izuku rolled his eyes at Kacchan’s outrage. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Izuku sighed, “if you must know, I have a new placement now.”

Kacchan went quiet for a beat. “…Are you okay?”

Izuku smiled, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Actually, I’ve got big news.”

“Spit it out, shitty nerd.”

“I’m calling you… from my phone! ” Izuku announced gleefully.

“About damn time,” Kacchan grumbled, then turned away from the phone. “Hah? No, it’s Izuku! He’s in a new place. No, you can’t talk to him. GET OFF ME!”

There was a scuffle in the background, some pops of explosions, stomping, and a door slam.

“Jesus. Old hag can’t wait ten minutes,” Kacchan grumbled. “Expect a call from her. She’s gonna want your number.”

“Or I could do you both one better! Are you free tomorrow?”

“For you? Duh. ” Kacchan scoffed. “What kind of dumbass question is that? Like I wouldn’t clear my whole damn schedule for my best friend after weeks. ”

Kacchan paused again, “Do you… Are you coming here? Do we need to pick you up?” 

“They got me a preloaded Suica card today!” Izuku announced proudly, “So I can come to you!”

Kacchan made a wolf whistle sound, “Moving up in the world, huh?” 

Izuku couldn’t help but feel like that was true. 

Sunday afternoon, Izuku stood nervously outside the Bakugo front door, clutching a little drawstring bag and bouncing on his toes. His tail twitched with anticipation and nerves.

The door swung open before he could even knock.

“’Bout time, nerd,” Kacchan huffed, but the way he yanked Izuku into a crushing hug kind of ruined the effect.

Izuku squeaked, ears perking up as Kacchan’s arms locked around his ribs. “Hi! I missed you too!”

“Shut up,” Kacchan said into his shoulder, then pulled back to scowl at him. “Lemme look at you.”

Izuku stood sheepishly, tail twitching nervously while Kacchan gave him a once-over, eyes narrowed like he was trying to detect every microscopic sign of newly incurred trauma.

“You look less like garbage,” he announced. “Your hair’s still dumb, though.”

“Thanks,” Izuku said dryly. “Your hospitality is overwhelming.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kacchan turned and yelled into the house. “OI! HE’S HERE, BUT YOU DON’T GET TO MAUL HIM YET!”

From inside came a distant shout of “I’M JUST GETTING SNACKS!” and some bustling that definitely involved someone trying to make a full meal in under sixty seconds.

“Come on,” Kacchan grunted, tugging him inside. “We’ll go to my room. You can tell me all your recent escapades.”

Izuku followed him upstairs, bag swinging at his side. Kacchan’s room hadn’t changed, posters of pro heroes, a guitar in one corner, gym weights in the other, and a bed with black-and-red sheets that looked slept in but not gross.

They plopped down cross-legged on the floor, backs against the bed. Kacchan crossed the room to his mini fridge, grabbed two sodas, handed one to Izuku, then gave him a pointed look.

“Talk.”

“Well…” Izuku said innocently, cracking open the can, “The new people I’m with are really nice. Kind of ridiculous, honestly. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Uh-huh.” Kacchan took a sip, clearly waiting for more.

“And I have my own room, which is crazy! And they have two cats, one of which I almost got in trouble, and they—”

“How many kids do they have?” Kacchan interrupted.

“Huh?” Izuku blinked. “Oh, no, it’s just me. I don’t think they were really planning to take me in permanently, but then there was the whole sludge villain thing, and I ended up in the hospital, and they could tell I didn’t really want to go home, so…”

He trailed off. The air in Kacchan’s room had dropped ten degrees.

“…What sludge villain thing.”

Izuku’s ears twitched. “Uh. It’s not a big—”

“What sludge villain thing.”

Izuku winced. “I, um… might’ve gotten attacked by a villain made of sludge before I got moved. It was a whole thing. I’m fine! ” he added quickly. “Heroes saved me, it was over fast—”

“ YOU SAID YOU WENT TO THE HOSPITAL. ”

“Oh, well, yeah. See, my new foster parents took me in after they found me that night, but then I had to go to the hospital because—uh—I started… drowning… in my sleep…” Izuku trailed off, ears flattening. This was definitely not the reassuring update he’d hoped to give. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and tried to offer his most placating smile.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

Kacchan was on his feet, fists clenched, eyes wide with something between fury and horror.

“You didn’t think, ‘Hey, maybe I should tell my best friend I almost got suffocated to death by a sentient pile of sewer goo?!’ ”

Izuku scrambled up, hands raised. “Kacchan, I’m okay—!”

“You were attacked, and no one even TOLD ME? You could’ve… you…” Kacchan’s voice cracked. His hands were shaking.

Izuku’s ears drooped. He stepped forward and gently took one of Kacchan’s hands in both of his.

“I’m really okay. It didn’t even cross my mind, honestly. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, I’m pissed,” Kacchan barked, but his voice had lost its heat. His breathing was shallow, and he wouldn’t meet Izuku’s eyes. “You… you don’t get to almost die and not tell me, Deku.”

There was a long pause.

Then Izuku leaned forward and bumped his forehead gently against Kacchan’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”

“Tch.” Kacchan turned to glare at the wall. “You’ve got a phone now, so I'd better be your first call next time. Got it?”

Izuku leaned back with a shit-eating grin and saluted dramatically. “Aye aye, captain. Even before 911!”

Kacchan didn’t respond to Izuku’s salute, but his lip twitched like he was trying not to smile. He shoved Izuku lightly in the shoulder.

“Come on, nerd. Let’s go before Mom complains too much about how I’m hogging you.”

They headed back downstairs, Izuku padding behind Kacchan and sipping his soda. Mitsuki was in the kitchen, tossing something in a pan and yelling into her phone with the ease of a multitasking queen. She ended the call with a loud, “Yeah, well, tell him he can bite me,” before turning and spotting them.

“You two good?” she asked, stirring whatever was in the pan.

“Yeah,” Kacchan grunted, slouching into a chair at the table.

Izuku sat down beside him, nodding. “Thanks again for lunch, Auntie.”

“Anything for my favoritest squirrel,” she cooed.

“No Uncle Masaru today?” Izuku asked, mildly disappointed.

Mitsuki frowned from her place at the stove, “No, we are having a problem with a manufacturer that needs to be addressed today. Sorry, squirt.”

“That’s okay,” Izuku said. “I’ll give you my number, maybe he can call me later?” 

Izuku looked at Mitsuki hopefully, who just beamed in response. She was ecstatic at the prospect of being able to have regular contact with Izuku again. In her book, his new foster parents were already leaps and bounds ahead of the other ones. 

The trio ate, and Izuku updated the two Bakugos on life, only leaving out minor details like trying to kill himself, having his dreams crushed by All Might, and, for Auntie Mitsuki, being attacked by a villain.