Chapter Text
Aizawa sees blue flames in his periphery and does not hesitate in activating his Quirk.
Taking in the scene, he finds a young woman teary eyed and stumbling toward a now defenseless Dabi—reckless, he thinks, but he can't stop her. Dabi is cradling something in his arms, but it must not belong to the woman because she does not reach for it, just places her palm on the bare skin of his arm before launching herself away.
Her Quirk, he realizes, blinking. A child, he registers not a second later. Dabi is holding a very familiar child.
Aizawa has too much experience to freeze, but that doesn't seem to matter. He watches almost in slow motion as Dabi manages to cradle a significantly younger boy with two-toned hair to his chest before his eyes roll back and his body succumbs to gravity. The young woman starts to run away and reflexively Aizawa throws out his capture weapon to block her path—she had not heard his approach despite the relatively quiet and isolated area of the street they find themselves on, if the surprise on her face is any indication.
He needs to possibly arrest her or at the very least get her statement, and he starts to say as much when Todoroki wakes, panicked as he looks down at the Villain transformed beneath him. Except he doesn't look much like the familiar Villain anymore, a shock of red hair and dressed in casual clothes. The Pro Hero feels a migraine coming on.
The young Dabi’s looks imply something that Todoroki immediately confirms. “Oniichan?”
Moving closer as if that single word has not knocked all the air from his lungs, Aizawa splits his attention between the woman and the maybe-Todorokis. “Explain.”
She lights up in recognition, relaxing greatly despite still being bound in his capture weapon and attempting to bow in thanks to him. It’s awkward but leads him to believe she isn't a threat, so Aizawa releases her. With her hands free, the young woman signs slowly at him before she pantomimes for a phone to type on, which explains how she didn't notice his approach. He indicates that they can converse in JSL, because he is well practiced living with his husband, and her eyes tear up in delight. The bar really is too low.
Conversing as such, however, means he can’t multitask by separating the apparent brothers and getting this witness statement.
“How long will he be out?”
“Four minutes,” she answers immediately, understanding his dilemma, “at least.”
Aizawa looks again. Todoroki is pressing softly at Dabi’s hairline, searching for the wound causing a stream of blood to slide down his face. He has not bothered to take in his surroundings, only moved off his alleged brother’s chest to kneel beside him anxiously. Aizawa remembers how Dabi cradled the child and decides to risk it, though he keeps one uneasy eye on the pair.
The woman begins. Hanako had been startled when Todoroki touched her shoulder from just outside of her field of vision. The younger one, she calls him, apparently not recognizing him because she has no interest in “Heroes and their politics.” But she did recognize his uniform after the fact, realizing too late that he was probably not trying to hurt her. She managed to catch him before he crumpled, and she was sitting him up trying to wait for him to wake before taking him to the police or someone, when the scarred man appeared.
“I’ve seen him around before,” she tells Aizawa, and he has no doubt. This is Fukuoka, after all, and he himself is in this city for related reasons. They're not too far from that place now. “He usually keeps to himself, and he did this time, too, until he saw the little one, and he got so angry. He took him from me and started burning, and it scared me too much to try to read what he was saying. He got angrier though, when I didn't respond, and then his flames went away.”
She used her Quirk on him too only because she didn't know if he should be left with the child at all, and it was the only way she was confident she could separate them, just in case. She was going to find someone with a phone to help when Aizawa captured her.
They both hazard a serious glance at said pair to find Todoroki growing visibly distressed at the other’s stillness. He still kneels by his side, one hand shaking where it sits just under Dabi’s nose and the other pressed against the pulse point under his jaw. Todoroki looks like a toddler; he should not know to do that.
Before asking Hanako about the specifics of her Quirk, Aizawa has to address the child. “He’s going to be fine.”
He jerks his gaze up, distrust but no scar in the set of his face. “Who are you?”
“I'm Aizawa. I'm going to help you, so just wait a moment for,” he trails off, flicking his eyes over Dabi’s form.
“My brother,” Todoroki supplies, looking between the adults. Aizawa doesn't know if the child is paranoid enough to hide his name or if he is just reading into things too much. “He’s okay?”
“He will be. He should wake soon,” Aizawa translates from Hanako. “Hanako-san is going to tell me about what happened so we can see how to fix it.”
When he nods in acceptance, relaxing marginally only once he rests his ear against his brother’s chest, Aizawa turns back to Hanako to find her looking apologetic.
“I didn't know they were brothers.” Aizawa does not tell her that that’s the majority stance. “I guess the little one would have been fine.”
The Underground Pro elects to ignore that. “Tell me about your Quirk.”
Her entire countenance changes. “It’s the worst. I don’t like children. No offense.”
It’s registered as Forty Days and Forty Nights, an age regression contact Quirk that takes the affected individual back twelve years in time, aging an average three to four months every night until they return to their proper age. The process takes no more than forty days depending on the number of formative and strong memories of the past twelve years, and it must run its course.
Aizawa does not know whose luck it is due to that, as of today, UA is coincidentally on holiday for the next two months. Several teachers, including himself, insisted on this out of concern for the mental and physical well being of the children, given how busy the year has been. Teaching Hero-hopefuls to rest requires a strict hand, forcing them to rest as a way to prepare themselves to better protect the public. It’s a lesson many current Pro Heros could stand to learn.
The recess also makes dealing with the ramifications of this Quirk a little easier, at least in Todoroki’s case. Aizawa will make excuses where necessary once Dabi wakes; he has a hunch things are about to be much more hectic than he hoped his break would be.
“This is irreversible. They will relive their lives at night, and they will remember all of these days of accelerated aging,” Hanako explains. “The strength of their memory will influence how detailed their nights are. The big one is probably still sleeping because his memory is strong. Poor dude.”
As if on cue, there is a groan from Dabi as he starts to wake up, so Aizawa tells Hanako that he’s got it from here. “The little one is my student, so I’ll take care of this. Have a good evening, Hanako-san.”
She doesn't try to stick around, smiling something that better resembles a grimace before disappearing around the corner. Aizawa turns his full attention to the Todoroki brothers, finding the younger being calmed by Dabi’s murmured assurances and gentle hand ruffling his hair.
“Dabi?” Aizawa calls, just in case, now that the civilian is gone.
Dabi looks startled by his voice, blinking a haze quickly out of his eyes. He and Todoroki exchange a confused glance; the name means nothing to either of them. Todoroki is subtly shuffled out of Aizawa’s direct access as Dabi gets shakily to his feet. “Sir?”
“My mistake. Can you tell me your names?” Looking at his face properly, there’s a lot of blood.
Dabi stiffens. “I would prefer not to. Stranger danger, you know,” he offers conversationally.
“I am Aizawa Shouta, call me Aizawa. And I'm asking because you seem to have a fairly serious head wound.” Aizawa steps closer slowly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. “Can you tell me your name and home address?”
Belatedly, Dabi wipes at his forehead then holds his hand up, poorly hiding the blood he’s just found. Todoroki clutches his pants leg, tucking his body in close to the other. “Ah, I'm fine, thank you for your concern. We’ll go now.”
Aizawa ignores the falsehood to ask, “Can you tell me how old you are?”
“Eighteen,” Dabi answers immediately.
His voice hasn't dropped yet and he is roughly the size of the average ten year old, so Aizawa merely offers a flat look of disbelief. He’s already decided on a hunch to wait to divulge how much he already knows about both boys, but he should have expected Dabi to make things more difficult for him.
When there is no honest correction of his age despite the knowing pause, Aizawa slips and allows a frustrated pinching of his face. The silent cowering that inspires in Todoroki has him immediately smoothing his features, watching Dabi shield the younger more fully with his own body.
“We’re fine,” Dabi reiterates more forcefully. Aizawa notes that he does not use his Quirk. “We’ll get out of the street and be out of your hair. No need to concern yourself with us, sir.”
He cannot allow these two to simply return to the Todoroki home. Explaining the existence of an older son he’s never before heard of aside, Aizawa does not trust that Endeavor is any better at handling issues with his family than he is at handling civilians. The fact that said son is an infamous Villain intent on dragging Endeavor to Hell attests to that.
“That’s not possible. Do you know why you’re bleeding? Where are we now?” And because he regularly works with children who use snarky defiance in defense of themselves, Aizawa quickly adds, “Do not say Japan. We’re in Fukuoka.”
Todoroki gasps. “Oh, did we escape, Oniichan? I don't remember.”
Aizawa sighs. That language doesn’t leave much up to interpretation. Of course Dabi of all Villains has a traumatic backstory. Dammit.
“You’ve both been hit by a Quirk that has caused you to regress in age by twelve years,” he admits. “Come with me so that I can tend to your head wound and get you both something to eat. I have a place you will stay until this situation sorts itself out.”
“Sorry, sir, but I think you're mistaken.” Dabi’s eyes flick around, clearly trained in analyzing his surroundings and assessing his options. He must not like what he sees; his polite veneer is wearing thin, and the effort he puts into lessening the bite in his tone is apparent at the end. “Why should we even trust you?”
“Because I'm a Hero and I want to help,” he shows them his license. Dabi inhales sharply when he notices the date of its renewal. “I go by Eraserhead, but please continue to call me Aizawa.”
The adult is tempted to tell the brothers that he is also a child advocate and can help them get out of their house, but he composes himself; this Quirk and its relationship to time would make him a liar in terms of impact. The children have enough to contend with in the moment as is.
“You don't want to return to your home, at least not yet, and I won't make you, but I won't let two minors wander these streets alone.”
“He said he would help us,” Todoroki tells Dabi, reaching for his hand hesitantly. “You were asleep for a long time. You're still bleeding.”
Dabi acquiesces after a moment, reluctantly appeasing Todoroki’s implied request. Aizawa will take what he can get. Hesitantly, the older brother squats down and tightens the laces on Todoroki’s shoes. While he’s down, the younger pulls up the hood on his jacket for him, looking at him with bright eyes as if asking for praise.
For knowing the injury would raise questions and taking the initiative to hide it? Sirens blare in Aizawa’s head, only worsening his headache; Todoroki should not be concerned with any of that. Regardless, Dabi provides the validation with a small smile and a hand in his brother’s hair, mixing the colors.
Aizawa uses their momentary distraction to discreetly text this city’s favorite hero to meet him at his apartment. Your complication. Dinner for 4, eta 20.
When he looks at the boys again, Dabi has Todoroki hoisted up onto his back, reaching behind himself to pull up his little brother’s hood. He shrugs when he catches Aizawa’s quirked brow. “Memorable hair. And he can’t walk like an adult.”
Aizawa agrees in his silence, leading the way to the small apartment he recently bought in this city. He knows Dabi uses both the lack of conversation and the convenient placement of his brother to plan an escape, if necessary, as he surreptitiously notes landmarks. The Pro does not deny him this comfort; he can catch them if he needs to, but something resembling trust must be built first if any of them are going to make it through the next forty days.
Which is not to say he is not doing his own analysis. Dabi is an obviously paranoid and skittish kid, but he seems confident in his abilities, not overly nervous. They walk past an electronic store, several TVs in the windows, and he takes note of the date in one of the screens playing a trashy talk show that even Hizashi winces at, comparing it to several other screens.
Aizawa knows the date, and now Dabi is convinced of it, too. He sighs. “How much further?”
They arrive seven minutes later.
The apartment complex is old but not too rundown, with thick walls and neighbors who all mind their own business. It’s a two bed, one bath and it has a small but functional kitchen, a living room, and a closet sized office. Aizawa has stayed less than a week in the building despite having it for a few months now only because he can't check on Hawks as often as he would like.
He meant to stay here for a week now that the school break has begun to do just that, but he makes a mental note to call Hizashi later and tell him about the change in plans. Goddamn problem children everywhere he goes; Aizawa is meant to be a cat dad, not adopt everyone at least a generation younger than him in a two hour radius.
Aizawa has the Todoroki boys sit on the couch while he retrieves the first aid kit, then sets about cleaning Dabi’s hairline wound. He doesn't flinch at all. The adult works slowly and thoroughly, conducting a concussion check as well because he knows Dabi will try to leave as soon as possible and he needs to buy time for Hawks to arrive.
Aizawa is well aware of Hawks’ mission; he’s an Underground Hero and the Winged Hero on the streets at night might escape some other folks’ notice, but not his. He spent a weekend in Hawks’ city and cornered him by the second night to get his answers, then he bought this apartment the next week. His younger coworker knows to obey his summons, and he should arrive in short order.
Rationally, Aizawa can justify this by saying that Dabi being twelve years younger with no recollection of Dabi will certainly affect the Number Two Hero’s infiltration mission. Relatedly, he also knows that letting the child see Hawks with him with obvious knowledge between them about his adult self will clue Dabi in on the mission once he is restored to his proper age.
It’s for Hawks’ own good. The older man is of the mind that this mission is pointlessly dangerous and not suited to the Number Two at all, so it’s for the best that it be cut short immediately. This method allows for an extraction free of a cremated Hero, as well as a final League secret as compensation for the HPSC.
This method does not, however, account for the apparent fact that Hawks knows young Dabi.
The key sounds in the door, and Dabi tenses. Aizawa finishes bandaging his scratch for Todoroki to inspect. Red feathers carry bags of takeout into the kitchen so that the man himself can lazily hide his hands in his pockets as he walks in. He does not take his boots off.
“Yo, Eraser, my man, you cannot send such a cryptic message. That guy was just at my—” Gaping, Hawks freezes, the food hitting the tabletop hard. Softly, with barely enough air to breathe it, he calls, “Tou?”
“Kei?” younger Dabi responds, shocked enough to temporarily stop shielding Todoroki from the rest of the room. “But you’re way too big.”
“Todoroki Touya? What the fuck. No, really. What the fuck.”
“Takami Keigo,” Dabi—Touya glares, pointedly not looking at Aizawa. “You stupid bird.”
Aizawa wonders why Hawks’ real name comes as a surprise to him, and Takami continues to abstain from reading the room. “Blue. Strawberries in white chocolate mousse.”
“Yellow—”
“Gold!” Takami squawks.
“—and red,” Touya continues forcefully, “like McDonald’s.”
“Gold and red, like jewels.”
“There’s a mirror in the bathroom, but I don't know if you can see around your ego.” Touya scowls. “And if you say gold and red it follows as all kings.”
“Without their heads, yes, I remember,” he agrees absently. “Tou, how the fuck are you here?”
Aizawa gathers that the code between them has served to verify each other’s identities, so there’s no reason he can’t turn his glare on the younger Pro Hero. “He is here with his three year old brother, Shouto.”
“Touya, it is you, isn’t it? What—what is this?” He looks at Aizawa. “Is this… the complication?”
With a sigh, he nods. He explains the Quirk in detail for all of them to hear, keeping the parts about how exactly they ended up affected relatively vague. While they try to absorb all of that, he also adds, “You Todoroki boys cannot be left alone until you return to your proper ages, and you cannot leave this apartment without supervision and a disguise. You are too recognizable and it will endanger you both.”
“So you're just going to keep us locked up in here?” Touya frowns. “I'm sure you have your own life you would prefer to get back to. You know who we are, so you can just offload us onto our father. It would be the most efficient.”
Before Aizawa can respond that he is yet to be convinced that is even remotely what he or Shouto want, Takami interjects loudly, “No! No, that’s a bad idea. Touya, you should stay with Eraserhead for now. Until this wears off. I swear you can trust him.”
“I don't know him, Keigo. You’ll have to take responsibility.” Takami nods, still staring. He reaches out and tries to poke Touya’s cheek, but he slaps the hand away. “Knock it off, Kei. It’s me.”
The acquiescence is not like Touya’s character so far, but it doesn't read as a lie, which means probably some combination of a strong disinclination to returning to the Todoroki Manor alongside some intense trust in Takami. The young man is so incredibly compromised, which Aizawa had already been concerned about but now has all but ensured.
Unfortunately, the one thing Aizawa knows about the world is that things can always get worse. His headache is building enough pressure behind his eyes to push them out, but he must ask, “How do you know each other?”
“We were friends.” Takami answers immediately, then focuses on Touya again. “You're twelve right now, right? Holy shit, dude.”
Touya is not so easily distracted. “We were friends? Not anymore?”
Takami looks past him, expression closing off. “You died. They told me you burned alive. They said it was an accident with your Quirk.”
Even if he is in shock, those are not details he should be sharing so easily with a prepubescent child, much less in front of a toddler.
Then Aizawa focuses on what he said, slipping into child advocate mode. If it was apparently known that Touya’s body is not immune to his Quirk, why wasn't he given suppressants? He had noticed burns on the kid’s neck earlier, and there are likely more elsewhere, hidden under his long sleeves. Shouto had asked if they managed to escape, Aizawa remembers, narrowing his eyes.
He wants to ask about it, but he hesitates. Touya is pouting. Aizawa goes back mentally through the conversation, trying to see it through his eyes. Then it clicks; the kid is pouting, Aizawa realizes, because he might no longer be friends with his old—only?—friend.
“He didn’t say this was a resurrection Quirk. I'm obviously alive as an adult,” he says.
“I know you as an adult but I didn't know it was you.”
Touya frowns, “Am I that unrecognizable, even by scent?”
No one answers him, Takami displaying an awareness that’s been lacking until now and Aizawa still reeling trying to align the Villain and the child, but the silence is an answer in itself. The child continues. “I guess they ended up following through with that surgery. I’m sorry, Keigo.”
Aizawa tenses, looking at his colleague. This is most certainly going to be a discussion. Takami is avoiding his searching eyes now, so Aizawa internally commits to giving the kid some time acclimating to the resurrection of his childhood friend before they have that talk.
“Nah,” Takami shrugs, lighthearted. “It’s not that bad; I can still smell better than regular people.”
Touya doesn’t buy it. “Better but not well enough to recognize me. It’s okay to be angry about the things they took from you. They had no right to—”
“I know, Tou, promise. I’m in a better state these days, with people from the outside, so that’s enough worrying about me,” he flashes a reassuring grin. “Come on, there has to be something else you wanna know. Ask me. Us, I mean. You can ask us.”
“Fine,” Touya allows. He then double checks, “So you're not friends with the adult version of me?”
“No, I definitely am. Even if the adult version of you tries to deny it.” Takami’s feathers fluff and twitch slightly as he grins smugly. He does not even pretend to hesitate, sparing no mind for Aizawa’s presence.
“You can't be any more insufferable than I remember you as right now, so why would I deny being your friend?”
“Because you're an asshole, but also really protective.” Takami laughs a little. “God, no wonder you’re taking forever to let me join you. You’d’ve known every time I was lying.”
“Join me in what?” Touya scowls. “Eh, it doesn’t matter. You were always bad at lying, Kei.”
“I'm a great liar,” he denies, as if it’s something to be proud of. “You just always figured out my tells. Man, I missed you, stupid bacon bastard. I'm going to fight you when you get to the right age for not telling me who you are.”
Touya hums, “You said I was burned alive? Maybe you’ll win for once then.”
“Oh.” Takami has finally taken off his blinders to look from Touya to the set of heterochromatic eyes watching intently from his side. “Probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“On the topic of things you shouldn't do, don't swear in front of Shouto. He's just a baby,” Touya looks teasingly down at his little brother whose cheeks puff up in annoyance. “But the other thing… I need to know when. Shoushou doesn’t need to see it.”
“Fourteen. You were almost fifteen.” Takami shakes himself. “But let’s talk about depressing things later. I brought dinner!”
“Oh, great, so it’s fried chicken and no vegetables,” Touya deadpans, getting to his feet. “How exciting. Shou, you hungry?”
“Celery and carrot sticks count as vegetables! You agree with me, right Shouto-kun?”
Shouto looks seriously at Takami when he sees the takeout bags. “Niisan is right.”
Touya high fives him, cheering about loyalty while Takami uses his feathers to set everything up as he whines about betrayal. Seems Aizawa really has been forgotten in his own apartment. Children, he thinks.
It makes him feel better to think of their banter as casual rather than an intentional ploy to keep Shouto from dwelling on his brother’s “death” in less than two weeks. Intentional or not, their distraction gives Aizawa time to plan their cover stories, so he slips into his office.
Before they attempt to organize a search party, Aizawa needs to inform the class that Shouto will be difficult to contact for a while but is fine and will fill them in when they return to school. He doesn't have Shouto’s phone—it’s probably twelve years away—so he makes do with phone numbers he already has, texting two problem children to get the message across in their various group chats.
For his own peace of mind, he simply does not look at any of the responding messages. Instead, he reaches out to Todoroki Fuyumi and lies. He apologizes for the late notice, but he was only recently informed that Todoroki-kun had not already told his family that he is going to spend most of the break doing voluntary remedial training with some Underground and other Heroes.
“I don't know why he wouldn't have told us,” Fuyumi says over the phone. “I guess Father wouldn't have approved. I hope he isn't overworking himself.”
“He didn't want to be talked out of going,” Aizawa soothes. “Cell service at the site is unreliable, but I will try to keep you updated when I can. I will make sure your brother stays safe.”
“Thank you, Aizawa-san, but you don't need to put yourself out. I'm sure Shouto will tell Natsuo and I about it when he gets back. I feel at ease just knowing you’ll be with him.”
And after he stops feeling as bad about lying to her, he checks his messages. Predictably, Midoriya is still typing and Bakugou has left only a single thumbs up reaction on the original message and asked if Shouto is with him. Aizawa thumbs up that message, then informs Midoriya that Todoroki is safe but does not want to return home, but when he is ready Todoroki himself will share the finer details. The messages die off after that.
He will likely have to send periodic updates to them as well, to make sure they keep out of trouble, but that is an issue for not now.
Touya notices as soon as he comes back into the common space. “Plate for you in the microwave. I sent Kei to get toiletries and pajamas. I assumed since we’re dressed in clothes that fit that the Quirk will take care of daytime clothes, and I don't know what will happen to our clothes while we sleep, but Shouto won't sleep without pajamas.”
Aizawa nods in thanks for the food. Shouto, staring at the clock, says, “Three.”
“Kei was bragging about how fast he’s gotten. He has three minutes left to win the bet.”
Naturally.
It’s going to be a long forty days.
“Oh,” Shouto says, smiling tentatively. “This is a city not a new part of Father’s house? I haven't seen it all yet, so I was confused before.”
Aizawa keeps his face as encouraging as he can, pretending the remark hasn’t lit his blood on fire. To redirect his attention away from the no doubt crumbling facade on his face, the teacher shows Shouto on a map how far apart Fukuoka and Musutafu are, smiling genuinely at the wonder that takes over his face. Excitedly, Shouto points out the distance to his older brother, and Touya does an excellent job of being amazed. He’s about as good at that as he is at avoiding Aizawa’s gaze.
Touya hasn’t allowed extended eye contact for the past thirty minutes. Shouto’s innocuous questions and comments have filled the morning, and his brother rarely catches him before something too concerning slips out. Aizawa knows Touya doesn’t realize exactly what’s wrong with the things being said, but the preteen is aware something is not right. Aizawa can’t get into the specifics of it right now; he saw how tense Touya got after glimpsing the slightest hint of censure in his eyes, as if he was bracing for a lecture of his faults. The defiance that characterizes him as an adult Villain hasn’t kicked in yet, apparently.
More than that, however, is that Aizawa needs an in with the preteen. The Todoroki boys experienced the Quirk effect for a night, so now they both trust Aizawa hasn’t lied to them yet, but Takami’s vouching for him can only go so far. It’s great that it has enabled them to be comfortable and ask their questions, but Aizawa needs to be able to stand on his own feet with them. Shouto takes his cues from his brother, and if Touya gets spooked or stays meek around Aizawa, nobody is going to get anywhere with anyone in these next few weeks; the Underground Hero needs to be more than the acquaintance of a childhood friend, needs to be a confidant in his own right.
Especially in moments like this, where Shouto takes a fortifying breath. “Thank you for letting us sleep in. And for answering my questions.” There’s no reason children should consider waking before eight on a Saturday morning ‘sleeping in,’ but Aizawa can’t respond before Shouto asks, “And now we train?”
“Nope!” His brother immediately answers. “It’s all free time, so unless you wanna,” Touya trails off.
“Free time,” he decides immediately. His eyes light up, though there’s no other indication of his joy, not even in the pitch of his voice.
“Kei brought coloring books and art supplies,” Touya suggests, ruffling Shouto’s hair. “Think you wanna start there?”
There have been multiple times Aizawa has bitten his tongue this morning. He did not ask what time the two of them normally wake, nor did he make either child elaborate on why they are “not allowed” to spend unsupervised time with their siblings. The teacher smiled when Shouto described staying awake past bedtime for the others to sneak into his room and play, and he takes great pains not to ask about their homeschooling schedule. Hell, he doesn't even begin to raise the question about how one has not yet seen the entirety of the only home they have ever lived in, but the man has to draw the line somewhere.
Trying to make it as clear as possible that he is not mad at Touya, Aizawa holds out a hand to stall his escape. Shouto freezes as well, looking between the two of them. “Shouto, I need to talk to your brother for a moment. You may start without him or wait, if you’d like, but I want to have this conversation in private.”
He doesn't move until Touya squats down and smiles at him. “You can pick the pages we do today, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”
Aizawa waits until Shouto is seated at the table, and he keeps his voice low. He knows better than to go where the brothers cannot see each other, so he compromises. “I want to believe you know that a three year old should not be training.”
“He’s almost four,” Touya corrects with a slight frown, “and he doesn’t train per se, yet, just watches Father train me. It’s to prepare him for when he’s ready.”
That is a thousand times better than what the teacher expected. He still isn't too sure what training looks like for Touya, and he hasn’t forgotten the note of weariness verging on trepidation in Shouto’s voice when asking about it, but Aizawa allows Endeavor a momentary break from the hellfire of his parental rage for not forcing a toddler to fight.
Not quite sure the man deserves it, Aizawa repeats, “Ready? To train, you mean?”
“Well yeah, look at him,” Touya shrugs. “He’s gonna have the perfect quirk, it’s all Father has ever wanted.” And that’s not me is implied, a low undercurrent of jealousy that he’ll have to watch for just in case. Dramatic backstory or not, Aizawa’s primary concern is for Shouto, and if he is endangered they will have to look into different arrangements for Touya. “Shouto has to learn from my mistakes so that it’ll be easier for him when he starts. It’s better that he has an idea of what it’s like.”
Aizawa very consciously does not narrow his eyes. “And what is it like?”
“You’re a teacher, aren't you?” Touya huffs, “We do all the usual stuff.”
Aizawa wants to tell him the usual stuff very much does not include working with anyone whose age is still in the single digits, but he doesn't want the kid to shut down on him. “Humor me.”
“Quirk strengthening, mostly, and a lot of sparring,” Touya sighs, sitting down cross legged on the couch. “I'm not allowed weapons or any other gear beyond fireproof clothes because Father says it will make me weak. I should depend on my Quirk and my Quirk alone, or else I will never be able to be a Hero, let alone take the Number One position. I already have to do extra resistance training because my body is so pathetically weak—I overheat using my Quirk, so I have to train my body to go as hot as it can to make my fire stronger and get over it.”
Aizawa hums. Yeah, Endeavor will never escape the grasp of his parental rage. He knew it felt wrong offering the man some grace. Touya sounds embarrassed to admit to what he thinks are his faults, and Aizawa can tell he has been blamed for his own biology as if it is something he chose.
A part of him wonders if Touya’s quick denial of Shouto’s inquiry into training has to do with him not wanting Aizawa—a virtual stranger—to be made personally aware of his alleged shortcomings. Perhaps he’s tired of training, or maybe he thinks Aizawa doesn’t have anything to teach him. None of that would particularly bother Aizawa; he can understand and sympathize with the imagined underlying motivations quite easily, in fact. So Touya deciding against training with him isn’t really noteworthy, save for the fact that Touya’s discomfort doesn’t seem to be at all related to the content of his training, which through his own account reads more like abuse than anything constructive.
That leaves a bad taste in his mouth, so he says, “For what it’s worth, you shouldn’t derive your meaning from your Quirk. If your body is incompatible with your Quirk, you don't have to use it.”
“Of course I do. How else will I overcome it to become a Hero? It’s all that I'm training for.”
The teacher does not think it’s merely his own bias that makes training sound like existing in Touya’s response, but he lets it go. For now, it is an argument he doesn't want to have; Touya isn’t ready, so Aizawa changes tactics. “Do you want your little brother to do the same thing, to train like you have?”
Touya seems to seriously consider his response for a moment. “No, not exactly. I hope I can be a little jealous of Shouto when his Quirk comes in,” he smiles, looking down, “I hope he’s fireproof. It would make training with Father easier, especially when sparring, and he won’t have to work too hard to get his body used to his Quirk.”
He lights his left palm on fire, watching the blue light shine. Aizawa prepares his own Quirk in response, but Touya pays him no mind, eyes on the flame. “I've been working on it with Father since my Quirk came in, and I still give myself burns when I use my fire—even Father’s orange flames burn me. Though I guess I have doubled the time I can use it without passing out, it doesn't seem like good enough progress for eight years of training. Even Father is getting frustrated.” He shakes himself, flame sputtering out and leaving a reddened palm behind. Touya grins, “But I'm gonna figure it out, and when I do, Shouto will be there, and I can teach it to him.”
“Okay,” Aizawa sighs. He goes to his office, ruffling through the desk drawers and leaving the door open behind him. He feels Touya’s confused gaze on his back, the boy still sitting on the couch.
“Okay? Then, I can go color with Shou now? Er—a two way radio?”
“Yes. I am going to the roof to call my husband—”
“You have a husband?”
“Yes, and I am going to call him, and you two are going to stay here and color. The radios are so you can get in touch with me if you need; I do not want you to leave this apartment by yourselves for anything. I will be on the roof.”
Aizawa has already bugged the apartment, and he has covertly placed baby monitors for real time monitoring, so he isn't too worried about them pulling a disappearing act in an unfamiliar city. Well, he is, but he’s banking on the Takami trust and slowly becoming helpless to his own emotions at the moment, so it is what it is.
Touya laughs, a sudden and bright thing that shocks Aizawa. “I didn't know you could have husbands. Then women can have wives, too? That is so cool.” He makes a considering face. “Do you know if my sister is married? Actually, I want to remember by myself. Oh—yes, I mean. Me and Shouto will be fine here by ourselves for a bit. That’s what you're saying, right? Please pass on our well wishes.”
With the small smile as his send off, Aizawa moves on autopilot out of his apartment, finding himself on the roof and video calling Hizashi on a secure line without really processing the steps it took to get there.
It’s his day off from all his jobs, so he’s dressed down. His hair stands, though not as tall, and his casual seeing eyeglasses replace his usual tinted lenses. Some tension leaves his shoulders when he sees his husband’s early morning smile—because 8:37 AM is early morning, especially on a Saturday, especially for children, especially for any parent ever working anywhere between zero and eighty additional jobs.
“Shouta! You’ve called just in time,” he sings. “Eri-chan is still asleep, and Hitoshi-kun hasn’t come home yet from his sleepover.”
Aizawa blinks. “And that means I’m just in time?”
“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” Hizashi smirks, “Moments like these are the closest we’re gonna get to having private time. Sucks that you’re not gonna be around in person for a couple weeks, but I’ll deal.”
“About that,” Aizawa begins with a wince.
His husband’s teasing smile falls. “More than a couple weeks? Shouta…”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You really need to work on calling me when you have good news, my love.” Hizashi frowns, then sighs. His countenance isn’t as bright as before, but he isn’t cold so that’s already more than Aizawa could ask for. “Well, if it’s you, then there’s no way around it. I’m sure you’ve got it figured out.”
If only, Aizawa thinks darkly to himself. “Zashi, do you have the mental space for a rant right now?”
He asks because he doesn’t want to stress him out after disappointing him, but Hizashi nods immediately, always so sickeningly selfless. “Of course, I can do it, Shouta. I mean, it’s part of why you called, isn’t it?”
“Talking to you like normal helps,” he argues. He called because he is feeling overwhelmed and a text message isn’t going to cut it, but at no point does he want to overburden his partner. “There are things you should know, but we don’t need to dump them all now.”
“And that’s all well and good,” he waves his hand, “but now it sounds like gossip, so yes, we sure as hell do. Lay it on me, pencil boy.”
The epithet causes some vague grumbling—Hizashi is the one who came up with his dumb Hero name in the first place—which only makes the blond grin. “I have the Todoroki boys in my custody at the moment and presumably I will keep them for the next forty days,” he admits. “It will be… difficult to come home before then.”
Hizashi makes an inquisitive noise and Aizawa continues, “A Quirk incident has regressed the ages of Shouto and Touya, the eldest, by roughly twelve years.” After explaining the details of the quirk, he adds meaningfully, “They did not wish to return to their father’s care.”
Hizashi understands, and his gaze sombers despite the slight confusion still in his tone. “I don’t know about anyone named Touya. Todoroki-kun has another brother?”
“Yes,” Aizawa returns with a face not unlike one whose molars have been removed without the aid of anesthetics. “Touya has been presumed dead for about a decade, however. He goes by Dabi these days.”
“No,” Hizashi gasps, too shocked to give it volume. He gets enough air in his lungs to all but shout, “Shouta—” A quick glance around before he lowers his voice once more. “Shouta, Dabi is Todoroki Touya? Is it—is it safe?”
“For now,” he nods. “Shouto adores him, and they’re rather attached at the hip.”
He angles his phone camera at the baby monitor in his other hand. It takes a second to focus, but Aizawa knows Hizashi, too, is captured by the sight of the duo coloring together. He turns up the volume, and the married couple listens in silence to the ramblings of a Todoroki Shouto more excitable than either of them have ever known.
“They only have the memories appropriate for their age,” Hizashi aptly observes. There’s more silence, then: “Oh God, so we’re getting another kid. Okay. Okay, we can do this. I’ll start—”
“What.” Aizawa shakes his head, trying to understand what he missed. Hizashi merely blinks at him, waiting patiently. “What?”
Shouto’s grainy, chittering calls of Oniichan, Oniichan still echo in the background as Aizawa comes to his senses for the both of them. “You seem to be having trouble remembering Touya is Dabi.”
“Sure,” he huffs, “but you’ve never met a child you couldn’t adopt. And now he’s what, twelve? Todoroki adorable and traumatized, not to mention virtually a lost cause? That’s your specialty.”
“I have limits,” he defends.
“Do you, though?” Aizawa returns a cutting glare that’s perhaps too harsh to aim at the man he loves, but Hizashi is unfazed. “Dabi has hurt you specifically and the rest of society intentionally, yes, and he’s inconvenienced me greatly by tying up your time now,” he jokes, “but adopting Touya isn’t forgiveness. It’s just a second chance, and you love those.”
Aizawa opens his mouth to release his well-founded complaints, but his grumbling is immediately washed out by Hizashi’s laughter. His smile warm and fond, he consoles, “It’s fine either way. Or, well—it isn’t, not really, not yet, but we have time to adjust.”
Only prior knowledge of his husband’s ridiculous stubbornness gets Aizawa to resist the urge to argue further. He sighs, “Touya wishes my husband well. He was very excited about it.”
“Cute!” Hizashi squeals with roughly forty percent faked cheer. “Oh, how precious. He seems like a sweet kid.” He does seem that way, and Aizawa isn’t particularly looking forward to watching that change. The light shifts in Hizashi's gaze. “I know you’ll do your best to keep him that way.”
Well, that’s enough of that. “Zashi, there’s another part you’ll love. Hawks knows Touya.”
The expected eyebrow peaks; Present Mic loves gossip. “Oh?”
“Knows him so well in fact,” he nods, conspiratorial and only barely holding back his smirk, “that Touya stopped being wary of me the second Hawks vouched for me.”
“Hawks knows a kid whose not-death was covered up thoroughly enough that we’ve never even heard of him,” he summarizes, “and the chatterbox has told no one. He knows that kid well enough to have unconditional trust.” A smile cuts slow and easy across his face. “Your gossip never disappoints, Shouta. It’s giving queer. Platonic or romantic?”
Aizawa’s bet is a one-sided childhood crush, since Touya seems dense. The affection is obviously mutual, however, if the state of Hawks’ mission is anything to go by. He doesn’t have to get into that more serious element now—Hizashi has likely already connected his own dots regarding Hawks’ mission.
They spend the next fifteen minutes basking in each other’s virtual presence, talking about nothing in particular. There will be time for planning excuses and shifting responsibilities to balance their work and professional lives later; as far as Aizawa and Hizashi are concerned, the drama waiting for the Underground Hero downstairs and prolonging his stay in this city doesn’t exist for just this little while.
Takami comes over after patrol, hair still a little damp from a shower despite his flight over, with an ungodly amount of extra bedding and a small inflatable pool in his arms. He grins widely at the dry look Aizawa receives him with, setting up shop in the living room.
“What is this.”
“I can’t sleep on the couch,” Takami answers simply. “Bad for my wings. This bad boy, on the other hand, is great for nest making! Probably, I mean. I haven’t tried yet, too used to regular mattresses, but theoretically, this is gonna be great. ”
He sighs, “I have a blowup mattress.”
Touya and Shouto share a bed in the extra room now, but they’ll need their own space at some point. If Touya stays once he’s physically Dabi, he probably shouldn’t sleep on the couch either. The plan had been for Aizawa to sleep in his office in his—
“Great, so the boys will figure that one out between themselves and you will keep your own proper bed the whole time. As you should. Not that I would ever call you old, Eraser, but your threadbare sleeping bag isn't exactly great for your bones, you know.”
Cheeky bastard, he communicates telepathically through his unamused glare. Takami understands him well enough, smiling wider to the point that it’s unsettling.
Touya’s head pops out of the doorway of the Todoroki room, and Takami’s attention snaps accordingly. Shouto has attempted to braid his brother’s spiky hair with very minimal success, but no one comments on it. “Kei, c’mere.”
He goes. Aizawa tries not to roll his eyes, knowing Hizashi would find the scene rather cute. The door stays open a crack as it has been since the boys moved in; though that’s through no direct order of his own, Aizawa appreciates the consideration.
Shouto pushes his way out a few moments later, just as Aizawa has successfully topped off his mug of coffee. His hair is in two neat French braids and he’s smiling like a little kid with a secret, but the adult isn’t worried about it.
Offering some juice to the kid, Aizawa asks, “Something you wanna tell me?”
He hesitates, looks back to the room Takami and Touya are still holed up in, then tentatively shakes his head. A pause, then: “Do I have to?”
“Is it dangerous? Then, no. Not if you don’t want to.”
“It’s a surprise.”
Aizawa softens his voice further, smiling gently. “A good one?”
He lets Shouto’s version of an enthusiastic nod placate him as best it can.
The others come back to find Shouto smiling into his cup and Aizawa struggling to keep his eyes open as he catches up on paperwork. Touya tugs on his brother’s hair in passing, then clears his throat. Aizawa stills his pen.
“Aizawa-san,” he starts. Takami is smiling softly from behind him, gaze fond at the excitement in Touya’s tone. “I get that you're worried about leaving us completely alone here, and I don’t think bringing us around everywhere you need to go is a viable option.”
Putting his pen completely aside, Aizawa nods slowly, flicking his eyes between the conspirators.
Touya continues, “Kei’s gonna be taking two days off from work a week so that you can see your family more often. He’ll watch us.”
“Obviously,” Takami explains into the quiet shock, “it can’t be the same two days every week, but the two days will more often than not be in a row.”
“It’s the least we could do,” Touya frowns, apparently unsatisfied. “Since we’re disrupting your life.”
He wants to say that this is unnecessary. The words lock up in his throat instead. Aizawa doesn’t know what association such a comment would bring up—he imagines Endeavor found spending time with his family as unnecessary twelve years ago as he does now—and he doesn’t mean it in any negative way. Really, he doesn’t know how to accept kindness from a boy who will wear Dabi’s face.
“I…” Aizawa studies the three sets of eyes before him, the Todoroki sets fixed on him and hopeful while the other still looks wondrously at his lost friend. “Thank you. I’ll let my husband know. He’ll be glad.”
He texts Hizashi about it later that night, and the blond promptly responds with a voice memo, vaguely put out, “One of these days, I'm gonna be the one finding our next kid, just you wait.”
Aizawa doesn’t feel the need to respond to that.
Instead, he lays in his bedroom and listens to the livestream from his bugs. Is he violating the boys’ privacy? Yes. He knows Takami is listening to them through his feathers, too. Neither of them will be caught unawares about any development between those children.
This is how, on the second night of this Quirk-mandated stay, Aizawa overhears Shouto remark on the problem that the doors open too quietly. That the floorboards don’t creak and settle in the expected places. It is how Aizawa overhears Touya promise vigilant, watchful eyes while his brother sleeps and reiterate a trust in a Hero whose feathers are certainly puffing up with pride right now.
Shouto wants to know how his brother knows the aforementioned Hero, and Aizawa pays slightly more attention to the answer, rather curious himself.
“Father sent me to the Commission for a month of training a couple years ago because he had a mission in another city for that amount of time. You were so little then, I don’t think you’d remember, but he said he didn’t want me to slack off while he was away. Now I go there every time he’s away. Keigo is the only other kid who is always there every time I am, so we’re close.”
Aizawa frowns. Then the HPSC should know who Dabi is—bluefire isn’t all that common of a Quirk, and the Blueflame Villain covered in burn scars who hates Endeavor showing up a handful years after the death of said Hero’s eldest son who coincidentally wielded a fire too hot for his body… Well, to the people who apparently trained him for years, that shouldn’t be a complicated problem to solve.
Assuming, fairly, that the Commission did that math, it means they picked Hawks for their ridiculous infiltration mission for exactly that purpose. They must trust Takami’s dedication to Heroism; maybe they even expected the pair to recognize each other, apparent olfactory surgery notwithstanding. Based on his experiences with the Villain, Aizawa’s mildly impressed by the luck they had in that Dabi didn’t cremate their spy on sight for daring to forget him. Learning about Touya on the other hand, in addition to his general disrespect for the too-powerful institution, frees Aizawa of the sentiment.
The Commission must know, too, like Aizawa has quickly realized, that regarding each other, Touya and Takami are more sentimental than anyone would have ever guessed. Aizawa wonders if the HPSC ever thought to be worried Dabi could turn Hawks, or that Hawks might compromise the mission and/or himself to keep Dabi safe. The most they banked on, Aizawa would bet, is a slight hesitation on Dabi’s part before a finishing blow; Hawks arguably does his best work in those life or death moments, after all.
Touya continues, his voice almost like he’s telling a bedtime story, “There was someone else there, too, though. That person’s Quirk let them be other people, Quirk and all, so me and Kei made a code. His colors are red and yellow—or gold, since you know by now he’s obsessed. They’re his colors because they look like him, but he also says they refer to the two of us because of our hair.”
“So you start with the colors,” Shouto interrupts to prove his understanding. Aizawa is continually (happily) surprised that he’s comfortable enough to do so.
“Exactly, Shouto. See, you’re just as clever as that birdbrain.” Which is both a compliment to his toddler brother and an insult to his friend, and Aizawa barely spares a knowing huff of air in response. He knows Shouto is probably smiling; it’s been established that the child finds humor in his brother’s sharper words.
“Kei likes shiny things, so sometimes he compares the colors to jewels,” Touya adds, “and other times he compares them to the sunset because he likes to fly towards the sun and I don’t like to wake up early. Yesterday, I was mad at him, so I said McDonald’s instead because their chicken nuggets are his least favorite. When he’s angry, the code switches to red and gold like a crown because—”
Abruptly, and thankfully, Touya appears to realize that describing a bloody revolution to his baby brother is perhaps not the best course of action. His pause makes Shouto ask, “Why, Oniichan?”
“Er, well, Kei only gets mad like that at people who think they’re stronger than him and boss him around like he’s nothing. That code means we’re about to be planning revenge, so it’s super important we’re the right people—the real versions of us, I mean.”
Uncertainly, the younger brother asks, “When we first saw him, he was angry?”
“I think he was scared,” Touya answers, voice soft and contemplative. “To be really sure it was me and not a trick, he wanted to use the really important part. Kei said the wrong ending to make sure I’d correct him, too.”
Shouto makes a sound of satisfaction. After a silent pause long enough that Aizawa’s almost sure they’ve fallen asleep, he speaks again. “Oniichan, how come he has so many but yours was about dessert?”
The flat response comes immediately. “Kei thought Heroes came from comic books and really liked all the theatrics about it—you know, the poses and the catchphrases and the secret identities and code words with comrades. He acted like it was like a game, sometimes.”
“But what about you, Oniichan?” Aizawa laughs a little to himself; Touya doesn’t seem fully aware of how much his brother adores him. Shouto clearly cannot care less about Takami, if the slight annoyance in his voice as he reiterates his questions is any indication. “What are your code words?”
“Ah,” Touya starts, voice tinged with embarrassment. “I’m mean, you know? No, seriously, I am. I figured out that person didn’t have the same control over the Quirk of the person they copied, so I tested them.” He does not elaborate on what that means, but Aizawa can imagine. “Kei didn’t want to waste feathers testing me, so a lot of times he’d use words and I’d have to finish the phrase, those ones we just talked about, which is why he has so many, but me… well, I just have the one.”
“Blue strawberries and the chocolate mouse,” Shouto supplies.
“Mousse, but yeah. It’s a dessert, remember Mom gave us some before? My code doesn’t always start with a color—it changes every time, whatever Kei wants—but it does always end with something sweet to represent you and Natsu and Yumi.”
“Because we’re sweet?”
“Because you’re all gonna get cavities when you don’t brush your teeth.” Aizawa knows Shouto’s cheeks are puffed up in a pout because Touya laughs, “It’s really because you guys make me happy just like the desserts Mom sneaks to us sometimes.”
“Oniichan,” he giggles, “I’m happy I get to be a part of your secret code.”
“Yeah? Wanna make one, too?”
He hums, “Not right now. I want Mom to sing her lullaby so I can go to sleep.”
There’s a pregnant pause, then Touya says, “I can talk to Aizawa-san in the morning, Shou. There’s no reason you can’t go home. Everyone would take such good care of you now that you’re a little baby again. It’ll be fun for them, I think.”
“No,” comes the answer without hesitation. “They said everyone at home thinks Touya’s dead, so I won’t go back until you do. You’ll be lonely if I leave you alone.”
So Touya tells Shouto to teach him the lullaby and says he’ll sing it for him, and Shouto does, even though he argues that their mother has sung it to all of them so Touya should already know the words. Playing the fool, Touya insistently messes up all the lyrics and sings off key to make Shouto whisper-yell and belly-laugh, likely distracting him from thinking about his death. Aizawa notes that as Shouto’s voice gets quieter and his interruptions less demanding, Touya’s voice smooths out into something soft and welcoming. He’s a good singer.
Aizawa unplugs himself from the audio and tries to catch a few hours of shuteye himself.
It is a show of considerable restraint, trying not to overwhelm them, that Aizawa waits until day three to have the conversation. “Shouto asked if you had escaped when you woke up.”
Touya shifts. “He’s a baby, he just repeats what he hears and I'm dramatic. Sometimes it gets a little… suffocating in the house, so I say we should escape into the cool air.”
“It gets suffocating in the house,” Aizawa echoes, noting his word choice and remembering this morning.
Touya was complaining off-handedly when he woke up around six—said he didn’t feel rested because, in a way, he stays awake all night. The burn creeping up his neck informed Aizawa why the teen may also be feeling a lack of sleep. Believing the burns to be a product of his Quirk usage and not wanting to worsen his condition now, Aizawa offered to find him some suppressants.
He did not expect the comment to make the boy stiffen, a new emotion clouding his eyes. His denial of the offer was soft at first, as if he worried he was not allowed to, so Aizawa tried to calm him down, hands up to demonstrate he would not fight the kid on his answer. Touya denied him again before he could speak, and it was with a stronger voice that time, but it did not take Aizawa’s attention away from the full body flinch Touya gave first.
“Well, yeah, but that’s normal. Teenagers complain about their home life. It’s not,” he trails off and shakes his head, dispelling the unfinished sentence. “We’re fine.”
The cultural media obsession with teens who hate their parents is a double edged blade. Sometimes, rarely, it is handled well and there are valid grievances that need to be aired and properly addressed. Most times, unfortunately, that is decidedly not the case, making a joke of children who complain for no reason. Accordingly, children in actual abusive homes and those going through benignly typical growing pains become indistinguishable from each other in discourses about how they hate their parents. If no one reaches out, a child will normalize anything; they do not and cannot know better if there is no case to compare their experiences to and no trusted adult to guide them. Aizawa has seen it many times before.
And he could tell Touya all of that now, but the teen is not ready for this conversation yet. “Tell me about it anyways, whenever you need.”
“Why do you think I’ll need to? Even if things change, it’s all in the past for you, and for us, too, eventually. We’re fine.”
“You say that a lot,” he notes tonelessly. “There are only four of us here, Touya, so your conversation partners are limited. I'm letting you know your topics aren’t. Even if it is just to complain, even if it won’t change anything concrete, you can talk to me just to get things off your chest.”
Aizawa starts leaving a carefully curated list of movies playing on the television; neither of the Todoroki children have seen enough of anything to have a preference, so it’s easy. Raising Eri has given him easy access to pre-Quirk era children’s films, a necessary safe media option for children traumatized by their own Quirks.
His playlist includes the Lilo & Stitch movies, Matilda, Big Hero 6, Moana. Holes and Coco and Brave. Matilda again, and Tangled, Robots, Treasure Planet, the Brother Bear duology, the How to Train Your Dragon trilogy. Frozen, both parts, even though he really doesn’t want to hear those songs again. He finds TV series to loop, all intending to show the boys how different families can look and interact with one another, to show them what people do in different situations. How they apologize and can be forgiven, or how they don't and aren't. How plans can change when dreams aren't always what you expect them to be, and how happiness is found and love decided.
He browses the internet for more media containing the relevant themes in his spare time, trying to curate a playlist for when Shouto ages some more and gets bored with the present selection. The next batch also has to be able to catch and maintain Touya’s attention, which is easy enough now that he has too much separation anxiety to have Shouto out of sight, but as he relaxes some more and Takami settles in, the age gap between the brothers might start working against him.
Eventually, however, Aizawa has to come back to the real world.
He tries not to be angry, and mostly he succeeds, but he can't help his frustration. He knows Villains are made, not born, and he believes in second chances and rehabilitation and the importance of giving people the opportunity to make amends. They’re awful, the things he can guess and will find out Dabi went through; he knows things were bad and most certainly got worse.
Aizawa knows Dabi is a young Villain, meaning he was even younger when everything changed, and so in his youth he likely didn’t see any alternatives. Still, Aizawa can’t help but blame him for the oversight.
His kids, his friends and coworkers, his cities, they're the collateral damage of Dabi’s vendetta. He hates him for that, can’t help it. But Touya isn’t Dabi, not yet, and he doesn’t deserve to bear the burn of his fury. Aizawa is a Hero through and through, and he wants to save him, but he’s also a realist and he knows there’s no promise he can.
Maybe Touya is Dabi no matter what Aizawa does to help, and the older man is caring for someone who will remain unrepentantly angry at the world, taking out his woes on all that Aizawa holds dear. Or maybe Touya can stay Touya, protective and kind older brother, and Aizawa will help pick up the pieces of his previous destruction, or maybe he’ll attempt to pick up his own pieces. Perhaps even still it won’t be enough. The what ifs ricocheting in his mind are stressful enough, but the Underground Hero additionally must worry about the ever-approaching deadline.
This Quirk lasts forty days, which isn’t that much time, considering all he needs to do. Further, assuming he’ll have the full forty days to find his answers is naive. Narrowing down the timeline isn’t helpful either without a way to be certain of when Touya ends and Dabi begins, if it can even be so easily divided. Thus, as seems to be the peak of his abilities at the moment, eventually Aizawa must retire this line of thought, shelving it for another day once he has more information. Once more, he’s left only with his frustration.
He's angry at all that’s happened to the child and angry at all the child will do as he grows older, angry at the ways he’s grown and afraid of the development he still has yet to do. Most of all, the various directions his emotions are pulling him in are exhausting; most of all, Aizawa is simply tired.
In the living room, Brother Bear is playing—in the original English because of course Endeavor required his children to be fluent—when Touya comes to find him in his office. “Oh—ah, sorry, you’re sleeping, I’ll just—”
“Touya,” Aizawa interrupts, not moving from within his atrociously yellow sleeping bag. Hizashi bought it for him so he would stop tripping over randomly placed dark lumps when they were much younger. Teenage Aizawa supposed his friend preferred to trip over brightly colored and randomly placed lumps, as the incidence of their collisions was unaffected by the change. Regardless, the offensively glaring hue has grown on him. “This is just what I'm like normally.”
“Running on caffeine and six hours of sleep spread across the entire day? Yet somehow you're the one who’s making sure Kei doesn't overwork himself to death?” Touya winces. “Sounds about right. God, I don’t even want to know how much worse his schedule is.”
“I know making fun of Takami is a comfort pastime for you, and you’re right to do it most of the time,” Aizawa concedes, “but I don’t think he’s why you came looking for me.”
Touya chews his lip, looking over his shoulder presumably to make sure Shouto is still thoroughly enchanted by the screen. Koda sings about being on his way, and Shouto echoes him a couple seconds behind, so Touya is satisfied.
“You're Shouto’s teacher when he’s at the right age, but you don't know me. Am I a Villain?” Aizawa lets his eyebrow tick up, but the kid answers himself. “No—you're a Hero, so you’d probably know me that way, and I would already be in a cell. Kei implied I was doing something dangerous, but he’s Number Two now, so he would have arrested me if I was a criminal, especially since he didn’t recognize me. But if I died but didn’t and still never went home… I must have done something, right? Why wouldn't I go home?”
“I don't know why you didn't return,” Aizawa returns, voice level. He’ll have to keep Touya away from the internet for now, just in case. “The answers will come in time, so don't stress yourself out about it now. Watch this movie and learn something.”
“Such a teacher,” Touya huffs, but he shuffles away obediently. “Thanks, for,” he gestures at his head. It was completely gone, bandaid and all, by morning. Aizawa had forgotten Touya was even injured that first day. “And for letting us stay here. Thank you, Aizawa-san.”
He grunts.
And then that evening, Aizawa has the other conversation.
“Why didn't I know your name?”
Takami freezes for a second, then awkwardly scrubs at the back of his head. His press persona does not work on Aizawa, and they both know it, so the younger man knows better than to try. “Ha, it’s a funny story, really, Eraser.”
“Aizawa. I prefer to be referred to by name when not working.” He levels a meaningful look. He doesn’t think he will be laughing any time soon.
He greets the Todoroki boys, both enraptured by the opening scenes of Ratatouille, then walks obediently into Aizawa’s office. It feels prudent to leave the door open. The Number Two Hero relaxes slightly as he notices his unencumbered escape route.
His voice is quieter than he’s ever heard it when Takami says, “I'm always working. But I used to be Keigo. Takami Keigo.”
After the whole story comes out—about abusive and neglectful criminal parents, about company ownership and corruption, unethical experiments and surgeries, the erasure of identity and normalization of torture as a learning aid, a teaching tool—well, after all of that and some more, Aizawa starts forcing Keigo to join the other problem children on the couch for TV time.
Aizawa adds more caffeine to his cup, makes a phone call, then takes himself to bed, dreaming of the cats he must again defer adopting.