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Chapter Text

Out of all his problem children, Aizawa trusted Shinsou the most not to get himself into trouble. 

His judgement was misguided. 

“What now?” Aizawa growled as he stepped out of the taxi and towards the flashing police lights. He slipped under the police barricade, and several police officers scattered at the sight of him. The rest turned away, sheepishly hiding under their caps.

“Well?” Aizawa snapped, scanning through the crowd, searching for a mess of wild purple hair. 

“Eraser, sir!” A voice cried out, jovial and upbeat.

Aizawa tried not to cringe too hard as Thalia, one of Ms. Joke’s sidekicks, came skipping through the crowd. She was easy to spot in a sea of bulletproof vests and police uniforms, with her leather pteruges and golden armoured plate. Unfortunately, she had taken up Ms. Joke mantel of thinking they were ‘chums’. “How’s it hanging, Eraser?”

Aizawa ground his teeth.

“Cut the crap. Where’s Mindjack?”

He didn’t miss the way her lips tugged to one side in an awkward lopsided wince.

“Ah, well, you see, There’s been a bit of a situation.” She waved her hands frantically. “Not to worry, though! We have everything under control.” She gestured to where several officers and Ms. Joke stood motionlessly at the mouth of an alleyway.

Aizawa’s hair began to raise.

“Well, almost under control. I mean, we did call you.” She laughed, nervously.

“Explain.”

“Mindjack got hit with a quirk. He’s okay! Well, we think he’s okay. He won’t let anyone near him.” She laughed again. “Kids, right?” She patted Aizawa’s shoulder before slowly retreating her hand away as he levered her with a glare. “We tried not responding to his quirk, but he bit an officer when they tried to grab him.”

“He bit someone?”

“Yeah, poor Watanabe needs stitches.” She nodded over to the ambulances, where an officer sat having his hand bandaged. “Probably should get him a fruit basket.”

Aizawa sighed and ran a hand down his face. It was like watching a dog chase its own tail when it came to Ms. Joke and her sidekicks. A never-ending loop of stupidity and no straight answers. He didn’t know why he bothered.

“Get an ambulance ready. And if my student is hurt-.” The threat went unsaid as his hair rose. Thalia scrambled towards the medics with a hurried ‘yes, sir’.

Entering the alleyway, Aziawa found four officers and Ms Joke dotted his path, all staring mindlessly ahead, trapped in Shinsou’s quirk. The poor kid was probably straining hard to keep his quirk at work with the number of people he was holding under it.

Grabbing Ms. Joke’s shoulder, Aizawa gave her a healthy shove, waiting for the inevitable jokes and puns when she snapped out of Shinsou’s grasp. But she remained stoic, her eyes staring blankly ahead. 

“Snap out of it, Joke,” Aizawa grumbled, giving her another shake. The results were the same. 

Aizawa slapped the back of her head and then frowned when nothing happened. 

It was rare for someone to not be able to snap out of Shinsou’s quirk with the right amount of pressure. The only time Aizawa remembered having trouble getting someone out was during the class battles, where Uraraka struggled to break Midoriya from the quirk. And while Aizawa and Shinsou were working on strengthening his quirk, making its hold stronger, it wasn’t this powerful yet. 

Aizawa looked further into the alleyway but didn’t spot his student.

“Mindjack?” Aizawa called out, his quirk burning behind his eyes, ready to spring into action if he needed to use it. “Kid, it’s Aizawa.”

He was met with silence.

Except it wasn’t exactly quiet. If Aizawa listened hard enough he could hear the tell-tale signs of someone crying. A quiet sniffle, barely audible against the noise of the city around them. 

“Shinsou?” Aizawa crossed the space between them, heading towards it until he stood in front of a dumpster. “You’re not in trouble, kid.”

The crying stopped.

Dropping to a crouch, and then to his knees, Aizawa laid himself flat on the ground, peeking under the dumpster.

What stared back at him wasn’t what he was expecting. He dropped his quirk, blinking back his surprise with an audible tut.  

Two bloodshot violet eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. They undeniably belonged to Shinsou, especially with those white pupils of his. And even if he didn’t recognise those eyes, his hair was the same wild purple trademark that made the kid stand out even in a world of mutations. However, they weren’t the same kid that had left the dorms in the morning to intern with Ms. Joke. Instead of seeing the lanky teen, Aizawa found a toddler staring back at him with ruddy cheeks and a snotty lip.

“Hey kid,” Aizawa sighed, reminding himself to resign once this hell-class graduated. He was sure the twenty of them had aged him far more than his other years. “Come on out.”

Shinsou retreated further under the dumpster.

“Shinsou, come on. I won’t hurt you,” Aizawa whispered, using the same softness he used when Eri first came to live with him. “It must be really dark and cold under there.”

Aizawa tapped the floor next to him, almost as though he was beckoning a frightened stray cat. With the way Shinsou’s entire body trembled with his eyes fixed on Aizawa, the kid fit the part of a feral kitten. Even his hair reminded Aizawa of the way kittens puffed themselves up when scared.

And similar to the way he gained the strays' trust, Aizawa pushed himself up onto his feet and sat across from the dumpster. Sometimes, patience was the only way to earn a cat’s trust. The same could be said when he took on Eri. Being calm and slow helped build that relationship between them.

He hoped it would do the same here.

“Then I’ll wait here for when you’re ready to come out.” He could still see the kid under the dumpster, and the kid could still see him. It was just a matter of waiting.

Minutes passed and the kid didn’t move. If it wasn’t for the odd sniffle, he would have thought the kid had fallen asleep. He was so still.

Aizawa waited. He had no problem doing so. His patrols were a matter of waiting in the shadows, stalking until a criminal crossed his sight. It was the unflashy and plainest part of being a hero.

His patience paid off when a tiny voice spoke.

“Can you go away?” Shinsou said, his voice high and wet.

Aizawa activated his quirk. The kid gasped and pushed himself deep under the dumpster where Aizawa could no longer see him.

“My quirk means you won’t be able to brainwash me,” Aizawa stated, internally berating himself for scaring the kid. It was hard to remember this wasn’t the same smart-ass prodigy who didn’t cower under him like the rest of his students.

Aizawa heard the commotion of those snapping out of Shinsou’s quirk behind him, but he ignored them. And if the whimpering sound the kid made meant anything, the kid knew his control had broken.

Shinsou’s breathing picked up. A tiny wheezing thing that shook with each inhale. Aizawa’s heart sunk at the panicked noise.

“Hitoshi, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble for using your quirk,” Aizawa said, knowing exactly what had spurred the kid into a frenzy. The kid’s ambition and determination all stemmed from his desire to prove others wrong about his quirk; it didn’t take a genius to know the dream came from years of bullying and torment. Aizawa knew the toll from his own days in school, even if most of it came from himself. It took time to learn to value his quirk, but his appreciation also came from his annoying friends who championed him every step of the way.

Yamada always did have a big mouth.

“It’s a really cool quirk,” Aizawa said casually, as if he wasn’t trying to coax the kid out and instead was simply saying his opinion. “Would make my job as a hero so much easier.”

Ms. Joke tried to approach, offering a hand, but Aizawa shooed her away with a flick of his wrist. There was no need to crowd the kid, and they already had their chance to entice him out. He shook his head, exasperated how a child, one that was probably only three or four, had beaten the police and a pro hero. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed for them, or proud of Shinsou. 

“I could just ask a villain to walk into jail,” Aizawa said, continuing his little praise spiel.

Hesitantly, Shinsou scooted to the edge of the dumpster, eying Aizawa with the same harsh, analytical, and suspicious stare Aizawa recognised from when they first began to train together; The same one that screamed, ‘can I trust you?’

Aizawa gave him a small smile, hoping it didn’t scare the kid back under.

And thankfully, it didn’t. With a hard sniffle, Shinsou pulled himself out from under the dumpster, with little bits of gravel stuck to his clothes and feet. It was only then that Aizawa realised the kid was barefoot, and most of his hero costume was gone. His shirt was still intact, though it now draped across the kid’s knees. His capture weapon was twisted around his too-small shoulders, the loops slipping down his arms like a badly wrapped mummy. His artificial vocal cord device was missing from around his neck, probably lost somewhere in the transformation.

The kid was smaller than he originally thought. He was thinner too. With the strict training and meal plans Aizawa had laid out for him, the kid had bulked up considerably over the past year, even if Aizawa considered him still lanky like a piece of string. One day, he knew Shinsou would sprout right past him and grow into his body.

But now? Shinsou was a weed of a child. He was all awkward knees and elbows that didn’t really belong to someone his age. He still had the dark circles under his eyes and the wild tuff of purple hair. Some things never changed. 

Aizawa pulled himself up from the floor slowly until he was at eye level with the kid, who baulked at him, biting his bottom lip and tugging at his shirt with restless hands.

“Do you know who I am?” Aizawa asked, sure he already knew the answer. 

Shinsou shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I’m a pro hero.” Aizawa fished out his licence and showed the kid, who barely glanced at it. “My hero name is Eraserhead, but you can call me Aizawa.”

The kid remained silent, though he quickly took in Aizawa’s appearance, his eyes sweeping over every inch of him. But still, he said nothing and left Aizawa wondering what the kid saw. “Can I call you Hitoshi?”

Shinsou considered it for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you. Now that we know each other, how about I take you home?”

Aizawa had seen how children reacted to going home to their parents, all full of glee, ready to cling to their parent’s pant leg. And while he knew Shinsou’s biological parents were no longer around, the kid still had his foster parents. But instead of being excited about going home, Shinsou retreated backwards, almost as if he considered going back under the dumpster. 

Aizawa decided to come back to that reaction once the kid had settled and they found out how long this quirk lasted.

“Are you hurt?” Aizawa scanned Shinsou head to toe. There was a bit of blood on his chin, but he suspected that was from where he bit the police officer. 

Once again, those impossible large eyes watched him, as if waiting for a response before Shinsou could even answer. Aizawa waited patiently and was rewarded when Shinsou hesitantly lifted his shirt until he was showing his scuffed knees. They didn’t look too bad aside from a little red and full of gravel.

“I’m going to clean them, and it will hurt just for a second.” Aizawa reached into his belt and pulled out his small med kit. He doused the cotton wool and dabbed at the cuts. 

Shinsou was silent other than the small gasp when the cotton first touched the wound. Though, his bottom lip wobbled, and his eyes filled up again. 

“Good job, kid,” Aizawa said as he finished covering them with band-aids, and then stood up, almost missing the small curl of Shinsou’s lips at the praise. Aizawa hid his own behind his capture weapon. The kid was cute. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou shook his head.

“That’s good, but we’ll head to the hospital just to make sure.”

Twin tears fell down Shinsou’s red cheeks as his bottom lip trembled at the mention of the hospital.

“I’m not a fan either.” Aizawa patted the kid’s head. “But we got to make sure you’re okay.”

Shinsou nodded, though he didn’t stop silently crying at the prospect of going.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we go, the quicker we can leave.” Aizawa stood. “Can I pick you up? You don’t have any shoes.” Aizawa pointed to Shinsou’s cut-up feet.

Shinsou followed his finger before he raised his own arms up, ready to be carried. Aizawa plucked Shinsou from under his armpits and rested him against his chest, where Shinsou grabbed onto his capture weapon, his little fingers holding on for dear life.

Several officers tried racing towards them as they stepped out of the alleyway, but with a quick flash of his quirk, they backed away. He felt the kid’s body begin to tremble as he buried his face into Aizawa’s shoulder. 

“Eraser!” Ms. Joke strode towards them, ignoring the glare he sent her way. “Is that little Shinsou?”

“Obviously,” Aizawa drawled. “Now explain to me why my student is a three-year-old.”

But before she could say anything, Shinsou pulled back and produced four fingers in front of Aizawa’s face. 

“Sorry, a four-year-old.” 

Satisfied, Shinsou retreated back to burying his face into Aizawa’s capture weapon. 

“There was a robbery downtown. Nothing big. Shinsou went ahead since he’s faster than us with his capture weapon. He’s almost as good as you with that thing, you know?” Ms. Joke gave Shinsou an encouraging smile, but the kid refused to pull away from Aizawa.

“I know,” Aizawa said, his voice flat.

“Anyway, the robbers split up. Shinsou took after one of them, and when we arrived, he was like this.”

“You shouldn’t have left his side.”

“I have faith in the kid. He was doing amazing.”

“That’s not my point. He’s not a hero yet. He’s still in training, and you’re supposed to be watching over him.” Aizawa almost snarled but tried to keep his voice level not to scare the kid.

“It was an accident. I can’t just keep him coddled by my side the entire time. The kid’s gotta learn.”

Aizawa felt his eyes bulge as he sneered at her.

“It’s your responsibility.”

“I know, I know. I fucked up, and I’m real sorry.” Ms. Joke pressed her hands together in prayer. “But at least the kid’s okay. And he’s pretty adorable like this.”

“He’s scared like this.” If Aizawa didn’t have his hands full, he would strangle her with his capture weapon.“Did you at least capture the villain and find out how long he’s stuck like this?”

“You betcha. It should last for a week, at most. Maybe two weeks if we’re unlucky.”

“You better hope it’s a week.” Aizawa sighed. “I’ll be the one explaining all this to his foster parents.”

“Ouch! That sounds rough.” Ms Joke bumped her hip into his. “At least it wasn’t like last year. This is nothing compared to the training camp, or even the USJ.”

“Stop talking,” Aizawa grumbled. “Send the paperwork to my agency. I expect a full report on this. And find Shinsou’s vocal cords.”

“Eraser.” Ms Joke’s smile wavered a little.

“I have to get the kid checked out at the hospital.”

And with that, he left her, holding Shinsou a little tighter. The kid was quiet, not even sniffling or shifting in Aizawa’s hold. Checking on him, Aizawa found him asleep, a thumb tucked into his mouth. 

“I thought you weren’t going to be a problem like the rest of your class,” Aizawa said with a sigh as he climbed into the back of an ambulance.

Thankfully, the hospital was quiet, and Shinsou was seen to as quickly as possible. There were worries about the effects of the quirk, especially since the villain refused to reveal the nature of her quirk. But Shinsou seemed in good health, despite the initial scare. He woke up when roused, though he wasn’t happy about the fact, and let the nurses examine him thoroughly as he held onto Aizawa’s hand the entire time.

Those tiny fingers held on so tightly.

Once it was determined that Shinsou was in good health, the pair sat patiently in the waiting area for Shinsou’s foster father to show up.

Aizawa checked his phone for the eighth time, frustratingly blowing a lock of hair out of his face. It’d almost been two hours since Aizawa’s initial voicemail detailing the events, and it’d been ten minutes since the last one. And yet, there was no sign of them.

He knew the pair weren’t close. Despite how closed-lipped the kid was about his home life, the silence was telling enough. No one stayed silent about someone they cared for. But still, the idea of Shinsou’s foster father not answering on purpose left his stomach in knots.

The kid didn’t seem to mind, though Aizawa wondered if the kid even remembered Tanaka. Either way, Shinsou sat next to him, quietly playing with the hem of his shirt, and swinging his legs. Now, Aizawa didn’t know many children this age, but he was sure they were noisier than this. Shinsou had yet to say another word since using his quirk on him. All questions were answered with a simple nod or shake of his head, or a shrug if he didn’t know the answer. Granted, teenage Shinsou had a tendency to be a quiet kid, but it was in an aloof, strange way that deflected people from talking to him. Shinsou had gone through measures to make sure no one could use his quirk against him.

But this Shinsou, the one sitting next to him, was now four. Those harsh self-taught lessons shouldn’t exist yet. It made him wonder how young Shinsou learnt that being quiet was better than being punished.

The kid suddenly peaked up at him, a quick side-eye that snapped back to his lap when Aizawa caught his eye.

They both jumped when a curt vibration rattled in Aizawa’s pocket. Without looking at the screen, Aizawa answered knowing he was in for a lecture.

“Hello.”

“Don’t hello me. Where’ve you been, man? Eri and I made cookies, but we ate them all since you vanished on us.”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“Are you okay?” Yamada’s tone changed, the edges of his words tighter and higher in pitch. “Why wasn’t I notified? I’m still your emergency contact, right?”

“I’m fine. Shinsou had an accident at his internship. I’m waiting for his foster parents to come pick him up.” Aizawa sighed as he read the time again.

“Shou, you really need to give me details when you talk. You can’t just say you’re at the hospital, and then say it's for one of your students without any explanation.” Yamada sighed dramatically into the mic. “Is the little listener okay?”

“He’s…” Aizawa hesitated. Technically, Shinsou wasn’t injured, but he didn’t know if being a teenager one second and then a toddler the next constituted as being fine. “He got hit with a quirk, and he’s now four years old.”

“You’re gonna hafta repeat that, babe.”

“Shinsou’s a toddler. He has no memory of his teenager self it seems, and we still don’t know how long he’s stuck like this.”

“Shinsou’s a baby?” Yamada yelled into the phone, so much so that Aizawa had to pull it away from his ear. Even Shinsou had covered his own, wincing at the noise.

“Toddler, but yes. And I’ve been waiting two hours for his foster to come get him.” Aizawa put the phone back to his ear. “I couldn’t even get through to him.

“Yeah, same thing happened a few months back. Kid was waiting outside school for his folk, but they never turned up. I even rang, but zip. Ended up driving the poor kid home. Thought he was gonna implode from how embarrassed he looked.”

Aizawa glanced down at Shinsou, who simply looked back, his eyes wide and curious.

“Do you remember your foster father Tanaka, Shinsou?” Aizawa asked, to which Shinsou shook his head. “Do you know who you live with now?”

“No one,” Shinsou said, his voice ever so quiet that Aizawa had to lean closer to hear it. 

“What do you mean?” 

Shinsou looked away and stuck his thumb into his mouth, his eyes darting around the room nervously. Aizawa had to hold back a sigh. 

“Maybe he was at a group home when he was a baby? You know how those places get. Too many mouths, not enough workers. Sometimes the quiet kids get left behind.”

“Maybe,” Aizawa groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, squeezing to release the tension slowly growing there.

“Either way, looks like no one's coming for the kid. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“I don’t need you to keep us company.”

“How about a lift?” Yamada drawled as if Aizawa had said something stupid.

“And go where?”

“Back to the dorms. Shinsou can stay with us until someone can pick him up later. Technically, U.A does have some custody over the kids that are living there. So, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

It would be better than sitting in a hospital waiting room all day. And the kid was probably hungry by now. And he would need some clothes to wear until they passed him over to his fosters. He was sure that Shinsou didn’t want to sit in his uniform shirt all day. 

“That sounds like a plan. We’re at the main hospital.” Aizawa stood up with a grunt. Shinsou scrambled after him, his little feet slapping against the floor. 

“Great! I’ll drop Eri off with your class, and then come get you two! See ya in a bit!”

“Thanks, Hizashi.” And with that, Aizawa hung up. “Looks like you’re coming home with me.” 

Shinsou continued to stare at him, before he nodded decisively. Aizawa let out an amused snort.

“Alright kid, up you get.” Aizawa bent down and propped Shinsou on his hip. His feet were already looking dirty again. They’d have to see if any of Eri’s shoes fit him. Aizawa didn’t like the idea of sending the kid home without shoes on his feet. 

Silently, the pair waited outside for Yamada. Shinsou let his head rest on Aizawa’s capture, bundling his hands between the cloth. Aizawa felt words on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know what to say to the kid. He wondered if he’d always been a quiet kid, or if this was one massive red flag. 

It reminded him of when Eri first came into his care. She was withdrawn, shy and painfully afraid of everything, but worst of all, she had attached herself to Aizawa. And while he was always willing to comfort her, he knew that becoming dependent on him would only later spell more upset. It had taken months for Eri to grow comfortable enough for Yamada to be alone in the room with her. And even more so for other members of staff. 

He wondered if Shinsou would be afraid of his husband. It wouldn’t be the first time a child cried at Present Mic; his volume always was a little loud. 

Aizawa smiled fondly at the memory, only letting it drop when a familiar blue mustang rolled into the car park. It made such a horrible sound as it parked. It was just as loud as its owner. Just as flash too. Two peas in a pod.

“Hey!” Yamada yelled as he hopped onto the pavement. “Is that the little listener?”

Shinsou made a small mumbling noise before he somehow retreated further into the capture scarf, burying his face from the world. 

“Oh! Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Yamada smiled warmly, placing a hand over his heart as his eyes met Aizawa’s. “He’s a tiny thing, isn’t he?”

Aizawa nodded before he leaned closer to where Shinsou had retreated. 

“He’s okay, kid. He won’t hurt you. He’s just loud.” Aizawa rubbed the kid’s back before walking towards the car, with Yamada leading the way. He pulled back the front seat, revealing Eri’s car seat.

“It may be a little big for him. I didn’t think he’d be this small. It says it's for four to six-year-olds.” A worried line creased across Yamada’s forehead. 

“He’ll fit.” Aizawa settled him into the seat and began pulling the straps into place. Unlike the first time he did this with Eri, Aizawa understood how the contraption worked and the kid didn’t end up looking like Aizawa had taped him to the chair. 

Satisfied that Shinsou was strapped in, Aizawa pulled the passenger seat forward and began to buckle himself in.

“Shou! You need to sit in the back with the kid,” Yamada said with an exasperated look. 

“The kid is fine, right Shinsou?” 

Shinsou hesitated for a moment before he gave them a thumbs-up. 

“See?”

Yamada peered over his sunglasses at him. 

“Fine.” Aizawa sighed as he climbed into the back and sat next to Shinsou, who gave him a tentative smile before fiddling with the straps of the car seat.

Yamada started the car and began to drive the three of them home. In no time at all, Shinsou’s head began to bob and his eyelids fluttered, blinking hard to stay awake. And then, like Shinsou’s strings had been cut, the kid bumped his face into the car seat and was out like a light, softly snoring to the sound of the engine.

“Little guy is all tuckered out.” Yamada chuckled softly, making sure to keep his volume low so he didn’t wake up the kid. “Maybe he can finally catch up on all the sleep he’s missed.” 

“I can’t imagine how confusing this is for him.” Aizawa watched as Shinsou’s chest rose and fell peacefully.

“Looks like he trusts you still, regardless of his age,” Hizashi said, tapping his fingers along the steering wheel, clearly muddling through the thoughts in his head. “Maybe subconsciously, he remembers his trust for you.”

“Who knows? The villain is tight-lipped about her quirk.” Aizawa sighed as he eyed the kid. “It’s probably just that I was the only adult that didn’t crowd him. Ms Joke isn’t known for her patience or calm demeanour.”

Yamada snorted.

“Neither are you.” Yamada tilted his head. “I guess you are with kids.”

“Adults should know better.”

Yamada chuckled, his eyes flashing at the rear-view mirror. “He’s pretty cute like this though.”

Even Aizawa couldn’t disagree. The kid was all doe eyes and wild hair. He reminded him of Eri when they’d first rescued her.

“Eri will have to stay with someone tonight if Shinsou’s foster father doesn’t turn up. I don’t want her overwhelming Shinsou. I don’t think she’s really met someone her own age, and I don’t think an age-regressed teenager is the best start.”

“I don’t know, Shou. Might be good for her to have a play date.” Yamada caught his eye from the rear-view mirror and smiled when he saw his glare. “Such a grump. I already planned for Eri to stay with the girls at 2-A for a little slumber party. She was excited to go, so we won’t be missed.”

Aizawa huffed, knowing full well that Eri would be coming back tomorrow covered in ribbons or glitter, or whatever else Ashido and the rest of the girls could put on her. He never remembered dress up being so messy. 

Finally, they pulled up at U.A just as the sun had finally dispersed behind the school walls. Aizawa stretched as he got out of the car, wincing as his joints clicked and popped.

Getting Shinsou out of the car was a little harder than putting him in. Asleep, the kid’s limbs were noodle-like and wouldn’t cooperate with Aizawa, no matter where he folded them. Magically, the kid stayed asleep, even as Aizawa finally managed to lift him out and tuck him against his shoulder. 

Aizawa turned to start walking to his apartment when he saw the stupidly warm face Yamada was pulling. 

“Shut it,” Aizawa grumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.” Yamada chuckled as they walked side by side. “Fatherhood looks good on you, that’s all.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, trying to hide his hot cheeks within the safety of his scarf. Yamada had said the same thing when they first brought Eri home and subsequently kept saying it ever since.

“Keep it in your pants,” Aizawa said as they walked up the stairs and into their apartment. 

At that Yamada let out a loud whoop of laughter, before slapping his hands over his mouth. But it was too late, Shinsou stirred with a small miserable sound before two violet eyes blinked open. He uncurled a fist from Aizawa’s capture weapon and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Sorry for waking you, little listener.” Yamada smiled at him, all warm and sheepish. 

Shinsou shrugged before his head flopped lazily against Aizawa’s shoulder, his eyes once again drooping.

“You must be hungry, huh?” Yamada asked and snapped his fingers when Shinsou hesitated and nodded. “A hero-sized meal, coming right up!” And with that, Yamada raced away into the kitchen. 

“While Mr Loudmouth makes food, let’s get you into some clothes that’ll fit better.” Aizawa carried Shinsou into Eri’s room and set the kid on her bed before rifling through the draws. 

Eri had grown considerably since she’d been living with him and Hizashi, but she was still small for her age after missing out on so many years of nutritious food. Hopefully, they still had clothes from when she first moved in - they were more likely to fit Shinsou’s small frame.

And out from the bottom of the draw, Aizawa pulled out the first outfit he’d brought for Eri when she came into his care. It was practically brand new except for the five minutes she had worn it before the nurses interfered and pick out a new outfit for her. Obviously, Eri preferred the clothes the nurses picked for her but holding up the Ganriki Neko sweater and leggings, he still thought they were rather cute. 

“Kitty,” Shinsou said, before letting out a small curious noise from behind him.

Aizawa turned to see Shinsou staring at the sweater with wide, excited eyes. They were almost sparkling with want.  

“You like these?” Aizawa couldn’t help the maddening grin that broke across his face. 

Shinsou nodded without taking his eyes off the shirt. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the embroiled cat. 

“Do you want to wear it?” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou nodded as he hopped down from the bed, and stood with his arms stretched up high, ready to be changed. Aizawa chuckled as he plucked Shinsou’s hero uniform off. He knew kids this age could be notoriously fussy when getting changed, but Shinsou seemed too excited to put on the sweater than to cause any trouble. 

Once they’d managed to get the leggings on, Aizawa stepped back to make sure everything was on correctly. Shinsou was staring down at the cat face looking right back at him, his little fingers picking at the stitching. 

Aizawa had to hold back from laughing.

“Come on, let’s go show Hizashi.” Aizawa nodded for the kid to follow him back to the kitchen. 

Yamada was humming over the stove, his back turned to them. His hips were swaying to the radio.

“Dinner shouldn’t be long. Hopefully, the kiddo isn’t fussy,” Yamada said, turning around with a wooden spoon in hand. He froze when he spotted Shinsou, and a horrified look crossed his face. “Shouta! You can’t dress him in that! That’s child abuse!”

Shinsou, startled by the shouting, stumbled back into Aizawa’s legs and clung to his pants. 

“Hizashi. Keep your voice down.” Aizawa snapped as he rested a reassuring hand on Shinsou’s head. 

“Oops. Sorry, little listener, I didn’t mean to scare ya.” Yamada crouched down to Shinsou’s level. “We still friends?”

Shinsou buried her face into Aizawa’s pant leg, before nodding, giving Yamada a quick shy glance. 

“Whew. I’m glad.” Yamada smiled at him. “And between friends, I’ll tell ya now, you don’t have to wear what Shouta gave you.”

“He picked it out,” Aizawa said, grinning from ear to ear that someone was finally appreciating the clothes. 

“Uh-huh. Sure he did.” Yamada gave him a sceptical look. “You sure you don’t wanna wear something else kiddo? Maybe actual pyjamas.” 

Shinsou shook his head and let go of Aizawa’s leg to hold out his shirt for Yamada to see.

“I like the kitty,” Shinsou said, his voice small and unsure, as if he wasn’t sure if he could disagree with Yamada. 

“It’s…uh a cute kitty.” Yamada grimaced at the large, bulbous cat eyes staring at him. “Oh well, I’m sure Eri is glad to be rid of it.

Aizawa whacked Yamada’s arm.

“She loves it.”

“You love it.” Yamada jabbed his elbow into Aizawa's ribs.  

Dinner went as well as it could with a toddler. Which meant most of it was on the floor and around Shinsou’s face and hair. How it ended up in his hair, Aizawa didn’t know. 

“How are you so messy?” Aizawa grumbled as he picked a chunk from Shinsou’s hair. Shinsou whined as Aizawa wiped his mouth with kitchen roll, moving his face away when Aizawa dabbed it with water. “Hold still, Shinsou.” 

Shinsou frowned, his bottom lip jutting out in protest. 

“Look at that face,” Yamada laughed. Shinsou’s attention turned to him, and his furrow deepened. And then, breaking the adorable tension Shinsou had tried to create, the kid yawned, big and wide. “Someone’s sleepy.”

Shinsou shook his head as he rubbed a balled fist at his eyes.

“His foster father still hasn’t gotten back to me.”

“It’s getting late anyway. Leave them a voice mail that he’ll be staying at U.A for the night and they can pick him up in the morning.” Yamada stood and collected the plates. 

Aizawa hated calling parents. It was one of the most annoying tasks as a teacher, and that came before even marking and lesson plans. 

“Fine. I’ll put the kid in Eri’s room.” Aizawa stood and stretched, cracking his back with a grunt. “Let’s go. Bedtime.”

“Not sleepy,” Shinsou protested weakly as Aizawa scooped him up into his arms. His head flopped onto Aizawa's shoulder as he tried to suppress another yawn. 

“Uh huh, sure kid.” Aizawa chuckled disbelievingly. 

Aizawa tucked Shinsou into Eri’s bed, pulling the blanket up to the kid’s chin. 

“You warm enough?”

Shinsou nodded, his little fingers clutching onto the end of the blanket. 

“I’ll leave the door open. Me and Hizashi are right across the hall. You come get us if you need anything, okay?”

Shinsou nodded again, but this time, he looked around, his eyes wandering the room, studying all of Eri’s things. Several treasure chests were bursting with toys; there was a castle for Eri’s dolls (though it currently housed The Pussycats instead of any princesses or princes.) Aizawa expected Shinsou to gravitate towards the toys, perhaps seeking a soft friend to comfort himself. However, the kid lingered on one of Eri’s storybooks sitting on the bedside table. 

But then the kid saw Aizawa watching him and quickly looked away, almost hiding underneath the blanket.

“You want me to read to you?” Aizawa asked, plucking the book from the bedside table. It read, ‘The Littlest Princess’ and had a girl with ram horns on the front cover, waiting in a tower. A classic tale of a princess wishing to be saved, but for some ungodly reason, in the end, the princess was saved by All Might. It was ridiculous and made no sense for a superhero to be in a fantasy setting, but Eri loved it and asked for it to be read almost every night. 

Two violet eyes peeked over the blanket, lingering on the glittery patterns on the front cover of the book. Shinsou nodded. 

“Okay.” Aizawa opened to the first page and began to read. 

Shinsou only lasted four pages before the kid was out. Aizawa finished the page he was on before closing the book. He placed it down and rose, smiling softly as the kid turned in his sleep and snuggled into the pillow. 

At the doorway was Yamada, leaning against it with that warm ridiculous smile on his face again. Aizawa said nothing as he flicked Eri’s nightlight on, casting stars on the ceiling. He cast one last look at Shinsou’s sleeping form and turned off the lights. “Goodnight kid.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa woke to the tiny sound of pittering feet lingering outside his bedroom door. 

“Hizashi,” Aizawa grumbled, his voice muffled by his pillow. His drowsy sleep-fogged brain concluded it was only Eri, ready to start the day at the arse-crack of dawn. He buried his head deeper into his pillow. “Hizashi, deal with our kid.”

His husband simply ignored him. Aizawa cracked a sleep eye open, only to find Yamada fast asleep, his mouth wide open with a line of drool connecting him to his pillow; his hearing–aids sat on the bedside table beside him. 

Aizawa grumbled again as he sat up, his hair falling into his eyes and his joints popping. 

The sound of bare feet on the laminate floor stopped. And then quickly retreated with a sense of urgency, before they returned again, hovering in the corridor. 

“Eri,” Aizawa called out mid-yawn. Maybe he could convince her to snuggle into bed with him and Yamada, earning himself another twenty minutes of sleep, at least. Until Yamada woke them both up. He after all influenced Eri’s early mornings. “Eri, come on, let's go back to bed.”

But Eri didn’t stand in the doorway. Instead, two purple, owlish eyes poked on in over the threshold. 

Right. Shinsou was staying with them. Shinsou was currently four years old.

“Morning, kid.” Aizawa yawned again, stretching before swivelling out of bed. “You’re up early.”

Shinsou didn’t move from the doorway, his little fingers clinging tightly to the frame.

“You hungry?” Aizawa got up, scratching his stomach and pulling down his bed shirt. Shinsou looked up at him with large eyes before hesitantly holding out his hand for Aizawa to take. 

Aizawa couldn’t help but let out an amused snort as he took the kid’s hand and led them to the kitchen, where he deposited the kid onto the kitchen countertop. The kid froze before curiously looking around like he couldn’t believe he was up so high. 

“How about toast? I can manage toast,” Aizawa said, mostly to himself as he placed two thick slices of bread into the toaster. “Do you want jam?”

Shinsou turned to face him with a curious, startled expression. 

“You don’t like jam?” Aizawa cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t figure out why the kid looks so bewildered at him all the time. Eri had done the same thing when she first came to live with him. She would just stare at him with those large candy-apple eyes like he was both made of magic and something to fear at the same time. It didn’t matter how mundane the task, or how gently he spoke to her, it took months before the startled expression vanished altogether. 

It was only when he lay awake one night, holding her after a vicious nightmare, did it all click into place. Eri had spent her entire life trapped as a lab rat, experimented on by a madman. She knew nothing but blood and darkness. Everything was new to her. From toast popping up from the toaster; to Aizawa placing a plaster over a scrapped knee; to even Yamada singing her lullabies when the nights were tough. 

Everything was wonderful to her. And yet, despite her curiosity and excitement over these things, there was a level of fear to them. That included both him and Yamada.

She was waiting for them to hurt her. The hands that could braid her hair into pigtails, or wipe away her tears, were also the hands that could hurt her. 

But with Shinsou, the kid as far as he knew didn’t harbour any secrets like that. He could be aloof, or even hostile when pushed about his well-being, but Aizawa didn’t suspect a history as violent as Eri’s. 

He wondered as he stared at Shinsou whether he was wrong about his assumptions. 

“Why are you staring at baby Shinsou?” Yamada yawned as he waddled into the room, his hair in disarray.

“You can’t call him that.” Aizawa turned and began to butter Shinsou’s breakfast before sliding in front of the kid. 

“What?” Yamada slumped into one of the stools around the kitchen island.

“You can’t call him baby Shinsou.”

“Why not? He is a baby, right, Shinsou?” Yamada turned to the kid.

Shinsou looked up with buttery fingers and half a piece of toast in his mouth.

“I’m four,” Shinsou said in a matter-of-fact way before returning to his breakfast.

Aizawa snorted.

“You’ve been told.” Aizawa placed a plate of toast in front of Yamada. 

“Wow, Shou. It’s not even burnt. I’m proud.” Yamada chortled.

“Shut up, and eat.”

Quietly, the morning continued with an easy sort of quiet while they finished sipping coffee and nibbling on toast. Yamada scrolled through his phone, keeping up with the latest hero gossip and song charts; strangely there was a lot of overlap. Shinsou continued to nibble on his toast, licking his fingers when the butter began to roll down them. Aizawa texted Yaoyorozu, hoping to keep Eri with his class until later in the morning, at least until Shinsou’s foster father turned up. (Though, he kept the details of Shinsou’s situation quiet. There was no need to further embarrass the kid)

Yamada was the one who broke the calm, as usual. 

“Uh oh.” Hizashi made a strange, concerned noise while sticking his nose closer to his phone screen, squinting as he tried to read without his glasses.

“Put your glasses on,” Aizawa chastised, “and what do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

“U.A once again foiled by villains as student injured during internship,” Yamada read out before turning his screen to Aizawa. At the front of the article was a photo of Aizawa holding four-year-old Shinsou while talking to Ms. Joke.

“Vultures,” Aizawa grumbled as he took Yamada’s phone and read through the article. Thankfully, it was vague, and the journalist was clearly grasping at straws, trying to make a story that was hardly one at all. They didn’t even use Shinsou’s name, referring to him as a student of U.A.

“At least they blurred out the kiddo’s face.” Yamada pointed out.

“Do you know many students with hair like his?” Aizawa nodded to Shinsou, who was watching them with wide curious eyes.

“Point taken.” Yamada winced. The kid was unmistakable with his large floof of purple hair.

Aizawa continued to read:

‘After the terrible incidences that happened last year, including both the attack at the USJ, and the kidnapping of one of their students during a field trip, can U.A still be trusted with the safety of our children?

Pro-Hero, Eraserhead, can be seen holding one of his students after being hit with a quirk, rendering the student into an infant. Numerous attacks have been made against the students of U.A in the past year, but special attention has been focused on Eraserhead’s class of now 2-A. Many have questioned whether Pro-Hero Eraserhead is qualified to teach and keep his students safe, after he has fail-.”

Yamada covered the screen with his hand.

“Don’t. You know they’re just trying to sell a story.” Yamada took his phone back. “I should have read it before letting you see it. Sorry”

Aizawa said nothing. He hated the media, and the media hated him. It was a mutual relationship, but since Bakugou’s kidnapping, the name Eraserhead appeared more times in the news in the span of a year than it had done so in his entire career. And while a part of him sneered at the blasphemy against him, he agreed with a lot of what was being said. There was a lot that he hadn’t done to protect his students during both attacks; his best wasn’t good enough when a sixteen-year-old had been kidnapped by the most notorious group of villains in Japan’s recent quirked history.

“Shou.” Yamada interrupted his thoughts, placing a hand on his. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Aizawa squeezed Yamada’s hand.

“Look, let's get the little listener ready to go home. We can try his foster father’s number again. They’ve bound to have seen the news, so it’s only a matter of time until they wake up and call us.” Yamada pulled at Aizawa’s hand until he placed a kiss on his knuckles.

Aizawa nodded, not trusting his voice for a second before he turned to look at Shinsou, wondering how this hell class always managed to get him stuck in their messes. Shinsou wasn’t even part of the original nineteen, and yet he’d proven to be just as troublesome. And now he was staring at Aizawa, his head cocked to the side as if to say, ‘is all this about me?’

It was almost comical looking at that bashful, inquisitive expression of a four-year-old.

“You’re right.” Aizawa stood, his knees cracking in the process.

“Always am.” Yamada smirked before getting up, collecting Shinsou from the counter. Thankfully, the kid didn’t fuss, though he did stiffen in Yamada’s arms, casting a worried glance in Aizawa’s direction. “Give his foster father a call while I get the kiddo dressed. I ain’t sending the kid home wearing these, no matter how much he likes them.”

“Kitty.” Shinsou looked up at Yamada, pointing to the embroiled cat.

“I’ll give it a wash and you can take it home with you.” Yamada promised with a hook of his pinky finger. Carefully, Shinsou linked his pinky with Yamada’s. “Great. Let’s get ready!” Yamada cheered as he took Shinsou back into Eri’s room. 

And that left Aizawa with the annoying job of calling Shinsou’s foster. A part of him hoped that no one picked up, even though he (and Shinsou) needed them to. 

The phone rang several times before a gruff voice barked into the phone.

“Why are you ringing so early?” 

Shouta took a calm breath through the nose.

“This is Aizawa Shouta from U.A. I’m Shinsou’s homeroom teacher. I left you several voicemails concerning your kid.”

“Those were annoying,” Tanaka mumbled. “Well, what do you want me to do about it? U.A got the kid into the mess, they should be the ones to clean up after it.

Aizawa took another cam breath. 

“So, you know about the situation?” 

“It’s all over the bloody news.”

“And you didn’t think to ring U.A and find out about Shinsou’s condition?”

“He’s not dead, is he?” The voice asked sarcastically. 

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“We believe Shinsou would be more comfortable at home than stuck in the dorms with his peers and teachers.”

“So now I have to play babysitter?” 

“You did sign the foster papers,” Aizawa said flatly, and waited as the line went quiet. 

“I’ll be there in two hours. And I will be complaining to your boss about this.” 

And then the line went dead. 

Aizawa huffed as he threw his phone onto the sofa before leaning against its arm. He felt drained even though the conversation lasted less than a minute. He glanced conspiratorially towards Eri’s room; he could hear Yamada’s jovial voice through the walls, even though they were soundproof. 

With Yamada distracted. Aizawa crept towards their room. He wanted a five-minute nap, or however long he could go on without Yamada busting him. 

However, the floorboard in the corridor creaked underneath his foot. He was always meant to fix that. 

“Shouta.” A stern voice came from Eri’s bedroom. 

Aizawa sighed and dragged himself into Eri’s room. Several of her clothes were haphazardly thrown onto her bed while Hizashi was half bent into her set of draws.

Shinsou stood behind him awkwardly. It was so much like his teenage self, Aizawa had to stifle a laugh, that didn’t go unnoticed as two violet eyes swung up at him. 

“Hizashi. The kid is just going home. Not to a fashion show. Anything will do.”

“I know! I just want the kid to be comfortable.” Yamada pulled back with a pair of soft jeans and a large dark red, woolly jumper.  “Eri won’t mind missing this. She never wears it.”

And if by Shinsou’s face, the kid didn’t seem to like it either. His little hands clutched onto the end of the shirt he was wearing. 

“You can take the shirt home, Shinsou.” Aizawa patted the’s kids when Shinsou gave him a shy smile. 

Again without fuss, Shinsou got changed. He was delighted by the pair of socks he was given; they were white with little calico cats stitched into them. 

The three of them waited in the living room for Tanaka to arrive, the tv showing some children’s show neither of them know of. Shinsou didn’t seem to care for it either, giving it a quick glance before he sat down by Aizawa’s feet, making shapes with his finger on the carpet.

“Do you want to grab some toys to play with?” Yamada bent down over the kid from the sofa.

Shinsou shook his head before continuing to play with the carpet.

“What kid doesn’t like playing with toys?” Yamada signed over Shinsou’s head.

“Eri.” Aizawa shrugged. It had taken Eri a few months to even accept any toys either he or Yamada, or the kids bought her. It was one very well-crafted Deku bunny plushie made by Yaoyorozu to crack through Eri’s aversion to toys. It also helped that Midoriya was given his own version of the toy, encouraging Eri that it was okay to receive the gift. 

“Eri was a special case,” Yamada signed.

“Not all kids like toys.” Aizawa signed back. “I never did.”

“You don’t count. You’ve always been a grouch who doesn’t like material things.” Yamada threw his hands up into the air, exasperated.

It was then that the jingle of a collar came sounding down the corridor, interrupting them all.

“Guess the princess is awake.” Yamada chuckled.

“I was wondering where she’d gotten to.” Aizawa threw his head over his shoulder as Jelly came trotting down the corridor.

He wasn’t the only one who took note of the cat as she jumped up onto the arm of the sofa and butted her head against Aizawa’s shoulder. Shinsou was braced against Aizawa’s knees, his eyes wide and sparkling as he stared at Jelly.

“Want to pet her?” Aizawa asked, rubbing his finger under the tabby’s chin, earning a bout of happy purrs.

Shinsou beamed at him. He’d never seen the kid this happy before, not even when he had bestowed the kid with his own capture weapon, or told him personally that he’d gotten into the hero course. 

Yamada laughed next to him.

“Mentee like mentor.” He rolled his eyes.

Aizawa ignored him and plucked Jelly up into his arms before he settled them both onto the floor.

“Do you know how to pet nicely?” Aizawa asked as he demonstrated a soft touch around the cat’s back.

“Gently,” Shinsou said softly, holding his hands together as if to hold himself back.

Aizawa nodded, “go ahead”.

Delighted, Shinsou ran a careful hand down Jelly’s back. His grin still hadn’t fallen from his face, and Aizawa couldn’t resist his own at the picture in front of him. 

“I wonder if he’ll remember any of this when he reverts back,” Yamada asked, draping himself across the sofa. 

“I don’t know what’s worse. Reliving your toddler years, or not remembering living it while your teachers do?” Aizawa rubbed his jaw. 

“Imagine Nedzu looking after baby us.”

Aizawa snapped his head around to Yamada.

“Don’t even joke.”

Yamada burst into laughter, startling both Jelly and Shinsou, who turned to give him an accusatory look. Yamada was too busy wiping his eyes to even notice. 

“Even worse, imagine Nemuri.” Yamada gasped between the laughter. “She’d blackmail us for the rest of our lives.”

Aizawa shuddered at the thought. There was no doubt that Kayama would take full advantage of the situation. 

“Remind me not to inform her of Shinsou’s situation.” He didn’t need to put the kid through that. 

“His foster father should be he-.” 

A knock sounded on the door. 

“They just let him come straight up?” Aizawa wrinkled his nose as he stood, stretching until every joint seemed to crack.

Yamada got up and went to the door. It was only Thirteen. Thankfully, they were one of the more tolerable teachers on staff. Dealing with either Kayama, or worse Toshinori, during this situation would simply be a recipe for ulcers.  

“Shinsou’s father is waiting downstairs for you. Nedzu is there too.”

Aizawa grumbled. He needed to add the rat to the list of staff that gave him ulcers. 

“Let us just grab the kid,” Yamada said, skipping over to Shinsou.

Thirteen poked their head through the doorway and waved at a gawking Shinsou. 

“He’s a little shy,” Yamada said, offering his hand to Shinsou, who glanced up at him before pouting down at Jelly, continuing to pet her fur. “Come on, buddy! It’s time to go home.”

“Kitty,” Shinsou whined, his bottom lip jutting out further. Jelly didn’t help by rubbing her head against Shinsou’s chest, purring loudly. 

“Grab his things, Hizashi.” Aizawa waved his husband off before coming to a crouch in front of Shinsou. The kid looked pitiful, tears quickly forming at the corners of his eyes.

Shinsou wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. 

“Can I-I want to stay.”

Aizawa would be lying if it didn’t tug on his heartstrings, just a little. 

“You can visit Jelly when you’re big again.” Aizawa tempted before offering his hand. 

And with a big, dramatic sign and sniffle, Shinsou crawled over to Aizawa and brought up his arms to be carried. 

He wanted to tell the kid he was too big to be carried everywhere, but toddlers were prone to tantrums when they didn’t get their way. Aizawa didn’t want to test that. He’d already made Shinsou do one thing he didn’t want to do. 

“Shoes first.” Aizawa grabbed the pair Yamada had brought out. 

Shinsou pouted again, but grabbed the velcro trainers and slipped them on with little fussing. And for a moment, Aizawa was glad that it was Shinsou, and not one of his others students in this situation. He couldn’t imagine Bakugou being this easy. 

“Let’s go, kid.” Aizawa plucked Shinsou up and balanced him onto his hip. Shinsou simply turned in his grip and buried his face into Aizawa’s shoulder. With his hand square on Shinsou’s back, he could feel the kid trembling ever so slightly. There was no reason for the flair of panic inside Aizawa’s chest at the idea of handing Shinsou over to his foster father. The kid didn’t even remember him. It was normal for little kids to get scared of new things. Only yesterday, the kid was scared of him. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Aizawa whispered into Shinsou’s ear. Even though it was normal to be scared, a little comfort never hurt. 

The kid jumped when the elevator dinged as it reached the bottom floor, clutching onto Aizawa’s shirt as if his life depended on it. 

The communal area of the teacher’s dorm was quiet and empty, aside from Nedzu who sat happily on one of the sofa, drinking from a cup of tea. Next to him sat a man with a straight, long face. He wore a cheap suit that was a size too small, and his hair was dyed a shade too dark as though to cover any natural greys. Unlike Nedzu, he didn’t have a cup of tea, but instead was glaring at his clasps hands, almost as though he was lost in angry thoughts.

“Ah, good morning Hizashi, Shouta. Oh, and little Shinsou too. Would you care for some tea? It is quite good.” Nedzu perked up as they entered.

“Morning! We’re all caffeinated for the morning!” Yamada hollered, far too loud for how early it was. 

Aizawa gave a single nod before he tried to pull Shinsou off him, but the kid clung to him, his fingers shaking from the effort.

“Kid, let go.” 

Shinsou shook his head, squirming as he tried to wrap his legs around Aizawa’s middle, but they were far too short to do so.

It was this that got Tanaka’s attention, the man looking up, scoffing as he did. 

“Causing trouble as always,” he said gruffly, coming to a stand. 

Aizawa paused, narrowing his gaze at Tanaka. With the new opportunity, Shinsou repositioned himself, getting a better grip on Aizawa’s shirt. 

“Little Shinsou has been nothing but a delight,” Yamada quickly butted in. “We haven’t had a bit of trouble.”

Aside from biting a police officer, Aizawa thought but kept to himself. 

“He’s an angel at school, but at home, boy, the stories I could tell. The brat has a mouth on him.” 

It was well known that Shinsou could be a smartarse, or quick to make snippy comments when pushed, but Aizawa had never found it a problem when training the kid. The kid gave him all the respect that was expected from a teacher/student relationship, plus more. It had actually taken a few weeks of training before Shinsou began joining in with the witty remarks. 

Though, Aizawa supposed not everyone could appreciate smart comments. 

No one said anything as Aizawa finally pulled Shinsou free. The kid still clung to his pant leg, but it was better than him acting like a human koala. 

“I hope U.A are going to compensate me for having to leave work for this.” Tanaka turned a sharp eye to Nedzu.

“Of course. It is our fault dear Shinsou got hurt in the first place. We wouldn’t want to cause more upset or trouble.” Nedzu smiled pleasantly. 

“Good. I’m not happy about looking after the brat. I took on a teenager for a reason. I ain’t got time to look after babies.” He snorted, before turning to Shinsou. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Shinsou half hid himself behind Aizawa’s leg, his eyes wide and terrified. 

As softly as he could, Aizaw ran a hand over Shinsou’s hair. 

“Go on, kid. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Shinsou looked up at him and shook his head.

With a sigh, Aizawa dropped down to the kid’s level. He pulled Shinsou away from his leg and held onto the kid’s hands, squeezing them. 

“Are you scared?”

Shinsou nodded.

“Why are you scared?”

Shinsou sniffled, turning a curious eye to Mr Tanaka before shrugging back to Aizawa.

“Then there’s no reason to be scared.” Aizawa gave the kid a soft smile, similar to the one he gave to Eri. 

It was the wrong thing to do as tears bubbled in Shinsou’s eyes before the kid clung to Aizawa’s knee with a trembling grip, and in the most pitiful, quiet voice, he said;

“Don’t make me go.” 

“I’m sorry.” Aizawa swallowed as he pulled Shinsou’s hand from him. “I’ll see you when you’re big again.”

And with that, hand in hand, Aizawa led Shinsou over to Tanaka. 

“This is Tanaka. He’s your foster father. He going to take care of you for the next week.” Aizawa explained, but Shinsou didn’t even look up, and instead stared down at his shoes, sniffling. 

“Come along, Shinsou,” Tanaka said.

And as gently as he could, Aizawa stepped back and let go of Shinsou’s hand. For a second, the kid seemed lost as he looked at his empty hand. But then he turned to Tamada and raised his little hand up to be held. 

However, Tanaka ignore it and moved towards the front door, throwing a curt goodbye to Nedzu. Shinsou stared at his empty hand again before he hurried after Tanaka. But just as he was about to leave, he stopped and turned back with watery eyes. 

Aizawa was hard pressed not to step forward and take the kid back. But he had duties to perform. He still had nineteen of his homeroom kids to look after, plus Eri. He couldn’t divide his attention any more than it already was. And he wasn’t Shinsou’s parent. That role was already filled. 

So instead, he gave the kid a little wave. Shinsou waved back.

“Shinsou. Come on.” Tanaka’s voice was sharp as it cut through the doorway, causing Shinsou to jump. And then the kid was gone, scurrying out the door. 

“Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be. Now, there is paperwork…” Nedzu’s voice was lost on Aizawa as he stared at the open door. 

Even though he knew that Shinsou had to return home for the week, the same as the kid had done a hundred times before since joining U.A, something in his gut told him he’d just made a huge mistake. 

Chapter Text

“Do you think if you glare at Kaminari’s essay any longer it will magically become an A?” Yamada’s voice broke Aizawa out of his head. 

“What?” He blinked through the mind fog.

“You’ve been staring at the kid’s essay for the last twenty minutes.” Yamada walked over to where Aizawa was sat at the table, and plucked the red pen out of Aizawa’s hand. “I think that’s enough for one day.”

Aizawa ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose as the headache he’d been ignoring made itself known. 

“What’s up?” Yamada laid his arm across Aizawa head and rested his own there, making Aizawa hold both their weights, but he didn’t complain; somehow the strange position soothed his headaches.

“It’s nothing.” 

“Try again.” 

Aizawa sighed and slumped against the table, Hizashi almost pinning him against it.

“You’re worried about the little listener?” Yamada said. 

“Yeah.”

“Shou, he’ll be fine.” Yamada pulled back and gathered Aizawa’s hair into his hands, his fingers gently combing through it, threading through the cobs and knots.

“I just have a gut feeling,” Aizawa mumbled, leaning back into Yamada’s touch, closing his eyes with a flutter of his eyelashes as Yamada’s nails ran over his scalp. 

“Sure, Mr Tanaka didn’t seem like the nicest of people, but we can’t just take his kid away because of that. Did Shinsou say anything about him to you before?”

Aizawa sighed again, almost slumping into the chair. 

“Of course not. The kid is tight lipped about his home life.”

“Not unexpected from someone in the system. Probably had some tough memories there.” 

“That’s why I never pried.” Aizawa wanted to bury his face in his hands, and his mind in a glass of whiskey, but Yamada kept his head back, his fingers still combing through every strand. “Maybe I should have.”

“You know as much as any hero there’s no point thinking about what-ifs.”

Aizawa tutted. 

“I know. But- I don’t know, Hizashi. I always thought the kid would come to me if he needed help.”

“Maybe the reason the little listener never went to you is because he didn’t need help, Shou.”

Aizawa pushed his bottom lip out. His gut was never wrong, no matter how much others tried to reassure him. Something was wrong, and his mind wouldn’t stop spinning until he saw the kid again; happy and safe. 

Yamada sighed above him. 

“I know that look.”

“There’s no look,” Aizawa grumbled.

“Mmh.” Yamada hummed with a disbelieving tune. “Why don’t you conduct a home visit tomorrow? Just to check in on the little listener? And then you can see for yourself that he’s okay” Yamada collected Aizawa’s hair back into his hands now that it was free from knots and began to braid it with nimble fingers. 

“I wish I could just take him now,” Aizawa said, quietly.

“You can’t just take the kid, Shou. That’s kidnapping.” Yamada tugged at the braid with an amused snort.

“Technically we do have custody over him while he attends U.A.” Aizawa cast a smirk over his shoulder.

“Turn around, or you’ll mess up your braid,” Yamada chastised with a click of his tongue. “You’re unbelievable.”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence as Yamada finished braiding his hair, and only stepped back with the snap of an elastic at the end of the tail. 

“Done!” He clapped his hands together, and Aizawa couldn’t help but run his fingers over the plaits, smiling softly at how neat they were. He never understood how Yamada managed to tame his curls. 

“Thank you.” 

“You are most welcome, my beautiful husband.” Yamada took Aizawa’s face into his hands, his thumb caressing the scar on his cheekbone. “I know you care for your students, especially Shinsou. I’m not dismissing your worry, but sometimes, you see so much of the bad side of society that you think everyone has a dark side.

Aizawa leaned into the Yamada’s warm hands and closed his eyes. He knew Yamada was right. He was quick to judge others, and he didn’t let anyone within striking distance until he could tell whether they were a danger or not.

“There was just something about him,” Aizawa said.

“You can’t take someone’s kid away just because they’re rude, Shou.” Yamada squished his cheeks together, pushing out his lips like fish. “You are a wonderful, caring person. Shinsou is lucky to have you as a mentor.” And then he gave him a quick peck before moving back. “Eri will be home in ten minutes. You can be a mother hen around her.”

Aizawa snorted as he got up and cleaned the table. There was no way he could focus on marking when he was still fretting about Shinsou. 

“You’re right.” 

“Always am.”

It was only fifteen minutes later until the front door opened, and a voice, small and light, called out.

“I’m home.” Eri rushed into the room, throwing off her shoes as she rushed over to Yamada. 

“Welcome home, baby!” Yamada gave her a goofy smile before he jumped into position, his knees bent and hand outstretched. Eri giggled as she copied him. “Ready?”

“Ready!” 

Aizawa rolled his eyes as the pair started their secret handshake that looked like nothing more than flailing arms and skips, making his way over to Yaoyorozu, grabbing his wallet on the way. 

“How was she?” Aizawa asked, taking Eri’s sleep-over bag from her, looping it over his shoulder.

“Oh, she was good as always,” Yaoyorozu said, smiling warmly as she watched the pair bump their hips together. 

“Any nightmares?”

“She woke up once, but after some hot milk, she went right back to sleep.”

“Good.” Aizawa smiled softly. It was a known fact that Eri suffered many setbacks from her time at the Shie Hassaikai. And while U.A offered her protection and safety, they could only do so much to help her heal. It was just a waiting game, hoping day by day she got better. “Here.” Aizawa pulled out a handful of notes.

“Mr Aizawa, we can’t take your money!” Yaoyorozu said, taking a step back as if the money was a threat.

“Take it.” Aizawa followed her. “You girls spent your night babysitting. That’s a job. Take it.” Aizawa waved the money, one eyebrow quirked. 

Yaoyorozu bit her lip and rubbed her hands together, her old nervous habits breaking through. But Aizawa didn’t pull back but instead shook the money again. 

“I have things to do, Yaoyorozu,” Aizawa said, trying to add as much drawl to his voice as possible.

With a squeak, Yaoyorozu jumped and took the money. 

“Thank you, Mr Aizawa,” she said, giving a small, shy bow.

Aizawa nodded, before casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Yamada and Eri were too busy to notice him, searching through Eri’s bag as she pulled out drawing after drawing. They were slowly running out of room on the fridge and walls. 

“Yaoyorozu.” Aizawa turned back to her. “Can you look after Eri tomorrow, please? It might be all day, even into the night.”

“Oh, of course, Sensei.” 

“I’ll drop her off in the morning before I go.”

“Is this concerning Shinsou again?” Yaoyorozu asked, concern easy to spot in her voice.

“Again?” Aizawa asked.

“Oh, I just heard that yesterday’s matter concerned Shinsou.”

“I didn’t take you for school gossip, Yaoyorozu?” Aizawa grinned.

“Oh. I’m-. As Class Vice President, I just wanted, well the class- we’ve become close with- we just-.”

Aizawa raised a palm.

“I’m joking,” Aizawa said.

“I’m sorry,” Yaoyorozu squeaked, a dark blush spread across her cheeks as she ducked her head.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I know you and the rest of your hellspawn are too nosy for your own good.” Aizawa gave her a soft smile. “It’s a good thing.”

“Is Shinsou okay?” She asked. 

“I’ll be visiting him tomorrow to make sure he is.”

Yaoyorozu stared at him for a moment, her lip caught between her lips and the space between her brows creased. He could see the questions turning in her mind, but despite all their progress with her confidence, there were still moments where doubt kept her from acting, even against him. 

“He’ll be fine,” Aizawa said, ushering Yaoyorozu towards the staircase. 

“Okay, thank you, Sensei.” Yaoyororzu gave a quick bow. “Can you tell him that Class 1-A are thinking of him?”

Aizawa resisted the urge to roll his eyes, despite how the sentiment warmed him. 

“Yeah, kid. But he’ll be fine.” Or so he hoped. 

Shinsou lived in an average apartment building, three trains away from Musutafu. Aizawa didn’t even want to know how early the kid had to wake up every morning just to make it to school. It was no wonder he always looked tired. 

The building itself was clean with a little wear and tear from use and years. Though, it was clean and light. It was a far cry from other homes Aizawa had visited as a paranoid teacher over the years. He could even hear children playing in the courtyard below, screaming with delight. 

It all seemed normal. Domestically so. 

And yet, he couldn’t drop the uneasy feeling in his gut as he stood outside Tanaka’s door. If he ignored the feeling, there was a small chance that Shinsou was fine, that he was being paranoid. If he never knew, he would never have to confirm his suspicions.

But he’d never been able to ignore that feeling. Not after Sushi. He couldn’t leave something that needed help behind again. 

So with an apprehensive breath, Aizawa knocked on the door. The fear renewed when Tanaka opened the door with a cut-off ‘what’, and paled at the sight of Aizawa.

“You already handed the kid back to me, and I don’t have another one. So, what do you want?” Tanaka huffed, leaning against the door in a feigned casual stance. 

“I’m just conducting a visit to make sure Shinsou’s okay.”

“And why wouldn’t he?” Tanaka tried to stand taller and loom over Aizawa, and while in the world of quirks, Aizawa was of average height, the same could not be said for Tanaka, who was almost a head shorter than him. 

“He did get hit with a quirk only a few days ago. I want to make sure there are no side effects we haven’t seen,” Aizawa explained, his expression blank and voice flat. 

“He’s fine.” Tanaka moved to shut the door.

“It won’t take a second.” Aizawa put his foot in the door. Yamada was right about a lot of things. Aizawa did see the bad in people before the good. But sometimes, Aizawa was right. And this was one of those times, he just knew it. 

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time with all this malarky.” 

“We don’t have many records of the quick’s side effects. It’s best for everyone to make sure Shinsou isn’t suffering from it.”

Tanaka’s face grew red. 

“Listen here, buddy. I’m not a moron. I can tell myself if the kid is dying or not. He’s fine. Now beat it.”

“With all due respect, you’re not a pro hero. There are signs-.”

“The. Kid. Is. Fine.” A bead of sweat rolled from Tanaka’s temple. “He’ll be back at your school when he’s no longer a drooling little shit.”

“I insist-.” 

“Do you have a warrant?” Tanaka asked, interrupting Aizawa.

“Do I need one?” Aizawa cocked an eyebrow.

“If you want to step a foot into my flat, then yes. Otherwise, buzz off.”

Pushing Aizawa’s foot aside, Tanaka slammed the door shut. 

And against any rational thought, Aizawa lifted his leg and in one solid kick, the door swung open, almost ripping from its hinges.

“Wha-! You can’t just barge in here!” Tanaka yelled, coming forward. 

Aizawa didn’t let him, instead grabbed a fistful of his suit and slammed him against a wall. 

“ Where is he ?” Aizawa snarled, his face so close to Tananka’s he could see his own reflection in Tanaka’s dilated pupils.

“He’s not here,” Tanaka spat, hands coming up to fight against Aizawa’s grip. 

“Liar.” Aizawa dragged him from the wall, only to shove him against it again, drawing a yelp from the man. “Where is he?”

Tanaka kept his mouth shut, but Aizawa wasn’t an underground hero for nothing. He saw the second Tanaka’s eyes betrayed him- it was only a glance towards a closed door, but it was enough for Aizawa. 

He tossed Tanaka as he strode towards the door.

“You can’t go in there! You’re breaking the law!” Tanaka cried behind him.

But Aizawa continued to march forward, throwing the door open to find the room inside empty. It was clearly Shinsou’s room with a single bed shoved into the corner, and his school bag tucked next to it, but the kid wasn’t there.

“I told you. He’s not here.” Tanaka came up behind him, grabbing the back of his capture weapon and tugged. “Now get out!”

Aizawa resisted, staring into the room. It was bare, achingly so. It didn’t look like it belonged to a seventeen-year-old boy. He’d seen Shinsou’s room at the dorms, (after they had cleaned out all the Ganriki Neko decorations his classmates had bought for the kid), and it was nothing like this. While it wasn’t as extreme as some of his other peers, it was tastefully similar to what Aizawa expected from the boy- dark colours with a splash of greens and purples, his bike proudly leaning against the wall, and a singular Neko plush sitting on his bed. 

The walls here were a standard cream colour without a single poster decorating them. The bed was made of standard white sheets and a singular pillow. It was similar to a showhome, a blank canvas for the owners to do as they wished. 

And while it wasn’t a crime to keep an organised home, and a simple explanation could be that Shinsou’s things were at Heights Alliance, Aizawa knew otherwise. He could feel it in his bones. He’d seen a million bad homes; there wasn’t a standard for it. Some were messy and smelled of desperation and mould, others were lemon sharp and clean, disguising the horrors with a ruse of bleach. 

“Aren’t you listening?” Tanaka snapped. “Get out!”

“Hitoshi?” Aizawa called into the room, despite there not being a single place for the kid to hide. 

“He’s not here!” Tanaka yelled. “I’ll call the police!” Aizawa felt a fist hit the back of his head, but still, he held his ground. 

It was only when Tanaka grabbed two loops of his capture weapon and twisted the material tight against his windpipe, jolting his head back, did Aizawa see it. A small door hidden just behind the bed. There was a bolt strapped across it. 

Aizawa rammed his elbow back into Tanaka’s ribs, and ran forward, hoping that his suspicions were wrong.

Without a second's hesitation, he pulled the bed back with a screeching noise, and ripped the bolt back so quickly that a crack split the wooden frame around the door. 

Two tear-filled eyes found him in the dark. 

Aizawa’s hands trembled as he stared at the tape wrapped painfully tight around the kid’s mouth. 

“Oh, kid…” Aizawa reached forward in a slow careful movements, his fingers gently removing Shinsou from his contorted, squished shape. The kid flinched back into the space, making a keening muffled sound from beneath the tape. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

Shinsou’s eyes found him again before they dropped to his hands, and then back to his face. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo.”

And with a wail, Shinsou lunged out of the cupboard, throwing himself into Aizawa’s arms. 

“It’s okay now, I got you.” Aizaa held his student close, almost cradling him to his chest in the same way he did with Eri when her nightmares were too much.

Shinsou sobbed into him, his little fingers scrambling to grab a hold of Aizawa’s capture weapon. His body spasmed as he struggled with hiccuping breaths, snot running down over the tape. 

“Breathe.” Aizawa soothed, trying to pull Shinsou back. But the kid screamed and kicked, tearing at the scarf like a feral cat, nails clawing at Aizawa’s neck. “Shh. I’m not going anywhere. I just need to take the tape off, okay?”

Shinsou shook his head, sobbing so loudly it bounced inside Aizawa’s head. 

“Okay, then just breathe for me. Big breaths.” Aizawa took a big breath, filling his lungs in dramatic fashion for the kid to follow, but Shinsou refused, almost howling in great sobs.

They only stopped as the sound of a heavy grunt came from behind them. The kid froze, his fingers holding even tighter onto the capture weapon. Aizawa whipped his head around to find Tanaka pushing himself up onto his feet, a bump on his head from where he fell. 

A hot sizzling feeling scorched across Aizawa’s skin. He rose, tucking the kid against his side as he marched towards Tanaka. Tanaka startled backwards at whatever expression he saw on Aizawa’s face, throwing his palms up. 

“Now wait! You don’t understand! He tried to brainwash me!” He stuttered, stumbling over his feet. “He’s dangerous!”

He was on the floor before Aizawa could even feel his knuckles throbbing from where he’d thrown the first punch. 

“You ever touch my kid again, and I’ll make sure you never know another day of peace in your life,” Aizawa snarled, looming over Tanaka’s prone figure. 

Shinsou shuddered against him, gasping.

Aizawa stepped over Tanaka and headed straight to his car. Despite the pure rage coursing over him, he carefully got into the driver’s seat, settling Shinsou into his lap. The kid was still crying, but now they were out of the flat, they were quiet compared to moments ago. Just tiny little whimpers that broke Aizawa’s heart.

“Can I take the tape off?”Aizawa asked gently, wiping a fat tear rolling down Shinsou’s red cheeks. Shinsou sat back and looked up at him, his eyes welling helplessly. “Gods, what sort-.” He bit back the venom in his voice as Shinsou flinched. “Sorry.”

Shinsou only sniffled back as he reached out with one hand, the other still firmly holding onto the capture weapon, to tug at the tape.

Aizawareached forward and picked at one of the corners, careful of Shinsou’s reaction, but the kid waited for him, squeezing his eyes shut.

“This is going to sting,” Aizawa warned. And quickly, Aizawa tore the tape away in one sharp motion. The kid jumped but didn’t make a sound despite how inflamed the skin looked. Aizawa left the piece of tape stuck in the kid’s hair alone, they could wash that out later. 

 Little hands came up around his mouth, feeling around his lips, fingers trembling against a sore spot.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Aizawa ran a soft thumb over the skin around his mouth. “Are your hurt anywhere else?”

Shinsou shook his head, burying it into Aizawa’s chest. Now with the adrenaline slowing ebbing away, Aizawa noticed the fingers shaped bruise around Shinsou’s tiny bicep. The shirt the kid wore was the same one they had sent the kid home in. And the kid stunk like he had wet himself, his shorts still slightly damp. 

Swallowing down his anger and guilt, or lest he raced back up into the apartment, Aizawa held Shinsou close, placing a hand on his back, feeling the kid’s heart beating against his palm. 

“I’m so sorry, Hitoshi.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa slumped into the car seat as he finally pulled up inside his apartment’s garage. His hands continued to shake, even without the rumble of the engine. He felt jittery. Like the leftover energy after a near-death incident, one he could hardly believe he survived.

But he hadn’t almost escaped with his life hanging on by a thread. He hadn’t nimbly dodged that cutting blow. And he hadn’t ducked at the last second as a bullet flew centimetres over his head.

All he had done was rescue a small boy, and it left him trembling.

It made Shinsou look up at him, eyes wide and bloodshot. It was almost bitterly comical how concerned the kid looked, as if he was the one who needed comfort, and not the other way around.

“I promise you will never stay under that man’s roof. Not even when you’re big again.” He pushed Shinsou’s fringe out of his eyes. The kid only blinked at him, clearly confused. “We’ll sort something out for you.”

Shinsou nodded, though it was obvious he still didn’t understand, and plopped his head against Aizawa’s chest, his little fingers gripping tightly onto Aizawa’s capture weapon.

I promise.

Aizawa rubbed Shinsou’s back before he slid out of the car.

“Come on, let’s go tell Hizashi that you’re staying with us for the next couple of days.”

He carried the kid up the stairs, neither willing to let go. Trying to fish out his keys became a little difficult whenShinsou refused to be moved, even to sit on his hip. But eventually, they unlocked the door to the sound of Yamada singing softly to the radio.

“Shou? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” Aizawa called back, slipping off his boots. (He had forgotten to grab Shinsou’s pair when they had stormed out of Tanaka’s flat. Thankfully, the kid was at least socked).

Yamada scoffed jovially.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if Nem broke in.”

Aizawa winced at the choice of words as he stepped into the kitchen, Shinsou still clinging to his capture weapon.

“Speaking of breaking in…”

Yamada turned, his brows furrowed.

“What do you-. Shouta!” Yamada’s eyes widened past his glasses. “What is Hitoshi doing here?“

Shinsou flinched at Yamada’s volume before tucking his face into Aizawa’s shoulder.

“I-.”

“Wait-. Did you break into his house and take the kid?” Yamada shrieked. “Shouta! You just kidnapped a child! You can’t just take someone else’s kid home! Do you realise how much trouble you are in?”

“Hizashi.” Aizawa hissed sternly.

“You could lose your job. You could be arrested!” Yamada continued to yell.

“Hizashi-.”

“Shou, you can’t just take a kid because you have a bad feeling about their dad.”

“It wasn’t just a bad feeling.” Aizawa held Shinsou closer as the kid whined. “And he’s not his father.”

“Regardless of his title, he’s the kid’s guardian-.”

Aizawa placed a hand against Shinsou’s ear and tucked him into his chest, hopefully blocking out the conversation.

“He duct-taped Hitoshi’s mouth shut.”

Yamada’s expression fell mid-shout.

“What?”

Aizawa sighed, the weight of the news still heavy on his shoulders.

“He shoved the kid into a closet and wrapped his mouth shut with tape.”

Several expressions crossed Yamada’s face.

“But…he’s just a baby,” Yamada whispered, his hand reaching out as if he needed to take Shinsou into his own arms. But he quickly dropped them, wringing them together in a nervous manner. “Who would do that to a kid?”

The image of Shinsou's taped face, all snotty and ruddy, flashed inside his mind.

“Shouta. We sent him home with him. We sent the kid home with him,” Yamada babbled.

“I know.” Aizawa rubbed a hand up and down Shinsou’s back. 

Yamada’s hands clenched into fists.

“Where is the bastard?”

“Don’t know.”

“I want to scream so lou-.”

Whatever Yamada was going to say was interrupted by a curious, but quiet voice coming from behind them.

“Who’s that?” Eri stood in the hallway, her head cocked to the side as she stared at Shinsou. Aizawa blinked at the intrusion, not expecting Eri to be there. 

“I thought you were with 2A.”

“Papa picked me up.”

Yamada raised his hands to Aizawa’s glare.

“Don’t give me that look. I didn’t know you were kidnapping kids, Shou.”

Aizawa closed his eyes and counted to five. Once he opened them, he made his way to the sofa, where he nodded for Eri to follow. He and Yamada would continue their conversation later when there weren’t little ears listening in.

The intruder in question trotted up to his side before scrambling up onto the sofa, peering over at Shinsou’s curled-up form- the kid had fallen asleep sometimes during Yamada’s and his conversation. Eri’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Do you remember Shinsou?” Aizawa asked.

Eri’s brows furrowed as she nodded.

“Well, Shinsou got hit with a quirk that reverted him into a toddler.”

Eri scrutinised Shinsou with a wrinkled up nose.

“But Shinsou’s big.”

“He usually is, but the quirk made him little, kiddo.” Yamada sat on the other side of Eri.

“And he needs a place to stay while we wait for him to become a teenager again.”

Aizawa watched as the realisation slowly dawned on Eri. Her expression was still curious, but he could see the small seedling of doubt in her eyes and the way she scratched the scars on her arms. Aizawa gently took her hand in his.

“Is he sleeping in my room?” Eri asked, idly poking Aizawa’s palm.

“No, that’s where you sleep. We have a spare futon for Shinsou.”

Eri quirked her mouth to the side.

“But he’s little. Littler than me,” she said.

“He’ll be fine, kiddo.” Yamada gently ran a hand through her hair, and Eri leaned into his chest, beaming up at him. Yamada smiled back, but his lips were tighter and his eyes didn’t wrinkle in the corner.

Aizawa knew there was a storm of worries brewing inside that thick, blonde head of his. Though, he couldn’t judge. His own thoughts plagued him too.

“Can I say hello?” Eri asked, once again leaning over Aizawa, her face close to Shinsou’s. Aizawa chuckled as he gently pushed her back.

“He’s asleep.”

Eri huffed ever so slightly. And it made Aizawa wonder if she’d ever seen someone younger than her before.

“How about we throw him a little welcome party, huh?” Yamada said, scooping Eri into his lap. “Does that sound fun?”

Eri looked back to Shinsou as if wondering whether this tiny thing of a child would appreciate such a thing.

“Hizashi.” Aizawa didn’t think so.

“We won’t go overboard.” Yamada flapped his hand. “The little tike will need some clothes. He can’t just borrow Eri’s. And maybe some of his own toys, so they don’t always have to share.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Eri said, looking up at a Yamada from his lap.

“Aww, you’re a goodie, Eri.” Yamada squeezed her tight, earning a squeal from her. “But it might be nice for the kid to have something that’s his, right?”

Eri thought about it before nodding.

“Can I pick out a toy for Shinsou?” Eri asked.

“Only if you beat me to putting on our shoes!” Yamada squeezed Eri again, who giggled as she tried wiggling out of Yamada’s hold.

“Let go!” Eri shrieked, slapping at Yamada’s arms, grinning ear to ear.

“I’m not even holding you!” Yamada rolled his eyes while throwing Eri over his shoulder, earning another bout of giggling.

“Shh,” Aizawa chastised, though he couldn’t help smile at how silly the pair were. “You’ll wake Shinsou.”

They froze before looking at each other, both placing their fingers on their lips.

“We can’t wake the baby,” Yamada whispered before plopping Eri down in the genkan.

“He’s not a baby,” Aizawa sighed. Thankfully, Shinsou hadn’t even stirred during the commotion. Instead, he curled even closer into Aizawa’s chest, his thumb firmly placed in his mouth. “Just be quiet.”

Yamada gave a double thumbs up before helping Eri into her favourite sequined trainers.

“Do you want anything from the shops, Shou?” Yamada asked, halfway through the door.

“Peace and quiet,” Aizawa said over his shoulder, grinning at the mocking grumble from Yama before the door clicked closed.

And while peace and quiet is exactly what he got, Aizawa felt the guilt from earlier resurfaced without the distraction of his loud family.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Aizawa said to himself, watching as Shinsou slept. With his thumb in his mouth, and the way his hands curled towards his face, for once the kid looked peaceful. But the earlier trauma of staying with Tanaka was still evident. There was tape still tangled with knots at the back of the kid’s hair; his clothes stunk worse the more Aizawa tried not to breathe in through his nose.

He definitely needed to give Shinsou a bath.

Rising without waking the kid, Aizawa carried him to Eri’s bathroom and began to run the bath. When Eri had first come to live with them, the bathtub was a source of fear- the poor kid would freeze whenever the water ran, crying silently even when Yamada added bubbles to the mix. So, to lessen the amount of time where Eri stood waiting for the bath to fill, Aizawa would always do so when she was asleep or distracted. He was proud to say he was skilled at doing so quietly. Shinsou hadn’t even cracked an eye open.

Though, it had taken getting into the bathtub himself, trunks and all, was the only thing that helped Eri for those first few months. He had never had so many baths in his life, and yet whenever Eri needed one, he was there in his swim trunks, ready to splash about with numerous toys and bubbles.

He really hoped he didn’t need to do the same with Shinsou.

“Hey, kiddo, time to wake up.” Aizawa rocked Shinsou up and down, patting the kid’s back as he did so. Shinsou only whined in response, jamming his thumb further into his mouth and clinging to Aizawa’s shirt with the other hand. “I know, naps are great, but you need a bath.”

At this, Shinsou woke, blinking sluggishly before looking around a little dazed. He eyed the bathtub suspiciously before flopping his face against Aizawa’s shoulder. Whatever he mumbled there was lost in the cotton, though Aizawa had an idea.

“Want to help pick out your towel?” Aizawa asked, putting Shinsou down, despite the kid’s protest. He had already laid out several sot towels for Shinsou, but he found giving Eri a little bit of agency helped get her ready for a bath. Shinsou wobbled on his feet at first, staring at the towels without a hint of him deciding before he pointed to a hooded towel with a clown fish pattern.

“Tiger,” Shinsou said, rubbing the towel against his cheek.

“It’s a fish,” Aizawa corrected.

“No. Tiger.” Shinsou frowned up at Aizawa while pointing to the stripes. Of course, something cat related would be the first thing he said to him after rescuing him.

Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“Okay, it’s a tiger. Now, let's get you ready. Can you do that yourself?” Aizawa double-checked the temperature, adding a little bit of cold water to make sure the tap wasn’t still hot.

Shinsou didn’t waste any time getting undressed before putting his hands up, ready to be placed into the tub.

“In we go,” Aizawa said, sitting Shinsou down in the middle. The kid just stared at the water before looking around himself, looking smaller and smaller in the porcelain. “Okay, first thing first, let's get rid of that tape.”

Aizawa pulled up his sleeves as Shinsou instinctively tugged on the tape.

“Lie back for me kid.” Aizawa gently lowered the kid until his face was the only thing left poking up from the water. With quick fingers, Aizawa began the tedious task of picking at the tape, almost peeling it from the kid’s hair. Shinsou winced a few times but stayed still while Aizawa picked away, piece by piece.

“Almost there,” he said, as he ran his fingers through Shinsou’s hair, making sure that every bit of tape was gone. “Okay, up we get.”

Shinsou shook his head like a wet dog before Aizawa could even react.

“Thanks, kid,” Aizawa drawled before grabbing Eri’s magic shampoo. What made it magic, Aizawa had no idea, but Yamada swore by the stuff and Eri had made no complaints. Squirting a decent amount, Aizawa washed the kid’s hair, childishly styling it upwards. “Want a mohawk?”

Shinsou gave him a confused, suspicious look before nodding. Aizawa grinned wildly as he began mimicking a ‘Present Mic’-esque hair-do. It took everything in him not to laugh at the height the kid’s hair reached.

“Looking good.” Aizawa's lips wobbled.

Shinsou reached up, feeling his hair before a small grin grew on his face.

“Do you want some bath toys?” Aizawa asked, as he quickly washed the rest of the kid.

Shinsou nodded, his mohawk dangerously tilting to one side.  

Eri had too many toys, ranging from dolphins to mermaids, to cups and jugs. There was no end to the madness when Yamada had found a huge range of different tactics to ease Eri into enjoying bath time. And so, Aizawa took Eri's toys and dumped them into the tub, filling it to the point where there looked like there was more plastic than water. Shinsou jumped back in the tub, his eyes darting from each toy to the next.

“Too many?” Aizawa asked, wincing at possibly overwhelming the kid. Shinsou nodded, scooting back from the toys as if they meant to harm him. Aizawa started the daunting task of collecting every bobbing toy and throwing them back into the bucket. “You sure you don’t want to keep one?”

Shinsou shook his head so quickly that his mohawk flopped like an orca’s dorsal fin.  

“Hmm, how about some bubbles?” Aizawa asked, grabbing the ‘All Might-y Bath Bubbles’ bottle from the shelf. And with Shinsou’s agreement, Aizawa poured the contents of the bottle into the water, adding a quick, “tell me when to stop” to Shinsou.

Shinsou did not tell him to stop.

“Oh.” Aizawa shook the bottle as the last drop fell. “You didn’t say stop.”

“I’m four.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Aizawa sighed, watching the water as if the bubbles would suddenly explode in a mushroom of soap. Reluctant to flood the house, Aizawa dipped his hand into the water and gave it a slow swirl. A small island of bubbles floated on the surface. “This isn’t too bad.”

And it wasn’t, until Shinsou saw the bubbles form, and copied Aizawa. And the bubbles grew and grew, curling as they reached the ceiling, swarming both Aizawa and Shinsou until all they could see were bubbles.

“I think we went overboard.” Aizawa grinned at Shinsou, who smiled back.

“You have a bubble beard.” Shinsou giggled, pointing to a lengthy bubble beard on Aizawa’s chin. Aizawa pretended to comb through his, earning himself another giggle from the kid.

“If I have a beard, then you need a moustache.” Aizawa scooped a load of bubbles into his hands and smeared it under Shinsou’s nose. “You look like Hizashi.”

“It tickles.” Shinsou wiped at the moustache, but had no luck shaving it away, accidentally adding to its mass with his soapy hands. “Can-. I want a beard too.”

“Like mine?” Aizawa asked, gathering more bubbles to make the kid’s beard.

“Bigger.”

“Bigger? Well, I’ll try.” Aizawa slathered as many bubbles as he could on the kid’s chin until the beard connected to the bath water. “How’s that?”

“It’s big!” Shinsou shrieked, trying to look down at his new beard. Aizawa couldn’t help but grin at how loud Shinsou suddenly was. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem, kiddo, but it’s probably time for you to get out, huh?” Aizawa reached for the plug.

“But I’m not done,” Shinsou said in a small, disappointed voice.

“You’re shivering, kid.” Aizawa chuckled as Shinsou continued to play with the bubbles, not caring that his hands were trembling. “You’re going to be all blue if you stay.”

Shinsou hummed as he looked around himself as if he could find a reason for Aizawa to let him stay in the bath.

“Don’t you want to put on the tiger towel?” Aizawa asked, inching for the plug.

Shinsou gasped and began scrambling out of the tub.

“Hitoshi! Hold on-.” Aizawa lurched forward, barely managing to catch the kid as he tumbled over the edge of the bath. He knew toddlers were notorious for their swinging moods, but Shinsou’s 180° had Aizawa’s heart racing. “Hitoshi, you can’t just jump out of the bath.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Aizawa set the kid upright onto his feet and grabbed the towel wrapping it around Shinsou’s shoulders, which slumped at the scolding. “You could’ve hit your head.”

“’m sorry.” Shinsou shuffled on his feet.

Not wanting to ruin the end of bath time, Aizawa threw the towel hood over Shinsou’s eyes before ruffling it roughly, Shinsou’s head rocking in all directions. The kid’s legs wobbled as he held onto Aizawa’s wrists, giggling as Aizawa dried his hair. After thoroughly towelling the kid’s hair, Aizawa pulled the hood back and smirked at the disaster he had created.

Shinsou looked like a hedgehog.

“You’d never snark at me again if I used this as blackmail,” Aizawa said, grinning at the idea of using this against a teenage Shinsou.

“Blackmail?” Shinsou asked.

“Nothing this you has to worry about.” Aizawa grabbed Eri’s hairbrush and did his best to tame Shinsou’s mane. He feared breaking Eri’s brush. “Your hair is even thicker than mine.”

Shinsou nodded, accidentally ripping the brush out of Aizawa’s hands where it sat knotted in his curls.

“Hang on, kid.” Aizawa laughed, wrestling the brush out of the Shinsou’s hair. “Let’s try this again.” Abandoning the brush, Aizawa used his fingers to pick at the knots until he could run them smoothly through. “Ready for some pyjamas?”

“Kitty ones.” Shinsou nodded to himself before looking around for the pyjamas.

“Not this time.” Aizawa reached over and grabbed the set he had brought out. “Dinosaur ones.” He held them out for Shinsou’s disapproving eye.

“No.”

“They kitty ones in the laundry, kid. But I’m sure Hizashi will have gotten you some cat pyjamas. You can put those on when he gets home. Deal?” Aizawa held out his hand.

Shinsou pondered for a moment, glancing at the distasteful pyjamas before he stuck out his hand, and shook Aizawa’s.

“Deal.”

“Good, now get changed.” Aizawa helped the kid slip on the shirt and set into the pants. “Think you’ll be okay for five minutes with Jelly, while I get changed?”

Shinsou was out the door in seconds.

Aizawa looked around himself, grimacing at the soaked bathroom. There were still bubble remnants spotted around the cupboards and toilet seat. He grabbed a towel and laid it on the floor with a quick, “that’ll do”, before following Shinsou out into the living room, where the kid had already found Jelly. The pair were on the floor, Shinsou lying on his side, smiling at the cat.

 “I’ll just be down this hallway, okay? Two minutes.” Aizawa held up two fingers, and Shinsou copied him before returning to watching Jelly, blinking slowly at her. 

And if Aizawa felt a tiny bit of warmth flow into his chest, it wasn’t anyone else’s business. 

In his mind's eye, he could almost see an older Shinsou sprawled out on the rug, almost catlike with his gangly limbs, idly playing with Jelly. It looked right. Like it belonged there.

“Hitoshi,” Aizawa said softly before crouching down by the kid’s side. Shinsou looked up curiously. It was so much like his older shelf, clinging onto Aizawa’s every word. “When you’re big…” Aizawa hesitated, unsure if it was his place. Unsure if the answer would be yes. Unsure if he could even legally take in the kid; there were far too many laws that could get in his way. And yet, the question was on the tip of his tongue- not that it was the first time it had been there. 

There were so many times he had tried to breach the subject. But it was sensitive. Plus, what teenager wanted to live with their teacher? 

Shinsou sat up, crossing his legs in front of him. And Aizawa did the same. 

“When you’re big again, I’m going to ask you a really important question, okay?” There was no way he could ask this Shinsou; for one, he was four. And two, who knew if Shinsou would even remember this time. It could all be forgotten when he reverted back. 

“But that’s a question now.” Shinsou pointed out. 

Aizawa chuckled, ruffling the kid’s damp hair.

“I guess it is.” Aizawa leaned back onto his hands, grinning at Shinsou, who mimicked him back, smile and all. Gone was the sniffling child from earlier. Aizawa didn’t really know how toddlers quickly bounced from one emotional state to another so quickly. Though, he knew that it was only something that would pass. He expected to be comforting the kid when night fell. Eri too would be fine moment, and then something would set her off, leaving them both exhausted come morning. 

And then like the universe was listening to them, the front door kicked open, slamming into the wall. Both Jelly and Shinsou leapt into the air, one darting to sneak cover under Aizawa’s bed, and the other scrambling to hide behind Aizawa. Thankfully, Shinsou was the one seeking refuge behind his back. He didn’t want to coax the bed out from under his bed, there were far too many dust bunnies under there.

“We’re home!” Yamada yelled, his quirk shaking the walls. 

“We’re home,” Eri called out, a little timid in comparison, but the effort was there.

“Shinsou’s awake.” Aizawa turned around and ruffled the kid’s hair. “They’re nothing to be scared of.”

Shinsou didn’t look convinced. 

“Eri, do you still want to say hello?” Aizawa asked, only to find Eri now hiding behind Yamada’s legs, who shrugged with a sheepish smile.

“Guess they’re both shy.” 

Aizawa had to resist the urge to sigh.

“I thought you wanted to say hello?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Eri only responded by shoving her face into Yamada’s pant leg.

“Hitoshi, do you want to say hi?” Aizawa turned around. Shinsou shook his head, shaking water droplets onto Aizawa’s face.

“Not really how I thought they’d react to each other,” Yamada said, sitting down on the floor, managing to scoop Eri from behind him and into his lap. “Hey, how come my big rock star is so shy today?”

Eri’s gaze fluttered between the three of them before she turned, burying her face into Yamada’s chest before climbing up to whisper into his ear. 

Yamada cracked a smile.

“He’s not angry, baby.”

Aizawa turned and saw Shinsou frowning at Eri.

“What’s with that face?” Aizawa asked, making Shinsou blink at him, his face transforming almost doe-like at him. 

“She’s staring at me,” Shinsou whispered to Aizawa, clinging to his shirt.

“Maybe because you’re glaring at her.”

“Oh.” Shinsou looked down at his feet like he was ashamed. He took a large, brave breath before taking a small tentative step from around Aizawa. And then another, before pausing, looking back at Aizawa, who only nodded in encouragement.

On the other side of the living room, Eri was watching Shinsou with wide eyes, unmoving from Yamada’s lap, despite the former’s enthusiasm to meet Shinsou halfway. 

Shinsou took another two steps towards Eri before giving a shy little wave, one which Eri gave back with a small ‘hello’. 

And then, without a word from Shinsou, the kid ran back to Aizawa, throwing himself into his lap, almost pushing Aizawa over.

“Maybe some food and a movie?” Yamada suggested, combing his fingers through Eri’s hair as she watched Shinsou with a perplexed and somewhat offended expression.

By the time the movie finished, Eri and Shinsou had at least sat on the same sofa as each other, though sitting either side of Yamada and Aizawa respectfully. Other than a few not-so-sneaky glances, they were perfectly happy to ignore each other. 

Dinner was a little bit more strained, Shinsou picking at his food, nervously shifting the rice in his bowl, and piling the grains on top of one another. He ignored the pieces of pork Aizawa slipped onto his plate. Eri’s mood quickly followed his, and where she usually ate with all the gusto of a six-year-old, her plate remained mostly full. 

The night ended with neither kid saying another word to the other, tucked into beds after a short bedtime story. 

“Do you think they’ll try tomorrow?” Yamada whispered from his side of the bed, his face almost lost in the darkness.

“I mean, they don’t really have a choice.” 

“Shouta,” Yamada chastised.

“It’ll only be for a couple more days, and then Shinsou will be back to his snarky, teenage self.” Aizawa turned onto his side, and Yamada slotted against his back, his arm looping around Aizawa’s waist. He drew patterns idly on Aizawa’s skin, almost as though he was lost in thought.

“And then what?” Yamada asked, his voice almost lost as he breathed into Aizawa’s shoulder, his lips soft against the scar there. “Things aren’t going to go back to normal.”

And Aizawa did know that. There was no way in hell he was going to allow Shinsou to go back to Tanaka, even if he had to restrain the kid himself. But without a guardian, Shinsou would fall back under the care of the government. Another kid without a home, without a family to claim him. 

“U.A holds some custody over him. And Nedzu would pull strings to keep him at the school.” Because Aizawa knew deep down Shinsou would live in a cardboard box if it meant staying at U.A. And if he presented Nedzu with a problem, the rat would gleefully crush anything in his path to complete it. 

Yamada hummed absently, his fingers still on Aizawa’s side. 

“You don’t agree?” Aizawa asked, turning slightly to catch Yamada’s eyes, even if the darkness of the room mostly concealed them. 

“Of course I do. They fought so fucking hard to get into the hero course. I think if we tried to move him somewhere where he couldn’t attend, he’d be kicking and screaming as they dragged him out the gates.” Yamada sighed, and Aizawa knew from the hitch in his breath, that he was holding back tears. “It just makes me wonder what else the kid has put up with for the sake of being a hero.”

Aizawa linked his fingers in between Yamada’s. 

“How many times have we sent him home to that man?”

“We don’t know if he acted like that with Shinsou before.”

Yamada scoffed, before remembering to keep his voice low.

“You don’t believe that.”

“No. I don’t.” Aizawa crossed his eyes, imagining Shinsou, all legs and hunched back, shoved into that cupboard. Was there any reason? Not that there was any excuse that could justify it, but Aizawa wondered what Shinsou would have to do to even spend a second cramped into that space. Did the kid need to do something wrong, and it was used as a punishment? Or was it just a place Tanaka used when he no longer wanted to deal with Shinsou?

With Shinsou still being a toddler, there was no way of knowing the truth. There was no way of knowing how long Shinsou sat cramped behind that door, waiting for something to find him, but knowing no one would. 

Aizawa ran a hand down his face, chasing away the nightmarish thoughts plaguing his mind. 

“It’s useless to imagine the worst without any answers to quell them.”

“He’s just a kid.” Yamada’s voice pitched. “If you hadn’t-.”

“Don’t. There’s no point asking what-ifs. You know as any hero does, we can’t save everyone.”

“Even our students?”

Aizawa frowned.

“I worked with that kid for months. And I didn’t have a clue.”

“Shou, I didn’t mean-.”

Aizawa squeezed his hand before flipping onto his other side, so they were facing each other. 

“I wish we knew before all this. I wish the kid told us. But he didn’t.” Aizawa knocked his forehead against Yamada’s. “But we have him now. He’s safe. He’s ours.” 

Chapter Text

The instincts of a hero were so similar to those of a parent, that Aizawa was no longer surprised when the tiniest of noises woke him up. 

While there was no danger inside the apartment, he still woke with a start, a snort caught in his hitched breath as pittering feet darted down the hallway. He waited, wondering if it was Eri using the bathroom, but the sound of little footsteps didn’t return, and instead got quieter, trailing off until he could barely hear them. 

The creaky floorboard between the bedrooms and the living room squeaked. Eri was sneaking to see Shinsou. 

Mumbling under his breath, Aizawa rolled out of bed, tripping over his pyjamas that had fallen down throughout the night. 

He fully intended to scoop Eri up before she even got the chance to wake Shinsou, and carry her back to bed, but instead, he froze in the hallway, hovering as he saw the kids. 

Eri sat on the edge of Shinsou’s futon, a wad of toilet paper in her chubby hand, looking a little unsure as Shinsou silently cried. 

“I got more tissues,” she said softly, holding them out to a sniffling Shinsou. “It’s okay to take them. We got lots.” Eri waved her hand a little, tempting Shinsou, but the kid only rubbed against his eyes with balled fists. 

Hesitantly, Eri scooted onto the futon until she sat in front of Shinsou. The tissues were wrung between her nervous hands before she leant forward with a determined look and began dabbing at Shinsou’s wet cheeks. Shinsou flinched, his eyes widening, but surprisingly, he didn’t stop Eri from cleaning his face.

“Okay, now blow.” She held the tissues up to his nose, and Shinsou obeyed, blowing his nose into the tissue with a wet congested noise. “Better?” 

Shinsou nodded, but his eyes were still wet. 

Aizawa couldn’t help but continue to watch, his chest warm as he leaned against the wall. A soft smile took over his features as Eri continued to care for Shinsou, his own methods of soothing echoing through her. 

“Do you want some water?” Eri asked, already getting up, ready to race to the kitchen. Without waiting for an answer, Eri bolted to the sink, grabbed her favourite glass with little pink cats on it, and tottered back to Shinsou without spilling a drop. How she didn’t spot Aizawa watching from the hallway was a miracle, but once Eri had her mind on something, she truly delivered her best. Her priority wasn’t Aizawa.

Shinsou drank noisily as all little kids did, downing the water in one big gulp and gasping for air once he finished. Eri held out her hand expectantly and took the glass, setting it aside. 

“Was it a nightmare?” Eri asked, her eyes big and curious. “I get them sometimes. Not as many as before, but sometimes they’re really scary. But then Daddy or Pa always come find me and make me feel better.”

Shinsou brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his arms. 

Eri paused, studying Shinsou like he was some scared animal.

“Do you want me to get Daddy or Pa?” She asked, her shoulders tense as she waited for an answer that didn’t come. She shifted on her spot, her eyes darting around the futon and then back to Shinsou as if the answer on what to do would fall into her lap. “They’re really nice, I promise. They won’t be mean.”

But Shinsou refused to resurface from his curled-up position, his little shoulders shaking. And then in a heartbreakingly quiet sob, he whispered;

“I want my mom.”

Eri froze, and Aizawa stepped into the room. At the sound of his footsteps, Eri whipped around, tense like a frightened rabbit before she deflated at the sight of him. 

“Baby Shinsou’s upset,” she said.

“I see.” Aizawa crouched down to their level and patted Eri’s head. “You did a good job looking after him.”

She beamed at him before her expression melted into worry. 

“He said he wanted his mom.”

Aizawa sat next to her and scooped her to his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

“Do you think we can find her?” Eri asked in a small voice.

Aizawa’s heart broke just a little, her chest twinging in pain.

“I think we should all go back to bed,” Aizawa said instead, and by the pinch in Eri’s brows, she knew he was avoiding the topic. But she said nothing about it as she buried her face into his side. Aizawa held her close. “Want to sleep with me and Hizashi tonight?”

Eri drew back, her eyes glistening slightly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

A smile blossomed across her cheeks. 

“Yes, please,” she said quietly, but her voice was so full of longing. 

“Go on then, I’ll be there in a second.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Scoot.”

Eri jumped up to her feet, her body wiggling with excitement. It wasn’t often she was allowed to share a bed with Aizawa and Yamada; the books always said to allow her her own space, even when she was upset. So, it was a rare treat, one Eri loved. 

But before she scampered down to Aizawa’s bedroom, she paused and gave Shinsou one last look, and then turned to Aizawa.

“He’s still upset.”

“It’s okay. I’ll look after him, just like I do with you.” Aizawa waved her off, and after an uncertain step, Eri took off. 

He waited until she disappeared into his room before he shifted himself to sit in front of Shinsou. The kid hadn’t even looked up but instead had curled himself into an even tighter ball, his shoulders shoved up towards his ears. And if Aizawa listened close enough, he could hear the quickening of Shinsou’s breathing. It was so reminiscent of an older Shinsou, that Aizawa knew exactly what was running through the kid’s mind.

“You’re not in trouble, Hitoshi.”

Shinsou stilled with a hard sniff. 

“No one is angry that you’re awake.”

A single bloodshot eye poked up over Shinsou’s arm.

“That man was,” he whispered before hiding again. “He shouted at me.”

“I’m not going to shout at you,” Aizawa said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. No need for the kid to think it was directed at him. He put out his pinky finger. “I promise.”

Shinsou watched him suspiciously before he looped his tiny pinky around Aizawa’s halfway.

“Ok.”

“Ok.” Aizawa gave the kid an encouraging look. “Do you want to talk about what woke you up?”

Shinsou shook his head.

“That’s fine.”

Shinsou looked at him dubiously.

“Do you want me to pinky promise again?” Aizawa held out his finger, and Shinsou linked his finger again. 

“Now.” Aizawa grabbed the rest of the discarded tissues. “Can I finish off Eri’s job? She missed a bit.”

Shinsou unfurled himself from his hedgehog-like ball, and shuffled closer to Aizawa so his knees knocked into Aizawa’s shins.

Aizawa dabbed at Shinsou’s cheeks and gently wiped away the snot on the kid’s upper lip. He no longer cared about how disgusting it was, having cleaned Eri’s face too many times to count. 

“She was nice,” Shinsou whispered.

“Eri?” Aizawa smiled. “She is.”

“She said you were nice too.”

Aizawa chuckled.

“I try. Sometimes.” Aizawa leaned down to whisper conspiratorially into Shinsou’s space.“But only for Eri, and I guess now you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, kid.” Aizawa ruffled the kid’s hair.

Shinsou gave him a shy smile before a wide yawn broke from him.

“Sleep.” Aizawa patted Shinsou’s futon. 

The kid’s gaze followed his hand before his expression fell, looking almost lost and lonely. Aizawa had to resist rolling his eyes at his own bleeding heart.

“Or you can sleep with the rest of us? Eri’s probably already stolen all my pillows.”

Shinsou nodded, and like before lifted his arms to be held. And like all those times before, Aizawa was weak to those puppy eyes and plopped Shinsou onto his hip as he stood.

By the time they made it into the bedroom, Eri was already asleep, curled up in Yamada’s arms, her horn jutting into Yamada’s throat. Both of them were snoring. 

Aizawa melted at the sight. 

Silently, not to wake them, Aizawa slipped into the bed and tucked Shinsou between himself and Yamada. The kid blinked at Yamada before turning a curious eye to Aizawa; he looked almost stunned, just like he had when Aizawa sat him up on the countertop. 

Aizawa almost asked him if he’d never slept in his parent’s bed before, but he was sure he knew the answer to that. 

Though, Aizawa had no real clue what had happened to Shinsou’s parents, whether they were still alive or had given the boy up when he was only four. Of course, he had read the kid’s file, but that sort of intimate and sensitive information was Shinsou’s to give. And he wasn’t one to dig into information that was irrelevant to the job he needed to do. 

“You just wake us up if you need anything,” he whispered.

Shinsou nodded, if a little hesitantly, before he buried his face into the pillow, smiling bashfully. 

“Night, kid.” Aizawa closed his eyes.

“Night.”

“Charging. Beep boop beep.”

Aizawa woke to the sound of Yamada’s voice and two giggling children. And refused to acknowledge them. Shinsou had woken up two more times during the night; one of the times needing the toilet, and the other to a nightmare. 

With his sleep being interrupted three times, Aizawa felt like his head had once again been smashed into concrete.

“Winding. Eeek. Eeek!”

He at least wanted another twenty minutes of undisturbed sleep. 

“Commencing operation wake up in 3.”

Somehow he doubted he would get another ten seconds.

“2!”

Or even the next second.

“1!”

Two pairs of feet thumped into his back. He jolted, fully awake, and turned to look over his shoulder, glaring at Yamada who gave him a wink. Eri and Shinsou were lying on their backs, their legs preparing to kick him again.

“What are the three of you doing?” Aizawa grumbled. Shinsou instantly pulled his legs away, looking a little sheepish and mortified all at once. Eri wiggled her feet, ready to try again. 

“This is the third time we’ve tried to get you up!” Yamada laughed, sitting cross-legged on his side of the bed. “We thought you were dead. So, we’re trying operation wake up.”

Aizawa loved his family, or at least he had to remind himself he did. 

“No.”

Aizawa dropped his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes.

“No? You can’t say no! I’m too young to be a single dad.”

“Don’care.” 

“We’ll see about that!” Yamada’s quirk shook the walls. “Ready kids!”

Thump. Thump! THUMP!

At least this time there was only one set of feet kicking him. Clearly, the look was enough to scare Shinsou off. Eri and Yamada were immune to it. Annoying.

“Should we really be teaching the kids violence?” Aizawa moaned, scooting away from Eri, balancing on the edge of the mattress. 

“Ah, we do that for a living.” 

Aizawa’s whole body jumped, almost falling off the bed when Yamada’s large feet joined the fight. 

“Don’t you dare,” Aizawa growled.

But before he even had the chance to escape the relentless assault, the pair coordinated their attack, and Aizawa flew off the bed with a resounding thud.

“Ow.”

“Yay! Team Yamada wins.”

“Yay!”

“He fell.”

Aizawa pulled himself up from the floor and levelled them all with a glare he usually reserved for his students. Once again, it was a pointless threat that no one under his roof took seriously.

“You’re cooking breakfast,” Aizawa sighed, admitting defeat.

“Of course. We want more than just toast.” Yamada tapped his chin as if deep in thought. “How about American pancakes?”

Eri gasped and nodded.

“Alrighty! Shall we get started?” Yamada slipped out of bed with Eri on his heels, leaving Shinsou and Aizawa behind.

“Sometimes I think they forget I’m here,” Aizawa said.

“I didn’t forget,” Shinsou said, drawing a chuckle from Aizawa.

“Thanks, kid.” Aizawa stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go make sure those two don’t get distracted.”

Together they entered the kitchen, and Aizawa wondered if any other families were this loud at seven in the morning. Yamada and Eri were singing along to classic rock ballads from Yamada’s youth, bouncing around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients.

“Do you want to help them?” Aizawa asked. “Or you can play?”

Shinsou held Aizawa’s hand tighter.

“Guess we’re playing,” Aizawa said to himself, taking Shinsou to the living room. Already there was a mountain of toys strewn about the room. “Go wild.” Aizawa gently encouraged Shinsou forward.

However, the kid froze, standing like he’d been electrocuted, looking wide-eyed at all toys.

Aizawa slumped onto the sofa, preparing for a five minute nap. However, before he could even get himself comfortable, Shinsou was pulling on his sleeve. Aizawa had to resist the urge to tell a four-year-old to fuck off. He was too tired to be a parent so early in the morning.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I don’t know what to do,” Shinsou whispered. 

“Play.” Aizawa gestured to Eri’s toys. “Eri won’t mind.”

Shinsou gave the toys a hesitant glance before something in his mind clicked, but instead of settling on the carpet, he climbed up onto the sofa and sat on Aizawa’s legs. He gave Aizawa a straight, appeasing smile. 

“Kid, this is not playing.”

“I don’t know what to play.”

“What do you usually play at the home?” 

“The quiet game.”

Aizawa groaned and sunk into his pillow, reminding himself that he was a hero and couldn’t march his way down to Shinsou’s old facility and strangle any remaining staff.

“Is- the quiet game is bad.”

“Yes. No.” Aizawa dragged the bags under his eyes until they hurt. “Play something else.”

Shinsou looked around, deep in thought, before he turned back to Aizawa. Somehow that curious expression unnerved him. 

“What?” Aizawa asked. 

Shinsou pulled himself up onto his feet, balancing on the sofa cushion and then climbed up to the back of the sofa.

“ Hitoshi ,” Aizawa warned, watching warily as the kid wobbled up the sofa. “Don’t fall.”

“I won’t.” A sliver of tongue poked out between Shinsou’s lips as he concentrated, his arms spread out for balance. Aizawa didn’t take his eyes off the kid, his hands stiff out by his chest, ready to catch the kid. 

And as he predicted, the kid tilted a little too far to one side. Aizawa shot up and caught him, pulling him to his chest. Shinsou let out a winded sound before giggling. 

“That was fun?” Aizawa asked, propping him onto his lap. 

“You caught me.” Shinsou marvelled at Aizawa’s hands as they lingered on his shoulders. 

“You would have fallen on my face.”

Shinsou smiled softly, though he did look a bit apologetic as he whispered a short, “sorry.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes before he plucked Shinsou up onto his feet.

“Try again.”

Shinsou nodded before scrambling to the back of the sofa. 

After ten minutes of catching Shinsou several times, Eri popped her head over the arm of the sofa, her chin resting where Aizawa laid his head.

“Papa said breakfast’s in five and to get your butts into your seats,” Eri said in a voice similar to Yamada’s. Aizawa held back a snort. 

Breakfast consisted of way too much sugar, especially with two kids in the house. But Yamada wouldn’t have any of it when the issue was brought up. 

“They’re kids. They’re meant to be nuts on sugar.”

Aizawa vowed to make Yamada deal with two moody children when the sugar rush crashed. 

“Your funeral.”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes.” Yamada waved a fork at him, rolling his eyes. 

“ Yeah .” Eri joined in, dragging out the word.

“Don’t you start,” Aizawa chastised, stuffing a mouthful of pancake into his mouth. 

With the kids and Yamada fed, and later dressed, Aizawa planned for a lazy day. With Shinsou in his care, he cancelled any training he had previously scheduled with his classes. While Yamada was more than capable of looking after both Shinsou and Eri, the main problem lay outside of his apartment door; Nedzu. 

He knew it wouldn’t be long before the rat sniffed out Aizawa's misdoings yesterday. The longer he could stay away from him, the better.

But of course, since the beginning of last semester, things never went his way, and his peace was interrupted by knocking at his front door. 

“I’ll get it!” Eri called, clip-clopping over to the front door in her rollerblades.

“Eri, we’ve been over this. You can’t rollerblade in the apartment,” Aizawa grumbled.

“I’m walking in them.” Eri pulled a face like Aizawa was stupid. It was remarkably similar to the look he gave his students. And with the rollerblade case closed, Eri turned and opened the door, revealing two familiar faces. 

“Shit,” Aizawa cursed under his breath.

“Good morning,” Nedzu said, smiling peacefully, though the twinkle in his eyes said otherwise. There was a rage brewing there with Aizawa’s name on it. “I suppose you were expecting a visit.”

“Ah, Principle Nedzu, a pleasure, sir,” Yamada said with a strained smile, throwing Aizawa a quick glare. “And detective Tsukauchi.”

“Present Mic.” Tsukauchi tipped his signature hat before tucking it under his armpit. “Eraserhead.”

“We just finished breakfast, but do you want some tea or coffee?” Yamada asked, rolling Eri out of the way as the two stepped into the genkan. 

“I think we should discuss the matter quickly and decisively,” Nedzu said, casting an eye to Eri, “though, tea does sound nice. You know how I like mine, Hizashi.”

“Yes, sir.” Yamada nodded before slipping into the kitchen with Eri in tow. 

“I’m gathering you understand why we’re here, Eraser,” Tsukauchi said, taking a seat as Aizawa offered the opposite armchair. 

“Enlighten me,” Aizawa said, pursing his lips as he slumped into the sofa, tucking his chin into his shirt. 

“Now, now, Shouta. Let’s not play that game, hmm.” Nedzu smiled, though it was anything but friendly. “I’ve heard quite the tale about you breaking into Hitoshi’s foster father’s home and kidnapping said child.” 

“I wouldn’t say kidnapping.”

“He’s sitting right there, Eraser.” Tsukauchi sighed, nodding down to Shinsou who was staring wide-eyed at Nedzu. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t take the kid, but I wouldn’t class it as kidnapping.”

“What would you class it as?” Tsukauchi asked, rubbing at his jaw in a stressed manner. “Because I’ve had his father hounding at my door since this morning, wanting me to arrest you and take away your licence.” 

“Dramatic,” Aizawa grumbled. 

“Please don’t make my job any harder than it already is,” Tsukauchi pleaded. “Now, what’s your side of the story? Because I really don’t want to be the cop that arrests Eraserhead.”

“Then don’t arrest me.” Aizawa shrugged. 

“They are also calling for me to fire you, Shouta. And it would be a terrible shame to lose such a promising teacher.” Nezdu added. 

Aizawa sat up and then balanced his elbows on his knees, hunching over himself. 

“He had the kid shoved into a closet with tape around his mouth,” Aizawa said. He patted the sofa for Shinsou to join him, and Shinsiou did so without a word, nervously holding onto Aizawa’s pant leg. “He’s got bruises on his arm. And the kid was in soiled clothes.” He soothed Shinsou’s fringe from his face. 

Tsukauchi’s face softened ever so slightly as he took in Shinsou’s now shaking form. 

“Do you mind if I ask the kid some questions?” Tsukauchi asked, though Aizawa knew it was a formality. He wasn’t Shinsou’s true guardian, even with U.A’s shared custody over its students. 

Aizawa gestured for Tsukauchi to continue.

“Hi, Hitoshi, I’m detective Tsukuachi, can I ask you a few questions?”

Shinsou looked to Aizawa for support, almost burying his face into his leg, but keeping one eye on the detective. Shinsou gave a small nod. 

“Okay. What did you do when you went home with your foster father?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Shinsou hesitated.

“He made me sit on the bed.”

“And then what?”

“He said I was to wait there.”

“How long did you sit there?”

Shinsou shrugged.

“I can’t tell the time.”

“Was it a long time?”

Shinsou nodded. 

“I got hungry and left the bed. And then he started yelling at me.” Shinsou’s voice got quieter. Aizawa rubbed his palm up and down the kid’s arm

“Why did he yell at you?”

“Said I had to stay on the bed until I was big.” Shinsou sucked in a wobbly breath. “And then he shouted at me for crying.”

“And then what?”

Shinsou whined and fully hid his face in Aizawa’s leg. 

“He’s four, Tsukauchi.”

“You know I have to ask.” Tsukauchi sighed. “Did you know any of this before you broke into his apartment?”

“I had my suspicions. He wouldn’t let me see the kid when I visited.”

“But did you see any cause for you to break down his door?”

Aizawa’s brows furrowed. 

“He had the kid’s mouth taped shut. If I didn’t go in, the kid would still be locked in that closet.”

“But did you know that before you entered his apartment?” Tsukauchi asked. “Did you even have a warrant or probable cause?”

Aizawa kept his face flat. The visit was impulsive. He didn’t plan to break into his house. He didn’t plan on stealing Shinsou. But he did, knowing full well the investigation it would bring. 

“I-.” Aizawa started, only to be interrupted.

“I have the warrant right here,” Nedzu pulled out an official warrant from his pocket. 

Aizawa forced himself not to react. 

“I thought it would be responsible of ourselves for U.A to keep a copy with us.” Nedzu passed Aizawa the warrant to pass to the detective. 

Tsukauchi took it, giving it a quick scan. By the expression on his face, Aizawa knew the detective was still sceptical. 

“You know you could lose both your jobs, and custody of Eri if you are found guilty, Eraser,” Tsukauchi said, gravely. 

Aizawa’s heart froze in his chest.

“I wouldn’t let them take Eri from me,” Aizawa growled, pulling Shinsou closer to him. 

“That decision wouldn’t be down to me,” Tsukauchi said. “But you need to be more careful. I didn’t take you as someone who acted so irrationally. 

A year ago, Aizawa would have agreed. He did things by the book. He planned his every move. He knew what happened to heroes that moved before they thought. 

And yet, he found himself in situations he never thought he’d be in. He never thought he’d be a father. He didn’t think he’d have students trailing behind him like little lost ducks. He didn’t know he’d have a protege he’d risk everything for.  

“He needed me, Tsukauchi.”

Tsukauchi let out another sigh, running a hand down his face. There was a faint trace of stubble on his jaw. 

“With the warrant, I can’t say you were breaking the law. And you haven’t technically lied.” Tsukauchi gave Aizawa a flat look that said he knew Aizawa was dodging his questions with  indirect answers. “And if you could send photos of Shinsou’s bruises, then we could have enough to take Shinsou out of Tanaka’s care.”

“Could?” Aizawa frowned. “He was abusing the kid.”

“It's his word against yours, unless we can get the kid to speak.”

“I’m not making the kid go through that.” Aizawa glanced down at Shinsou who was still hiding from everyone. “It can wait until he’d older, right?”

“It will draw out the investigation, but yes, we can wait until Shinsou has recovered.”

Aizawa stood then, patting the top of Shinsou’s head lightly.

“Then we’re done.”

Nedzu chuckled as he hopped off the sofa. 

“Never one for pleasantries are we, Shouta?”

Aizawa shrugged. 

“Send the photos down to the station later, Eraser. And I’ll keep Tanaka and the investigation off your back until Shinsou has grown to his normal age.”

And with that, the detective was at slipping out the door, probably slaving away to another twenty-four-hour shift. 

“You do like to cause some trouble, Shouta,” Nedzu joked as he too got ready to leave. “It is no wonder your students are the way that they are.”

“That’s not my doing. They were like that on day one,” Aizawa said gruffly.

“And Shinsou?” Nedzu nodded to the kid, who had calmed down with only Nedzu in the room with them. 

“Until a couple of days ago, I thought he was the easy one.”

Nedzu laughed, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“I find there is no such thing as an easy child.” Nedzu opened the front door. “I expect to see you and Hitoshi both at school when all this is over. Do not get arrested”

“I wouldn’t leave my students in Toshinori’s care.”

Nedzu chuckled, a disbelieving tone to his laugh. 

“And sir, thank you. For-.” Aizawa gestured with a nod of his head towards Shinsou. 

“You are a valued member of my staff, Shouta. But do not make a habit of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

When Eri came into their care, it was exhausting. They knew it would be. She’d gone through so much in her short six years. But no parenting book prepared them for the following months. Between the nightmares and breakdowns, every day felt like they were being wrung out just a little bit more with each sleepless night. And dealing with a cranky six-year-old with only two hours of sleep was not a challenge Aizawa thought he was strong enough to battle. 

But they did. With each comforting phrase or soft lullaby, Eri slowly settled. Slowly being the word. She slept longer throughout the nights; the sheets needed changing less; the house was louder, more alive than it’d ever been. 

And months after taking her in, they noticed the small changes in her. The way she’d smile more, or laugh when either of them did something silly. Or even the moments where she just simply came to them for help, knowing that nothing she did would warrant their anger. 

It was beautiful to see her bloom. 

However, it came with its own set of problems. The exhaustion from before was gone, but it came with its own version. The energy that children processed was boundless.

And with now two children that fed into each other, Yamada and Aizawa were shattered. 

“Do you think they know where we are?” Yamada whispered.

“Shush.”

“Shou, they’ll find us.”

“They won’t unless you don’t keep your trap shut.”

“Ow. You don’t have to elbow me.”

“I didn’t mean to. There’s no room in he-don’t elbow me back.”

“You started it!” Yamada hissed.

“It was an accident.” Aizawa shoved his elbow into Yamada’s ribs, earning a disgruntled squark. 

The closet door slammed open. 

“Found you!” Eri shouted, jumping up and down, giggling. Shinsou hovered behind her like a shadow.

Aizawa sighed, giving Yamada one last shove before he uncurled himself from his pretzel-like shape and out of the closet. Yamada came tumbling out after him. 

“Yay. Why don’t you go count again?” Aizawa drawled, flopping onto the bed. Next time, he was just going to hide under the covers and not come out until dinner time - Yamada was not invited to hide with him. 

But by the shuffle of limbs and the quilt being pulled from underneath him, it was obvious they were no longer playing ‘hide from the kids’. 

“Daddy, you’re not good at hide n’ seek,” Eri commented like Aizawa was too silly to understand such a thing. 

“I think I am,” Aizawa mumbled into a pillow. “It’s my job.”

“No. Your job is teaching Deku.” Eri climbed onto his back and shoved between his shoulder blades like some backward CPR move. 

“I’m a hero too.” Aizawa swept a hand blindly behind him, trying to unseat her. 

“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Eri replied.

Yamada barked a laugh as he too settled into Aizawa’s back.

“She got you there!”

Aizawa tried to buck his unwanted passengers off his back, but Yamada pressed his weight down, keeping him pinned. 

“I’m not a seat.”

“Sure you are. Very comfy!” Yamada reached back and patted Aizawa's asscheek.

“Get off,” Aizawa grumbled, wiggling underneath them, causing Eri to giggle and cling to his shirt like he was some rodeo horse. 

“I’m gonna fall!”

“That’s the point,” Aizawa countered, before turning his gaze to Shinsou who stood awkwardly at the side of the bed. “Any help?“

Shinsou hesitated before he climbed into the bed and slotted himself between Yamada and Eri, sitting in the middle of Aizawa’s back.

“I meant me, kid. Help me.” Aizawa shoved his face into a pillow, groaning even though Shinsou weighed barely anything.

“Ha!” Yamada snorted. “Even your own protege is on my side!”

“I’m on- I don’t want to be on the wrong side,” Shinsou protested. 

“Too late now, kiddo. No take-backs!” 

“Shinsou, push him for me,” Aizawa asked.

“Um…” 

“That’s cheating.” Eri gave another shove between his shoulder blades. 

“It’s just strategy.” Aizawa sighed, his ribs protesting against the weight. “Right, I think it’s time we had lunch.” And with that, Aizawa pushed up on his elbows and knees.

“Keep him down!” Yamada yelled.

But even with the two kids pushing down with all their might, Aizawa simply tilted to one side, throwing all three of them onto the bed. He cast them a grin over his shoulder as he stood.

“It was a nice try.”

“Spoilsport,” Yamada grumbled.

Aizawa shrugged as he made his way to the kitchen. Eri quickly tottered after him with Shinsou following behind. 

“What do you want?” Aizawa washed his hands.

“Apple slices!”

“And? You can’t just have apple slices.”

“What if I just eat lots?”

Aizawa pondered for a second before turning to Shinsou.

“What do you want, kid?”

Shinsou ducked his head at the attention before shrugging. 

“Apple slices it is.” Aizawa sighed as began cutting the apples, earning himself two very happy children when he presented them both with a plate each. 

He helped himself to a cup of coffee, sitting down at the island table, watching as the kids ate. It was a sort of domestic setting he never really saw himself being in. The only time he could picture himself like this was one where he was too battered to continue hero work, and retirement was his only option.

Though, he hardly thought he’d make it that far. Heroes rarely made it to their forties. Especially underground ones. It was a miracle he had survived this long.

Eri grinned up at him once she cleared her plate.

Aizawa smiled back, that feeling of duty and love warming his chest. Before Eri came into his life, he never thought he’d make it to retirement, it was a possibility that just seemed so unlikely, especially being an underground hero. And with both he and Yamada in the same field, it would be a miracle if they both made it to the day they could hang up their metaphorical capes. And if Yamada were the first to go, then he couldn’t see a world he’d stay in. 

But with Eri, he would at least try, even a little bit harder to make it home to her. She was waiting for him now. And he didn’t want to miss a second of her life if he could help it. He knew Yamada felt the same.

Shinsou looked up at his own plate, his eyes once again impossibly big and young, looking into Aizawa's eyes as if he could hear his thoughts. 

Yeah, I’m going to make sure I see this. He thought to himself, including Shinsou in that future. 

He hoped it was peaceful. 

But that future was still years away, and he hadn’t known a second of peace since signing his employment contract with U.A.

The doorbell rang, piercing through the silence, making Shinsou almost jump out of his stool. And he would have done so if Aizawa hadn’t caught him, righting him in his seat.

“I’ll get it!” Eri said, climbing down from the stool and throwing herself at the front door. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s Eri!”

“Eri!”

Aizawa dropped his head into his hands. He had forgotten it was Sunday.

“Are you ready for a fun day?” Togata yelled as he and his two shadows stepped into Aizawa’s flat. 

“Oh hey, Aizawa-Sensei!”  Hado cheered, skipping over to him in the kitchen. “Ochaco said you haven’t been around lately! What’s the deal? You hiding something from them? What is it? Can I know?”

Aizawa groaned into his hands when he heard three synchronised gasps of surprise.

“Oh, I figured it out! He’s so cute!” 

“Whoa! That’s pretty funny,” Togata said, inching closer to Shinsou, who was slowly edging off his stool, looking like he was prepared to bolt.

“Calm down. You’re scaring him,” Aizawa growled.

“Little Shinsou is shy.” Eri nodded, looking a little proud that she knew that information. 

“Oh, our bad, little buddy.” Togata flashed Shinsou his signature smile, not that it seemed to comfort the kid.

“It’s okay.” Eri came forward and took Shinsou’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “LeMillion is really nice! He saved me from the bad people. Neijre-Chan and Suneater helped too!”

“Aw, Eri! You’re too cute!” Hado grinned ear to ear, her eyes squeezed tight as she squished her cheeks between her palm. 

Togata’s smile turned a little softer as he crouched to Eri’s height.

“Sorry if we scared you, Shinsou. We’re just very excited to-uh- meet you,” Togata said.

Shinsou’s eyes filled as he turned into Eri’s shoulder, hiding from the Big Three.

“I think we’re overwhelming him,” Amajiki said, hovering behind the other two. “We should go.”

It was Eri’s turn for her eyes to fill with tears. 

“Or we could stay,” Amajiki said quickly, clearly frazzled between the thought of two crying children. 

Eri’s face lit up, tears gone as if they weren’t there in the first place, and Aizawa wondered if she had learnt the art of manipulation already, crying to get her way. He didn’t know whether the pride that was raised from that was necessarily a good thing.

“What happened to Shinsou?” Togata asked, cocking his head at Shinsou. 

“Got hit with a quirk during his internship with Ms.Joke.”

“Oh, that’s bad luck.” Togata flashed a smile, chuckling at Shinsou’s misfortune. “But hey, since we’re gonna take Eri to the park, Shinsou can tag along. All kids like the park!”

Aizawa’s brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Aw, why not?” Togata asked.

“Yeah, Aizawa-sensei! He’ll love it!” Hado agreed, nodding rapidly. 

“One; he’s wary and shy of strangers, which the three of you are to him. Two; I want to keep the kid out of the public eye. The last thing either he or U.A needs is the press hounding down on us. Three; I don’t think he’ll go with you.”

Hado gasped excitedly, and Aizawa was already regretting opening his mouth.

“Then come with us!”

“That’s a smart idea,” Togata said. 

“Spend my Sunday with my ex-students and two children at a snotty park with other kids?” Aizawa wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

It was Eri who turned around next, widening her eyes so they mimicked a kicked puppy. And it was decided there that she did indeed know the art of manipulation; Aizawa looked away, knowing his resolve would crack if he didn't.

“Please, Daddy! I wanna go to the park.”

“Come on, Sensei. It’ll be fun! We can find you a nice bench to sit on!” Togata copied Eri’s big-eyed look.

“Guys, maybe we shouldn’t-.” Amajiki started, but his voice dwindled as Hado stuck her face next to Togata’s and she too pulled a cutesy-begging look. 

Aizawa rolled his eyes. 

“It’s really not a good idea,” he said, though he knew it was going in one ear and out the next.

“But Daddy, I want Shinsou to like me. We need to play.” Eri grabbed Aizawa’s pant leg and shook it in protest. 

“You’ve been playing all morning,” Aizawa argued.

Eri shook her head. Clearly, the morning hadn’t counted, no matter how many hiding places Aizawa and Yamada had hidden in. 

Reinforcements stepped into the kitchen then, and Aizawa realised how outnumbered he was. 

“Hey! If it isn’t The Big Three!” Yamada greeted, sliding up next to Aizawa and leaning against him. 

“Hey, Mic-Sensei.” The three greeted, though two were louder than their third. It made Aizawa wonder how Amajiki put up with the other two, but then remembered being stuck with Shirakumo, Yamada, and Kayama. Somehow the quietest people always attracted the most obviously loud people, and could never get rid of them. 

“Papa!” Eri ran to Yamada, and tugged at his pant leg too.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Yamada asked, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he looked down at Eri’s pout. 

“Daddy said we can’t go to the park,” Eri whined.

“Oh, did he now?” Yamada asked with a knowing tone to his voice. 

“Did not. I said that me and Shinsou won’t be going with you.” Aizawa shook his head at the blatant lie. 

“Wait, hold on. You're not gonna let the little listener go with them? That’s a bit harsh.” Yamada’s smile slipped. 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to take a quirked teenager to the park?”

“Well, he ain't really a teenager right now, is he?” Yamada chided. 

“No,” Aizawa said, slowly.

“And there’s a little park Ishiyama and some of the support students made for Eri on campus, right?”

“Yes.”

“ And-, ” Yamada dragged out the word, grinning ear to ear, “did you even ask if Shinsou wanted to go?”

“No.” Aizawa sighed, lolling his head to stare at Shinsou, praying, begging the kid silently to say no to going.

“Go on, Shouta. Ask away.” Yamada was having too much fun with this. 

“Kid, do you want to go to the park?” Aizawa asked with a mumble, not unlike a five-year-old asked to do something they didn’t want to do. 

Shinsou hesitated as he looked between all the eyes staring down at him. He twiddled with the hem of his shirt before looking down at his feet. And for a triumphant moment, Aizawa thought he had won. Shinsou was about to say no, and he could spend his lazy Sunday being lazy.

But then, horrifyingly, the kid nodded. 

“YES!” The room burst into cheer, causing both Aizawa and Shinsou to jump in unison.

“Right, kiddos get your shoes on! Let's go to the park!” 

Thankfully, said park was located on campus and away from the general public. While Aizawa loved his own kid and could tolerate others belonging to friends, he was not of fan of snotty-nosed, sniffling germ bags that screamed and cried at the outside parks. 

Yamada always teased that he was miserable, but it was always him who caught colds when children with unwashed hands and runny noses greeted Present Mic.

And besides, while it was probably healthy for Eri to make friends, Aizawa didn’t like the way other kids bulldozed past Eri whenever they did visit the parks outside the U.A walls. Being smaller and quiet around strangers somehow made Eri invisible to the louder children, who would push and shove Eri if she was in their way. It only led to tears. 

It was the main reason why The Big Three took her instead of himself. Parents were just as invisible on the playground, and even with Aizawa’s stern expression, kids whizzed around him without a care in the world. But with The Big Three it was different. Perhaps it was because there were three of them, or maybe it was because the three would join Eri on the jungle gym, acting very much like the younger kids around them despite now being nineteen. The kids gave Eri a wide birth, allowing her to play at her own speed. 

Either way, Eri now enjoyed the park, and Aizawa barely had to visit himself, leaving it to his ex-students. 

But with their own small park at the school, Aizawa didn’t have to worry about small children with their dirty hands and loud shrieks. Well, for the most part. Some first years were close enough to that description, but at least they were afraid of him. 

So, he could sit himself down at the nearby park bench and watch as Eri led her entourage over to her favourite swing, barking orders like she owned the place. And being the only six-year year old on campus, she pretty much did. The others encouraged it with mock salutes, shouting, “Yes, Your Majesty!”. It was ridiculous. 

“Do you think they’ve already forgotten he’s there?” Yamada asked as he settled next to Aizawa, looping one leg over his other, nodding to Shinsou who hovered behind the group. 

“Those three, maybe. But-.” Aizawa nodded towards the group, where Amajiki hesitated for a moment before looking around himself like he’d lost something, before he found Shinsou lingering. He smiled at the kid before offering his hand. Shinsou stared before he silently gave it. 

“Quiet kids unite.” Yamada laughed, earning a snort from Aizawa. 

With a little coaxing from the older three and a lot from Eri, Shinsou was hoisted up onto the swings, kicking his legs in the air. And with a big push, the kids were rocketing into the air before swinging back with huge smiles on their faces. 

It warmed Aizawa more than he cared to admit. 

“Do you think he’ll remember this?” He asked, the question slipping from him. 

Yamada sighed, bumping shoulders with him. 

“Who knows, man. Maybe. I kinda hope he does.”

“I selfishly hope so too.”

“It ain't shellfish to want the little listener to know how much you care about him.”

Aizawa’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“I just don’t want the kid to remember if it's something traumatic for him.”

“I don’t think the swings are a traumatic experience, Shou.” Yamada bumped his shoulder again before resting his head there, his neck craning to reach the awkward angle. 

“Being a teenager one second, and then a toddler the next is though. He asked for his mother last night, ‘Zashi,” Aizawa said softly.

“Oh.” Yamada didn’t say anything for a second, the only sound being the kids laughing in the background. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Aizawa sighed. “I don’t even know anything about the kid’s homelife, or even why he’s in foster care. It never came up, and I didn’t want to press. He’s not exactly an open book.”

“Maybe you should. Ya know, when he’s older again.”

“Is it really my place?”

“It is if you want him to join us as a family.”

Aizawa’s head snapped down at Yamada, pulling away from him. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Yamada gave him a knowing look. “Well, not directly, but you’ve been dropping hints, even if you didn’t realise it. And you give the kid the same look you give Eri.” He took Aizawa’s hand and soothed a thumb over his knuckles. “You look so proud.”

Aizawa flushed again, wondering if his cheeks would permanently turn pink. 

“He’s so little, I-.” Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Nah, man. That kid’s been your pride before all this.”

Aizawa took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes closed. 

“Hizashi, stop.” He opened his eyes again, his vision blurring. “It’s not fair to tease me. I can’t just overstep with the kid. What if he’s not looking for a father figure? I’m just his teacher.”

“And his mentor. Also, the only guy who would take a chance on a kid like him. The guy who stayed after work hours, without pay, to train a kid who barely had a chance to get into the hero course. The guy who feeds the kid when he notices he’s hungry. Or gives him extra money for train fares.” Yamada threw up his hands in the air. “If he doesn’t know how much you care for him, then he’s an idiot.” And then Yamada paused, his brows furrowing. “Oh my gods, he is an idiot.”

“Hizashi,” Aizawa chastised. 

“He doesn’t know! He’s your student! He’s your protege. So, he doesn’t know. You two really are eerily similar.” Yamada’s eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets. 

“Hizashi, stop giving me that look.” Aizawa shoved at his face, his own burning. 

“You’re just as bad as Toshinori with Midoriya!” Yamada barked before leaning forward and smacking a kiss on Aizawa’s cheek. “Aizawa Shouta, you are truly an amazing, but stupid man, and I love you so much.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Aizawa grumbled before something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was Shinsou running back to them in full force, his little hands clenched in front of him. Aizawa prepared himself to coddle an upset child before he noticed Shinsou was grinning between panting as he stopped in front of them. 

“What you got there, kiddo?” Yamada asked, leaning back cautiously as Shinsou stood in front of them, gasping dramatically as all kids did as he held something close to his chest. Shinsou beamed as he pushed his hands forward, revealing a tiny cricket in his hands.

“I caught it!” He grinned.

Yamada froze. And then paled.

“Oh. That’s. Nice,” he said between gritted teeth, sweat rolling down his temple.

Aizawa smirked at Yamada. Karma really was a bitch. 

“Why don’t you let Hizashi have a closer look?” He teased, nodding for Shinsou, who happily obliged, thrusting his hands up to Yamada’s face. 

“Oh my gods,” Yamada whispered, straining to move his face away from the two black beady eyes watching him. And to his credit, he didn’t scream or shove Shinsou’s hands away, but the sickly shade of white on his face was glorious revenge. 

“He jumped right into my hands,” Shinsou explained, and like he was some prophet, the cricket hopped straight onto Yamada’s nose. 

And that time, he did scream. Aizawa focused his quirk on him so he didn’t deafen the entire campus, struggling between laughing as Yamada flailed, swiping at his jacket for the cricket that had magically vanished. 

“Shou! Do something!” Yamada whined, jumping around like a rodeo horse. 

“Hey, Hitoshi, want to go down the slide?” Aizawa asked, offering the kid his hand.

Chapter Text

Quiet fell over the Yamada household. Eri, after a hard day of playing games with The Big Three, had fallen asleep, her head slumped on Aizawa’s shoulders as he carried her home. 

Yamada had rushed off to his radio show (something about an intern and a hair dryer), kissing all three of them on the head before roaring down the road in his mustang. 

Shinsou had tried to nap, the kid tossing and turning on his futon for twenty minutes before he came shuffling into the kitchen, where Aizawa was marking homework. 

Aizawa didn’t mind the company. After migrating to the living room, and giving the kid some crayons and paper, Shinsou happily settled down on the floor, scribbling animals and mumbling songs under his breath. Aizawa sat close by on the sofa, leaning against the coffee table as he sorted through his neglected marking, his pen the only sound accompanying Shinsou’s singing. 

The peace was broken when Shinsou crawled over on his knees, a piece of paper in his chubby fist. Aizawa watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to smile as Shinsou used his leg to pull himself up before rolling onto the sofa. He watched Aizawa mark for a second, curiosity winning over his desire to share his work, before he leaned forward, his round eyes seeking Aizawa’s attention.

“Dad?”

The pen stilled in Aizawa’s hand.

He couldn’t help but look at the kid, unintentionally confirming an identity he wanted but couldn’t quite take. Yet . 

Shinsou smiled either way, scooted closer, and shoved the picture into Aizawa’s face. 

“Look.”

Aizawa took the picture, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles from Shinsou’s hurried grip. Warmth filled his chest and a smile escaped him at the sight. The picture was of Shinsou, taller, his legs and arms far too long for his extra noodle-like body. His hair was just as fluffy and coloured crudely in purple. But the thing that stood out was the purple cape flowing behind the figure. 

“It’s me,” Shinsou said meekly, suddenly shy as he pointed at the figure. “When I’m older.”

“Is this a hero’s cape?” Aizawa asked. 

Shinsou nodded before crawling into the space between the sofa and Aizawa, who leaned back, abandoning his marking. 

“I’m gonna be a hero,” Shinsou said. “The best one in the world.”

“In the whole world?” 

Shinsou flopped his head onto Aizawa’s arm, staring at his picture like he could envision the future and saw himself standing proud as a hero.

“Yeah, even better than All Might.”

Aizawa snorted, grinning down as he shifted his arm from under Shinsou’s head, and wrapped it around the kid instead, pulling him into his side.

“You might have some competition there, kiddo,” Aizawa said, before leaning closer. “But I think you can do it.”

Shinsou turned to him, eyes sparkling.

“Really?”

“Rea-.”

Aizawa felt it before realisation kicked in. A drunk-like feeling washed over him, making him feel almost high as the world shifted and turned, suddenly seeming far away and close all at once. 

“Uh oh.” He heard Shinsou say, before the kid shifted, sitting on Aizawa's lap. A plump hand tapped against his cheek. “Wake up.”

Despite the outside stimuli, Aizawa stayed trapped in Shinsou’s quirk, wrapped up tightly within his own mind. 

“Mmmh.” Shinsou began sucking on his fingers as he looked around the room, his brows furrowed in worry. “Umm.” He turned back to Aizawa as if he had the answer, which he did, but without the command, Aizawa was useless. 

“I don’t know…” Shinsou mumbled around his fingers before he looked back towards the corridors, his eyes brightening. He scrambled down from the sofa and raced down the corridor and out of Aizawa’s sight. 

It was only seconds later when another voice joined the fray of confusion and worry.

“Uh oh,” Eri said, standing beside Aizawa.

“It was an accident,” Shinsou whined, holding onto Eri’s hand. 

“Daddy?” Eri poked Aizawa’s arm, and again, and once more on his temple. “How do we wake him?”

“I don’t know. I’m not allowed to use my quirk.”

The desire to hunt down Shinsou’s previous fosters and homes was growing each day, but this took the icing on the cake. Without any training or even being allowed to simply use his quirk, it was now something foreign to him. Asking the kid to understand his quirk would have the same effect as asking him to do algebra. And it was all because a few adults judged and feared without putting a single bit of effort into understanding the kid’s quirk. 

And now, he was trapped inside his own head with two young kids with no adult supervision. It was just perfect .

“I’m sorry,” Shinsou whimpered, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other holding onto Eri as if she would leave him if he let go. 

“It’s okay.” Eri turned and patted Shinsou’s head. “Daddy says it's normal to have quirk accidents. Sometimes a fumble helps us get better.”

“What does that mean?” Shinsou sniffled. 

“Uh…” Eri paused. “I don’t know, but Daddy does.” She turned back to Aizawa, her lips pursed in thought. “We should get help.”

It was then that Eri was on the move, hovering around the living room until she found Aizawa’s phone on the coffee table. 

Pride warmed Aizawa’s chest. They had taught Eri what to do and who to call in an emergency if either he or Yamada were out of commission. He was glad that she remembered what to do.

“Deku?”

But that was not the person to call. 

There was a very long list of people Eri needed and should call before ringing one of his students. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s Daddy. He’s stuck. No. Hitoshi used his quirk, and we don’t know how to turn it off.” Eri hummed and nodded into the phone. “Yeah, Hitoshi’s okay.” She turned and smiled at Shinsou, who was clinging to her, his eyes welling with each passing second. “We don’t know how. We tried. Okay! Bye Deku.” Eri smiled into the phone before putting it back on the table. 

“It’s okay. Deku is coming to help us. He’s a hero,” Eri said, patting Shinsou’s hand. The kid didn’t look convinced. And neither was Aizawa. 

It didn’t take long for Eri to race out of Aizawa’s vision and answer the front door. Shinsou hid behind the top of the sofa, pulling a blanket over himself. 

“We are here!” 

Uh no.

Toshinori’s booming voice echoed throughout the room, followed by a rambling Midoriya, and numerous other voices all talking over each other.

“Oi! What’s the big deal? I thought Sensei was in trouble. Where is he, brat?”

Aizawa wanted to curl up into a ball and sink into the earth and die. He wanted Mt Lady to pick him up and throw him into the atmosphere. He wanted Gang Orca to drag his arse all the way to the bottom of the sea. Because if there was anything worse than Toshinori and Midoriya, it was having Class 1-A come barging into his apartment.

“Daddy’s on the sofa. Hitoshi brainwashed him.”

“Can’t Shinsou just turn his quirk off?” Midoriya asked, the voices getting louder as Aizawa heard multiple feet shuffle into the living room. 

“He doesn’t know how,” Eri said.

“He doesn’t know how?” Midoriya repeated.

And then the footsteps all stopped. 

“Oh.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shinsou peek out over the top of the sofa.

The room got loud. Voices ran over each other, Bakugou’s laugh rivalled Yamada’s. Aizawa wanted to expel them all. 

“How did this happen?”

“I knew something was wrong when Shinsou didn’t up to the dorms, but I didn’t think Aizawa-Sensei would keep us in the dark if Shinsou was injured. So I didn’t want to pry, but I had an inkling that he was hiding something when hedidn’tturnupfortraining… ”

“Wow, Shinsou’s small!”

“Oh my god, he’s so cute!”

Shinsou squeaked before ducking, hiding under the blankets again. 

“Let’s not scare him,” Toshinori said five seconds too late before he shifted into Aizawa’s vision, laying a large hand on his shoulder, and giving it a rough shake. “Aizawa?”

“We tried poking him,” Eri explained, giving a small demonstration and poked Aizawa in the armpit. “Nothing.”

“Hmm.” Toshinori gave another shake for good measure.

“I could blast him,” Bakugou added.

“That’s not helpful, Kacchan,” Midoriya chastised. “We don’t want to hurt Sensei.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Deku. Just a small one.” Bakugou barked, snorting at Midoriya like a wild colt, all proud and angry. 

“It could work,” Toshinori pondered. “Alright, go ahead and try, Young Bakugou.”

Aizawa didn’t have to see the delight on Bakugou’s face to know the kid was enjoying the free ‘hit’.

With a crackle and then a quick flash of pain, Aizawa felt his brain whiplash against Shinsou’s hold, and suddenly he was blinking away the headache that decided to bloom. 

“Get out,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, causing shapes and colours to pop behind his eyelids. 

“Oh, it worked!” Eri cheered, swinging Midoriya’s hand back and forth. 

“You okay, Aizawa?” Toshinori asked, bending over to look Aizawa in the eye. 

“No. Why are the students here?” He turned and saw at least five of his students in his living room (minus Shinsou).

“Ah.” Toshinori gulped, and at least had the decency to look sheepish. “When young Midoriya heard that you were in trouble-.”

“I wasn’t in trouble.”

“Well, when he heard of your situation, somehow your class found out and followed me here.”

“It was Jirou,” Kaminari added.

“Hey!” A smack was heard from over Aizawa’s shoulder, followed by a startled yelp. 

“Toshinori, get them out.”

Toshorini turned a bright shade of red before standing up to his full height.

“You heard him, everyone out. We don’t want to disrespect Aizawa’s privacy more than we already have,” he said, trying to usher the students out the door.

“Wait! What about Shinsou?” Uraraka protested.

“Yeah, Sensei, what happened to Shinsou?”

“Is this why he hasn’t been in the dorms?”

“ Toshinori ,” Aizawa growled.

“I am curious too,” Toshinori added, unhelpfully. 

Aizawa’s quirk flared to life, but outside of the dorms and classroom, it had little effect on the kids other than making them look in any other direction, ultimately refusing to look him in the eye.

“Out. Now.”

“But Sensei, we’re Shinsou’s friends. We wanna make sure he’s okay,” Kaminari whined. 

“He’s fine.”

“He looks like he’s two,” Bakugou added, casting the kid in question a disgusted look. 

“I’m four,” Shinsou said, poking his head out of the blanket, earning a bout of cooing. 

“He’s so cute!”

“Hey there Shinsou, I’m Midoriya Iz-.”

“What happened?” Bakugou interrupted, shoving Midoriya out of the way. 

Aizawa stood then, his still quirk burning at his students as his hair flared around him, but trying to intimidate his students while practically in his pyjamas was a lost cause. 

“How about we go into the common area and talk about this?” Toshinori added. 

If Aizawa had any say in the situation, then he would be throwing all six intruders out of his door and throwing across the bolt. However, if teaching had taught him anything was that teenagers were relentless when they wanted to be. And this class? They were the worst.

“Fine.”

One by one the kids marched out of the apartment, but Bakugou stopped by the doorway and held his hand out for Eri, who happily took it, before throwing a suspicious glare over his shoulder at Aizawa. 

“So you can’t shut the door on us,” he said, before taking Eri with him.

Aizawa stood dumbfounded.

“I think Bakugou just stole my kid,” he said to himself before turning to Shinsou who was still partially hidden under the blankets. “Let’s get this over with.”

Shinsou reluctantly left his fortress of blankets in exchange for a ride on Aizawa’s shoulders. It earned him a series of giggling teenagers when they saw them enter. Eri had already pulled out her toys that were kept downstairs in the teacher’s common room. Somehow she had managed to drag Bakugou with her, shoving dolls into his stiff hands. 

The rest of his hell class were eagerly watching him, sitting on the edge of their seats. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” he said, plopping down on the furthest sofa, bringing Shinsou around and setting him on the floor. “And don’t scare the kid.”

“So, what happened to him?” Bakugou asked, still holding Eri’s dolls as she arranged some order to her play. 

“He got hit with a quirk during his internship.”

“Is he stuck like that forever?” Urarka asked, cocking her head to the side and giving Shinsou a gentle smile. To which the kid shoved his face into Aizawa’s leg.

“It should wear off in a day or two.” Aizawa smoothed Shinsou's wild hair back before leaning down to talk into the kid’s ear. “Why don’t you go play with Eri?”

Shinsou pulled back with watery eyes before glancing over to Eri. But it wasn’t her attention he grabbed. Instead, Bakugou simply looked at the kid, sending him back to Aizawa, clinging to his pant leg. 

“Bakugou,” Aizawa chastised.

“What? I only looked at the darn kid. Not my fault-.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue. 

“Whatever,” Bakugou mumbled before slumping further into himself.

“Kacchan, you’re messing up my dolls,” Eri said quietly, moving her dolls back into position. 

Bakugou tutted but obliged as he held the dolls in place.

“Is that why you haven’t been training with us?” Midiroya asked. 

“Yes. I thought it best to stay with Shinsou since I can erase his quirk.”

“Jeez, that didn’t work out too well for ya, huh Sensei?” Kaminari laughed before it dithered under Aizawa’s stare, and the kid looked away sheepishly. 

“I wonder why outside stimuli didn’t snap you out of his quirk?” Midiroya asked, pinching his bottom lip. “I did read a study about how younger kids have a hard time controlling their quirks, so instead of learning at first, they simply just let everything out. Like grabbing too much without anywhere to put it. ” Midoriya came up for air with a gasp before setting his sights on Shinsou. “Do you think I could ask him some questions, Sensei?”

“He’s four, Midoriya.” Aizawa shook his head. 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Midoirya said, smiling at a nervous Shinsou. 

“Must be a bummer to be a kid again,” Jirou said, twirling one of her earjacks around her finger. 

“I don’t know. I think it’d be fun,” Uraraka said. 

Aizawa couldn’t imagine anything worse. Other than maybe being a teenager again. At least he didn’t really remember his time as a toddler. 

“None of this is to get out to the other students,” Aizawa warned, keeping his focus on Kaminari, watching as the kid began to sweat. “It’s bad enough that the five of you know.” He turned his glare onto Toshinori. 

“Sorry,” Toshinori mumbled, a streak of red flashing across his boney cheeks. 

“Monoma would have a field day if he found out,” Uraraka said.

“I know I wouldn’t want anyone knowing if I was Shinsou,” Jirou pointed out. 

“Exactly, so keep your mouths shut,” Aizawa warned. 

Bakugou tutted as he glared at Midoriya and Toshinori, and the other two glanced at each other before wordlessly looking away from Bakugou. Aizawa was too tired to figure out or care what was going on with those three. He had enough issues to deal with, and Toshinori was a full grown adult. He could take care of himself. In theory. 

A tug on his sleeve pulled Aizawa out of his thoughts. Shinsou was looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. 

“My head hurts.”

“Like a headache?” Aizawa asked, putting the back of his hand on Shinsou’s forehead. The kid didn’t feel warm.

Shinsou nodded, sniffling. 

“ Shinsou said that he gets migraines when he overuses his quirk,” Midoriya added. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen the guy face-plant the sofa after training. Nothing can get him up when he’s like that,” Kaminari said, wincing, knowing full well what quirk exhaustion was like. 

But somehow, Aizawa knew it wasn’t a regular headache. It was like some internal instinct that just told him it was the villain’s quirk wearing off. He couldn’t explain it, but when he looked into the kid’s teary eyes, he saw that tired, but yet determined glee that his Shinsou always had. 

“I think that’s our cue to go home.” Aizawa plopped Shinsou onto his hip as he stood. “Come on, Eri. Time to go. Say goodnight to everyone.”

Thankfully, Eri only hesitated for a second, lingering her hold on her favourite doll before Bakugou held his hand out for it and began putting her toys away. 

And after a quick goodbye, the trio headed back up to their apartment. Aizawa quickly sent Yamada a text, informing him of his theory that Shinsou's time as a toddler was coming to an end. 

“You look sad,” Eri said as they closed the front door. 

Hmm?” Aizawa set Shinsou down onto the sofa, pulling a blanket around his shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“You look sad.”

Aizawa crouched down to her level, and ran a hand down his face, unsure how to explain to Eri how he felt. 

“I’m not sad. Maybe a little nervous.”

“Why?”

Aizawa looked over to Shinsou. 

“You know how me and Yamada took you in when you were hurting and scared?” Aizawa asked.

Eri nodded, her head slowly tilting in thought. 

“Well, do you think you’d be okay with us doing that for another kid?”

Eri looked over to Shinsou before meeting Aizawa’s gaze again. 

“But you are.”

Aizawa chuckled and squeezed the back of Eri’s neck gently. 

“What I mean is,” Aizawa hesitated. There was so much red tape surrounding Shinsou. The kid was still legally under the care of Tanaka, and until that mess was sorted out, it would be impossible to legally bring Shinsou into his household. 

That didn’t even account for whether the kid wanted to even be a part of it in the first place. They never talked about it before. All Shinsou was focused on was becoming a hero, it always seemed like nothing else mattered to the kid. 

And yet, if there was the smallest of chances that Aizawa could take the kid in, then he was willing to take it. 

“Would you be okay with us making Hitoshi, an older Hitoshi, part of our family?”

Eri turned back to Shinsou who was watching with a clueless expression. 

“Eri?”

She turned back to him. 

“Yeah, I think that’d be okay.”

Chapter Text

Bedtime came quicker than expected, and Aizawa couldn’t have been more grateful. While he, and others, considered himself a night owl, he was beginning to appreciate an early night. Especially now that Eri had a set routine that they followed religiously, with her going to bed at eight and lights being turned off at eight-thirty after a bedtime story. It wasn’t long before Aizawa began to tire out soon after, crawling into his bed before even ten. 

He felt old. 

However, despite the routine, despite the day at the park, and despite the impromptu visit from his hell class, Eri was wide away. Wild as though she was stuffed full of sugar. 

Her influence was rubbing off on Shinsou, who was laughing so loud that Aizawa couldn’t help but grin at the sound. Thankfully, it was Yamada’s turn to put the kids to bed. But they were testing every single line Yamada made, knowing full well that he wouldn’t get mad at them for crossing it. 

Though, Aizawa picked up his phone, shaking his head as the clock read nine. It was way past Eri’s bedtime. 

“One more!” Eri demanded, her voice pushing past the closed door. It was so loud Aizawa could hear it from where he sat on the sofa. 

Yamada clearly had his hands full. 

Reluctantly, Aizawa pushed himself up from the sofa. In sickness and health, and all that. It was time for reinforcements. 

“What are you three doing?” He asked as he opened the door, leaning against the door frame. 

Two sets of startled eyes found him in the lamp-lit room. 

“Shou! Shut the door!” Yamada yelled, clearly knowing something Aizawa was not privy to until it was too late. 

Like creatures from some B-list horror movie, the kids sprang from the bed and dashed for the door. 

With only a second to react, Aizawa squared himself, ready to catch the kids before they darted into the apartment. 

Eri, her face set with determination, lunged, aiming to jump between Aizawa’s legs. However, a six year old barely had a chance against a pro hero, and Aizawa caught her easily and swung her over his shoulder, ignoring her kicking and squealing. 

“No fair!” She laughed, wiggling to get free.

Aizawa turned his attention to Shinsou, who had stopped in the face of Eri’s capture.

“Ready to go quietly?” Aizawa asked.

“Can we have another bedtime story?” Shinsou asked. 

“No-.”

Hook. Line. And sinker. Shinsou snatched Aizawa’s mind with his quirk. 

“Put Eri down,” Shinsou ordered. “Please.”

And against his will, Aizawa set Eri down onto the floor. 

“Come on,” Eri urged, grabbing Shinsou’s hand, dragging them past Aizawa, who stood helpless.

Foiled by a four-year-old. Thankfully only his husband was there to see his shame, and he’d seen a lot worse.

“Oh Shou,” Yamada chuckled behind his hand. He felt Yamada give him a good shake, and when that didn’t work, he heard him take a deep breath. Aizawa braced himself. 

A shrill whistle shot through his brain and snapped him out of Shinsou’s hold. 

“Back with me, babe?” Yamada asked, grinning ear to ear. 

“Ow. Yes.” Aizawa rubbed at his ears. 

“Dramatic.” Yamada rolled his eyes, still smiling like the cat that got the cream, before slinging his arm around Aizawa’s shoulders. “Can’t believe you fell for the little listener’s trick.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“He’s done it before.”

“Older Shinsou has done it before.” Aizawa shook his head. “The kid’s been so careful about using his quirk, especially after being scared of it earlier.”

“Eri’s clearly been bolstering him up.” Yamada laughed.

Aizawa snorted as Yamada gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Let’s go round up the kids you let loose before they cause any more trouble.”

“Me?” Aizawa snorted, shoving Yamada off him. “You let them escape in the first place.”

“Shou, I literally had Eri strapped down under her bedsheets so tight she couldn’t move.”

It was Aizawa’s turn to laugh. 

“She’s getting bolder and bolder each day, and I’m terrified for us!” Yamada shrieked. 

“I think she’s showing off a little for Hitoshi,” Aizawa said as they crept towards to the living room, where they could hear the kids giggling. 

Yamada’s long legs stepped into the living room first before the rest of him followed in a cartoonish fashion. 

“Hello!” He called out, “are there any naughty children who should be in bed in here?”

His only answer was a muffled giggle. 

Aizawa swept his gaze over the living room and instantly found two little lumps behind the curtains. 

“Hmmm. I wonder where Eri and Hitoshi could be?” Yamada sighed loudly. “Are they under the rug?”

“I think they might have disappeared,” Aizawa said, grinning as Shinsou giggled, followed by a wobbly ‘shhh’.

“Oh no, I guess I’ll have to eat all of Eri’s sweets then.” 

Eri gasped but refused to reveal herself. 

“And play with all of her toys by ourselves. I’m sure Mr Bunny will really miss her.”

“I’ll have to tell him the bad news,” Aizawa said, creeping towards the curtains. He heard the kids take in a large breath before holding it as he got closer. 

He waited until he was sure the kids were going purple in the face before ripping open the curtain. 

“Boo.”

The kids scattered, squealing as they darted in different directions. 

“There they are!” Yamada stomped after Eri, bouncing on his legs like a cricket. 

Aizawa strolled after Shinsou, who was currently crawling under the coffee table, giggling.

“I thought you had a headache?” Aizawa asked, crouching down in front of Shinsou. 

Shinsou shrieked before rolling backwards and scrambling onto his feet.

Clearly, the headache from earlier had vanished. And if it hadn’t, then it wasn’t slowing the kid down as he darted around Yamada. 

“They’re too quick!” Yamada yelled as if he was in a pantomime show. But with a wicked gleam in his eye, he shot after Shinsou and scooped him up into his arms. “Shou! I got one!”

“No!” Eri laughed, launching herself at Yamada’s leg where she clung on like a baby koala. 

“A little help, Shou!” Yamada yelled, dramatically wiggling his leg, trying to fling Eri. 

Aizawa strolled over and plucked Eri off by the back of her pyjamas. But Eri had other plans, ducking her head down and slipping through the shirt, fleeing around the sofa.

“Clever kid,” Aizawa beamed.

“Naked baby on the run!” Yamada yelled, throwing Shinsou over his shoulder. 

“Eri, it’s time for bed. Wouldn’t you like to be nice and rested?”

“No.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“No.”

Aizawa chuckled. Sometimes, despite her being almost seven, Eri’s behaviour mirrored someone younger than her. And it made sense. She had lost most of her childhood, especially those early developmental stages. It was kinda bittersweet to see her being a normal kid, even if she should have outgrown some of the behaviours. 

“I’m sure Shinsou would like to go to bed.” Aizawa looked over to Shinsou, who was upside down now, clinging onto Yamada’s arm.

“Do I have to?” Shinsou asked.

And Aizawa should have seen it coming. He was thirty-one years old, with over fifteen years of hero training instilled into him. Shinsou was only four, an unlikely foe to a pro hero.

And yet-.

“Shou! God dammit!” Yamada chastised, laughing. “Not again.”

“Get Yamada to put me down!” Shinsou ordered. And with Brainwash in control, Aizawa had no choice but to throw himself at his husband.

“Nooo!” Yamada stumbled back, throwing Shinsou up above his head.

“Tickle him,” Shinsou commanded, and Aizawa grabbed Yamada by the waist, and squeezed, tickling along his ribs. 

“Oh my god! Shou! Stop!” Yamada wheezed. “You’re gonna make me drop him!” He wiggled, struggling to plop Shinsou down onto his feet. “Okay! You two win! You win!”

Giggling, the kids high-fived each other before fleeing down the corridor.

But before vanishing into Eri’s room, Shinsou stumbled to a stop.

Aizawa couldn’t move, but he could feel the way Yamada jerked, his attention focused on Shinsou. 

“Hitoshi?” Yamada grabbed Aizawa’s wrists, wrenching them away from him. And with a thunk to the temple, Aizawa felt brainwash snap clean in two, like the rubber band around his mind just couldn’t take the pressure anymore. 

Instinctually, Aizawa turned and slowly crouched next to Shinsou, who was slightly curled over himself, his little hands lost in his hair. There was a lost, almost fearful look in his eyes. 

“You okay, buddy?” Aizawa crept around him and lifted Shinsou’s face. 

“Is he okay?” Eri asked, seeking Yamada and curling around his side.

“Hitoshi?” Aizawa asked softly.

“My head hurts,” Shinsou whispered, his voice so quiet Aizawa almost missed it. 

“Something to do with his quirk?” Yamada asked, clearly not believing it to be Shinsou’s quirk. 

Aizawa didn’t think so either. He’d seen Shinsou overuse his quirk before; the kid was prone to migraines and nose bleeds, and the insomnia was thanks to that too. But this didn’t seem the same. 

“Are we being too loud?” Aizawa asked.

“No,” Shinsou whined. “It just feels funny.”

Aizawa met Yamada’s gaze. 

“I think maybe it’s time we all go to bed huh?” Yamada scooped Eri up into his arms. “Say goodnight, Eri.”

Eri hesitated, his large round eyes glued to Shinsou. 

“Is he okay?” Eri asked.

“I think that the quirk might be wearing off, kiddo. Shinsou’s about to be a teenager again.”

“Oh.” Eri’s shoulders dropped, and she flopped her cheek against Yamada’s own. Aizawa couldn’t help but smile at how pitiful Eri looked at that moment. 

“Come on, kiddo. You’re up way past your bedtime.”

“Do you think Hitoshi will still play with me when he’s big again?” Eri asked just as Yamada took her into her room. 

“I think if you ask really nicely he will,” Yamada said, shutting the door quietly behind them. 

“Ow,” Shinsou whimpered, wincing as he brought his hands up back to his head, pulling at his hair. 

“Okay, don’t hurt yourself,” Aizawa said softly, taking Shinsou’s hands again. “Let’s go sit on the sofa.” And with practised hands, he picked Shinsou up and carried him to the sofa, where they sat, Shinsou in his lap.

Aside from the odd sniffling and pained whine, Shinsou was silent as he buried his head into Aizawa’s chest. He watched carefully, rubbing a gentle hand over Shinsou’s hair. 

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to this version of Shinsou. Not that Aizawa would trade them. He missed the kid’s sarcastic wit and heroic enthusiasm. He even missed the teenage drama Shinsou would gossip about, pretending that he didn’t really care while he prattled on. He missed the quiets where they’d reflect, just spending time in each other’s company.

But he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy seeing the younger version of Shinsou. The wide eyes and careful nature; the cautious playful side; the need to always be held or comforted. Aizawa basked in those quiet moments; he blamed Eri for making him so soft. 

It was going to be strange to give those up.

And while things would change, especially concerning Shinsou’s guardianship, Aizawa was ready to return to a sense of normality. He was eager to train Shinsou again. He couldn’t quite train him as he was now. 

“How you feeling now?” Aizawa asked, gently pulling Shinsou away to look at his face. Shinsou shook his head, his eyes welling. “Okay, try to get some sleep.” Aizawa began to rock the kid side to side, hoping that the motion helped the kid relax. 

But as time passed by, Aizawa felt the moment it got worse.

The kid was burning. His skin began to flush, his face becoming red and sweaty. And worse, the kid began to cry. It was quiet at first, an odd sniffle that became a wobbly whimper. But now, the kid was sobbing into Aizawa’s chest, openly weeping.

“It’s okay, it’ll pass. I’m here,” Aizawa said, leaving the sofa behind and began to pace, rocking the kid up and down in soothing motions, not that it seemed to help. Shinsou just continued to cry, trembling in his hold with huge hiccuping gasps. 

“Think we should take him to Recovery Girl?” Yamada asked, popping his head over Aizawa’s shoulder. 

“We might need to if his temperature continues to rise.” Aizawa leaned back, letting Yamada slip a hand between him and Shinsou, and pressed the back of his hand onto the kid’s forehead.

“He feels hotter. Do you think he’ll let us take his temperature?” Yamada asked, already stepping away to grab the equipment.

“Doubt it,” Aizawa said, demonstrating Shinsou’s reluctant behaviour when he tried to wipe away the snot covering his face, but like he predicted Shinsou shook his head from side to side, almost screaming. “Okay, sorry, kid, sorry.”

Shinsou shoved his face into his shoulder, his tears soaking through the material of his pyjamas.

“It’s probably the quirk, right?” Yamada asked. “The kid’s not actually sick?”

Aizawa didn’t know. He didn’t think Shinsou was actually sick. There was no sign of illness, and yet the kid was burning like he had a fever. 

“I think we should go to see Chiyo,” Aizawa said, worried that if they didn’t go- if something happened, he’d never forgive himself. 

“I’ll give her a call,” Yamada said, disappearing into the house.

Aizawa slipped into his bedroom and sat on the bed, pushing himself up against the headboard, pulling Shinsou into his lap. The kid whimpered before curling into him, his eyes screwed up tight. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Aizawa said, smoothing out the baby curls at the back of Shinsou’s head. 

“I’m sorry,” Shinsou hiccuped.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry over.” Aizawa held Shinsou closer. “You’re okay, kid.”

“But I’m sorry,” Shinsou whined, this time pulling away and looked up at Aizawa with red-rimmed eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Make it stop.”

“Oh, kid.” Aizawa’s heart broke. “You haven’t- it’s-.” Aizawa took a breath to steal himself. And then another. He felt almost sick. 

“Please, Daddy.”

Aizawa sucked on a broken breath. 

He had to brace himself to speak. This wasn’t about him. It was all about Shinsou. 

“Kid, you aren’t hurting because you were being naughty earlier. You weren’t even being naughty. We were messing around. Playing.” He took Shinsou's little face into his hands. “You never deserve to be hurt. Ever, kid. And I will never hurt you, do you understand?”

Shinsou’s bottom lip trembled. 

“I love you, kid.” Aizawa swiped his thumbs over the ruddy apples of Shinsou’s cheeks. 

Shinsou opened his mouth once, twice, but no words came out. On the third attempt, a strange thick noise slipped out before he began to wail, the sound loud and miserable. 

Aizawa cradled him, whispering words of comfort into his hair. 

It was how Yamada found them when he returned with a damp flannel and a plastic cup full of water. Not that Shinsou drank any, but he did accept the flannel, allowing Aizawa to wipe away the sweat rolling down his face. 

Chiyo arrived not long after, busying into the room with her equipment. 

“How is he?” She asked as Aizawa shuffled to the end of the bed, keeping Shinsou in his grasp.

“He’s burning up.”

“Hold him still,” she said, pulling out a tympanic thermometer, and placing it in Shinsou’s ear while Aizawa held him still. “102.1.” She tutted.

“Will he need a hospital?”

“If it continues to spike, then yes.”

Aizawa swung his gaze to Yamada.

“Let’s go,”Yamada said. “I’d rather be there if he needs help, than be too late.”

“Sorry for dragging you all the way here,” Aizawa apologised as he wrapped a soft blanket around Shinsou. 

“Nonsense. I’ll take care of Eri while you two take care of Shinsou.” She waved them off with her cane, and the three of them were tumbling down the stairs. Aizawa almost slammed into the building’s front door and would have if Yamada hadn’t beaten him to it, yanking them open.

Several traffic laws were broken as Yamada sped them through U.A’s gates. 

“How’s the kiddo doing?” Yamada asked, casting a strained look through the rear window. 

“Not-.”

But before he could answer, Shinsou launched out of his grip, twisting until he was leaning forward and vomited over Aizawa.

The smell hit first. But Aizawa didn’t care. He pushed Shinsou’s hair out of his face and rubbed soothing circles across his back.

“Hurry, Hizashi,” Aizawa pleaded, before focusing on Shinsou. “Get it up, kiddo.”

And Shinsou did. He vomited again, gagging and choking as he curled over himself. His cries got louder, more shrill and desperate until he was left throwing up clear bile, his stomach empty. 

Yamada rolled down a window. 

“Sorry ‘bout the car,” Aizawa said, wiping the vomit on his pyjamas shirt onto the seat next to him, using his sleeve to clean Shinsou’s face as the kid flopped back into his arms, hit with a sudden exhaustion.

“Fuck the car, man,” Yamada snapped, taking a corner too sharply. Shinsou yelped as Aizawa curled over him protectively.”

“Hizashi!” Aizawa barked.

“Cool it! I’m driving.”

“You’re scaring the kid.”

Yamada slowed, and from where Aizawa was sitting he could see the whites of Yamada’s knuckles disappear as he loosened his grip.

“Shit, sorry, just-.” His gaze flicked back at them through the rear mirror before focusing back onto the road.

“I know.”

The rest of the drive was a blur as Aizawa held onto Shinsou. He only knew that had stopped when Yamada yanked the door open, and almost dragged him out as he helped him onto his feet.

“I’ll run ahead,” Yamada said, his long legs taking him away as Aizawa followed, trying to keep his gait smooth as Shinsou cried in his arms. 

The kid was panting now, his mouth opened wide, the corners of his lips pulled down as he fought to breathe. 

“Almost there, kiddo. You’re okay,” Aizawa said, despite the way the kid was burning through his shirt. 

A nurse greeted him as he stepped into the hospital. He saw Yamada with the receptionist, his hero licence placed on the desk. He waved his hand for Aizawa to go without him. 

The nurse took them into a room where he gingerly placed Shinsou onto the bed, gently unfurling the fingers clinging to his shirt. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told the kid as he held his hand instead.

The nurse busied around him, and Aizawa did his best to stay out of the way, silent as he watched Shinsou take another wet breath. 

“You’re okay,” he said, squeezing Shinsou’s hand. 

It earned him a quick stare as Shinsou forced his eyes open, revealing dark indigo surrounded by a blood-shot red. 

“Hey.”

Shinsou blinked at him. 

“We took you to the hospital, but you’re going to be okay.” 

Shinsou closed his eyes, his brow furrowed with wrinkles. 

“It hurts,” Shinsou croaked.

“I know it does, buddy. I know.” Aizawa felt his own voice tremble at how pained Shinsou sounded. 

“We need to get some fluids in him,” the nurse said, and Aizawa held Shinsou close as she prodded him with an IV. Shinsou didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even notice as it went into his skin.

Aizawa shared a concerned look with the nurse. Which quickly turned to horror as blood dripped from the kid’s nose.

The nurse hurried away, shouting for others as Aizawa held a tissue to the kid’s nose, watching helplessly as blood began pooling from Shinsou’s ears.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Aizawa whispered. Shinsou was oddly quiet now, his gaze looking distant.

“Sir, we need you to step outside.”

Aizawa hesitated.

“We’ll take good care of him.”

He didn’t want to leave the kid alone. He didn’t want Shinsou to think he had left him behind like so many others had done. He needed the kid to know he was there for him.

“Sir.”

He’d seen other parents act like this before. While he understood that in those moments logic didn’t seem logical to them, but he thought them stupid for not allowing the nurses to do their job. Now he understood completely.

He pressed a kiss to Shinsou’s temple.

“I’ll be waiting right outside that door.” He promised as he released Shinsou into the nurses’ care. 

Yamada was there, waiting. 

“Shou?”

Aizawa let the door click shut behind him. 

“Is he okay?” Yamada stepped into his space. Aizawa went to him and buried his face into his husband’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

Aizawa didn’t know how much time had passed. Yamada led them both over to the waiting area, shoving a bottle of water into his hands. But he couldn’t drink it, not even with Yamada’s help. His hands shook too much. And his stomach twisted at the thought. 

They waited for Shinsou’s hospital door to open. But it never did, aside from another doctor or nurse slipping into the room, the sound of hurried voices muffled as the door shut closed behind them. 

He should’ve been used to the waiting. He’d done it before. Being a pro-hero meant sitting in more waiting rooms than anyone could imagine. He’d lost count of how many times he’d sat in the very same chair, waiting for news about Yamada or Kayama. 

It never got easier. The pain-staking agony of not knowing. His knee bounced as he thought of the worst possibilities. His palms began to sweat as he kept thinking of what he’d say if whoever he was waiting for didn’t make it. 

He held out for hope, but at the same time, he knew one day he wouldn’t be so lucky.

He hoped today wasn’t that day. 

“He’ll be okay. He’s your mini-me.” Yamada pressed a firm hand between his shoulder blades. 

Aizawa’s eyes stung.

“Present Mic?”

The two of them shot out of their seats, startling the poor nurse who had come to fetch them. 

“Is the little listener okay?” Yamada asked, and Aizawa clasped his hand. He didn’t want to hear the news. He didn’t want to hear the nurse tell him that somehow Shinsou didn’t make-.

“He’s okay. A little disoriented and tired, but the quirk ran its course, and he’s back to normal.” The nurse smiled at them. 

“Can we see him?” Yamada asked, holding back Aizawa as he strained to go.

“Legally, his guardians-.”

“His guardian is under investigation for child abuse and neglect,” Yamada filled in. “We’re Shinsou’s teachers. He’s a student at U.A, and is under its guardianship as Shinsou is currently a dorm student.”

He could see the nurse hesitate. And for an awful moment, Aizawa considered punching a nurse. Instead, Yamada squeezed his hand, running a thumb over his knuckles.

“And I brought Shinsou in as a pro-hero. I want to make sure the civilian I’m taking responsibility for is doing okay.”

The nurse sighed before stepping aside, no doubt used to pro-heroes throwing their titles about. A perk to the job. 

Aizawa didn’t waste time and rushed towards the hospital room, all but throwing the door open. He froze at the doorway. 

“Hitoshi?”

And there the kid was. Sixteen again. All long limbs and a tired expression. He was reclined upwards on the bed, propped up by a pillow. There was an i.v in his hand and a smudge of blood on his upper lip. But Shinsou looked okay. Not entirely healthy, but okay. He was alive.

“Hey, Senseis,” Shinsou croaked, giving a weak smile at the both of them as they made their way into the room. The onesie he had been put into was now gone and replaced with a simple blue hospital gown; the onesie itself now sat in a plastic bag, torn to pieces by Shinsou's rapid growth. 

“Hey,” Aizawa pulled a stool close and sat next to Shinsou’s bedside. Yamada hovered behind him. “How are you feeling?”

Shinsou gave a pitiful laugh, his whole body almost deflating at the simple task. The gown made the kid look paler than he usually was, washing anyway any colour on his cheeks. 

“Tired.” His eyes were half-lidded and surrounded by deep grooves. He looked like he would fall asleep in seconds. 

“Don’t let us keep you from snoozing, kiddo. You look like Eri could take you down,” Yamada jested. 

“Probably could,” Shinsou replied, “but the nurse said you guys were waiting for me.”

“Yeah.” Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat. He could still feel the warmth of Shinsou’s blood running over his fingers. “You scared us.”

“Sorry.”

Aizaa shook his head.

“We’re just glad you didn’t choke out of us,” Yamada said, “I’m sure you gave Shouta here some new grey hairs.” Yamada pretend to yank at one, earning a weak giggle from Shinsou, but Aizawa didn’t even budge at the teasing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Shinsou.

“Sensei?” Shinsou asked, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Aizawa said. “As Hizashi said, we’re just glad you’re okay.”

Shinsou’s frown deepened but it was ruined by a yawn, and the fluttering way Shinsou’s eyes struggled to stay open. 

“Go to sleep, Hitoshi.” Aizawa made the bed lay flat and pulled the sheets up, pulling it tight under the kid’s chin. And for a peaceful second, it looked like the kid was about to be pulled under by sleep, his entire body sighing as he sunk into the pillow. 

But just as Aizawa was about to sit back down on the stool, Shinsou’s eyes cracked open. 

“Are the pair of you gonna tell me what happened?” He croaked, staring up at Aizawa before he closed his eyes again, too tired to keep them open. 

“What do you remember?” Aizawa asked, tucking a strand of Shinsou’s hair from his face.

“It was all a blur,” Shinsou mumbled, seconds away from falling asleep. “I don’t remember much. I just remember feeling safe.”

Chapter Text

One Week Later

Aizawa drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited outside the police station. The radio had long been abandoned after flicking through them all, skipping every single one. The noise grated on him, but the silence was just as bad. 

He was excellent at waiting. His career was ninety percent waiting and five percent action, while the rest belonged to paperwork. And yet, he couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing. And his stubble seemed particularly itchy, the skin hot and prickly. 

He took an even breath, silently laughing at himself for being so nervous. He took down supervillains every weekend, and yet, the mere thought of going through with asking Shinsou was driving him insane.

Everything was going to turn out okay, despite how much it could all burn down around him, Shinsou could never want to train with him again or quit being a hero altogether. It wasn't a logical thought, none of them were, but the thoughts plagued him, going round and round in his head with every worst possible outcome. 

Perhaps it was a little melodramatic. Perhaps Shinsou would say no, but life would continue as normal. Perhaps if he let Yamada’s ‘words of wisdom’ drown out his own inner voice, then everything would be okay. 

A head of purple slipped from the police station’s doors, and Aizawa started the engine. 

“Everything go okay?” Aizawa asked once Shinsou was buckled in, and the pair headed back towards the school.

“Yeah, the detective said that Tanaka gave up full custody. Didn’t want to fight in court,” Shinsou shrugged, slouching in his seat so much that his seatbelt was cutting into his throat.

“Sit up,” Aizawa lectured, dragging Shinsou up by his hoodie’s sleeve. “Can’t be a hero if you get decapitated in a crash.”

“Yes, Dad,” Shinsou drawled, rolling his eyes as he sat up straight. And then the kid stiffened as if he only just realised what he had said. 

Aizawa took another even breath. 

“You don’t want to press charges?” Aizawa asked, breaking the awkwardness that followed Shinsou’s joke. 

“Nah, if I did, I’d be sent to a kid's home instead of a foster during the court trial, and I’d rather just get it over with. Move on. Move in with the next foster.” Shinsou picked at a hangnail, looking anywhere but at Aizawa. 

“You know, you wouldn’t have to see him again if you did press charges? I could take your statement, or we would organise a different date for you to go to court?” Aizawa pressed. “Whatever you need, kid.”

“I know,” Shinsou sighed, giving up with his now bleeding hangnail, plopping his finger into his mouth. “I just…I don’t think I want a room full of strangers knowing what…what I went through. I got a long list of wrongs done by fosters, and I-.” Shinsou shuddered. “I don’t think it’d help.”

Aizawa kept quiet, waiting to see if Shinsou spoke again. He understood the kid’s decision; if it was up to him, Tanaka would be behind bars. And if he had favours he could pull from inside the prison, then he would deny all of it, even if a corpse turned up. But it wasn’t his choice. 

Instead, he reached across and squeezed Shinsou’s shoulders. 

“If you need to talk about that list, you know where I am.” 

Shinsou shied under his touch, his face turning red. 

“I know. Thanks.”

Aizawa gave his shoulder a pat before the pair silently finished their journey, pulling up at the school. The kid had moved back in with his peers the day the hospital released him, and Aizawa had his living room back, the spare futon back in the closet. 

And with the week that passed them, Aizawa rarely saw Shinsou. The kid somehow skirting around the school, vanishing around corners before Aizawa could even think of approaching him. 

And when they did bump into each other, or Shinsou came back to class, an odd silence followed them. They were never the chatty type, even when Shinsou used to revel in Aizawa’s attention, talking non-stop, the same way lonely kids did. But now, the air around them felt silted. 

Aizawa understood. He didn’t know how he’d feel being stuck as a toddler with his homeroom teacher taking care of him. He couldn’t imagine it was a pleasant feeling.

But not having the kid around felt like something was missing

“Thanks for dropping me off,” Shinsou said, unbuckling himself as they pulled into U.A’s carpark.

It was now or never.

“Can you wait for a second?” Aizawa asked, the words rushing out of him. Shinsou paused, turning his head over his shoulder to look back at Aizawa before he sat back into his seat.

Aizawa felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to go to a new foster home,” he said, wincing as Shinsou’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?” 

“We could pull some strings, and Tsukauchi owes me some favours-.”

“Sensei.”

Aizawa squared himself.

“Hitoshi, I would like to foster you.”

Shinsou’s frown deepened, and Aizawa felt his heart twist. He wanted to tell the kid he could say no to it, that he didn’t have to come live with him and his family. But he couldn’t get the words out. They were trapped in his tongue, his mouth dry.

“I’m not that little kid anymore.”

“I can see that.”

Shinsou’s nostrils flared as his grip on the door handle tightened. 

“Then why?”

“Why what?” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou’s eyes glistened before he turned his head away.

“Why would you say you want to foster me?”

An understanding sat heavy in Aizawa’s chest as the kid seemed to curl in on himself. 

So, he reached forward and gently turned the kids' gaze back to him despite the way Shinsou flinched.

“Hitoshi,” Aizawa softened his voice, “I want you to join my family. Not some little kid version of you. Just you.”

“But everyone wants little kids. Not some fuck-.”

“Don’t finish that,” Aizawa interrupted. 

Shinsou’s bottom lip wobbled.

“This is a cruel joke, Sensei,” Shinsou mumbled, viciously wiping at his eyes. 

“I’m serious.”

Shinsou made a blubbering noise, and Aizawa wanted nothing more than to comfort the kid, but he held back, unsure if Shinsou would allow such a thing. 

“What about Mic-Sensei and Eri?” Shinsou asked, his voice miserable and small.

“They want this too,” Aizawa said, wondering if Shinsou wanted it too. He hoped so. He hoped with everything that Shinsou wanted them. “You don’t have to answer straight away. You can take as long as you need.”

“No,” Shinsou sniffled. “I just wanna make sure this is real first.”

Aizawa smiled before reaching forward, carefully pulling Shinsou over the handbrake, into their first awkward hug. But despite the way Shinsou had to almost stretch his entire body to even reach Aizawa, the kid sunk into the embrace, his chest hitching as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Is this why you’ve been shifty?” Shinsou asked.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Been real weird.”

“I thought you were avoiding me. Even Mic couldn’t catch up with you.”

Shinsou sighed. 

“I thought I caused you guys enough trouble,” Shinsou said before his face turned a bright red as he pulled back. “And you know, kinda embarrassing that your teacher bathed you and changed your underwear.”

“You were four years old.”

“Sensei. I would rather die.”

Aizawa laughed at the serious look Shinsou gave him, before he ruffled the kid’s hair, smiling warmly when the kid leaned into the touch. 

“So, what do you say?” Aizawa clasped the back of the kid’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Shinsou flushed before he slumped back, his body too loose and easy. 

“I didn’t just cry because I hated the idea. It’s not my nightmare to live my teachers.” 

“Hitoshi.” 

Shinsou’s gaze met his, and the guarded wall dropped just enough for Aizawa to see the vulnerable side of the kid.

“Yeah, I wanna be fostered by you.”

And then, Shinsou threw himself at Aizawa, wrapping his arms around him with awkward limbs. 

“Thank you,” Shinsou whispered before he whipped out of the car, his gangly legs getting tangled in the seat belt. 

Aizawa followed far more gracefully.

“Before you go back to the dorm, let’s go tell Hizashi and Eri the good news.” 

Shinsou beamed before trotting to his side, a skip in his step. Aizawa tried to keep his stride steady, even as the excited nerves in his stomach bubbled. 

He unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped back, allowing Shinsou in first. 

“Surprise!”  Two loud voices carried into the hallway, making Shinsou freeze ramrod straight, his legs jumping apart as if he was ready to fight, his hero instincts kicking in. 

A banner with the words ‘Welcome Hitoshi” was hung across the living room, which was covered in balloons and already popped party poppers. 

“What…” Shinsou slowly stepped into the room, his mouth and eyes wide open. He turned to Aizawa with a wobbly grin. “What if I said no?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you over and we’d have a lot of cake to eat by ourselves.”

Shinsou laughed before turning to face Yamada and Eri. 

“Welcome to the family, kiddo!” Yamada threw an arm around Shinsou’s shoulders. Shinsou laughed, an embarrassed and overwhelmed thing, but he was smiling, his eyes welling up again. 

“Papa said that if I asked, you’ll play with me again?” Eri asked, looking down at her shoes, suddenly shy.

Shinsou went to one knee so he was at eye level with Eri.

“I think I’d like that,” he said, earning a tippity-tap dance from Eri.

“Can I still be the big sister?” Eri asked, slipping her hand into Shinsou’s, her hand dwarfed and almost hidden by Shinsou’s large ones; he was like a puppy who had yet to grow into his paws. It was a cute image to have. 

“Uh,” Shinsou pursed his lips. “I guess so.” 

Eri fist-bumped the air with a whispered, “Yes!”

“I think it’s time to cut some cake!” Yamada yelled, his excitement slipping into his quirk, causing poor Jelly to hiss at him as she almost fell from her cat tree. 

“Cake!” Eri shrieked, abandoning Shinsou as she hurried after Yamada. 

“Huh? Forgot about me already,” Shinsou joked, earning a clip behind the head from Aizawa before he pulled the kid into his side.

“Yamada spoils her.” He squeezed Shinsou’s arm, “and he’ll spoil you too. So this is your warning.”

“I think I like the idea of being spoiled,” Shinsou said, looking up at Aizawa, his eyes glistening with tears and his smile stretched wide across his face. “And don’t pretend you don’t spoil her too, Sensei. Eri talks.”

Aizawa chuckled as he shoved Shinsou away from him, the kid almost tripping over his long legs. 

“Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Shinsou recovered, throwing Aizawa a teasing look. 

“Go have cake.” Aizawa nodded towards the kitchen where the other two had already cut into the strawberry-frosted cake. 

Shinsou beamed at him before joining Yamada and Eri, plucking a bit of corner cake, earning a swat from Yamada who was already cutting the kid a slice. 

It felt so normal to watch the three of them. Like it had always been. 

And always would be.