Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku was four—

“Your son is quirkless.”

—when that picture perfect image of how his life would’ve been caved in.

The greenette who had rocked happily in anticipation just a few moments ago halts. A frozen smile stuck to his lips, hands squeezing at scabbed knees. An All Might figurine clatters to the floor, bouncing twice before laying still.

All the days he had spent fantasizing over a quirk that would never come, all the plans and drawings of future heroes Small Might and King Explosion Murder (“Kacchan, that name sounds scary.” “ALL VILLAINS WILL FEAR ME!”) he messily doodled in his notebook.

Were they for nothing?

How could he become a hero without a quirk? How would he keep the promise he made to Kacchan?

Just after they had declared they’d open a hero agency together, sealing that deal with a tight pinky promise, a childish kiss on the cheek.

His mother’s voice cuts in, her voice meek as her eyes dart worriedly over her dazed son. “A-Are you sure, doctor? Is there any way it could still develop?”

Kicking himself up with a sigh, the doctor clicked hurriedly at the ball of his pen. “I’m truly sorry, Ms. Midoriya. Cases like this are rare these days, but as you can see here, young Izuku has two joints in his pinky toe. There’s a chance he may have an invisible quirk, however the likelihood of activating it is slim. If Izuku had one at all, it would only be possible to activate under extremely specific circumstances.”

“I see…” 

“However, we do have a program for-”

Izuku’s still figure is swiftly scooped up by his mother before anything else can be said.

“We’ll be on our way out now, Dr. Tsubasa. I thank you kindly for your help.” A sharp edge ended each word warningly, though Izuku didn’t seem to notice. He only sat limply in Inko’s arms, eyes glazed over with the remnants of a plastered lilt to his lips. His mind is running a mile a minute.

(“We’ll be the best hero duo out there, Kacchan! As soon as my quirk arrives, I’ll be on par with you!” Tiny puffs of explosions—the flames are beautiful to the greenette, mesmerizing. “Hah, you wish, Izuku! Better practice hard or I’ll leave you in the dust!”)

(There is laughter amongst the boys.)

Four years. All his life, as soon as he had watched his mother levitate a cup of tea towards herself, he had been fascinated with the idea of quirks. “Yup! You’ll get a quirk soon too, baby. Just—”

“—be patient and God will grant your wish.” His own voice mutters, and only then does he realize the taxi he sat in. Slowly Izuku looked up to Inko, who sat adjacent to him, seat belt buckled in tight as she gave a sad smile to her son. She heard him, the four year old knows. Still she pretends to be ignorant.

“Mommy?” Izuku asks. His face is blank as he looks down for a moment before bringing his eyes back up to meet his mother’s.

Kind, sweet and loving mom.

“Hmm?” She hummed, but it cracked in the middle as her eyes started to glisten. Izuku’s throat closed stubbornly but even if he regretted it—

“Can I be a hero without a quirk?”

Her lips start quivering and Izuku already knows the answer. A smile shakily spread over his face before he’s engulfed in his mother’s tangled bear hug.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, Izuku!” The woman sobbed, and that warm touch he grew to love only feels cold against his skin. 

Izuku’s dry face stained with tears, his body wracking in Inko’s arms as the child finally delivers his anguish to the ears of the world. His nose runs as water cascades down his cheeks, but that empty, teeth-baring smile remained on his face that smushed against his mother’s cardigan.

“B-But… I’ve always wanted to be a hero…” Izuku’s words are muffled significantly against the fabric, but the words are still loud and clear.

Inko only hugs him tighter, holding him to her chest as her cries louden. Izuku’s bolstering shouts are not an exception.

(The taxi driver is uncomfortable.)

Not all men were created equal. He knew that now.

Seconds later, he discovers the world is just as cruel and unjust.

Color returned to the rest of the world as his ears rang. Glass shattered, screams imploded and implored. His mother's grip on him tightened, her head whipping back and forth frantically.

Screams filled the air outside, and Izuku whipped his head towards the window, eyes wide as he watched people scattering further away from where they resided.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” His mother’s cries rang, heavy sobs leaving her mouth.

“I can’t! It’s locked!” The driver rattled the handle, furiously clicking at the unlock button.

It wouldn’t work.

Chaos erupted. The car was torn apart, front and back separating. Hurriedly Inko unbuckled both of their seat belts, muttering comforting words to her child, but one look up and she froze.

They were on the road next to the park him and Kacchan would play at, Izuku noticed. Villains cackled manically as they ran around causing havoc, murdering and mugging innocent civilians.

Quietly the boy called for his mother who sat unmoving in her seat, staring silently ahead.

Like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Mommy?” He trembled, thoughts of his diagnosed quirklessness pushed to the back of his mind.

She stayed quiet.

With slow, anxious movements, Izuku turned his head to where she was looking.

He regretted it, to say the least.

A tall muscled man stood before them, short blonde hair and ligaments outwardly sticking onto his body. A shit-eating grin sat plastered onto his face as he pounded his fists together, cracking his neck from side to side. “Ready for some fun?”

Inko slowly tore her gaze from the man and directed her attention towards Izuku. She was sure to keep the man in her peripherals. With trembling hands and watering, wide eyes, the woman gently held her son’s cheek in her palms.

“I-Izuku, I-I love y-you.”

The toddler looked up at his mother and cried.

“Run.”

The man lunged forward, fist pulled back in anticipation. Inko screeched and pushed her wailing son out of the tattered car violently.

Adrenaline pumped through Izuku’s veins, but he couldn’t use it.

So he sat there on his knees facing away from the scene as he heard his mother’s screams cease mid-yell.

Izuku sobbed, knees scraped as he stood and looked back.

That was his first mistake.

Izuku found himself staring right into the eyes of death. The man's crazed smile grew wider as he cocked his head to the side and lunged. Izuku screeched, bracing himself for impact.

It never came.

A large gust of directed sound pushed the man back into a nearby building, body skidding to the floor before the villain looked up, blood pouring down his temple with that same smile plastered onto his face.

A pro-hero had arrived, and the villain’s attention was off of Izuku.

Present Mic stood on the sidewalk, glaring at the villain before going in to attack. He was a new hero who was quickly earning publicity, even gaining his own radio show - Izuku had tuned in from time to time.

Izuku screamed, crying as he held back the urge to run in and attack the man himself.

But mommy said to go. She told him to leave, run away.

So he found himself doing that.

Izuku ran blindly through the thick trees, away from that man. Despite that throbbing, gushing pain in his leg, he ran. He was glad the heroes came, just as they always would. He just wished they were a little earlier so that they could have saved mommy.

She was just unconscious though.

Right?

Izuku stopped for a breather, taking shelter behind a big tree. He couldn’t run away, the villains were everywhere. He’d wait for the heroes to win. The adrenaline pumping through him gradually slowed, leaving the boy with his heart hammering out of his chest. He looked around once more, searching for any other heroes on the scene.

Present Mic, Midnight, and Ingenium. All three were relatively new heroes, but they were climbing their way up to the spotlight.

Izuku let out a loud sigh of relief. He would be safe. With the adrenaline gone, however, Izuku found himself screeching in pain, only now taking into account the state of his leg. Deep wounds scattered across the skin, glass shards sticking out here and there.

He rolled back into a nearby bush, holding onto his leg and squeezing. Tears pricked at his eyes as he pushed red hands onto the injury. The boy yelled in pain, cradling his busted leg.

That was his second mistake.

Heavy, drunken footsteps stumbled their way to Izuku’s ears, effectively shutting him up. Midoriya Izuku froze on the spot, eyes widening as the hair on his back rose. Slowly, he turned his head toward the noise.

Another villain.

The man looked down on him, knife in hand as he stalked towards his prey.

Izuku crawled back using his hands, fear evident in his eyes.

This was it. 

He was going to die. The heroes were far too concerned dealing with their own battles to notice one boy in the midst of all this chaos.

This was it.

He didn’t want to die.

He looked back up at the villain, watching as he giggled with insanity. The man looked mentally unstable, eyes cracked red and nostrils flaring, head bobbing from side to side as he stumbled towards Izuku.

Yeah, maybe he could work with that.

That was his third and final mistake.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He should’ve just screamed right away, attract some attention somehow.

But he didn’t.

Izuku lunged forward, grabbing the man’s foot and trying to knock him off balance. But of course, he was barely four. It was inevitable really - a fifty pound baby tackling a full grown man. Who would win? Hah.

The man laughed light heartedly and kicked the boy off his foot like he was a bug. “Are ya shittin’ me, kid? Thas’ insultin’, why ya gotta do that, huh?” The man slurred, swinging his knife drunkenly, threateningly in the air.

Izuku landed on his knees and elbows, now bloodied and scraped - and he really shouldn’t have worn shorts that day. He groaned, turning his body over and uselessly scrambling back in an attempt at life. The man walked forward, chin tilted up in an attempt to look more intimidating.

It worked.

Izuku began to hyperventilate, curling in on himself which seemed to further entertain the mentally deranged villain. The man laughed, doubling over in exasperation, red eyes crinkled and nostrils flaring in satisfaction as if he’d just snorted up some drugs (Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if he did).

“Thas’ priceless, kid! Ain’t even do shit yet and yer already pissin’ yer pants!” 

Izuku looked down. He was not.

One step closer.

Two steps.

Three.

Four.

Five.

He was here.

The man crouched down at eye level, noses nearly touching. He laughed into Izuku’s face, breath smelly with the slightest smell of rotting teeth. “Say ya goodbyes, kiddo?” He adjusted the knife in hand, pointing it threateningly.

With that, Izuku screamed as loud as he possibly could, attracting the attention of two of the three heroes - Present Mic and Midnight.

But they could do nothing as they were trapped in their own battles.

He could do nothing as he lay on his back, awaiting death.

The boy kicked wildly at the man, pushing him back a couple of feet away.

A couple of feet.

A couple of feet would do nothing .

The villain screeched madly, outraged. He lunged at the boy, knife in hand ready to kill. In seconds, he was on top of the boy, stabbing at his shoulders and slashing at the arms (thank the heavens it wasn’t the heart; the man was stupid, stupid). Izuku let out a strangled, choked scream, loud and agonizing. He kicked and screamed, but it was futile.

He was as good as dead.

What would mommy do without him? When he was gone, what would she do? When she wakes up, alone and scared when Izuku couldn’t be with her?

Because he was dead ?

Blood soaked through the boy’s shirt, torn fabric leaking red on the floor. So much blood. Izuku didn’t know such a tiny body could be filled with that much red.

Izuku thrashed around in the man’s grip, fighting for consciousness because he knew that if he let go here, he’d die. The man’s outraged yells grew louder as Izuku’s turned quieter, weaker.

The man stabbed and slashed, criss-crossing over other wounds, but the cuts grew shallower with each swig, only multiplying in number.

That didn’t stop the blood from drip, drip, dripping.

The man smiled creepily, blood pouring out of his mouth and dripping onto the toddler’s face, and Izuku realized his weak kicks mixed in with the drugs the man took may have been taking a toll on the man’s body. 

He kicked harder. 

“How ya like that, boy?” The man spluttered, spraying more red onto the toddler’s face. “Ya like the feelin’ of knives on yer - cough - skin?”

The four year old drowned in his own blood, blankly processing the warm, thick feeling of liquid dribbling down his cheek. He shook his head weakly and tried lifting his feet off the ground with the pure intent to hurt the man on top of him.

He couldn’t move it.

The man stabbed him again, humming to himself as he grinned nonchalantly down at Izuku before stomping on the boy's hand. "Useless bastard."

Izuku lurched forward weakly with a shout of pain.

The villain continued on, not taking notice of the boy’s response. “Well, you’ll love my quirks some loads, yeah?” He slurred, pulling the knife out of Izuku’s shoulder and licking off some of the red. “We c’n go back a few secs, hmm? Maybe even more ‘cuz of those weird things I took, yeah? And we can play all over again, yessire!”

A pause.

“Well I won’t remember butt shit, but you can do that for me!”

Izuku’s eyes weighed down on him, but in this moment they widened in fear. Again? He didn’t want to, not anymore. Maybe he should just go to sleep.

It’s not as if he had a say in the matter, though.

His grip on reality was slipping, no matter how hard he held on. He’d die of blood loss for sure. Black tugged at the corners of his vision, swarming until all he could see was the face of the villain, a wide smile tugging at his corners as he touched the boy to the head and activated his quirk.

But nothing happened.

Even the man had the audacity to look confused.

“Whadda fuc-”

He promptly flew to the side, crashing into a nearby tree. A loud sound filled Izuku’s ears, and the boy could only assume his savior to be Present Mic.

If he weren’t dying , maybe he would have gone into fanboy mode.

With the man off of him, he was safe now.

He would be okay.

He was safe, but he was also so, so tired.

Surely it would be okay to rest for a while, now that he wasn’t in danger.

Mommy could wait a while longer, right?

“Sorry, momma,” he choked out, ignoring the blood splattering out of his mouth. A tingly sensation bubbled in his stomach, but he ignored it, too - it was nothing compared to the throbbing across his body.

His eyes shut as he let go of the consciousness he so desperately gripped onto. 

The last thing he saw was a blonde hero looming over his broken figure, a panicked look on his face as he shouted distant words. 

The last thing he felt was the sensation of warm droplets of water dripping onto his face amongst the stabbing pain rocketing through his body.

But it wasn’t raining.

So it must have been his imagination, right?

____________________

The first thing Midoriya Izuku remembered when he woke up was the happy chirping of the birds, the sound of tree branches dancing in the wind, and the pain rushing up his arms in mere seconds.

Izuku lurched forward in a silent scream, sitting up as he found his voice unable to work, cracked and dry. He hugged his bloodied arms to his chest and cradled himself back and forth, the pain in his leg dull in comparison and long forgotten. The boy’s eyes glazed over the wounds, which seemed to be more closed in comparison to what it was mere hours before.

His hands hovered over the wounds, unsure of what to do. Bile and blood rose up in his throat, but he instinctively swallowed it down, using it to hopefully unclog his throat.

It did.

His hands flew over the injuries, and he found himself questioning if his hands were sanitary enough to touch it. Probably not, he figured. He’d just end up infecting it more.

He couldn’t touch it without hurting himself in the long run, but the pain was still evidently there. He screamed in pain - this time, with sound.

Quirkless, villain attack, and a close encounter with death.

What a birthday.

Izuku huddled into a tight ball, cradling himself as he continued to shout with what little energy he had left. He craved the warmth of his mother in that moment, the loving aura that surrounded her.

His mother.

He lifted his head, taking in his surroundings as tears fell freely down his face. He was in a park - the same park where he got attacked, where he’d play Heroes and Villains with Kacchan.

Except there was no playground.

The trees looked shorter.

It looked peaceful now, less destroyed and upturned.

Nonetheless, it was still the same park.

So that meant mommy was here, right?

With a load of work, the boy rose to his feet, weight favoring the leg that was less damaged than the other. He held onto an arm with his other, mindful of the injuries. Both were equally as bad, but Izuku tried not to focus on the pain right then.

He needed to find his mother.

“Mommy, mommy!” He yelled on repeat, dragging himself and limping across the park as he left a blood trail in his wake. Bubbly tears surfaced as he couldn’t find her, eyes scanning the area with no sign of the woman.

“Momma, where are you?!” He cried as he fell to the floor. His wails filled the park, concerned citizens throwing him pitying glances.

Yet they did nothing in fear of their own lives, for this was the era of quirks, and anyone could be dangerous no matter the age.

Who else seemed more troublesome than a bloody four year old?

Stupid citizens.

A few minutes passed and Izuku’s cries died down a considerable amount. He wiped the snot and tears off his face with the back of his hand, effectively smudging more red across his cheek. He couldn’t just sit there and be useless. He had to do something.

Crying would do nothing. He knew that now.

Gathering what little strength he had left, he got up and continued on his search, wandering blindly through the trees in search of the woman who birthed him. People stepped out of the way as he limped closer, hair matted to his forehead in a cold sweat.

It was hot.

But it was so, so cold, too.

It switched in intervaults, the temperature rising only to drop once again.

He found that his vision was blurring, too.

The not-so foreign darkness tugged at his corners once again, and all at once, the strength in his body failed him again.

The boy leaned forward, then backward and to the side. He stumbled tiredly, trying to stay on his feet. It was futile, however, because in seconds the black in his vision spread, and the boy found himself sporting a new headache.

He leaned forward, and this time he couldn’t stop himself.

Down.

Down.

Down.

He was going down fast, and he weakly braced for impact, awaiting the cold, hard feeling of the ground.

He fell, but this time it wasn’t to the floor.

His body was caught by strong yet slim arms. 

He moaned tiredly as the person turned him over to face them. He blinked up at the person, who he found to be a woman, a concerned look on her face. The sun shone brightly behind her, the outline of her body shining with the light of the sun.

Just this one time, he allowed himself to hope.

Was it mommy?

Was she here to take him home?

The woman slapped his cheeks lightly, earning a light hum from the boy as he blinked his eyes, trying to get the black to disperse.

It wouldn’t work.

“Hey kid,” the voice said, light and laced with worry. “Wake up, wake up.”

The boy only giggled deliriously, and he found his throat begging for water. He reached up to touch the woman’s face, the blood on his hand staining her cheek. “H-Hey, momma.”

A thick red dribbled out his mouth.

He ignored the woman’s desperate yells in favor of letting the dark take over his vision.

Chapter Text

A white light filled his sight from beneath closed lids, the sound of running water and dishes clanking filling his ears. A soft cushion held him up, sucking him into its warm embrace. The boy lightly inhaled, the savory scent of his mother’s katsudon entering his nose. He smiled slightly, snuggling further into the couch he found himself on.

His mother’s loving voice played as background noise, soothing and kind as she washed the china. “Dear, can you get the knife for me?

The voice contorted into a deep lull, soft as if trying not to awaken a loved one.

Or, soft as if to not awaken its next victim.

Before it was too late to stab, stab, stab them in peace, just as that man did to him.

That wasn’t his mother.

Izuku froze, eyes twitching with the effort of keeping them closed although he desperately wanted to open them. He didn’t know where he was - it was clear now that this wasn’t his home.

He had never made it back.

They had never made it back.

Like a tsunami, the memories from nights before came flooding back into his system, cramming his brain and frying his senses.

“Your son is quirkless.”

“Mommy? Can I be a hero without a quirk?”

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

“Useless bastard.”

Screams echoed throughout the park, civilians along with himself crying for help. Heroes came and saved the day, but that had not accounted for everyone.

“Ya like the feelin’ of knives on yer skin?”

“Izuku, I-I love y-you.”

His mother pushed him out of the way.

“Run.”

His eyes jerked open but his body stayed still, brain searching the area for any familiar landscapes. There were none.

Where was mommy?

“Kotaro, you lazy-”

A loud scream cut through the quiet air, and it took a moment for Izuku to realize it belonged to him. He jolted forward, legs hastily kicking thin white sheets off of him as they flared in pain. He couldn’t seem to care right then, only screaming louder and louder , a waterfall of pain flooding down his freckled cheeks. His head whipped around, searching for exits because he wanted out .

He needed to get out of there, out, out, out.

He needed to get away from the monsters that lurked in his vision whenever he blinked, away from that man who hurt his mommy, away from that man who hurt him.

Stab.

Stab.

STAB.

KICK.

SCREAM.

HIT.

PUNCH.

KICK.

JAB.

HELP.

HELP ME.

HELP ME!

No one came.

That day, Izuku realized two things. One; not all men were created equal. Two; life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Not everyone could be saved. All Might couldn’t swoosh in whenever from wherever and save the day.

People died, and not even the number one hero could stop that from happening.

Izuku leaped off the couch, tripping but nonetheless shuffling away as he hugged onto bandaged arms. He didn’t have time to process why they were bandaged.

A few loud seconds later and the dark green headed boy found himself in a corner, back to the wall as he slid down and hugged his knees to his chest. His eyes shone with fear and desperation, brows scrunched as if bracing for an attack.

He had absolutely no idea where he was. 

He had absolutely no idea where his mother was.

Izuku found himself crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he scanned the room, spikes of pain rushing through his limbs. Distantly, although it was more of a white noise at this point, he heard a glass shatter, its remnants skidding across the floor as a faucet abruptly turned off. A hurried stream of mumbled curses followed suit.

Blocks scattered on the floor, as well as hero figurines - heroes that Izuku didn’t recognize.

Izuku didn’t notice. Izuku didn’t care .

The slightest bit of movement seemed to scare the boy, and this tested true as he saw something slide in his peripherals. With scared, crazed eyes, Izuku whipped his head up and met another little boy playing with the toys.

The boy had light blue hair - fluffy not unlike his own - and crimson red eyes (like Kacchan’s!). He wore partially fingerless gloves, only the middle finger covering the whole digit. A gold colored zipper spiraled down the fingered glove. He looked to be around Izuku’s own age, probably a year or two older.

Izuku cowered further into the wall, pressing himself as close as possible. The pain was bearable, but Izuku was four - to him the pain felt worse than hell. Blood peeked out from underneath wrapped bandages - bandages he only now realized clung to his skin. He picked at them.

A soft clutter resounded from the floor as the other child lay his toy on the ground. Izuku raised his head a bit, eyes wandering over his crossed arms as he caught the sight of the older boy slowly rising, creeping his way over slowly as he yelled, “Ma, he’s awake!”

The sound of glass getting swept up came from the other direction, a feminine voice following suit. “I’m coming, Tenko, wait for me.”

Tenko, he had heard, smiled lopsidedly at Izuku, a small scar at the corner of his lips rising with it. Izuku buried his head back into his arms, cries lighter than before. The boy inched closer, but Izuku made no move to protest. He seemed safe enough.

Light footsteps made its way towards Izuku until a presence sat next to him. Izuku shifted his head to the side, green bangs covering part of his view and tickling his forehead. Tenko sat next to him offering a hero figurine. When Izuku turned his head in a faint rejection, the older only smiled and set the toy at his feet.

A light shuffle made its way into the living room from the presumable kitchen. “Hey kid, are you okay?”

Izuku only shifted uncomfortably.

He knew these people were safe, he realized that now. These people must have bandaged him up, right? Instead of leaving him laying on the ground like mommy did, abandoned? That’s why he woke up alone, right? With no one else in sight. She must have gone home, forgetting her own quirkless son.

“I-Izuku, I-I love y-you.”

No, you don’t.

He chose to believe those words.

He buried himself deeper into his tightly held arms, fresh and dry specks of his own blood sticking to his forehead. The cuts were deep under the white, he knew. They probably needed stitching even though they’d healed quite a bit. The person who tended to him must not have been confident in the skill. He whimpered.

The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay then, I guess not.”

A moment of tense silence passed with the exception of Izuku’s whining wails. His momma left him there. For good, for dead, she left him there in that empty park where she got hit, where he got stabbed, where that car split in two, where people died. She left him.

He didn’t want to believe that.

A voice rang out, slightly raised with panic. “No no, Tenko, baby, don’t do that-”

Izuku felt a light hand on his back he flinched at the contact, tensing as he opened his mouth to yelp in protest.

But the hand was comforting.

Drawing circles onto the younger’s back, Tenko smiled, sitting silently and comfortingly to Izuku’s right.

The boy found himself melting at the touch, leaning in as his stiff posture began to relax a bit.

“Oh.” Tenko’s mother, he found, said, a breath of relief escaping her mouth. “Nice job, Koko.”

Tenko grinned proudly, watching as Izuku slowly unraveled himself from his protective ball. Soft sniffles died down to a lower extent after a few minutes had passed.

By then, the woman had come closer, squatting down at his own level a few feet in front of him in a comforting gesture. Tenko’s hand lay on his back instead now, the rubbing having stopped as the boy sat closer now, their thighs touching softly, sides lightly pressed into each other.

Izuku slumped his head to the side, coincidentally catching the taller’s shoulder. He was exhausted after that display, body sore and wracking in pain. He hiccupped (rather cutely, despite the dilemma one might say), eyes rimmed red and cheeks puffed. His bandages were bloodier than before, when he lay there on that couch.

Izuku huffed, cheeks stained with dry pain. “W-Where a-am I-I?”

The woman looked relieved and happy that the toddler spoke, wrinkles flattening out and eyebrows lifting high akin to a proud mother. “You’re at-”

Tenko straightened and puffed his chest out, the hand with his hero figurine (the not-doll, Kacchan had dubbed - they weren’t girls) raising in exasperation. He was sure to stay still, careful with Izuku’s head on his shoulder. “You’re at my house!” Playful evil laughter filled the air, earning a snort from his mother.

Izuku let out a small smile. It was tiny, but it was there.

The woman shook her head, a fond tone overtaking her voice. She cleared her throat. “Not now, sprout.”

Tenko pouted but effectively piped down, dropping the toy to the floor and readjusting his other hand on Izuku’s back.

The woman’s dark silky hair flowed over her shoulders as she turned back to Izuku. “Yes, you’re at our house,” she shot a look at her son who snickered, moving his shoulder over so Izuku would feel more comfortable. Quickly the lady’s tone turned more worried as she prepared for a serious topic. “Now on a larger note, do you know what happened, sweet pea? When I found you, you were just about to hit the floor.”

She chose not to mention the blood that pooled at his feet.

“I-I w-wa-was..”

The woman shook her head softly and gave the boy an apologetic smile. “No, I’m sorry. You don’t need to talk about it, it’s fine, it’s fine,” she eased, taking baby steps forward as her hands motioned softly.

Izuku shook his head, shakily taking hiccup filled breaths in. “N-No, I c-can - hic - do it, I can I can.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued on.

“T-There was a m-m-man, he.. h-he ,” his voice rose at the end, hics escaping his throat in full blast as he broke down. But he pushed through, because Izuku told himself he was strong. “Sta-Stab. H-He s-stabbed and he stabbed and he stabbed and stabbed a-and staBBED AND STABBED AND STABBED AND BLOOD POURED AND SPLATTERED AND RAN AND NO ONE CAME-”

He sucked in a breath before shakily letting it lose, his trembling hand traveling up to his head for support. “... no one came.”

Two forces crashed into him, mindful of his wounds as they hugged him close. His body shuddered with tears, body shaking from leftover fear and the not-so phantom pains. Izuku wailed like the child he was, like his life depended on it. He cried for so long, so hard, he hadn’t realized the other little girl make her way into the room, setting a glass of water on a nearby table.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours before his cries died down again for the third time that day, night? He didn’t know. “‘M s’rry, s’rry,” he muttered tiredly, puffy eyes closed shut. The woman continued to hug him, a couple of her own tears falling down the boy’s back. The four year old saw that Tenko was crying, too.

Why were they crying?

Drowsiness pulled at Izuku as he sat there on the floor, butt sore, but he was too lazy to move. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, beansprout,” the woman said, rubbing his back comfortingly as Tenko pulled him closer. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Izuku snuggled into the two strangers’ embraces, sleep taking over him. Izuku didn’t know what was so comforting about them. He just felt safer in their arms. He relaxed in their grip and before he knew it he was asleep, head lulling onto Tenko’s shoulder once again.

____________________

Shimura Kotaro stood by the door watching with a sad expression. His wife hugged the injured boy, as well as his son. Hana, his eldest child, had placed a glass of water on the nearby table for the boy, but it was left untouched,  the toddler having fallen asleep in his family’s embrace.

He frowned as he watched his son place his hands onto the boy’s head soothingly, crying tears of his own.

He pitied this child.

He heard what had happened - it was hard not to when it was being screamed in agony. Hana seemed to have heard it, too, the nine year old’s face contoured with anger and despair. Kotaro found his face mirroring hers. Who would do this to a child?

Shimura Nana turned to face her husband, scooping the boy up in her arms. “Whoever did this to him..”

“I know.”

____________________

Unlike the last time Izuku had woken up, the pain came instantly - just in smaller doses. A slight stinging that was not the hell that he had already once endured.

It still hurt though.

He opened his eyes as far as the puffiness allowed, body staying still in exhaustion from the day’s many events. 

A dab of cotton fell on Izuku’s arm wounds, the boy wincing slightly. Bloody bandages lay forgotten on the floor.

He tilted his head toward the person who was tending to him. It was Tenko’s mother.

She hummed, looking down at Izuku and smiling somewhat apologetically. “You’re awake.”

The four year old relaxed again, laying his head back down on the soft pillow. He hummed back in acknowledgement.

“Sorry, it might hurt a bit.”

Izuku shook his head in response, opening his mouth to speak only to find his throat dry and parched it had been when he woke up in that park.

Alone.

The woman chuckled softly, reaching for a glass of water on the bedside. Handing it to the boy, Izuku chugged it down only now realizing how thirsty he was. He downed half of it before setting it to the side. He was in a room now, on the bed laid on some towels so as to not get his red on their sheets.

Izuku coughed, a lingering taste of iron on his tongue. “I-It’s fine,” he croaked out. “Not as bad n-now.”

A frown formed on the woman’s face, but she only began lightly cleaning the wounds once again. “Really though, these injuries are nothing to shrug off.” She muttered softly at the next part. “... it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

“Oh.”

The woman laughed it off, looking unnecessarily focused on her task. “We should call Recovery Girl sometime soon, I’m sure Chiyo would be happy to help. As you probably noticed, I don’t have the experience to treat you further than this.”

Izuku bolted up, ignoring the soreness in his muscles. A large, bright smile took over his face and just for this small moment, he pushed his worries to the back of his mind. “Recovery Girl?! L-Like, the youthful heroine? The one who goes like m-mwah! and- and smooch! And then everything’s healed? Th-That one, that one?! You know her?”

The young fanboy bounced in place, stars shining in his eyes. The woman scrunched her eyes in confusion, tilting her head to the side but nonetheless smiling. It was a nice change, seeing that blindingly bright smile on the boy’s face. She was simply confused as to how the boy knew Chiyo as of now - her friend had made her debut as a hero - rather recently in fact, maybe a month in. However, none of the news channels had taken to her deeds just yet.

A type of quirk the boy may have, possibly.

She shrugged it off. “That’s right, bean!” She can come over and play if you want!” She ruffled his hair softly, finding the bo leaning into her touch.

“Yeah, yeah please!”

The woman laughed, giving a final shake before retracting her arm to grab at the gauze and bandage. “Okay then, but first we’ve gotta clean ya up some more. Chiyo still has some stuff to do before she can come over.”

Izuku pouted but nodded nonetheless, giving in and adjusting himself to the lady’s preference. She continued to dab at the wounds, parts of the cotton ball sticking onto the flesh. She groaned, obviously not very skilled at the task. Izuku flinched back violently at a certain part, to which she reacted by asking a question; an attempt to get the boy’s mind off the pain.

“Uhm, hey sprout, I never learned your name!”

The boy laughed at the face she made, thinking it looked a lot like she was constipated. “I-Izuku! I’m Izuku!”

The woman smiled, cooing. “Awh, Izuku, huh? That’s such a perfect lil’ name, bean! Mind if I give you nicknames here and there? This mouth won’t stop, nearly everyone I know has a nickname!”

Izuku beamed at the compliment, straightening in childish pride. He jerked his head up and down, nodding.

“What about your surname? I’ll need it to find where your mommy’s at.”

Izuku slunk back down, thoughts of his mother crossing his mind. She couldn’t have, right? His mother wouldn’t have left him, right? Even as he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t shake the lingering doubt, or the painful memory of waking up alone in that park.

She was gone.

She left him.

He didn’t want to believe that.

“Mi-Midoriya,” he said, though there was a hint of hesitance that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the woman. “Midoriya Izuku.”

She hummed, scrunching her nose and angling her fingers in his hair once more. “Alrighty then, Izukkun, we’ll have you back to your momma in no time!”

He didn’t mention his thoughts on her abandoning because he didn’t believe it himself.

Izuku shook the feeling off, looking back at the woman. He was curious now. “What’s your name, miss.. miss-san?” Izuku furrowed his brows, confused if he got the formality right.

She threw her head back, snorting - laughing? - at the unnecessary suffix. Miss-san? That was too darn cute coming from this baby. She wiped at non-existent tears, other hand on her stomach as the looked at her in confusion. After her fit, she glanced down at the boy, a wide smile on her face. 

“Shimura Nana, but you can call me whatever you want - wait.”

____________________

Nana smacked her head at the commentary that slipped out. It was a playful jeer - she was completely loyal to her husband - but she always greeted new people like that with a big goofy smile on her face no matter their gender, no matter their age (well maybe not teenagers, but you get the point).

A little kid like this shouldn’t even hear these words, though it didn’t look like he got it at all.

Izuku, the innocent child he was, nodded, smiling up at the adult. “Okay, Ma!” Izuku laughed, using the name Tecchan - like Kacchan! - had used for the lady.

 Nana spluttered, spit splattering all over the child’s face. He wiped it off with a goofy grin. “I- uh- wha?” She answered intelligently.

A panicked look flashed over the child’s face, cheeks growing red and water grouping in his big, swollen doey eyes. Nana returned the look with one of her own, hands comically gesturing around the child in a hazy panic. This was a child, she remembered. A child who couldn’t yet tell the difference between absolutely hating something and absolutely loving it.

“Wait, it’s fine, it’s fine! I love it, iT’S OKAY!”

The yelling did the opposite of what she had anticipated, the child out right bawling now. In a state of oh-fucking-shit-what-do-I-do , Nana grabbed the sides of Izuku’s face, rocking it (very weirdly, if she had any say in the future). It looked like she was strangling the poor child.

The commotion in the room - Izuku’s childish cries and Nana’s panicked screeching - naturally ended up attracting the attention of a curious seven year old; Tenko.

He slowly opened the door, red eyes filled with caution scanning the room and noticing a rather odd pair sitting on the bed because why was ma rocking green boy’s face?

With the creaking of the door, Izuku caught Tenko’s gaze, the younger now making baby-ish grabby james at the older (which was definitely not betraying Izuku’s not-past beliefs that he was a big kid now). Nana continued frantically squishing the boy’s cheeks.

Tenko shuffled his way towards the younger, prying his ma’s hands off of the boy before taking him in his own hold, hugging his side as he plopped his own body onto the bed next to the boy.

There was something in the way that this kid composed himself that drew Tenko to him, something that made him want to protect him. Maybe it was the fluffiness in his hair?

So yeah, he shot a glare at his mother. Nana only looked over her son, thankful as she shrunk down on the bed in relief. She loved kids, but she forgot how bad she was with them.

“Tecchan!” The little boy wailed as he clung onto him, and Tenko momentarily stiffened in a split-second surprise. He wasn’t expecting that, though he probably should have. Kids like nicknames, and ma had said his real name in front of the boy. He doesn’t dislike it. In fact, he felt happy about it for some odd reason.

But the green head (and Tenko really needs to learn his name) felt him tense and, not knowing the difference, started crying even harder, yanking away slightly from the older.

Tenko had to question - did he cry this much when he was younger?

He sighed before cooing lightly, ignoring his mother’s frantic apologies directed at the not-so-stranger. Tenko grabbed the boy back into his clutches and gently patted him, mindful of his injuries. “No, no, it’s okay!” He whispered to the younger. “It’s okay, I like it!”

Tenko was a mere three years older than the boy, but he knew what he was doing - Hana was really childish despite her older status.

The boy’s crying died down, the slight puffiness in his eyes a bit more intense than before. He shook in his spot for a while before somewhat completely calming, wiping at his eyes as Tenko slowly released him from his grip. “S-Sorry again..” 

Tenko shook his head. “Nuh-uh, it’s okay.”

Broccoli boy turned back to Tenko’s mother, wiping the hair out of his eyes. “‘M s’rry f-for calling you M-Ma, Miss-san.”

Tenko stifled a laugh. This was what they were on about?

Ma whipped her head back up, shaking it as she looked at the boy. “No, no! It’s fine, I liked it, Izukkun! It was cute!” She ruffled his hair, other hand going down to wipe at the dry tears on his face. “It was too cute, sprout, my heart couldn’t handle it-” She grabbed at her chest for dramatic effect.

“R-Really?” Izukkun(?) said, looking at Ma through his bangs. “S-So that means I can keep c-calling y-you Ma?”

Ma laughed, holding Izukkun’s face in her hands (and not rocking it this time! “Of course, green pea! You can call me wha- darn, again.”

Izukkun didn’t seem to mind the last part as the brightest, most blinding smile Tenko had ever seen in all his seven years graced his sight. “Yaaaay! ‘Kay, Ma. Nama? Mama.”

Ma laughed at the brilliant combination before settling back down. “Okay then, after I finish this last bandage, we’ll go searching for your mommy again, alright? Then we’ll call Chiyo so that you can get all healed up, hm?”

Izukkun’s smile seemed to dim a bit, but he nodded nonetheless.

After a few minutes of Nana trying to wrap the tape around the bouncing boy’s limbs (who was spouting some bubbling words about Recovery Girl! and stamina? or sleeping ), they were done.

“Alrighty, we’ll get you back home and call Chiyo to your house for you, ‘kay Izuku?”

The boy, Izuku (Izukkun must be a nickname), nodded, sliding his feet off the bed and taking wobbly test steps forward.

“You can lean on me if you want.”

Izuku turned around, smiling but shaking his head. “No thanks yous, Tecchan! I’mma be a hero when I turn suuuper big! This a-ain’t nothing!”

Tenko only smiled back, replying with a short, “Really? We can be partners!” to which the boy said something about a “Kacchan” joining in on the duo or something. Tenko started watching with his Ma as Izuku continued to make his way to the door. He grabbed his Ma and followed Izuku, continuing to watch as Izuku said his goodbye’s to Pa and Hana. Nana led the two boys out after Tenko had begged to go with them, out the door as Izuku wandered the streets as if he knew where he were.

And as if he didn’t recognize it at all.

Throughout the walk back to the park (as Izuku requested, wanting to see if his mom or Kacchan were there looking for him), Izuku began to ask questions varying from, “hey! Where did that tree go?” to, “OH MY GOD, A PUPPY! EEEEEE~!”

Well that second one wasn’t really a question, but whatever.

But Tenko didn’t notice the strangeness of the questions and Nana was too worried over scanning the area near passing alleys in the wake of the sunset.

Eventually throughout Tenko and Izuku’s constant blabbering, both talking of heroes the other had absolutely no clue of - like, who was All Might? - the mini group made it to the park. 

____________________

“Where was the last place you saw your mum, Izukkun?” Nana asked.

Izuku’s smile dulled as he recalled the memory of the two in the car. “Over there,” he pointed towards the not-road. Tecchan and Nana’s gazes followed the finger to an area filled with trees and a mini pond. “The taxi split apart by this bi-big man and he started beating mommy up.. She t-told me to run and then P-Present Mic saved her! Probably. That’s the last time I s-saw her.”

Nana frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but Izuku continued on.

“I r-ran t-to that place o-over there,” he pointed to a spot of grass covered in red, “and a-a man started h-hurting me and M-Mic-kun tried to save me! B-But I fell asleep and woke up there. THen mommy was gone.” Izuku looked around again. “And this place looks weird.”

Tecchan grabbed Izuku by the hand, the couple of inches (quite a lot, if you asked Izuku - but that’ll change! ) he had on him making the smaller feel a tad more comforted for some reason. “You’re super safe now! Because I am here!” Tecchan lifted up a fist, punching the air. “A super duper hero!”

Izuku laughed at his idol’s phrase, imitating the taller. “I am here!”

Tenko looked confused.

Nana giggled at the sight, shaking off the pity she had felt for the child she had grown attached to. “Mmm, well do you know your mommy’s name, Zucchan?”

Izuku put his finger to his chin, rubbing at it theatrically. He recalled what Kacchan had called her whenever he’d come over to play. “Old hag!”

Nana spluttered and Tecchan laughed, Izuku oblivious to their reactions as he looked up at them. It came that that was what Kacchan had called Auntie Mitsuki. “Wait, no no. Momma is Auntie Inko!”

Nana sighed, ruffling the boy’s floof before clearing her throat. “Okay then, Midoriya Inko,” she assumed, getting a firm nod from Izuku. “Well it doesn’t look like your mum or friend is here, so let’s head to the police station to search for your address, okay sprout?”

Izuku crossed his arms defiantly, looking up at Nana with a small pout. “I know where I live! I can walk from here!”

“I’m sure you do, Izu,” Nana said with a smile. “But this is for your own safety - just so that we know you aren’t walking into some rando’s house.”

“But you’re a rando, too, M-Mama.”

Nana’s cheeks reddened from the name, and childishly, she stomped on the ground. “Am not!”

“A-Are too!”

“Yeah!” Tenko added.

“I am your mother , Koko!” 

Tenko blew a raspberry.

Before anymore could be said, Izuku huffed, a pout still on his face. “‘K-Kay, fine fine. Let’s go.” He couldn’t let something as simple as going to the police station get in his way. He was gonna be a hero! Quirkless or not.

Nana and Tecchan both grabbed at one hand, Izuku beginning to sway their arms as they walked to the station together. Eventually they made it to their destination (finally a building that Izuku recognized!) and they walked in hand in hand.

The person behind the desk looked up, eyes lighting in recognition as they swept across Nana. “Ah, Shimura! Good evening, nice to see you around!”

Nana laughed lightly, smiling back at the man. “Come on, Haru! How many times do I have to tell you to use my first name?”

Haruta clicked his tongue, nodding to himself as he fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “Mmm, I keep forgetting,” he laughed. “Anyway, what brings you here at this time, Nana?” He asked, head tilting to the side. His eyes caught the stares of two boys, one familiar to him, the other not.

“Ahah! Don’t tell me you’ve adopted a boy!” He overlooked the blush creeping on Nana’s face. “Another playmate for Naomasa, I suppose!”

Nana blushed furiously, unlinking her hand with Izuku (much to his displeasure) as she swung it through the air in front of her face. “No, no! He’s a child I happened to pick off the road.” She paused at the small smirk on her friend’s face. “No, not like that,” she snapped. “I mean literally - he fell unconscious and I took him to my house!”

“Ah, so a kidnapping.”

“Tsukauchi Haruta!”

“Okay, okay!” The man raised his hands in mock retreat. “So I’m assuming you want to find his address?”

Nana nodded, her hands flying up before dramatically dropping back down to her side.

“Mama, hand.” Izuku demanded. Nana smiled gently before Izuu snatched at said limb as Tenko stood forgotten on his other side, sulking.

Choosing to ignore the lilt of Tsukauchi’s lips, Nana spoke. “Midoriya Inko is ‘Zuku’s mom.”

The detective nodded, already on the job as he typed the name onto the civilian register. 

Then he blinked.

He refreshed the screen again.

Another blink.

Another click of a button.

“Nana, there’s no log for Midoriya Inko.”

Confused, Nana turned to Izuku. “Zucchan, are you sure that Inko is her full name?”

After a moment of Izuku staring off in thought, he nodded, a little, “yeah,” escaping his lips. Nana looked at Tsukauchi for confirmation. He nodded indicating that his quirk detected it as a truth.

“What did you say Zucchan’s name was?” Tsukauchi asked, knowing full well she never mentioned it.

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“Midoriya Izuku..” Tsukauchi repeated as he typed the boy’s name in on the registry.

He shot his hands up in exasperation, shaking his head once again. “No results.”

Nana’s face twitched, having heard Izuku’s story of the villain attack and his mom’s command. She was there soon after he woke up, covered in blood in a park alone. One could only come to conclusions.

Tenko turned to Izuku, swinging their conjoined hands in front of his face. “You’re Izuku, right?”

The toddler’s eyebrows raised, head tilting to the side as he nodded slowly, humming his, ‘yes.’

Truth.

Tsukauchi faced Izuku, concern mixed in with confusion on his face. It seemed both he and Nana were drawing the same conclusions, sharing questioning and understanding looks amongst each other. “Do you know if your mother registered you i- ah, who am I kidding, a child wouldn’t know these things. Even Naomasa doesn’t understand this!”

A flash of realization went through Izuku, now concluding what Nana and Tsukauchi were thinking. They thought that his mother had left him, right? Because it was true, right? Midoriya Inko erased all traces of their existence and connections and used this chance to run away.

Izuku felt its logic. After all, he was the one who knew the reason she would do such a thing - on the same day the results had come out, she ran. It was logical.

It’s not true.

Yes it is.

She didn’t leave me.

Yes, she did.

SHE DIDN’T.

SHE DID.

In an instant, Izuku threw Tenko and Nana’s hands off of him, pain and disbelief etched on his face. He threw the door open, pushing on it just enough to let him out. He ran through the night, the golden sun setting in front of him as worried shouts came from behind.

He didn’t care.

Because all that was going through his brain was mommy.  

Because he didn’t want to believe that sweet, loving momma left him there alone, even though part of him already believed it.

He just needed to see for himself.

Home.

Was it because he was quirkless?

Was it because he was quirkless and she found the perfect moment to ditch him? Leave him there cold and bloodied, halfway dead.

Was I really that useless?

He ran faster, zigzagging through the familiarly unfamiliar area filled with trees and nature and loneliness .

It was beautiful.

Yet to him it was not.

Izuku ran on those short stubs he called legs even as he heard approaching footsteps - two pairs of feet. He didn’t stop. 

He ran like his life depended on it, like he was back in that park, listening to his mother’s fading screams as he took off and ran away from that scene.

From that villain.

From Present Mic, that new music hero.

From Midnight, Ingenium.

From that smashed car.

From momma.

Home. He just needed to get home, to see his kind, loving mother sitting down on the couch, a blanket thrown over her and a batch of homemade cookies on her lap, waiting for Izuku to come sit next to her as they’d watch his favorite Heroflix show.

She didn’t leave me, she didn’t! Mommy di dn’t leave me.

But she did.

“SHUT UP!” He yelled, though to whom, he doesn’t know.

He ran.

Then he stopped.

At that patch of land between two familiar buildings, he stopped, the buildings now clean with rubble and building equipment surrounding the area. What had once been old and rusted looked brand as new.

But he didn’t care , because his apartment was gone.

His home was gone, where he grew with his katsudon-making momma. Where he stored all his hero merch, where his All Might filled room lay, where he played with Kacchan.

Where he had made cherishing memories with his family .

Izuku laughed, falling to his knees as he grabbed a handful of grass, ripping it from its roots and smashing it back down, letting it fly in the evening wind as he let his head touch the ground, fist smashing against the soft earth as he cried and cried.

She was gone, gone, gone.

And Izuku cried and cried and cried through his laughter, hot tears of pain and anguish drifting down his puffed cheeks from his puffy eyes, crying as they hit the ground with a silent thud.

And he laughed despite himself, because what if she hadn’t loved him at all throughout the four years of his short life? Why did she put up with him if she was just going to leave anyway? And oh god - why did she take the whole darn house? He laughed and cried and shook with the pain and misery of being abandoned, feeling so, so alone in that moment.

He was left alone once again, the harsh times he faced with his mom after his father and his income had magically disappeared slapping him in the face. He knew he had just run off to the states despite the lies his mother fed him. There was one difference this time however - he was truly alone now, his momma not there to comfort him through his grief.

She was the cause of his pain.

Izuku screamed at the bubbling feeling in his chest, the fear of abandonment surfacing after everything he’d done to keep it at bay. He clawed at his chest, sobbing and pulling strands of grass out of the earth only to let it fly free.

He screamed, cried, laughed, and died a little on the inside with every passing second.

Because four year old , young, bright Izuku wanted to die every little bit in that moment.

Maybe he should have succumbed to the darkness when that man was there, helping his escape the harsh realities of life. Maybe he shouldn’t have held on that long.

Yeah.

He regretted it.

“You should have just died right then,” that voice in the back of his head said.

Maybe I should have.

Izuku cried even as he felt the large hand of Nana fall comfortingly on his back, rubbing and patting.

He cried even as Tecchan’s soft whimpers and sniffles filled the air beside him because this seven year old child , this stranger , seemed to have more compassion than his own mother.

He cried even as he felt the air around Nana turn cold and angry, only leaving a warm layer for him that screamed, ‘hey, it’s okay, I’m here for you,’ when his own mother was not.

He cried even as he fell asleep, if that was even possible, the inevitable fatigue that comes after a strong crying session finally hitting him, and that was something that should have come a long, long time ago.

His face was etched with the sadness and despair and utter feeling of helplessness, loneliness, as he was picked up from his spot on the ground and placed into the warm arms of Nana.

It felt like the embrace of a mother.

Old, lingering wet tears sat on his face, occasionally falling from the weight of gravity as the trio made their way back to their house, Tenko’s fingers gently clinging onto the sleeping boy’s shirt in his mother’s arms.

Tenko shot his mother a look filled with a protective gleam (though that may have just been the thin sheet of unshed tears glistening in his eyes).

Nana only nodded before continuing on her way home.

“I know,” she whispered.

As they made it home, they passed through the living room where both Kotaro, her loving husband, and Hana, her sweet daughter had lay against the couch watching TV.

Kotaro shot his wife a questioning look. He glanced at the boy in her arms - the boy who they had gone to return to his mother.

Kotaro saw the dried tears, the intensified puffiness, the wet dirt clinging onto his arms and knees. He saw his son clinging to the shirt of the boy with a look of hurt and pity, eyes tinted with a soft red.

One could connect the dots.

“Go on then. I won’t stop you.”

Nana shot him a half-smile, tired and empty but not lacking gratitude. She nodded as she carried the boy to her room.

Her boy.

Chapter Text

Izuku woke to the sound of loud chattering coming from the room next door. Light shone on his eyes, a whitish-red hue embracing him beneath closed lids.

His eyes fluttered open, a brief headache rushing through him as he adjusted to the new light. Blinking the dark spots away, the boy lay a hand on his temple and massaged it, looking over his body to see it almost completely healed. All that was really left was the light red tint that surrounded the inevitable scars, the scars that would never really go away. A reminder of how pathetic he had been.

Recovery Girl must have healed him.

Funny, he was so excited to see her, but that was at the bottom of his priority list now.

In that moment, he wasn’t blessed with morning ignorance - even for a second. Izuku knew what happened, he remembered. The house was gone - though he still doesn’t understand how his mother had managed that -  mom was gone, heck - maybe even Kacchan was gone. He was homeless now, abandoned, left for dead. That was fine. Why bother living when you have nothing left to live for?

With red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, Izuku got up and off the bed, stumbling towards the door. He was thankful, really. That those people - the Shimuras’ - would lend their home to him; a stranger, even for as short as he had been allowed.

They really didn’t need to, it was fine now.

They could have left him on his own like momma did. It was fine - really. He wouldn’t have minded.

Leave the crippled, quirkless boy to attend to himself.

As Izuku approached the door, the sound of talking grew louder - Izuku assumed that there were multiple guests over from the various voices he was hearing.

He was a guest himself too, he guessed. These people must be really out there to have so many connections - Momma and him usually only had Kacchan and Auntie Mitsuki over once in a while, maybe even Uncle Masaru on rare occasions. He was the nicest out of the three. Izuku would still prefer Kacchan, though. They were best friends!

The green bean reached the closed door now, standing in front of it for a few seconds, hand on the knob as he contemplated going through. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to meet new people.

Izuku sighed, closing his eyes as he looked down. It was inevitable. This was their house, he’d need to leave the room first before leaving the house altogether.

 Quietly he turned the knob, pulling it open a crack. He was initially going to pull it all the way, but he was cautious. The voices grew louder as soon as he opened the door, loud enough for him to hear what the people had been speaking of. Him.

“I don’t get it, Sorahiko," Nana groaned, voice echoing in an empty space. “What kind of mother would just leave their child on the streets, bleeding to death?!”

He heard a gruff hum of agreement from Tenko.

Sorahiko, presumably, spoke, "I-"

Nana cut the man off, her desperate and agitated tone whipping at the tension. “She must've hacked into the database, right Haruta?! That woman,” she spat the word out like it was venom, “got into police registration and wiped out all data on Zucchan and herself. What kind of sick measures did she feel the need to go through?”

Izuku heard a light hum from the man he had met before, though he couldn’t ignore the subtle hint of bitterness in the tone. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Midoriya Inko and Izuku do not exist. Your theory, at the moment, is the most likely story."

That confirmed it for Izuku, though he already knew. The weight of his crumbled world lay heavily on his shoulders.

A new voice came from close, light and feminine. “Yes, I do believe that his mother was very neglectful. If what you two are saying is true, Midoriya Inko did not meet any motherly standards whatsoever.” Her voice became dark and low, muttered under her breath. “Did you all see those injuries? What kind of mother would allow su-”

He didn’t want to hear it. He already knew. He knew better than anyone, how his mother treated him in those last few moments with her. She said she loved him, told him to run, save himself.

But she was trying to save herself.

Save herself from the outcasted life that a quirkless child would bring her.

Izuku heard the stories that passerbys spoke on the streets - he wasn't deaf. How those quirkless people - usually in their fifties and above - would slowly crumble under harsh words from years of torment, years of loneliness and despair. People avoided them and their families like they were the plague, like their lack of power was contagious. If they didn’t, they’d be the ones endlessly torturing them. 

Imagine what the Shimuras would think if they found out there was a quirkless child under their roof right at that moment. He shuddered, he didn't want to think about it.

Izuku couldn’t blame his mother for not wanting that life.

He couldn’t find it in himself to hate her, not even after all the pain that she had caused him over the last few days.

He just wanted to go home (what home?) and see her, play with her, eat the treats she would make him with a smile on her face.

He didn’t blame her for leaving him.

But couldn’t she have waited a little while…?

One last time. 

One last time he wanted to taste her yummy katsudon.

One last time he wanted to sit by her side, hold her hand under his All Might blanket and watch TV.

One last time he wanted her to comb through his hair with her fingers as he’d slowly fall asleep in her space.

One last time he wanted to play with Kacchan, to watch as she’d laugh and smile with Auntie Mitsuki.

One last time.

One last time he wanted to be with her.

He pulled the door wide open now, interrupting the lady stranger’s words, revealing himself to the shocked eyes of five adults - three that he recognized, two that he didn’t - and three children; Tecchan, Hana and a boy with black hair.

Nana was there, looking at him with a soft gaze, all traces of the anger he heard in her voice gone now. Mr. Tsukauchi was there, too, as well as Mr. Kotaro. There were two strangers (aren’t they all strangers?) sitting on the couch adjacent to them, staring at the boy with a mix of worry and confusion. The lady looked familiar to Izuku, but he couldn’t exactly place where he had seen her.

The four year old bowed, lowering his head in an attempt to hide the growing shame on his face. Why was he so much trouble? Wherever he went, why was it that he received pity glances or something of the sort? He didn’t want to be a bother.

He opened his mouth to shout an apology, but Tenko started first. “Izukkun!” The sound of rushing footsteps grew louder until a force crashed into him, the seven year old now hugging him. “You shouldn’t be up yet! Chiyo-chan said you need to sleep more!”

Izuku knit his brows, frowning a little as he lifted his head to face his newest friend. “Why do I need to sleep?”

The concern on Tenko’s face remained, though it dispersed a bit as he blew a childish raspberry at the green head. “Chiyo-chan kissed you~” Tenko sang, wiping at the imaginary slobber at his cheek.

Izuku pouted as he recalled who Nana had said Chiyo was. “You mean Recovery Girl?” He tried to ignore the watchful adults in the room, using Tecchan as cover.

Tenko nodded, pointing at the lady stranger. “That’s her!” He cocked his head to the side, obviously trying to get his friend’s mind off the events that he had gone through nights prior. He knew what Izuku had been trying to distract himself off of. “Di’n’t you wanna meet her?”

Izuku scrunched his brows together in even more confusion as he whipped his head around to get a better look at stranger lady. Tenko's attempt was successful as Izuku momentarily forgot of his dilemma, now focused on his confusion. “That’s not Recovery Girl,” he pouted.

“Wha?”

Izuku turned back to Tenko, not processing the look on the adults’ faces. “Recovery Girl is a nice wrinkly old lady! She works at UA!” 

The adults in the room burst out in laughter, with the exception of quote unquote Recovery Girl, who had been staring at the boy with her mouth agape, looking lost.

Nana spoke first, through her dying whale laughter. “C-Chiyo’s a-an old,” she wheezed, “old l-lady!”

Mr. Kotaro and the other stranger man chuckled heartily, the stranger leaning his elbows on his knees as he held his face in his hands. The tension in the room had been lifted and Izuku couldn’t be any more glad. It was suffocating, having all that unwanted attention from people he had hardly known. Only Nana and Tecchan had gotten to know him more. Izuku smiled a bit, though he was still very lost. What was so funny?

Mr. Tsukauchi and the unknown kid were dying with laughter. “I-It’s true!” Mr. Tsukauchi said, his presumable son nodding vigorously in agreement. “He believes it, it’s true!”

Izuku nodded, very serious. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I, I know my heroes!” He straightened his chest out in pride. He loved heroes! He knew most of them, including the new time heroes like Ingenium and Present Mic (so long as they’re daylight heroes, he can only watch the news). Of course he would know the elder heroes!

Chiyo closed her mouth before opening it again. “Izuku-kun, I… I’m Recovery Girl.”

Izuku cocked his head to the side again, lifting a finger to his chin. “But Recovery Girl is fun size!" He lifted his hand to his own height. "And… And she gives out gummies, not skittles!” He gestured to the packet of candy laying on the table, tucked away in the lady’s assuming hero gear.

Nana threw her head back and snorted.

Stranger man stared at the ceiling, avoiding Chiyo’s eyes that begged for help or some sort of explanation.

“It’s true, Zu!” Tecchan tugged at Izuku’s shirt, grabbing the boy’s attention. “Chiyo-chan kissed you,” he puckered his lips, “and you healed! And slept for two days straight! Uncle Torino and Chi-chan have been sleeping over, too!”

Izuku furrowed his brows but nodded. “Oh…” Tecchan must have been telling the truth. No one believed him in the room anyway, maybe he was wrong! Or maybe there’s a different Recovery Girl?

“Okay then!”

Nana laughed, coughing near the end as she patted her lap. “C’mere sprout.”

Izuku’s smiled shyly, hesitantly making his way towards the woman. The air around her seemed lighter than it was before, when he wasn't in the room, however Izuku felt that it was still partially there.

Nonetheless he walked over, twiddling with his thumbs. He passed Uncle Torino(?) - Sorahiko(?) and Chiyo, who were sat at the long couch next to Nana’s one seated chair. 

Izuku reached Nana, looking up at her expecting to see a stern face. He always managed to cause trouble.

But when he looked up, he saw nothing but a happy smile. 

Nana reached down, grabbing the toddler from underneath his armpits and hoisting him up onto her lap. A warm feeling rose up in Izuku’s chest. It was familiar - when his momma used to pick him up and spin around with him in her arms, yelling with him as he’d shout his favorite hero line: “I am here!” She wasn’t here now.

Izuku pushed the feeling down, not wanting to face the fear of his loved ones leaving him once again. He didn’t want to get attached to people anymore. They’d just end up leaving him. Like mom, or that cute puppy down the street. The pup left one day, never returned back to the Midoriya apartment for its daily treat.

Maybe it died... Nah.

But there was something about these people that made him feel safe, feel loved. Something that made him feel like he was actually important.

So it was hard not to love them, even if they had only met a few days prior.

“You good kid?” She beamed down at him, bouncing him comfortingly in his lap - you’ve got to remember he was only just three a few days ago.

“Yeah.” He lied. “I’m good.” He smiled, the brightest smile he could muster plastered on his face. 

By now everyone was done with their laughing fit, instead choosing to chat amongst themselves. Izuku still sat on Nana’s lap, watching as Tecchan and Naomasa, if he remembered Mr. Tsukauchi’s words at the station correctly, play amongst themselves, Hana laying on her stomach in the corner reading a picture book.

It was a nice sight, had a very homey vibe to it.

But Izuku wanted to leave. 

Well… not really.

He just wanted to get out of their hair is all.

He felt out of place. The adults had their own conversation, Tecchan and the other boy were happily playing with their figurines, and Izuku was just… there. It was natural really. He had just met these people! They didn’t really know much about him, he didn’t know much about them - he still really really liked playing with Tecchan, almost as much as Kacchan (shh, don’t tell)!

Nana held him close to her stomach, hugging him slightly. It was very kind of her. She probably knew what Izuku’s mind was on - the abandonment part, not the feeling-left-out part - and was instead silently comforting him. It worked.

But he still felt uncomfortable.

A few minutes had passed, tiny playful squabbles going around in the adult’s circle. Nana looked happy, smiling even though it really didn’t look like she was paying attention to her friends. She kept shooting looks between Mr. Tsukauchi and Izuku.

“So Izuku!” He looked up at her from his spot on her lap, nose nearly touching her chin. He adjusted himself. “Haruta and I have something to tell you.” Her face slowly morphed into a frown. Her eyes turned hard and her lips turned to scowl. She looked up at the ceiling, glaring hard.

He knew that look. It was the look that his father had used to give to him before he left them. It was hard to read sometimes - maybe it was just what his face looked like? - but Izuku still saw the same expression on them. Disappointment, anger. Anything that was negative really. His father really didn’t like him. He would even beat his three year old a bit sometimes when momma was gone to work.

Nana shook her head from her thoughts, looking back down at Izuku with a soft stare. The intense aura around her subsided, but Izuku was still cautious. 

“So Haruta and I have been talking and I wanted to ask y-”

Izuku held up his hand. He didn't want to hear it in fear of getting scolded, hit. He didn’t want to get beat, the tension around Nana was scary. Nana was nice, he knew that! But Mommy was nice, too. He just didn’t know what to think right now, his mind still boggled from recent activity. He knew that Nana wouldn't hit him, but the four year old had a rather active imagination at the moment. “Wait! C-Can I use the restroom please?” He squirmed a bit in her lap for extra measures.

Nana gave a little frown, but hummed in response. “Yeah sprout.” She pointed to the hall leading to the exit. “First door to the right.”

Izuku smiled up at her, though it probably came out a little strained. He didn’t feel like he fit in. Just like how he felt forced into Kacchan’s little group - everyone there was so… loud and outgoing, but Izuku was shy, quieter than most of the preschoolers. “Thanks, Nana-san.”

He jumped off her lap, not looking back to see the woman’s frown at the lack of endearment from the child. He walked to the restroom, turning the knob and opening it. As soon as he entered and was out of sight from the others, Izuku’s facade fell. He wanted to cry, but he was fresh out of tears. He wanted to scream, but his throat suddenly felt dry. He wanted to go back and hug the ever living hell out of Nana, seeking comfort from his thoughts… but he couldn’t. He didn’t deserve it.

He was useless.

That much was clear, anyway, from what everyone seemed to show to him.

Izuku just wanted a little break from reality, just wanted to camp out in the restroom until he could rid of the awkward feeling in his chest. He couldn’t place what it was… sadness? Loneliness?

Definitely both.

What he didn’t expect was to see the tiny window at the side of the wall. It wasn’t to not be expected, it’s just that Izuku has never really seen a restroom with a window in it. 

Or that he’s never really cared for looking for one. He’d be too busy taking a fat shit or something.

But now was different.

He closed the door behind him, locking it and instead taking to leaning on it. The past week’s events replayed in his mind. What would he do, now that his mother had left him - just like his father? Where would he go? What should he do?

...What could he do?

Face it with a smile on his face like All Might would do? He couldn’t, although he desperately wanted to. He was a child, not even half a decade yet. Everyone had their limits, and his happened to be very small as of now.

Izuku stared blankly at the window, tiny but just enough to fit him through. It was a stupid idea, he knew that. He didn’t know why it had crossed his mind - it wasn’t like he was in danger or anything. He was a kid. He was just uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know these people more, but he knew that they’d leave him eventually.

They always did.

The restroom was plain, no tub or shower in it. The window was positioned next to the toilet, high but not too much, blinds covering it from the outside view. The sound of voices filled his ears, the family - that he knew he was not a part of, no matter how welcomed they’d try to make him feel - continuing on their chat. They’d be fine, they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Midoriya Izuku pushed himself off the door and waddled his way over to the window, eyes blank and mind swarming with unnecessary thoughts. Bare feet connected with the toilet lid, Izuku grabbing the window sill for support. He lifted the blinds up and out of the way and saw there was no screen blocking him from freedom. Steadying himself, the boy tiptoed in an attempt to see if there were a lock on the tiny window. There was, fortunately, and he quietly flipped it over, pausing for a moment to hear if anyone had heard his ruckus. They didn’t.

Letting out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding, Izuku paused. Did he leave anything back in the house?

Other than his will to live, no he couldn’t recall anything else.

Without another thought, Izuku quietly and slowly lifted the window up, a dead expression laying on his face. The four year old hadn’t considered there was an alarm in the picture.

But now he knew.

A loud ding! echoed throughout the house, indicating that a door of some sort had opened. The chatter in the living room stopped, much to the panic of Izuku.

“Ahh, uh!” he whispered under his breath, hearing the creak of a chair getting released of its pressure. Izuku threw the window open now, not caring whether they heard as he entered a new level of oh-fucking -shit.

As he heard a knock on the bathroom door, he was climbing out the window, wiggling through the tight space.

Yep, this had got to be his stupidest idea yet.

Izuku fell to the ground with a soft thud, the voice of a panicked Nana filling his ears in the background. He had absolutely no idea why he was doing this, other than wanting to get out of their hair. Now that he thought about it, why hadn’t he taken the door? Would they have cared?

He heard Nana behind him, shaking the knob of the restroom through the open window. “Izuku?” he heard. “Izuku! Are you there?” He didn’t answer, only getting up off the ground silently, dusting his knees. Hearing no response from the child, Nana yelled. “Torino, go out! He’s outside!”

Izuku’s eyes widened. He didn’t feel like being chased by a grown man right now.

The young child sprinted off the property as fast as he could, albeit not very fast - screw you tiny legs! - though he didn’t know why he was so distressed, why they didn’t just leave him to himself. 

The window had been on the side of the house, just a few feet from the actual front. He ran, turning the corner and away from the front door. Izuku passed the decorative bushes, face contorted with pain from his self-deprecating thoughts - why should a child think of these things? - and the feeling of potential abandonment in his chest.

That’s why, he figured. He was running because he didn’t want to be left behind again.

If they were going to leave him in the future, what was stopping him from leaving first? To leave before anything could happen, before he would get too attached. Why a four year old was thinking such things was the fault of society in the age of quirks.

Izuku ran and ran, though he still found himself near the house. He heard the front door being thrown open, Torino Sorahiko bursting out and looking around for the child.

He looked back, eyes widened in fear of being caught as he kept running, not looking in front of him. Why wouldn’t they just leave him? Why did they care? He appreciated it, but he didn’t…  he didn’t what?

And as soon as Sorahiko set his eyes on the boy, Izuku felt a crushing weight tackle him, scooping him up, trapping his arms in his captor’s chest.

____________________

The day had been pretty normal for Yagi Toshinori. Thirteen and quirkless, Toshinori had gone to school and dealt with the bullies, as per usual.

It didn’t bother him - not anymore at least.

He knew that he’d get a quirk, the offer from his mentor would come to light soon enough. He needed to train first, she had said, in order for his body to accept the conditions of One For All.

See, right now he was a scrawny teen, barely any meat on his bones. Over the course of a month, he had grown a bit more muscle, but it still wasn't enough. Shimura-san had offered him a quirk due to his heroic tendencies, so here he was, going to her house to meet up and train like they did every other day after school.

The house came into view as Toshinori turned the corner of the neighborhood. Pocketing the phone in his hand, the teen looked ahead, speeding up a little as he was eager to get closer to his dream of helping others.

What he wasn’t very eager about was seeing Tenko. Dang, the brat looks like a total angel - and he is! - but when Toshinori comes into view, the boy is ready to throw hands.

Toshinori’s lips twitch at the thought, eyes roaming to the sky in wonder. The blue haired boy was so nice to everyone else, it was cute. What in the ever loving heck did Toshinori do to get on his bad side?

He sighed, looking back down to see that he was nearing the house. The sight of the door came into view, and Toshinori saw Gran Torino - his mentor’s friend - standing at the doorway looking frantic as he scanned the area, screaming, “Hey! Where’d you go, boy?!”

Boy?

Toshinori saw a child in front of him just a few feet away, looking away from him and instead focusing on the man behind him. The boy looked crazed, panicked as he stared back, running blindly ahead.

A thief? Toshinori thought. It wasn’t impossible, many kids had a tendency of stealing these days, especially if they were raised wrong and had just been blessed with a quirk. He just didn't expect one to look so cute and squishable.

The teen’s body moved on its own, rushing towards the caught-off guard child. Toshinori scooped the boy up in his arms, restraining his movement by burrowing the green headed child deeper into his chest, trapping the boy’s arms as his legs kicked uselessly at Toshinori’s own.

He caught him.

____________________

Izuku was stuck.

He couldn’t get out of this stranger’s firm grasp.

He kicked and squirmed, feet connecting weakly with the other boy’s thighs. “Lemme go, lemme go!” yelled Izuku, tears brimming his eyes. Darn, and he thought he was all out, too. He just wanted to leave - where to, he had no clue, possibly off to check if Kacchan hadn’t left him, too. He just wanted to get away from all those happy people, he didn’t want to intrude.

Izuku’s arms were tucked away in his captor’s chest, making it impossible to use his fists instead.

The boy who caught him, with blonde and striking blue eyes, was holding him as if he weighed nothing, only carrying the boy back to the house. Izuku tried to put up more of a fight, banging his head on his captor’s shoulder. It seemed to hurt himself more than it did the teen.

The blonde only continued to walk forward towards Torino, a smile on his face despite the child’s squirming.

With one last bang on the head, Izuku had enough. His head was throbbing like crazy - from fatigue or pain, he couldn’t exactly tell. Hoping to lessen the pain, Izuku pressed his forehead onto the teen’s shoulder, seeing as he couldn’t get his hands out to help. He was still squirming, just out of spite to try and annoy the boy who caught him, partially to try and escape.

Footsteps were growing closer to Izuku, which he assumed was that Torino person. He kicked for a last time before realizing how pointless his attempts were.

He flopped in the blonde boy’s grasp, limp and expressionless. Stray tears fell down his cheeks despite his dead expression. He couldn’t feel anything and in that moment, his situation hit him harder than a thrown brick to the head ever would.

He couldn’t save his momma.

He was useless.

He couldn’t help Present Mic.

He was useless.

He couldn’t run from that man with the knife.

Useless.

He couldn’t find his mother after waking up.

Stupid.

He couldn’t figure out that momma had left him before it was too late.

Dumb.

He couldn’t take care of himself, instead taking to bothering total strangers.

A burden.

He couldn’t stop momma from leaving.

Unwanted, unneeded, abandoned, unloved.

He couldn’t leave the home of nice people without getting caught.

He was useless.

And now he was stuck in the restricting arms of a teen. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Torino breathed a sigh from behind him, speaking to the blond boy. His tone was full of relief. “Ah, Toshinori, thank you.” Oh, so they know each other. What a small world.

The teen smiled, though it dimmed when he realized how limp Izuku had gotten. “Ah, no problem, Torino-sensei! Is this child a thief or something? What happened?”

Izuku felt the eyes of Nana’s friend trail onto his figure, a dark tension filling the air. Oh crap, was he in trouble now?

The man sighed. “No, but his situation is… difficult to say the least,” Torino said, walking up to Toshinori, he had heard, and grabbing Izuku out of his arms. Izuku continued to remain expressionless despite the pain dripping from his cheeks. Torino looked down at the boy, a frown on his face. Izuku refused to acknowledge him, staring off into the distance as the man lightly bobbed the boy. “Izuk-”

“IZUKU!” Nana interrupted, speeding up to the group and catching the boy’s cheeks in her hands, crouching down to Izuku’s level from Torino’s arms. Her brows were furrowed in concern as she looked at him, her hands making him look at her. “What were you thinking?"” Her voice was soft yet strict, turning the greenette's face over a bit to check for injuries.

Izuku stared right through her, forcing his lips to stop quivering. If he acted rude, would they let him go? He’d regret it, but it was for the best, right? He didn’t want to be left behind again, so he’d leave them. That’s what he agreed on, that’s what he’d stick to. That’s what he wanted to stick to. Needed to.

Soon followed Tenko, as well as fake Recovery Girl and Naomasa. Mr. Tsukauchi had also came out, followed by Kotaro, who was holding Hana’s hand. They all had the same expression on their face. Pity and concern. Izuku hated that look. It made him feel weak.

After a few more moments, however, of Nana stroking his cheek or playing with his hair, the four year old let out a pitiful whine (much to his embarrassment, everyone there was staring at him already as it was). 

He was four. He couldn’t contain his feelings, couldn’t hide them. But he could try, so he ripped himself away and hid from lingering eyes, burrowing his face into Torino’s shirt, hiding himself from the world.

There he cried, tiny hands grasping onto the man’s shirt, wrinkling it. “...useless,” he muttered quietly, words muffled. That word that was bouncing around in his head, ripping him to shreds. He said it louder this time, unable to control the volume in his words as the crying only grew louder. 

He muttered it over and over again, his world turning a blinding white as everything around him blanked. "Stupid deku, can't do anything. Useless, useless, don't be a deku, Izuku, don't be a," he sucked in and his mouth shut.

Kacchan never meant what he said, Izuku knew. They were practically joined by the hip, although Kacchan was always a bit mean. There was always this glint in his eyes when he'd tease him, a playful mocking. Yet Izuku could see some form of truth behind the blonde's words. So he snagged at the wrong interpretation knowingly, for what was one's lies was another's truth.

The man only held him tighter, the air around the group growing tighter in response to Izuku’s louder, clearer words.

Suddenly the boy was ripped from his spot in Torino’s arms and he found himself in Nana’s instead. She bounced him up and down, telling him comforting words that came through one ear, out the other. “Izuku, sweetie, stop telling yourself that,” Nana said, tone sweet but firm. The toddler, instead of listening to her, burrowed his face into the new provided shoulder, continuing to mumble self-deprecating words that a toddler should not use on himself.

____________________

Nana had no idea what to do at that point. Tenko and Hana never really had to go through these kinds of hardships because, well… Nana would never leave her children to fend for themselves. Her children were happy all around, safe for the times they didn’t get what they’d want at the store.

So when Tenko came up to Izuku, she was grateful, lessening her bobbing for the child to comfort the other.

____________________

Izuku felt a tug on his shorts. Adjusting his head ever so slightly, just so that his eye could peek out from Nana’s shoulder, Izuku caught sight of his friend looking up at him with a sad smile. “You’re not useless, Zu. You’re awesome! ‘N funny an’ strong!” He flexed his arm for extra measures and made a funny face, getting a watery laugh out of the weeping child. A tiny droplet of spit came from Izuku's open mouth and fell on Tenko's cheek, to which the boy reacted with a playful disgusted face, animatedly wiping it off and onto Nana's shirt.

Izuku laughed again, though it was more prominent that time.

Izuku tried to lessen his sniffles, and as he did that, Tecchan continued to speak. “So… so we wan’ you here. Don’t run away, ‘kay, Zu?”

Izuku buried his head into Nana’s shoulder again, thinking on what he heard as his cries slowly calmed, leaving him hiccuping wildly. They wanted him to stay? They cared?

No, they’d leave him.

But would they…?

Slowly and hesitantly, Izuku nodded into Nana, clutching onto the collar of her shirt as he hid his face in embarrassment and shame. He knew this was a stupid idea. Man, he should’ve just left by the front door, tell them he’d go to a friend’s house. Technically it wasn’t a lie--he wanted to check to see if Kacchan and Auntie Mitsuki were still there for him.

Izuku was so out of it, lost in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice the group had silently made its way back into the house until Nana had sat down on one of the long couches now, turning him around in her lap. To Izuku’s right sat Tecchan, holding his shirt. On his left sat the other boy, Tsukauchi Naomasa, who was holding Izuku’s pinky comfortingly despite not knowing him yet (other than the adult’s conversations on the boy --the nine year old could piece stuff together). The adults - excluding Nana, of course - sat on the other seats, as well as Hana.

The Toshinori person sat on the end of the other couch, visibly squirming while looking constipated and uncomfortable. The toddler saw that it was because Tecchan was glaring at him. He looked concerned. Confused, too. Izuku would have laughed under different circumstances.

By now, Izuku’s hics had calmed down to quiet sniffles and an uncomfortably runny nose. That really was the dumbest thing he could have done in his life.

Nana was the first one to break the silence, shifting Izuku in her lap so she’d have better access to seeing him. “Zuku…”

The boy shrunk in on himself, shoulders tucking in as he prepared for a scolding. He looked down in shame, but the scolding never came. Instead, a warm hand softly landed on his hair, fondly ruffling it. He looked up at Nana, confused.

“You could have just told us if you were uncomfortable, you know.” She smiled down on him, large and goofy. “I could tell you were, but I figured it was because of your mom.”

Izuku didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t. Tenko took the chance to talk instead. “Yeah, Zu! You could've played with me and Naomasa!” He gave a smile not unlike his mother’s.

Izuku smiled back, still not knowing what to say. A few more seconds started to pass and the four year old was getting a bit awkward in the silence, all eyes on him. "Um, s-sorry for, uh, running. I-I wanted to check if, um, Kacchan was still here, too.”

 Nana nodded in response, looking back down at the boy and interrupting his ramble. “It’s okay, Izu, but if you want to go out again, please don’t sneak out of the restroom window.” The boy looked up sheepishly. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He nodded. “Again?” Izuku questioned, cocking his head to the side. Weren’t they gonna drop him off at an orphanage or something? Though he knew they would probably come visit him to play, knowing how nice they are. He’d await Tecchan’s visits.

Now it was Nana’s turn to look sheepish, taking a glance at Tsukauchi Haruta. “Ah, yeah - that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She bounced him in his lap before continuing.

 “Well, since your mother took you off the civilian registry and erased all traces of your existence,” she paused, looking down at him to see if he’d gotten a negative reaction. Luckily, the boy was too interested in what she had to say (she knew she was a bit insensitive there, Nana was never the best with sugarcoating) to notice. “We kind of figured we’d adopt you…?”

It’d be easy, seeing as there was no “Midoriya Izuku” in the registry. They could change his name, and no really difficult legalities would have to transpire due to the boy’s lack of presence in records. Seriously, that woman must've been good at hacking, they couldn’t recover any data.

Nana looked back down, expecting to see happy smiles and excitement on his face (despite the circumstance - this was a four year old!) but she soon turned frantic when she saw the boy’s lips quivering, big fat tears rolling down his face again. “W-Wha?! Did I say something wrong? Whad I do? I’m sorry, oh my fuc- fudging god,” she hugged the boy into her chest, looking around to her friends for help. What she didn’t expect was for the boy to hug her back, twisting his body so he could do so.

He shook his head. “N-No, thank you, thank you,” Izuku said. He hadn’t been expecting this, no one was this nice. Not even heroes - maybe All Might. To take in a random person was on a new level of kindness. Just as he had finally stopped crying, he had started back up again. But this time they were tears of joy. “T-Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Nana hugged him back tighter now as a new body crashed into the hug - Tecchan. Naomasa and Hana had fit their way into the circle, Toshinori, too (much to the displeasure of Tenko), though they didn’t really know each other yet. Izuku had the feeling Toshinori was a very, very nice person. He couldn't wait to know him more! And Naomasa! And maybe even Hana!

 Izuku looked back at the first two, ignoring the tears rolling down his face. “S-So you can be Ma again?” He turned to Tenko. “A-And you can be T-Tecchan-nii?”

The two only smiled at the boy, their newest edition.

“Welcome to the family.”

One last time he’d allow himself to feel the love of a family.

Just once, nothing more.

Chapter Text

A few signatures later and it was official. Midoriya Izuku was no more. Instead, all that was left was Shimura Izuku - son of Nana and Kotaro, younger brother to Tenko and Hana.

The next few weeks for the boy had been a bit choppy, with Izuku trying to get adjusted to his new life. In that time, he’d learned that Nana was a hero, like All Might! Torino was also a hero, too, though he kept in the shadows of the business. He had also come to terms that Chiyo was Recovery Girl.

He still didn’t get why she had skittles instead. He wanted gummies!

Naomasa had come over frequently to play with Tenko and Izuku, much to the boy’s pleasure. Naomasa was awesome! Especially his quirk, it was just like his father’s! They were literal human lie-detectors.

“That’s so cool, Nao-chan!” Izuku had yelled, jumping off the floor in excitement. His eyes shown a light that had started to frequently show the past couple of days. Izuku wasn’t anywhere near recovering from his mother’s disappearance, but he was making progress. “Imagine all you could do with that! You could tell when a villain is lying and you can solve a bunch of hard cases! So! Cool! Detective work would be a breeze~”

Naomasa rubbed his neck, embarrassed from all the praise he was getting. “It’s really not that gre-”

“Shush.” Izuku interrupted, squinting his eyes and pressing his finger to the boy’s lips. “Shuuush.”

Tenko and Naomasa laughed, the former grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him down beside him, pinky pulled up in precaution despite having his glove on still. Tenko ruffled his brother’s fluffy hair, thinking in curiosity.

It’s been nearly three weeks since Izuku was officially deemed a Shimura and all they knew was that his birthday had passed on that unfortunate day and he was now four. Wouldn’t that mean he’d have a quirk now?

“Zuzu, what’s your quirk?” Tenko turned towards Izuku, Naomasa doing the same, interested.

Izuku glanced at the two, nervous. He didn’t know how they’d react. Would they be mad? Disgusted? What would Ma think?

He smiled lopsidedly, lips twitching. “I-I can, uhh, fly! Like Mama!” He swooshed his arm through the air, sticking his lips out and blowing.

Naomasa’s left eye twitched, an indication that his quirk had gone off. He frowned slightly. “Izu, what’s my quirk again?”

The four year old gasped, slamming his hand onto his forehead. “Poop, forgot ‘bout that.”

Izuku sighed, rubbing his hands together lightly. It was bound to happen sooner or later, his doctor appointment had been set up next week, anyway. Izuku looked down. “...I don’ have a quirk,” he mumbled, lifting his head and looking through his curly bangs expecting to see disgust.

He didn’t see any of that.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“O-Oh?”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, fumbling with the socks on his feet as he stared at his friends. “You’re not mad…?” 

Tenko smiled, a determined look crossing his face. “Nuh-uh, Zucchan! That just means I’ll have to protect you more!” He raised a fist in the air and gave his brother a toothy grin.

Naomasa nodded, a tiny lilt to his lips. “Yeah, Izu. You know Toshinori’s quirkless, too, right? And it doesn’t matter, we’re best friends!”

“Maybe you are,” Tenko added, crossing his arms. “‘M not going near that weirdo. He stole mom!”

“ Hey !”

The trio turned around, eyes meeting said weirdo. “So that’s why you hate me, Tenko?”

“It’s Shimura to you! Shi-mu-ra.”

“Nuh-uh, I already call Sensei that. Or do you want me to call her mom?” Toshinori dragged the ‘o’ out a bit teasingly. The seven year old gasped in response.

Izuku interrupted their squabbling, a bright smile on his face as he ran to the twelve year old. “To-hii! To-hii, To-hii!” He jumped at the boy’s feet, eyes sparkling. “Is it true? Are you quirkless, too? But you’re so strooong , how ya’ do it?”

The two had gotten acquainted over the last few weeks, Toshinori coming over frequently for training lessons with Nana. To say the least, Izuku loved being around Toshinori (despite the whole escaping fiasco), and it seemed to be mutual. Izuku would watch the older getting thrown around by his new adoptive Ma, and he’d always find it hilarious.

Toshinori looked down at the boy, smiling. He dropped his backpack onto the ground and scooped Izuku into his arms. The toddler let out a laugh, watching as the blonde nodded in response. “You’re quirkless, too, Zu?”

The boy nodded his head vigorously, waiting for the boy to continue.

“Well, I’m not strong yet. You’re just super light,” Toshinori bounced the boy up in his arms. “But I’m getting there! I’ll be the best hero out there!” He flexed his arms goofily, a bright smile on his face that Izuku thought could have rivaled All Might’s.

“Yeeeaahhh!!” The boy pumped a fist in the air. “Let’s be a duo, To-hii! We gon’ be the bestest! Like All Might! I’mma be the bestest even without a quirk!”

Toshinori scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, glancing at Naomasa, but nonetheless smiled with the little boy. Naomasa gave a little shrug, both having no clue who this All Might person Izuku kept talking about was. Naomasa had searched the internet for a result, but none came up. He even asked his dad, but Haruta hadn’t a clue either.

“Alrighty then, Izuku. We’ve gotta train you! First lesson - don’t get caught!”  Toshinori let the boy down, instructing him to run as fast as he could and to avoid getting touched. Izuku gave a dutiful nod, motioning to the two on the ground and saying, “You too, Te-nii! Nao-chan! Get super strong!” and flexed his arms, continuing to run around.

Toshinori left out the part where this was a game of tag and Tenko and Naomasa played along for the sake of the green head’s smiles.

Izuku was grateful, to say the least. He had half-expected his friends to make a fuss over the boy being quirkless, and also expected them to throw him out to the streets once again. No one liked a useless, quirkless deku.

But apparently they did! So Mama must be fine with it, too.

He also found out that Toshinori was also without a quirk! So cool! Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. They could be the world’s first quirkless heroes, despite what Kacchan would probably say. Unless there already was one. He should check. He was also curious to see what Kacchan would say about his diagnosed quirklessness. He didn’t get the chance to tell him. 

Izuku was sure that his best friend would be fine with it.

____________________

The weeks blurred into months, and slowly, Izuku began to accept his mother’s decision. 

It doesn’t mean he liked it, though.

Izuku still didn’t blame her - in fact, he missed her a lot. He missed her warmth, her love, her tight hugs and her warm cookies.

And the katsudon, don’t forget the katsudon.

In the beginning, he’d put up a happy facade in front of his new family (he was almost sure they knew somehow) and cried to himself when he was alone. Now, however, the sadness and sorrow were slowly going away and it was all thanks to them. He was happy with his new life. Torino and Chiyo would come over to visit Nana, and Tsukauchi would make up some time to do so every so often.

Torino had become a second father figure to Izuku - third? - and Chiyo had become an Auntie that could rival even Auntie Mitsuki.

He was content.

But what he didn’t get was why his Mama and Torino wouldn’t let him see Kacchan. If he was still there, he must have been worrying about the sudden disappearance of his friend.

“Mama, why can’t I go play with Kacchan?” He had asked, tugging at Nana’s shorts. Izuku had looked over at Torino, eyes pleading to see his friend. “He must be super duper worried. He’s nice! A super big meanie, but he’s nice!”

Counterproductive.

Nana looked down at her son, picking him up and bobbing him. She glanced at Torino before saying the usual line over again. “Bakugou-kun sounds like a bad influence, sprout,” she said, using the surname Izuku had given to her months prior, “and we want you to be a positive little bean, alrighty? Why don’t you go over to Auntie Chiyo and get some skittles.” She booped his nose.

Izuku frowned as he was being set down, but still made his way over to said Auntie. He was tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, but maybe some skittles would cheer him up.

He still wanted to try those gummies, though.

Why wouldn’t they let him see Kacchan? He wasn’t that mean.

Okay, maybe he was. Just a little, not too much.

Also, why did Auntie Chiyo grow taller and less wrinkly if she was Recovery Girl? Were the media false advertising? Do they always do that?

Is All Might a wrinkly old man?

Heck, where’s All Might anyway? When they went to the store, there was no merch on the number one hero whatsoever. And his favorite All Might series was gone, too!

Izuku made his way over to Auntie Chiyo, plopping himself down on the couch with his arms crossed, which made the woman chuckle.

“Skittles?”

“Skittles.”

He stuck his hand out, a childish pout on his lips. After Auntie Chiyo poured a few into his hand, Izuku immediately threw them into his mouth, earning a choked cough from the lady as she screeched a loud, “Careful!”

Promptly ignoring her shout, Izuku stuck out his lower lip and downed the candy. “I wanna see Kacchan!” He whined, taking to grabbing a few more skittles as he kicked his legs in the air. Chiyo pulled the packet back, ‘tsking as she denied his thievery. He ‘tsked back, muttering, “I still wan’ gummies, though.”

“I’ll go out and buy you gummies some day, Izukkun, but these skittles are healthier than normal ones! My support crew made it so that it’d fit my hero costume,” Chiyo said, dropping a few more into his hand. “And you know that your Kacchan is bad for you, Sorahiko heard what you said before.”

Izuku turned to her, exasperated. “But he’s so awesome! That’s why he called me that, he’s allowed to… just not in front of Auntie Mitsuki and momma.”  He whispered the last part.

Chiyo sighed. There was no getting through the toddler’s thick skull.

Izuku’ll just have to find a different way to meet Kacchan.

The boy sighed, shrugging as he hopped off the couch. He turned back around to face his Auntie, leaning in to hug her.

She opened her arms wide, ready. “Awwh, thank you, Zu-”

He snatched a handful of skittles from the unsuspecting woman’s lap, stuffing it in his face before backing away. He snickered, giving the lady a toothy grin as he chewed the candy messily. “Fanks Aushie Shi-sha!” Izuku laughed as he went in and actually hugged her this time. She sighed, but hugged back, a small smile on her lips.

Izuku pulled back and giggled before running off to his older brother, sitting down next to him as he picked up an action figure with a colorful smile - like, actually colorful because of the staining skittles.

Chiyo smiled at the sight. She didn’t know what Midoriya Inko was thinking when she left the kid, he’s an absolute blessing. Quirkless? Who cares, the boy was a ray of sunshine.

It wasn’t until long that the door bell rang. Nana excused herself from the spot next to Torino, making a beeline for the door. Looking through the peephole, she opened it and welcomed in a bruised Toshinori (who was still smiling, as per usual).

“Toshinori, you’ve seriously got to tell a teacher or something, this can’t keep happening,” an exasperated Nana sighed. “Or should I go to that school and complain? Because I will march up to that building and tear it to shreds, sprout, just you watch.”

Toshinori gave a sheepish laugh, shaking his head as he shrugged. “Even if you did, they wouldn’t care enough to do anything for a quirkless kid. Speaking of, when you enroll Izuku into kinder next year, you might want to keep an eye out for him.” He took a glance at Izuku, who was staring at the two with big eyes. “Kids are brutal these days.”

Izuku ran up to the two, setting his toy down beside a rather annoyed looking Tenko. The four year old grabbed at Toshinori’s jeans, tugging. “You hurt, Tocchan?”

Toshinori only bent down to the boy’s level, messing up his hair. 

When he didn’t respond, Izuku took the chance. “No training today with Mama! Cancel! Let’s go to the park!”

The park wasn’t so far from Kacchan’s house. He could make it if he ran.

Toshinori looked up at his mentor and mother-figure for permission. She looked stern, as if she were about to say no.

But that was before she saw Izuku’s puppy dog eyes.

She sighed after a while of staring at her son, visibly struggling before she gave in. “Fine, but I’ve gotta stay here and do some paperwork reports on some villains I caught. Take Chiyo and Sora with you, it doesn’t seem like they have anything to do since they’re freeloading in my house.” She raised her voice playfully at the end, shooting a glance at her friends.

Izuku squealed, running off to Chiyo and grabbing her off the couch before making his way over to Torino and doing the same. Tenko stood, too, fixing his glove before going over to Izuku, who was now holding the hands of both adults.

“Bye, Mama! Papa! Hana-nee, wanna come, too?”

Hana contemplated for a bit before shaking her head. “I’ve got some friends coming over in an hour, Izu. See you later!”

Izuku nodded, eager to go out. “Let’s go!” The boy flung the door open and skipped out, letting go of his Auntie and Uncle’s hands in favor of reaching the park faster. Tenko and Toshinori walked close behind, Tenko giving hard glares and Toshinori visibly inching away.

Izuku hummed a tune as he was making his way to the park. He’d be able to go see Kacchan! If he was still there, anyway. Izuku was prepared if he wasn’t. In fact, he was half-expecting it. Auntie Mitsuki was best friends with Momma - Momma wouldn’t leave her best friend behind.

But then again, she left her son behind, so who’s to say anything at this point.

Izuku was riding on the hope that they were still there anyway.

“Oi, Izu! We’re here, stop your hoppin’,” Torino shouted from behind. Izuku halted, looking around and seeing that he was half-way into the park already. The boy turned around to face Torino, a sheepish smile lit on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

He playfully saluted. “Yessir!”

“Zuzu! C’mere, let’s climb!” Izuku turned his head around to meet Tenko, who was positioned at the foot of a large tree.

He shrugged. It wouldn’t hurt to play for a while. The toddler began to run towards his brother, grabbing his not-brother-but-still-brother Toshinori on the way over.

Tenko stepped on the tree, hoisting himself up and grabbing onto a branch as Chiyo and Torino found a seat on a nearby bench. Soon enough, Tenko found a sitting place on the tree.

“Woah, Tecchan-nii! So cool, I wanna go up, too!”

Tenko laughed, patting the space next to him. “Careful then, Zuzu. I gotta spot right here for you.”

Izuku nodded dutifully, forgetting about the Kacchan meeting for now. “Uh, To-hii! Lift me up! Up, please!”

Toshinori hummed, grabbing the boy from underneath his pits before pushing him onto the slanted part of the tree. He continued to support the boy, holding his feet until he made it safely next to his brother. 

“Careful there, boys. I don’t want to have to heal you from your reckless behavior,” Chiyo yelled from her spot on the bench.

“Yes, Chi-chan.”

“Okay, Auntie!”

“I’ll protect them, Shuzenji-san!”

Tenko and Izuku sat up in the tree for nearly half an hour, talking and playing amongst themselves carefully with Toshinori down at their feet.

Sooner rather than later, Izuku remembered his reason for coming in the first place, cutting himself off as he looked down at his not-brother. “To-hii! Down! I wan’ go down, please!”

“M’kay, Zu, hold on.” Toshinori got up from his spot on the floor, reaching his arms out for Izuku to lean down into. The boy caught the toddler, setting him down onto the floor. 

“Thanks!” Izuku said and promptly took off running in the direction of Kacchan’s house.

The boy wasn’t very tactful, so he figured it’d work. Hearing footsteps behind him - as anticipated - Izuku began to run faster, zigzagging his way past the trees and confusing Toshinori behind him.

Izuku was already more than halfway there, anyway, so it wouldn’t matter if he got caught so early. He knew the area better than Toshinori, so it was possible to beat him, even with those tiny toddler legs of his. What he wasn’t sure of was if he could outrun Uncle Torino. By now he knew the man’s quirk and had seen it in action - he was doubtful that he could beat that speed. What he was hoping on was that Torino hadn’t noticed his absence (Izuku already knew, though - that Torino would notice in seconds).

Kacchan’s house - mansion thingamabob - was nearly right next to the park. The area Kacchan and Izuku had lived within Musutafu wasn’t as big as the other cities around, so a lot of the structures were packed together.

Behind him, Toshinori was yelling madly, gaining the attention of Torino who was now looking up from his spot on the bench. Torino got up, sprinting in the direction of the runaway boy and propelling himself off of the trees.

But it was too late.

Because Izuku had already reached Kacchan’s house.

Except there was no house, just like his own from before.

The boy stood by himself on the empty lot, Toshinori running to catch up from beyond the trees.

He stood there, staring at the grass that grew where a building was supposed to stand, eyes wide. His body grew stiff and his vision grew hazy, eyes cold from gathering water.

He stood there, feeling alone despite the two who had met from behind him.

He stood there, feeling alone despite the presence of an additional two regrouping with the others.

He stood there, feeling alone even as he felt the hand of his brother grab at his own.

He stood there, feeling alone as he gazed at the area where he’d play with his best friend.

Kacchan was gone. Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru were, too.

He didn’t get why everyone left him. 

A bubbling feeling rose up the boy’s chest, escaping through his mouth as he giggled to himself, despite that growing feeling that ate him from the inside out . Kacchan was gone. And his house was, too. Why were the houses of all things disappearing, too?

Izuku didn’t know why he felt like this. He already knew, already predicted that this would be the case. He didn’t know why it caught him off guard, he told himself that he was already expecting it. He tried to convince himself over and over again by telling himself that this would be a possibility, that this would happen .

He just had to question, though. Why was it that everyone he gets attached to leaves him?

Would Mama leave him, too? Papa, Hana, Auntie Chiyo, Uncle Torino? Toshi and Tecchan, too?

They wouldn’t, right? They were too nice for that. Why bring him in if they were going to take him out in the first place? They wouldn’t. They couldn’t .

… Right?

Izuku turned around, broken again for the first time in months. He plastered a smile on his lips, ignoring the sole tear that fell down his face. He faced his new family and laughed despite himself. “He’s gone.” And he was hit with a wave of deja vu.

He chose to ignore the crack in his voice as he spoke.

He chose to ignore the wrecking sobs that shook his small frame.

He felt alone.

More than ever, he felt alone.

More than when his father left his momma and him.

More than when he found himself without a quirk.

More than when he woke up in that same park.

More than when he found out momma left him.

More than ever, he felt alone.

In that moment, he carried all of the times he felt that sickening emotion on his shoulders, and it weighed him down so, so much.

So much that he collapsed to the ground, laying in a fetal position for those around him to see. He cried and he cried, more than he had ever in his short life.

In that moment, he felt alone even as his family picked him up, all four wrapping their arms around his figure as their tears fell on curly green.

But he wasn’t alone, he knew that.

Not anymore.

And the broken boy hugged back.

Chapter Text

For months after Izuku had found out that even his best friend was gone, the boy was quieter than usual. He would still play with Naomasa and Tenko and he would still laugh at Toshinori’s training sessions, but he was more subdued.

Naturally, the boy was recovering, accepting that his old life and the people in it were gone. Izuku was going back to his old, bubbly self slow as it may be.

During that time, his family had grown a lot closer with him. 

They also grew very protective of the boy as a result of seeing his vulnerable state.

Nana was filled in on that day, and since then she had practically glued herself to Izuku’s side. When she’d have to go on patrol, she’d whine playfully, always scooping the boy up and smothering him in wet motherly kisses.

Tenko would laugh at him, but that was always before he was met with the same fate.

Naomasa would come over nearly everyday after his school would end and Toshinori would barge in on non-training days just to hang out with the family. Overall, Izuku was actually happy, even forgetting about his mother and Kacchan for a few moments a day. It was nice - the warmth of his family.

And after a few more weeks, Izuku was back.

Fake smiles turned real, laughs drawing the same line. He was thankful for whatever deity up there that allowed him to meet these people.

“Izuku, come here, boy! Your mom’s on TV!”

“Coming, Uncle Torino!”

He laughed, a bright smile that outshone the sun on his face as he ran and jumped onto Torino’s lap, Chiyo and Toshinori on each side and Naomasa and Tenko at his feet. Hana was out with her friends.

“Papa, c’mere!”

Kotaro smiled, coming down from his makeshift workplace upstairs. “I’m here, I’m here.”

And life was easy for the boy. He no longer had to worry about being left behind - no one else he really knew back then was still there for him, and he was constantly reassured that his new family wouldn’t ever leave him. He believed them - with his whole being, he believed them.

Months turned into a year, and a year turned into two. Those two years were the best of Izuku’s life, now six years old. Toshinori even got a quirk in between the time, but he still refused to use it in front of Izuku. All Izuku knew was that it was a strong strength enhancer.

“Toshi! Lemme see, I wanna see!” Izuku said, clinging onto the fourteen year old’s legs. Izuku had grown a few inches - maybe four - but so had Toshinori. If anything, the height difference was wider than before. “You never let me see.”

Toshinori smiled down at the boy, picking him up as per usual. “Come on, Zu, I’ll show you when I’m confident in it. I only got it recently, so my body isn’t used to it yet.”

Izuku pouted, crossing his arms defiantly but nonetheless ceased his whines. “We’ll still be a hero duo, right? Just becus’ you have a quirk n’ I don’t doesn’t mean you’ll leave me?”

Toshinori dramatically gasped, using his free hand to cover his mouth. “I would never, Izu. We’ll be the best heroes out there, kay? You’ll be the very first quirkless hero! The strongest!”

Izuku broke out into a smile, nodding his head vigorously. “Mhm! ‘Kay, lemme down, let’s train!”

One thing that hadn’t changed was the two’s ‘training lessons,’ which Izuku still hadn’t realized was just a game of tag.

Once Izuku was let down, the boy broke out into a chorus of giggles, running around the house as Toshinori slowly ran after the boy, yelling, “I’mma catch you, Zuku!”

And Izuku, being the clumsy boy he was, continued to crash into low cabinets and tables, earning light scoldings from Chiyo and Nana, the former ranting about how she didn’t want to have to keep, “healing the poor boy from the merciless tyranny of furniture.”

Naomasa peeked his head over the couch and the door to Izuku and Tenko’s shared bedroom opened, the latter coming out from all the commotion, headphones wrapped over his neck.

“Training again?” Naomasa asked, lifting a brow.

Tenko groaned. “Izu, how about we level up, it’s been years! Next lesson - defeat the mini boss-”

“Hey, I’m not a mini boss! I’m the final-”

“Nii-chan, good idea!” Izuku halted his spree, turning over to see Toshinori’s frozen betrayal. “My turn, Toshi-chan. Run, run!” He started his chase, the older breaking his ice and smiling as he took off in the other direction. Izuku laughed, “Tecchan-nii! Nao-chan! Let’s gooo!”

“Careful, bean, watch the furniture.”

“M’kay, Mama,” he waved her off as the two sped ahead of him. “Wait for me!”

And they slowed for the younger.

____________________

Naturally, as Izuku had already reached the age, the boy had been enrolled into school. Aldera Primary School - Izuku had vaguely remembered his momma talking to Auntie Mitsuki about enrolling him there before the incident. The school taught grades K - 5. It was the same school Tenko and Naomasa went to - they were all in different grades, of course.

That meant that the two couldn’t protect their brother (and brother- figure ) from all the bullying he’d receive due to his lack of quirk. The two would only witness the insults. What they didn’t know about was the hits the younger would take, and for that Izuku was grateful. It wasn’t a big deal to the boy, but his brothers tended to overreact. He was glad Toshi wasn’t there to see because even more fists would be thrown.

But that didn’t mean they’d try in every other way, so naturally the two had went to Nana.

“Izuku baby, you know you can tell me if people are bothering you, right?”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, genuinely confused. “Mama means the people at school?” She nodded, which got an oh-that smile out of her son. “It’s okay, I’m fine with it! They don’t mean anything bad by it, I’ve dealt with worse!”

And Nana frowned, thinking that the child was talking of the day he had been found by her, his birthday . She knew he’s had a tougher life than most people, but what she didn’t realize was that he hadn’t been talking about that.

Izuku had been referring to Kacchan and his lackeys, how they were even when none of them had manifested their quirks.

Nana sighed. “Okay, Zu, but if it gets worse, tell me. I’ve said this to Toshinori, I’ll say this to you: I will march up to that school and beat their ass if they lay so much as a hand on you.”

Izuku gasped, covering his ears with his palms. “Mama, potty word!”

“Oh shit, sorry.”

“MAMA!”

So Izuku’s school life continued as normal - deal with the bullies, hide the bruises, deflect unwanted conversations with Tecchan and Naomasa, and go home! The tough life of a quirkless first grader, but Izuku didn’t mind. He’d go home looking forward to playing with his family.

Until one day, Izuku went home not knowing of the dark bruise that had formed on his shoulder because darn it, I told Nakamura to aim for the stomach! When the bell had rang ending the day, Izuku skipped outside to where Hana, Tenko and Naomasa would wait for him everyday. The three would wait for their parents to arrive and pick them up, Haruta usually taking Naomasa out first as the three siblings would wait for either Nana or Kotaro to pick them up. Only rarely did a Shimura arrive first.

“Hi, Nii-chan! Nee-chan! Nao-chaaan!” Izuku shouted, the six year old crashing into the grouped trio. “How ya doin’?”

They only stared at him.

“What?”

Silence.

“What is it?” He looked around. Everything looked normal, so he took to looking down, checking if there was a bug on him anywhere.

Then he searched his upper arm and saw it. 

Well it wasn’t a bug, at least.

Izuku laughed nervously, tugging his sleeve down to cover the bruise up. He looked back up at his family, rubbing his arm lightly. “A-Ah, I fell at recess.”

Naomasa’s left eye twitched. “Izu,” he said, tone scolding.

“Aw come on, Izuku, I don’t even need Naomasa’s quirk to see that was a lie.” Tenko crossed his arms.

Hana came rushing up to him, mother henning him. “Zuzu, how did you get this? Are people bothering you?”

“No.”

Naomasa’s eye twitched again. “Izu, we need to tell Auntie Nana.”

The boy peeked his head around his sister, giving large puppy eyes to the eleven year old. “No you don’.”

“Yes we do.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes. We do.”

Izuku sighed. “Pleeease, no?”

Naomasa visibly struggled, mouth opening and closing. Sure, the kid was cute - he had seen it many times. And Izuku almost always got what he wanted from the boy.

“N-n-”

Thankfully, Tenko saved the day. “Izuku, we gotta tell Ma.”

Izuku whined, dragging his words out. “Niiiii-chaaaan, noooooo,” he stomped his feet childishly. Cutesy acts worked on the older, but only in non-serious situations. That was all thanks to his trained immunity on the matter - Izuku used the same tactic way too much on Tenko.

Izuku pouted, the six year old crossing his arms after looking over his brother’s stern face.

Just then, Haruta pulled up, parking in the lot and walking up to the group. “Hey, kids,” he said as he ruffled his son’s hair. “How was school?”

“Good!” Izuku said through gritted teeth, looking over his friends and daring them to say more. Luckily, Haruta had control over his quirk, so it only worked when he wanted it to.

“Zuku got bullied.”

“I did not, Nao-chan!”

This time both Tsukauchis’ eyes twitched, Naomasa’s left, Haruta’s right.

“Don’t lie, Zucchan.”

“‘M not, Nao- nii ,” Izuku said, using the suffix that Naomasa always pushed to hear. Flattery didn’t seem to work in this case, though.

Haruta sighed, ignoring the argument completely. “Izuku, have people been bullying you?”

Izuku looked up at the man, eyes scrunched in frustration. “N-” He paused after taking in the look on the man’s face and sighed, defeated. He also had a lie detecting quirk, so there was no getting past him. “Yes...”

Haruta huffed, massaging the nose of his bridge as he imagined what Nana would react like. He was pissed, too, but he was only the Uncle in the family. “We’ll wait for your mom or dad and then go to the principal’s office, okay?”

“B-But the it’s not that serious, Uncle Haru!”

“Lift up your shirt, Izu, I know there’s more.”

“Wha?”

“You heard me.”

Izuku huffed a sigh, resigned as he lifted the hem a bit. He didn’t show a lot, but it was enough for a collection of gasps to go around his family circle. “It’s not that ba-”

“SHIMURA IZUKU, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” His mother’s voice rang throughout the lot, making the boy visibly shy away.

“Awh, poop,” he muttered under his breath.

Haruta grabbed Izuku’s hand and lifted it down, the shirt along with it as he looked over to Nana. “He’s getting bullied, Nana.”

“They don’t mean it…” The first grader mumbled under his breath.

Nana sighed, walking up to her son and picking him up. “Izukkun, I told you to tell me if they were hurting you.” He only shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact with the woman.

Nana turned her gaze to Haruta, who was holding Naomasa’s hand. “Tsukauchi, could you take Hana and Tenko with you? I’m gonna go sue this shit school.”

Haruta nodded. “I’ll take them to my house for a bit, I’m sure my wife will be happy to see them again.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll pick them up later then,” she said, walking over to her two others with Izuku in her arm. She ruffled their hair, crouching her legs a bit to do so. “Don’t worry, ‘kay? Izu here is gonna be just fine, we’ll sort it out, kids.”

Tenko nodded and lightly patted Izuku’s leg, said boy burrowing his head into the crook of Nana’s neck in embarrassment and shame. Hana nodded, too, giving the boy a smile even though he couldn’t see it. The two Shimuras’ and Tsukauchis’ went back to their car, driving off and leaving Nana and Izuku to the school.

The walk to the principal’s office was oddly nice, Nana letting the boy down to walk on his own somewhere in between. Nana wasn’t nagging at the boy, which was one good thing. 

When they reached the office, they stopped in front of it and Nana squatted down to Izuku’s height and putting a hand on his shoulder. “This might take a while if they’re being uncooperative, so go ahead and sit on one of those chairs, okay, Zu? Here’s my phone.”

Izuku nodded, sticking his hand out for Nana’s phone. As promised, she gave it to him and then stood up, hand in hand with the boy as she opened the door.

Nana nodded towards the chairs, watching as the boy sat on the one furthest in the corner before going on to the front desk and ranting on about the teacher’s lack of empathy towards a quirkless child and how they should be ashamed.

So the minutes flew by as expected and Izuku played on his mother’s phone, ducking his head down further every time he caught an employee’s gaze on him. After a while, however, the boy got a headache, now frustrated that he kept dying in Crossy Road. Quietly he turned off the phone, setting it down and staring off at the wall.

People came in and out, warily watching as his mother argued with the principal. After a while of the disruptive chat, the principal had led the woman down into his office so as to not cause any problems for others. After instructing Izuku softly to stay where he was, Nana was gone and out of sight.

And Izuku was bored.

He watched as parents came in to pick up their child’s confiscated items, fumbling with the phone in his hand as he stared.

The detention students were filing into the office now, picking seats next to Izuku as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Thank god there was only a few, Izuku felt a scary vibe coming from them.

Nonetheless, he glanced at them like the curious kid he was and he was a bit confused.

Because he recognized one of them.

From photos Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru would show him in sealed picture albums, anyway.

There, sitting next to him, was a brown-haired version of Kacchan, a scowl plastered on the boy’s face as he crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground from his seat impatiently.

And Izuku was shocked, only staring at the boy with a mix of awe and confusion - the awe coming from how similar the boy looked to Kacchan and confusion from wondering how this was even happening. A doppelgänger?

Said boy jerked his head towards the kid as he felt his gaze on him. “Hah? What you lookin’ at, greenie?”

“Uncle Masaru?” Izuku questioned, confusion written on his face as he tilted his head to the side. Why did his Uncle shrink? Did Kacchan shrink, too? Why was Uncle Masaru acting like Kacchan? He was so nice!

A flash of incredulousness crossed the boy’s face. “Eh? I’m not your uncle, kid, what the hell are you talking about?” He rubbed his palms together and created a mini explosion - much like the ones he use to show the curious boy before all those years ago.

Izuku crossed his brows, mind running a million miles an hour. He remembered the stories Masaru had told him when Kacchan would ask with him. Uncle Masaru would tell the kids how he was just like Kacchan - short-tempered and a little trouble maker, how he’d say that Kacchan would grow up to be just as nice, too.

Izuku never noticed the weird glances his Uncle shot at him until now as he though back, looks that were confused, like his Uncle had recognized the boy from somewhere other than recognizing him as his son’s friend.

Izuku nodded at the boy blankly, head turning down as he was lost in thought.

He was sure that that boy was Masaru - just a day before he had been orphaned, the man had been showing Kacchan and him pictures of himself as a boy. Then he and his family were gone in a flash.

And so little as he was, the six year old started to think.  He started to brainstorm, piece things together.

And eventually, after a while of staring at the floor as his Uncle Masaru stared at him - the boy who had out right knew his name and had even called him Uncle - Izuku got it.

It was just like in those shows that he’d watch - it sounded impossible, it was impossible.

But apparently it wasn’t.

“‘M a time traveler…” he said out of nowhere, awe and wonder in his voice even as the detention kids looked at the younger and laughed. Masaru laughed, too, but it was softer and less teasing than the rest.

“Sure you are, kid.”

Izuku looked at the other, light shining in his eyes as he realized that maybe momma didn’t leave him after all, Kacchan didn’t leave him.

“Uncle Masaru, I’mma time traveler!” The boy shouted, bouncing in his seat as if the other should get what he was saying, understand how joyful this would be if it were real.

It all made sense to the boy.

The disappearing houses didn’t up and leave, they were never there in the first place - at least not yet . How there was previously no trace of his existence in civilian registry, how there was no current - future - hero merch selling in stores. 

Maybe that’s why Recovery Girl grew taller and had skittles!

Darn it, he’d go back just for the gummies.

Mister Stabby Man had mentioned his time quirk and the quirk enhancements! Maybe that was the cause of all this?

Momma and Kacchan didn’t leave him, they just weren’t there for him yet. Uncle Masaru was here, though!

No regular six year old would probably piece this together if they were in the same situation as Izuku - Izuku was just smarter than most kids. He’d analyze the heroes they’d show on television, as well as his Mama’s quirk and Auntie Chiyo’s - Uncle Torino never showed on TV , but Izuku had a front seat view to the man’s quirk!

Izuku was glad with the new information that he had - he was ecstatic. He was sure time travel was the case, as bizarre at it sounded to the child. No, Izuku was just glad to know that momma and Kacchan hadn’t left him for dead after all.

He wasn’t sure what to do with the information, though. Maybe he’d just tell his family!

Izuku did miss his mom and Kacchan, but he wasn’t sure how to get back. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go back.

He was happy with his family now, he wasn’t sure how he’d live without them.

Mama, who had been kind and had taken him in.

Papa, who’d cook delicious meals that rivaled momma’s katsudon because Mama’s cooking tasted like charcoal.

Tecchan, who’d protect him from harm’s way when he could - who had an awesome decay quirk! He was the big brother Izuku had always wanted.

Hana, who’d comb through his fluffy mane with careful fingers.

Toshi, who’d lift him up when he was sad, who’d give reassuring smiles with pearly white teeth.

Naomasa, who’d eat all the cookies on your plate and feign innocence - Izuku still cried for his cookie loss.

Auntie Chiyo, the nagging woman who was kindly protective of her kin.

Uncle Torino, the jokester of the family with his ‘ Who are you?’ s.

Izuku was happy with these people. Even though he had only known them for two years, he was glad that he met them, glad that they distracted him from the pain his momma had unintentionally put him through.

He wouldn’t do anything to change that.

“Okay, greenie-“

“I’m Izuku!”

Masaru smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair despite his delinquent persona - maybe he had a soft spot for kids. “Alrighty, Izuku. I’m Bakugou Masaru.”

“I know!”

Izuku giggled at the look on his Not-Yet-Uncle’s face.

“How thoug-“

A door slammed open, an angry, “THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME,” echoing through the office as Nana came into sight. Her face was contorted with rage and satisfaction, though the negativity dispersed as the woman laid her eyes on her son. “C’mon, Zuzu. The bullies ain’t ever going to deal with you again, do you hear me?” She raised her voice at the end for the authorities to hear.

Izuku laughed in response, hopping off the chair happily and running up to his Mama, grabbing at her hand as he nodded. “Mama, I’mma time trav’ler!” He showed her a toothy grin.

Nana laughed, obviously not believing her son as patted his head. “I’m sure you are, sprout. Let’s go pick up your siblings, ‘kay?”

Izuku frowned at her obvious dismissal, but nonetheless nodded. Why didn’t she say anything else? This was a big discovery for the boy!

He hummed, turning back around and shouting a, “bye, Uncle Masaru!” and getting a gruff, “bye,” in response before getting pulled along out the door.

____________________

Days passed and the bullies were told to stay away from Izuku during school. They did begrudgingly for the most part, a bit traumatized from the scolding they received from Nana, who had dropped her kids off to school.

Izuku began telling his family and friends that he was a time travel, none taking him seriously.

“Toshi, I’mma time traveler!”

Toshi laughed in response, dodging a shell sent by Tenko as they played Mario Kart. “That’s cool, Zuzu!”

Izuku frowned, instead going to his brother. “Tecchan-nii, I’m a time traveler!”

“GAH, TOSHINORI, DON’T DROP THOSE STUPID BANANAS ON ME - that’s nice, Izucchan,” Tenko added, furiously fumbling with the controller, eyes glued to the screen.

Izuku huffed in frustration, walking over to Naomasa. “Nao-nii, time traveler.” He said boredly, getting a bit impatient with the lack of his family’s reaction.

Naomasa smiled, looking up at the boy as he shoved a cookie - Izuku’s cookie - into his mouth. “I’m sure you are, Zuku,” he said, quirk ringing the boy off as true. 

That didn’t change anything, though, because the quirk would go off if the speaker believed what they were saying. Izuku was young, so that had happened multiple times. It even rang true when Izuku said he was, “a unicorn!”

Izuku grabbed at his hair, pulling lightly as he marched over to Auntie Chiyo - not before snagging the rest of the treat from Naomasa’s smug hands.

He pointed to himself. “Time traveler.”

The lady smiled and pinched his cheeks.

The boy went over to Uncle Torino. “Time traveler.”

The man grinned, cooing at the boy. He patted Izuku’s head with a thick glove, having just got off patrol. “Yes you are.”

Izuku lightened up a bit at the words before taking in the babied look on Sorahiko’s face. He sighed, stomping away to Haruta.

“Uncle Haru, I’mma time travelerrrr,” he dragged, whining at this point. 

Tsukauchi reacted the same as Naomasa, both quirks identical. “I bet, Zukkun!!”

Papa was next. The man was at the stove cooking. Izuku went up to him, tugging at the apron until the man looked down at his son. “Yes, Zuku?”

He opened his mouth. “I’m a tim- awh, dang whatever, nevermind.”

So, yeah. No one believed him.

Izuku brought it up multiple times after that, but no one believed him. Even when the first grader would see Masaru in the halls at school and tell him, the boy would only fondly chuckle at the boy and ruffle his hair. Then he’d continue nagging at his group of friends.

Everyone wrote the deal off as a phase, and Izuku started to cease mentioning it, also shrugging at the concept himself. It wouldn’t really change anything if they believed him, anyway - Izuku just wanted attention from the people (although really, he knew that he got enough).

The days went by quickly and school was more tolerable now that the bullies laid off, Izuku even managed to snag a few friends! Quirkless life wasn’t as bad as he had heard when he was younger. Izuku even managed to find one or two at his school, too! They weren’t as rare as people had made it out to seem - though, then again he did travel back in time (he still believed, even if the others didn’t!).

Soon enough, nearly a year had passed. The routine was just as usual, with Toshinori and Naomasa coming over frequently and Hana going out with friends like the girl she was.

Izuku was seven now, Naomasa twelve and Tenko ten. Toshinori was fifteen now, and he was applying to UA! A few more years and Izuku would apply, too. Auntie Chiyo had been offered a job there and accepted it a few months prior - Uncle Torino had received one, too, but he was still thinking about it.

During that year, Izuku had gotten to see Toshinori’s quirk. It was just like All Might’s! But All Might’s was obviously stronger, he was the number one hero! Izuku guessed that was another thing he missed about his old life, but he was still very happy with his current one.

Naomasa had come over for a playdate as per usual, Toshinori had come over as well. Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Torino (no they were not dating - they were very good friends, as well with Nana) were there watching the Shimura kids now with Kotaro and Nana out at work.

The seven were sprawled out on the couch watching the News, Izuku sandwiched between the two adults. The other four kids were down on the floor, intently watching the TV.

Izuku was happy with his life.

He was content - so much that he’d think he saved a country in his past life.

All the roles that weren’t fulfilled in his old life were now - he had a father, a mother (though he still missed Inko), a brother and sister. He had another Auntie (like Mitsuki) and an Uncle (like Masaru, though he knew the boy even in this timeline). He had friends, like Toshinori and Naomasa, though they were more brothers at this point. Friends who didn’t shove him down like Kacchan (he still really missed the blonde) or Tsubasa did, or that nameless guy who had a quirk that’d harden his teeth.

Izuku was happy with his life.

Until he wasn’t.

He only caught a glimpse of it on the screen before Torino and Chiyo had covered his eyes with their hands, but it was unmistakable.

“Chiyo, call Nana.”

Horrified gasps came from the children below, the start of choked sobs coming from Tecchan and Hana below. 

There, on the screen had been the disembodied figure of Shimura Kotaro, a note written in blood next to the lifeless man’s head :

‘W h at ’l l i t be, S hi mu r a Na n a?

W ho ’s next?’

“O-On it.”

Papa was gone.

And they sat there in silence, the only exceptions being the eerie rings of a quiet phone call and the cries of the Hana, Tenko, and Izuku Shimura.

Chiyo and Torino hugged the boy tighter.

Chapter Text

“Mama?”

Don’t call me that.

“Mom?”

Please, don’t.

“Ma?”

Because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to act.

The three were met with steeled silence.

Izuku spoke, his voice quivering as he choked down escaping hiccups. “M-Mama, w-wh-where a-are we g-going?”

“Don’t call me that,” Nana forced out a sneer, a scowl on her lips as she blinked back the upcoming tears crawling their way up to her eyes. Thank god the rear-view mirror was faced away from her. She faced ahead, hands tightly gripping on the steering wheel as her knuckles turned white.

“B-But M-Mama-”

“DON’T!” She strangled out, a stray tear falling down her cheek though her kids could not see. Her voice cracked, but Nana was sure the kids took it as anger. She was hurt beyond repair - her husband died because of the power she inherited and now she’d have to leave her kids behind knowing the danger she would put them through if she kept them. “Don’t.”

The rest of the drive was shrouded with a thick silence, the only exception being the soft words Tenko and Hana whispered to a crying Izuku.

Nana wished she could comfort her son.

But this was for the sake of their safety.

Make them hate you before you leave, it’ll lessen their pain. Make them hate you before you leave, it’ll lessen their pain. Make them hate you before you leave, it’ll lessen yo ur pain-

Nana pulled the car to a jerky stop, yanking her car door open as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

She wiped them off before anyone could notice.

Nana stepped out, controlling her emotions and ignoring the watery glares that Tenko sent her way. She walked over to the backseat doors, pulling it open. “Out.”

Hana went first, her hand in Izuku’s tight. A crying Izuku followed next, accompanied by Tenko who was holding his brother’s other hand in tense silence.

Then Izuku let go of his sister’s hand, taking to grabbing Nana’s instead. “M-Mama-?”

“LET GO!” She screamed, shaking the boy off violently as water freely cascaded down her face.

Izuku flinched back, but continued on. “W-Why a-are y-y-you c-crying, M-Mama? Pa-Papa’s alr-right, so s-stop it, h-hm?”

The woman howled in pain, Tenko grabbing the boy back and pushing him behind his figure. “KOTARO IS DEAD, IZUKU. HE’S DEAD AND WHO’S FAULT IS THAT?” She landed a pointed glare at the three kids, suggesting it was theirs. But...

It was mine.

And Nana was crying because she knew that it was all her fault, and she knew that that was the reason she was crying.

But the kids didn’t know that.

Tenko didn’t know that.

Hana didn’t know that.

Izuku didn’t know that.

...Right?

“He’s not dead , Mama!” Izuku screamed, loud cries echoing through the building’s parking lot as he pushed past Tenko, a watery smile on his face. It was a smile that was filled with disbelief, like Izuku was trying to convince himself. “H-He’s not dead… He’s not! HE SAID THAT HE WOULDN’T LEAVE! HE WOULDN’T LEAVE ME BEHIND, HE SAID HE WOULDN’T, HE’S ALIVE, MAMA-”

She slapped him.

“WHAT THE HELL, MA!?” Tenko screamed, grabbing the boy and pushing him behind him once again. Izuku’s hand caressed his cheek, eyes wide and wet as he stared up at his mother. “What’s your problem, woman?! Stop spouting your damn lies, you know full well whose fault it is that Pa died ,” the boy spat, glaring bullets into the woman who had shown him undeniable love mere hours before. No one messes with his brother - not even his own mother.

It was mine.

My fault, it was mine - I know.

She steeled her look, ignoring his comment as she pushed past them and made her way over to the trunk. With a click of a button, the door opened and she dragged three small luggages out, each prepared hastily because she was afraid that they were coming - All For One, that he was coming to kill them.

Nana grabbed the luggages, two handles in one hand, one in the other. “Come.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” The blue haired ten year old cursed, glaring at the woman’s back. “Why the heck are we here, Ma ? Where are we? Why would you think we’d follow you AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO-”

“Stop it, Tenko,” Hana spoke for the first time, sparing a pleading look at her brother. Her eyes were rimmed red from the sudden loss of her father, pink and swollen - all of theirs was, actually. “Just stop…”

Tenko opened his mouth to protest but was stopped from a tug on his shirt. “N-No, Tecchan-nii. J-Just f-f-follow M-Mama. W-We’re g-g-going t-t-to s-see Pa-Papa, ri-ght?”

I’m sorry, bean.

My Izuku.

____________________

Tenko huffed but allowed himself to be pulled forward by Izuku, Hana in the lead right behind Nana. The rest of the walk was in silence, only Hana taking into account the luggages in their mother’s arms.

Only she understood where they were.

Out of the three, she understood that they were being left in the place where they were - an orphanage.

She didn’t understand why it led to this, though. 

But she did understand that it was for their own good.

She saw the note. She was twelve, not stupid. For the sake of her younger brothers, she’d stay silent. In a way, Hana knew her mother’s way of thinking. Make them hate her so that they wouldn’t dwell on her absence.

What she didn’t get was why her Mom would need to go out of her way to make the three okay with her absence.

Either way, she stayed silent.

____________________

Izuku believed that his Papa was still alive despite seeing that horrid sight on the TV.

Papa said that he’d never leave his side, that he’d always be there for him. He wouldn’t break that promise. He wouldn’t allow himself to get killed.

Right?

Mama said it, too. Mama said that she’d never leave him.

Auntie Chiyo said it.

Uncle Torino said it.

Uncle Haru said it.

Toshicchan said it.

Naomasa said it.

Tecchan-nii said it.

Hana-nee said it.

They all said it.

So they wouldn’t leave him, just as Momma and Kacchan didn’t (technically anyway).

Izuku believed his family, so blindly, he followed Hana who followed Mama. Tecchan was at his side, the boys hand in hand with each other. Tecchan wouldn’t leave Izuku - the warm, kind and brotherly hand in his own said so.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so trusting.

The family of four - no, five (it’s always been five, it still is five, Papa’s here) - reached the doors of the building. Mama pulled it open, dragging the three luggages (he still didn’t get why they were on vacation when Papa wasn’t there yet ) over the bump as the three followed behind.

“Hey, Ma ,” Tecchan said the last word in a mocking tone, albeit shaky. “Why’re we here?”

Mama only ignored the boy.

Izuku let go of his older brother’s hand, passing Hana in favor of reaching his Mama, who had walked over to the reception desk. The seven year old tugged on his Mama’s pants, looking up at her with big, teary eyes. “M-Mam-a, w-w-why a-are we h-here? W-We,” he sniffed, wiping at his nose as he wondered why his voice was so shaky. Nothing was wrong. “W-We n-need to w-w-wait for P-Papa.”

Nana ignored the boy, letting go of the luggages in favor of leaning onto the desk. She didn’t look down at him, though she shook - it wasn’t visibly noticeable, but Izuku felt it. He knows he did.

He thinks he did…

He wonders if he imagined the small whimper that escaped from the taller’s lips.

Hana-nee stayed silent behind him, while Tecchan was gradually becoming quieter.

Mama was saying big words to the receptionist - big words that Izuku couldn’t yet piece together. Izuku looked back at his brother for help because may be Mama can’t hear me? Izuku was met with a paling Tenko.

He reached over to his older brother, one hand still firmly grasping his mother’s pants as the other grabbed his brother gently. “W-What’s wrong, Te-nii?”

Tecchan only continued staring up at their mother with a glint of realization and betrayal in his eyes. “Are you fucking serious, Ma ?”

Izuku gasped at the bad word, the seven year old still as pure as he was before.

Mama, on the other hand, remained neutral - though Izuku swore he felt the slightest bit of stiffness from the woman.

Mama turned around, looking down at her three children with a cold stare. 

Izuku thought it looked strained.

She grabbed each of the three luggages and shoved it towards its owner, dusting the boy’s hand off of her pants nonchalantly. Izuku frowned. 

Mama cleared her throat, opening her mouth to speak.

But Izuku beat her to it, looking up at his Mama with big doey eyes.

“M-Mama, w-where’s your su-suitcase? ‘N P-Papa’s?”

This place was a hotel, Izuku concluded. It looked very rundown compared to where the Shimuras’ normally went for family vacation, but it was a hotel nonetheless.

Right?

Mama made a quiet choked sound that went unnoticed by the Izuku’s siblings. But Izuku heard it… at least he thinks he did. The flash of pain on the woman’s face was gone before the boy could even blink.

The woman let out a deep sigh, seemingly trying to avoid Izuku’s eyes. “Don’t give the workers a hard time,” the woman whispered almost inaudibly, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She looked towards Izuku. “This is an orphanage, boy . I’m done with you three. I’m,” she paused briefly, a cloudy look in her eyes. If Izuku had anything to say, he’d say that he saw a hint of fury and grief behind it, pain. “I’m done .”

Tecchan let out a hysterical laugh, lightly scratching on his neck - well that was new . “ Really ? Now that Pa’s dead , you’ve decided to trash us, too?” Izuku flinched at the word ‘dead,’ but stayed silent as Tecchan shakily continued. “Y-You’re leaving us too, Ma? Even Izu? YOU SAID YOU’D NEVER LEAVE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW ?”

Silence rang throughout the empty room, small heads peeking out from cracked doors.

Mama looked down at the boy, her gaze cold and calculated - so different from the loving eyes that Izuku was so used to. She walked past the three and towards the door, placing her hand on the handle as she paused. 

She craned her head slightly to the left, half of her face showing to those who turned around. 

Tecchan was frozen in his spot - from shock or rage, he couldn’t tell.

Hana was silent, looking down at the ground with a faraway look.

Izuku was crying, silent tears falling down his cheeks as he turned around and faced his mother. He gave a broken smile. “M-Mama’s not leaving, she’s-she’s coming b-back. R-Right, Mama?”

A tear fell down Nana’s face - Izuku saw - but the woman turned around before Izuku could mention anything.

And Izuku was confused.

A small inhale came from his Mama. “Goodbye,” she said, loud enough for the three to hear.

The next words came whispered, not meant for the ears of the three.

But of course Izuku noticed.

He knew Mama wouldn’t leave him - at least not without reason.

So he noticed. He had paid attention to his adoptive mother’s behavior of the day - how she saw grieving, holding back cries, and ever so slightly shaking.

He noticed.

And he heard those words, sad and filled with motherly pain, “my kiddos.”

And his Mama was out the door.

____________________

It was done.

There was no more going back.

With each step Nana took towards the car, a heavier weight was dropped on her shoulders. However at the same time, Nana felt lighter because now she knew that her children were out of harm's way. They'd be safer there than they could ever be with her.

Her body shook with suppressed sobs, her hand angrily wiping at the rogue tears dripping down her face. She could hear the agonizing cries of Izuku, her son, from the other side of the thin doors of the orphanage and despite her situation, she wanted nothing more than to run back and scoop the boy into her arms.

But she knew she couldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

Because All For One was out there, and she knew her fated encounter was close.

Too close.

Kotaro’s death was a warning.

A warning that said that the evil knew her personal connections, her family. That they had the upper hand, that she should watch out.

So she left her kids there to fend for themselves. It was heartbreaking but it was necessary.

She knew that it was necessary, but she wanted to throw that all away the moment she heard Izuku’s screams and Tenko’s audible struggle in holding the younger back.

Nana thought back to Hana, how she was uncharacteristically quiet. She must have known, her smart little girl - the reason why Nana had to do this.

Maybe if Nana could defeat the villain, she would come back to collect her kids. It was unlikely she knew. All the other holders of One For All couldn’t defeat this dark evil, so who was to say that she would, too? She was already getting weaker, having already given her quirk to Toshinori - her unofficial official son. She knew the chances of her success were slim, but she wouldn’t give up.

Because that is what a true hero would do. She just wished that she could uphold that title to the end. Maybe if she defeated this man, Toshinori wouldn't have to suffer the same fate all her predecessors had before.

… For now though, at least for this short moment, she would allow herself to be Shimura Nana - the loving mother of three.

And so as soon as she closed the door to her car, she broke down in tears.

____________________

Torino Sorahiko was devastated, to say the least.

He knew it was for their own good, after Kotaro’s sudden death. Izuku, Tenko, and Hana would be better off somewhere far, far away. Away from the villain’s lurking eyes and slimy clutches.

He knew they would be better off with him not knowing of their whereabouts. They could live normal lives without direct connections to enemies of heroes so long as they get adopted by a good family.

He was just sad that he’d lost four of his close family all in one day. Heck, he might lose the whole Shimura family if things didn’t go according to plan.

Chiyo was sad, too, along with Toshinori, Naomasa and Haruta. They all understood, though. They were all informed to not go looking for the three kids. It was for their safety, they all knew.

It didn’t stop them all from promising to go looking out for them after all of this was over. 

All For One would be defeated, the villains would be arrested, and the big family would go back out looking for their missing pieces. Nana would lead them there, of course. Torino couldn’t imagine a world without his best friend.

Everyone would be happy.

But alas, this is a world with cruel twists and turns, and that was but a figment of his imagination.

____________________

Tenko was mad.

And sad, but mostly mad.

Ma said that she’d always be there for the three, but here they were, abandoned in a crappy rundown orphanage.

Tenko was beyond pissed that his said Ma would leave them there right when they needed her the most, when Pa died . Though admittedly he was more pissed that she had the nerve to abandon poor Izuku when they all knew what he’d suffered from.

I mean, seriously, the boy was persistent in supplying himself time-travel lies in order to fill the void of his missing mother and Kacchan .

Really, Tenko wanted to bash his brother’s biological mother inward, too, but whoever this Bakugou Kacchan person was had hell to pay.

Tenko still remembered his younger’s heart wrenching sobs that day at the park.

They were the loudest, most vulnerable cries the boy had ever heard from the younger - and that was saying a lot. His brother tends to cry more than not, but he’d usually get over the matter pretty quickly.

So when Tenko found Izuku’s wailing louder than the park incident, his loving opinion on his mother had changed fairly fast.

First she tosses them in the car and packs a load of shit into small luggages.

Then she leaves them in an orphanage right after Pa dies.

Now she’s the cause of Izuku’s pain?

Call him protective, but his brother was everything to him.

Pulling him away from the door after Ma had decided to yeet herself out of the three’s lives had been emotionally wrecking to the blue haired child, especially when Izuku had passed out from exhaustion.

The three Shimuras’ (with Izuku on Hana’s back) were led to their room shortly after, which they shared with a large majority of the kids staying there (the rest were crammed into the room next door). Luckily, each kid got their own bed.

After gently plopping Izuku onto the bed furthest in the corner, Hana and Tenko made their way to their own (literally right next to their little brother’s).

Time passed as normally as it could have with Tenko ignoring the feeling of dread rising in his chest as he also pushed the painful thought of his father to the back of his head.

Hana was quieter than usual, but she was still there for her younger brothers - at least they had her still. She was comforting to the two in this dark situation, it was nice. Tenko was grateful.

Somewhere along the way, Izuku woke up. His eyes were puffy and swollen, cheeks red from rushing blood. Other than the small sniffles and doubtful mutters, the boy was silent. 

Tenko left the boy to himself, occasionally going over to his side to whisper sweet lies in his ears.

At lunch time, people found out about Izuku’s quirkless state due to his absentminded replies. He was shunned for it. Tenko and Hana were there by his side, protecting him from the hits, but Izuku took no mind to them. Or to the bullies, either.

He looked out of it.

Dinner time was the same, though Tenko thought that Izuku was looking a lot better. There was a glint in his eyes, something lit beneath them. Tenko couldn’t place his finger on just exactly what it was.

So when bedtime came, he questioned nothing, only adjusting his gloves and plopping himself down on bed.

He turned over and said a small, “night, nee-chan,” to Hana, to which she hummed back.

Tenko rolled his body around to face Izuku, who was staring out the window, back faced to his brother.

“Izu?” 

The boy turned his head ever so slightly, dull green eyes shining in the moonlight from the window above. The fire was brighter than before, when it had been dinner time, and Tenko could see what it was now.

Determination.

Light from the outside shone on the boy’s dark green curls, his eyes reflecting the shine. Izuku looked back at his brother almost robotically, like he wasn’t fully there. Like he was preoccupied with thinking.

Tenko shook it off. It wasn’t unusual in this type of situation, he couldn’t blame the boy. Tenko knew his little brother, knew of his abandonment issues and the strange ways he’d cope.

Perhaps it was different this time - they were basically abandoned by the whole family crew this time - Izuku, Hana, and himself.

“Don’t worry about it, Zuku,” he whispered, mindful of the other dozen sleeping children in the room. “You’ll get use to it in no time, you’ve got nee-chan and nii-chan with you," Tenko jabbed a thumb to his chest for emphasis.

Izuku was silent for a moment before humming, and Tenko thought that was the end of the conversation. He turned his body over again, back flat against the hard mattress.

But Izuku spoke.

“Tecchan-nii?”

Tenko shifted his head to the side. “Hm?”

“Love you.”

And Tenko’s heart clenched, though he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t know that those words would be the last he’d hear from the boy.

“I love you, too, Izu.”

And the room was met with silence once again, safe for the soft snores coming from the others.

Tenko let himself drift off into a peaceful slumber - well, as peaceful as he could get with the image of his father’s corpse burning in the back of his lids.

____________________

Mama wasn’t gone.

Well, okay, she was gone.

But Izuku wouldn’t let her be gone any longer.

The whole day had gone miserably for the boy, thoughts and possibilities swirling around in his head.

He still believed that Papa wasn’t gone, that he was just at home waiting for his children to arrive.

But somewhere in the back of his mind said otherwise.

He ignored the voice.

Everything around him was blurred. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone, though his brain still processed the words the other kids had asked him. His brain still supplied the curious children answers, replies.

So when he let his quirklessness slip during lunch, he wasn’t really surprised.

He wasn’t concerned like he usually was, he wasn’t trying to hide his lack of quirk like he usually did.

He didn’t care what other people had to say right then because he had other things to worry about.

The course of the day had went with Izuku muttering to himself that his Mama had a reason for this, that she’d come back for them.

After a few hours had passed, Izuku realized that this wouldn’t be the case.

Mama wasn’t coming back, so Izuku would just have to go back to her.

So for the rest of the day, he tried very hard to act normal, conversing with his siblings and giving lopsided smiles (even though he knew they saw through it - his eyes lacked its usual shine). 

Izuku planned.

He’d escape sometime later that day, somehow (he wasn’t really sure how yet) make his way back to his Mama, convince her to take them back, and then come back for Tecchan and Hana.

Easy!

Originally he planned on taking his siblings with him, but later thought against it.

Hana was a nagger, always sticking to safety precautions. She wouldn’t be up for the adventure. Tecchan didn’t mind getting dirty, but when it came to Izuku, he was pretty much just like Hana - overprotective.

So he figured he’d leave them for a while as he’d go out looking for Mama.

He already knew where they lived (he didn’t know how far he was from it, but it couldn’t be that far, right?), and the name of their school if need be. Maybe he can get someone to put it into a GPS and drive him there? Yeah, there seemed to be cars around.

Dinner passed in a flash and Izuku was eager to get to bed. Conveniently enough, there was a window right next to his bed. It was bigger than the one in the restroom at home and Izuku already knew there wasn’t an alarm in the orphanage’s vicinity. They could barely pull through with feeding all the children there, anyway.

Despite the slight swole in his eyes, Izuku was bouncing, hopping off his chair as he impatiently waited for his siblings.

“Nii-chaaan, nee-chaan, hurry up!” He whined, grabbing Tecchan’s sleeve and tugging lightly as he pointed in the direction of their rooms.

It was fake, his optimism.

Right then he wanted to sink into the floor and cry for his Mama.

He was sure Tecchan and Hana could tell - no one would be this happy in their situation. Izuku was never a very good liar.

His energy was spent on fallen tears, but his determination burned strong.

So he dealt with it.

Izuku stomped childishly, tugging and pulling as he pointed at the kids already making their way to their designated bedrooms. There was only two rooms for the children in the orphanage - all the beds were crammed right next to each other, literally touching.

“Coming, Zuzu,” Tecchan said, rolling his eyes playfully though Izuku swore he could see some type of concern, “give me a moment, ‘kay?”

The boy huffed but nonetheless let go, instead going over to Hana. “Ha-nee, let’s goooo.”

The eldest chuckled lightly, though to Izuku it was obvious that she had a lot on her mind. He saw that her eyes were tinted a light red. She’d been crying, too. If anything, that fact only made Izuku more determined. He’d get them out of that place soon, he’d find Mama and Papa and connect the family again.

And their days would go on as normal, just like it had been only just yesterday.

Auntie Chiyo would be ever the nagging woman.

She didn’t abandon him.

Uncle Torino would go on with his dad - uncle? - jokes.

He didn’t abandon him.

Uncle Haru would tell his work encounter stories from his life as a detective.

He didn’t abandon him.

Toshicchan would scoop him up and they would laugh as he’d spin him in the air.

He didn’t abandon him.

Nao-nii would still steal his cookies, no matter how annoying it was. It was their thing (Izuku would never admit the fun in snagging it back and seeing the playful pouts on Naomasa's face).

He didn’t abandon him.

Mama would be Mama - the one who brought him in, the one who promised to stay by his side. Mama was Mama, kind and loving.

She didn’t abandon him.

And Papa would lift him up on his shoulders, take him to parks. They’d laugh together, play together, cry together. Papa was Papa, kind and loving.

He wasn’t dead.

H e di dn ’t a b an do n hi m.

Hana hummed down at the boy, smiling. “Yeah, Izukkun. Let’s wait for Tenko first though.”

Izuku groaned but complied, watching as Tecchan carefully lifted his plate - and Izuku’s, oops! - off the table, pinkie up in precaution, and disposed of them at the dishwasher.

“Finally,” Izuku whined, rushing over to Tenko and grabbing his wrist, dragging his two siblings toward the rooms. “Wan’ sleep.”

Oh please, even if he desperately wanted to, he couldn’t. Not with everything that was going on, anyway.

Tecchan ruffled the boy’s hair carefully as they made their ways over to their beds - Izuku’s was right next to the draft window; it was his escape route. “M’kay, Zu. I’mma tuck you in now.”

Izuku nodded, climbing onto the end of the bed as Tecchan did the same. They couldn’t really step to the side - the beds were touching, basically connected. Tenko crawled onto his own post and Izuku did the same to his.

“Wait,” Izuku shouted, receiving glares from their other roommates. He ignored them, rolling across Tenko’s bed and onto Hana’s, where she sat. Izuku hugged his sister tight, as they usually did at night time. He smiled brightly (or as bright as he could manage) before shooting her a tired but sincere, “love you, Ha-nee.”

The girl hugged back with a smile painted over her delicate (so so very fragile) face before she whispered the words back. “Love ya, too, my little green bean.”

Izuku giggled. “See you soon, nee-chan,” he said, though Hana seemed to only think of it further come morning time.

“G’night, Zukkun.”

So Izuku rolled back to his bed, playfully rolling over Tecchan’s knees in the process. 

And Tenko tucked the boy in as per usual, like before when they had shared a bedroom in their home, before heading under the blankets himself.

Izuku was left to his thoughts for a short moment, his back turned to his siblings as he stared at the moon out the window. Somewhere under that same sky, his Mama was there waiting for him. Papa, too. And Uncle Torino and Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Haru and Naocchan and Toshicchan.

Izuku watched as the cars passed by - only a few drove through every few minutes. Hopefully one would let him hitch a ride. He’d need to walk further through the dark road before asking someone - he didn’t want anyone to (correctly) think that he was from the orphanage. A little further down and he’d ask someone for a ride back home.

Silently he watched through the window, vaguely acknowledging the soft snores of the other orphans (Izuku wasn’t an orphan though!).

A soft voice broke him out of his trance. It was Tecchan. “Izu?”

Izuku rolled his body over instinctively, eyes landing on the blue-haired boy yet seemingly passing through. He stared with dull eyes, mind still running through escape plans.

After a couple seconds of silence, Tecchan whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Zuku. You’ll get used to it in time, you’ve got nee-chan and nii-chan with you.” Tecchan’s brows were scrunched in concern, a comforting look on his face.

Izuku blinked once. Then twice before he hummed in response.

But he already knew that he wouldn’t ‘get used to it.’ He wouldn’t allow himself to, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to live in a world without his whole family.

He’d much rather accept death.

So Tecchan turned over onto his back, taking to staring up at the ceiling and leaving Izuku to his thoughts.

Soon, Izuku would leave. He’d come back, of course, for the sake of his two loving siblings. He just needed to patch things up with Mama and Papa.

A few moments passed, soft snores playing in the background.

Good. He needed everyone to be asleep before he made himself scarce. He needed to wait for Tecchan and Hana and all the others to fall asleep before he slipped out the window.

Izuku blinked some of his thoughts away, instead focusing on what was right in front of him. Tecchan - a family that he so dearly wanted to protect, childishly so. Izuku would be leaving him - for a short while, but so nonetheless.

He whispered, barely audible. “Tecchan-nii…?”

And he wondered if the boy was still awake.

He was. Tecchan hummed, shifting his head to the side.

Izuku took in the boy’s features not knowing that this would be the last he’d see the boy in a long while. His big brother, who cared for him like a parent despite the three - twenty? - year age gap. His big brother, who played with him carefully, demonstrating his quirk pridefully in helpful ways such as disintegrating the trash (and not so helpful ways such as accidentally destroying Izuku’s Recovery Girl figurine). Izuku appreciated the boy leaps and bounds.

“Love you,” he said, because he truly did. Maybe, he thinks, even more than his own birth mother, who left but didn’t leave.

And Tecchan smiled softly back, though there was a twinge of pain in his crimson red eyes.

“I love you, too, Izu.”

And Izuku let his brother rest, for he loved him as a brother and wanted the best for him. Together in the future, they would be heroes along side Toshicchan, and Mama and Papa would be there to see it.

He’d make sure of it.

____________________

He was out.

Izuku’s escape had been fairly clean, he’d say. He laid there in bed for nearly an hour after talking with his brother, waiting for the others to fall into a slumber.

Then he opened the window quietly and slid out into the night, carefully closing the slide behind him. Simple, yes, but Izuku had always thought that that was the way to go.

And now he was walking alongside the dark path of the road (sticking to nearby trees - he’d get closer to the road as soon as he felt that he was further from the orphanage).

Izuku had been walking for about two hours now - maybe three - and he was getting tired. He didn’t regret his decision, no, he just regretted eating so little at dinner. He was far enough from the orphanage, he thought, so he started making his way over to the side of the road as he avoided the critters that lurked on tall grass.

He would find his Mama soon enough, he just needed to hitch a ride in one of the cars (ignoring the lingering voice of his parents in his head that said to never talk with strangers).

Upon reaching the roadside, Izuku stood there purposefully contorting his features into one where he’d look like he’d break down at a moments notice, gaze lingering on passing cars in hopes of guilt-tripping one to stop.

Several cars passed by him, some even slowing near his area before hesitantly driving on before one finally stopped. It didn’t take as long as he had expected and for that he was thankful - his stomach was making all kinds of weird noises.

The car door was hastily thrown open, a young woman - possibly around his Mama’s age - stepping out with a worried expression on her face.

Izuku looked up at her with a hand clutched to the side of his stomach, massaging gently as if it’d help his hunger reside.

“Oh, honey, are you alright?” The woman said, dark green curls not unlike his own basking in the light of her car’s headlights.

As if on cue, Izuku’s stomach made a low growl, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “C-C-can you t-take me to m-my Mama, please?”

The woman cooed softly and comfortingly. “Oh, sweetie,” she stretched her hand out to the boy, encouraging him to grab it. He did, “do you know where your mom is?”

Izuku shook his head (though he knew the actual address of his house, he wouldn’t tell a stranger - hypocritical of you, Izuku ), but told the woman, “I-I dunno h-home, but I go to A-Aldera Primary School? I kn-know home from there.”

She pulled him up, hand in hand as they walked towards the car. “Okay baby, we can take you back to your Mama, hm?”

He sniffed, nodding. Something about the woman made him feel safe, like she was worth trusting.

The woman opened the backseat of the car door, ushering the boy in and buckling him in before  closing the door behind him and making her way to the passenger’s seat.

In the car, Izuku noticed there were two other people in the car - a man in the driver’s seat who glanced at him comfortingly in the rear view mirror, and a girl around his age seated a seat away from him.

The woman from before got in and closed her door, turning her body to look around at Izuku. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“I-Izuku. Shimura Izuku.”

“Alrighty Izuku-kun, what was the name of your school again? We’ll drive you over, hmm?”

“Aldera P-Primary, miss.”

“Awh, no need for that, call me Yuuto! Akatani Yuuto. This is my husband Saito, and that,” she gestured to the girl next to him, “is my daughter, I-”

“I can introduce myself, momma!” The girl huffed and crossed her arms, but turned to Izuku with a bright smile. “‘M name’s Inko! Nice to meet you, Shimura-san!”

Izuku smiled; tired, but not lacking any energy. “That’s momma’s name!” He grinned. “Y’ don’t have to call me Shimura, Aka-chan! Izuku is fine!”

Inko smiled. “M’kay, Izuku, then you can call me Inko!” Her dark green curls (like his momma’s and his own, he notices) bounce lightly around her shoulders, emerald eyes (like his momma’s, he notes again) shining in the moonlight.

Yuuto smiles at the exchange, shifting in her seat as she whips out her phone and types in the school name into the GPS. Soon enough, they’re driving in the dead of night (Izuku assumes it is around three in the morning) as the two in the backseat make small talk tiredly. Thankfully, the nice family blesses him with crackers, quieting his stomach’s angry growls.

“Why are you driving at this time?” Izuku asks Inko, tilting his head to the side as he munched down on the cracker.

“Why were you walking at this time?” Inko shoots back, crossing her tiny arms smugly - it was a playful jab, of course.

Izuku opens and closes his mouth like a fish, noticing Yuuto’s gaze from the rear view mirror. “I… I, uh,” he starts, nibbling on the chip before a bright smile takes over his face. “I was looking for Mama and Papa so we could all be happy again!”

Inko nods, accepting this answer while Yuuto gives a questioning look at the wording. She leaves it at that, though.

“Well, we were coming back from a trip! We’ve been gone for a whole week! A week! ” Inko held up a finger, wagging it in the boy’s face.

“Oh-ho? One time, Mama and Papa took us out for two weeks! We stayed at a biiiig hotel.”

Inko gasped. “Two?!”

The two continued to talk animatedly towards each other, both growing closer with each growing second. Turns out they had a lot in common, even bringing up how similarly they looked for a short while. When the conversation turned to quirks, Izuku was glad to know that Inko didn’t care about his quirkless stature - Yuuto and Saito didn’t seen disgusted either! 

The boy quickly became a close friend to Inko. Izuku had even shifted over to the middle seat to get closer with the girl so they could play chopsticks (it was a very confusing game for the seven year olds).

Eventually they grew tired, Izuku taking to leaning on the girl's (who was older by nearly two weeks) shoulder as she rested her head on his own fluffy bundle. Soon enough the two fell asleep, heads lolling and bodies lightly bobbing through the rocky terrain. Izuku remained unaware of the picture Yuuto snagged, only later remembering it from a framed photo on his momma's bedside table back in the future. Apparently, the green-headed boy was his own godfather.

He'd realize later on with a bitter laugh. He was named after his own dead self.

Soon enough, Izuku would be back at the doorstep of his house, where his Mama would welcome him with open arms. 

Their family would be back together in no time.

____________________

“Izuku! Psst! Hey, hey, Izukkun!”

A light pat fell on his cheek, the boy jolting awake, shaking his head and blinking the grogginess out of his eyes. He smacked his lips together before squinting at his blurred surroundings, “hmn, wha?”

A laugh, “We’re at your school now, baby.”

He turned his head at the voice and found Yuuto hovering over Inko’s awakening figure from an open car door. Izuku rubbed at his eyes, the girl to his right doing the same. He lowered them and hummed, closing his eyes once again and leaning back in his seat to drift back to sleep.

But then it occurred to him why he was there as his brain filed through the day’s events. He jolted forward again, more awake now at the thought of being a step closer to some form of normalcy. “‘M gonna see Mama again!”

“Yeah, sweetpie,” Yuuto said, reaching over and grabbing the boy from underneath his pits (after unbuckling) and lifting him out of the car. She set him on the ground, where Izuku beamed up at her. “Now, do you want us to just go ahead and drive you there anyway? You can just navigate Saito through the neighborhood, you know.”

Izuku paused a bit before shaking his head. “No thank you, it’s fine! Papa said to not lead people to our house for safety,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck because heck, he just hopped into their car without a question and now wouldn’t let them go to his home. “But it’s not that far away, so you don’t have to worry! It’s just a lil’ over there,” he pointed nearby.

“Zuzu’s leaving?” Inko nodded sleepily as she tried to focus in on the boy.

Izuku nodded energetically despite it being five in the morning. “‘M gonna see Mama n’ Papa again, Aka-chan!” He cheered, using the name he insisted on calling her - calling the girl his momma’s name sounded weird on his tongue. “I’ll call you over again, hmm? We can have playdates! You can meet Nii-chan and Nee-chan! And Toshi n’ Nao-nii!”

Inko laughed, blearily reaching down from her seat in the car to tug at one of Izuku’s curls gently. “Promise?”

“Yeah, pinky promise!” He reached up and intertwined said pinky. “Just call the school and they can give you Mama’s number, I think. Then we can play!”

“Mhm!”

So Izuku waved goodbye to the family of three, watching as their car drove away and left Izuku under the light of the street lamps (yes, it took much convincing for Yuuto to leave the boy).

Turning on his heel, Izuku set out for his home which was really just a five minute walk away. After a while, he was at the doorstep. He casually walked up to it, bubbling with childish joy, and knocked.

No one answered.

So he knocked again.

And again.

And again.

No answer.

Then he rang the doorbell.

Again.

And again.

And again, before spamming it with all his might.

No answer.

Something rose in his chest - it was a familiar, horrible feeling, he knew - but he pushed it down, instead taking to wobbly smiling as he slowly pounded on the door. “Mama, Papa, can you open the door, please?” He whispered to the hard wood. “Mama? You left us at that daycare place and didn’t come back, so I came! I-I’m here now, so can you open the door? T-Then we can go back and get nii-chan and nee-chan.”

He continued to mutter to the door, like someone would hear, as he knocked, like someone would answer.

But as the minutes passed, no one came from the inside.

And something told Izuku that no one was home right then.

So he let up on knocking, instead sliding down with his back to the door. “Mama will come in the morning…” he muttered to himself, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his arms to his head.

She didn’t leave me.

Izuku fell asleep repeating those words in his head.

____________________

A loud boom shook the boy awake, heavy vibrations resounding from the ground as screams of terror filled the air, and Izuku was reminded of that day .

Dread clawed at his chest as he abruptly stood up, legs popping from the change in position. He wiped at the dried trails of tears, itchy and cold, as he stared ahead into the smoky blue sky. The commotion seemed far away, yet the impact he felt from where he stood felt as if he were right next to the fight.

Villain attacks were normal in this day and age, nothing out of the ordinary, so Izuku would usually just stay where he was or go inside to watch from the TV.

But something told Izuku that this was different.

His arms were shaking, fingers twitching - and when had he started crying?

When had he started running…?

As the minutes passed, the seven year old grew closer and closer and the smell of rubble and debris filled his lungs. The screams grew louder with each step he took, people running past the boy through the trees - one had even tried to stop him, yelling, “What are you doing, boy? RUN-”

He was impaled by a rogue piece of a building.

And Izuku stared at the body, bloodied and smushed, his own eyes wide with fear. He stood frozen in his spot, taking a look around him just to take in the amount of dead carcasses around him.

Something screamed at him to run, hide. 

But his legs moved without a thought, small body maneuvering past the trees, helicopters from local news stations circling above.

He didn’t know why he was running forward.

If anything, he should have been running back.

All the logical parts of his brain screamed at him to flee, but his legs apparently disagreed.

So he continued to run, tears streaming down his face all the while (for what reason, he did not know - but he could tell it wasn’t from the people around him).

The amount of trees he passed lessened, the amount of dead bodies like Papa’s  increasing with each step.

He ran past them.

Buildings came into view, the smoke heavier.

He ran.

Helicopters circled the perimeter, suicidal maniacs (like he could say anything, he was literally coming at the source) leaning out with heavy camera equipment positioned at the fight.

One helicopter went down after getting hit with a flying piece of cement.

He ran.

Until he was right there, mere meters away from the villain and the hero.

A man with white hair stood in the middle of the rubble, a woman staring up at him bloodied and defiant from his feet, tears streaming down her frustrated face.

His Mama.

It was his Mama.

Bloodied and banged up, a glint of resignation and acceptance in her wet eyes.

The man stared down at his Mama, body encased in a powerful light. He quirked the corners of his lip up, a calm smile filled with murderous mirth. He cooed, “Awh, what’s that, Shimura Nana? Done playing already?”

Mama’s voice was shaky, but it held a sort of grieving defiance. “Fuck off, All For One. You killed him, you killed us ,” she chuckled humorlessly. “My family,” she wiped at the blood dribbling out of her mouth. “YOU KILLED MY FAMILY! ”

And she shot up, activating her Float quirk as she now looked down at the still-calm man. “YOU KILLED US ALL! ALL OF THEM, MY HUSBAND, MY KIDS,” she dove down and shot a powerful, strength-quirked kick at ‘All For One,’ she had called him, “me…”

Her voice cracked as he dodged with ease.

And Izuku watched in horror, invisible to the two as they fought.

Izuku watched in horror as he stood there, the dust of collapsed buildings hiding his trembling frame, the smell of decaying bodies filling his lungs.

Izuku watched in horror as his Mama finally landed a blow to the man’s shoulder, watched as he shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

Izuku watched in horror as his Mama hesitated at the lack of reaction from the man.

Izuku watched in horror as All For One grabbed his floating Mama by the leg and smashed her down.

He watched in horror as his Mama’s head came into contact with the floor, a loud thud echoing through the rubble.

And for a second, the world was silent.

Izuku’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched the villain laugh, his Mama twitching as she tried to get up.

She couldn’t, and Izuku realized that his Mama's skull was bashed into the concrete.

All For One laughed, exhaling. “Ahh, so this is it now?”

Mama didn’t answer.

The man clicked his tongue in disappointment, fist crackling with energy, the only sound coming from the buzz of the recording news stations. “Goodbye, Shimura Nana.”

And he brought his fist down.

Down.

Down.

Down.

“STOP IT!”

And the man stopped.

And before Izuku knew it, he was in front of his Mama, standing protectively between the man and his mother.

The man stared, eyes wide with something akin to humored shock.

Izuku stared back, eyes scrunched in a determined scowl.

The whole area was silenced, sans the buzz of the helicopters.

Then the man laughed hard , throwing his head back and doubling over.

And Izuku felt a hand grab at his ankle from the ground, so he looked down with a fiery gaze, though he was still shaking terribly. 

“I-Izuku,” his Mama looked up at him - no, looked through him, her eyes dilated and dull, brows scrunched as she tried to focus on the boy, “is that you, I-Izu? My green b-bean?” She coughed out blood.

And for a second to Izuku, the threat was gone, the rest of the world a white blur. All For One was gone, the surrounding dead bodies disappeared, the rubble gone, his Mama’s injures gone.

And for a second, Izuku was back at home with his family, curled in the middle of the couch as they laughed amongst themselves. 

Tecchan was there, on the ground at his feet smiling up at the boy.

Hana was there, playing with Naomasa, both on the adjacent couch.

Auntie Chiyo was there, throwing skittles at each and everyone there.

Uncle Torino was there, happily catching the candy in his mouth as he laughed with Uncle Haru.

Mama was there, sitting down next to Izuku on the couch, playing with his unruly curls as she made him laugh.

Papa was there, smiling at this one, big happy family.

He wasn’t dead. He was here, with Izuku, with Mama.

Izuku was there, sandwiched between his parents, a toothy grin on his face as he basked in this deep, deep love.

He was happy.

He was happy.

He… He was happy.

He was so fucking happy... What happened to that...?

But as soon as it arrived, it was gone.

The world came back into focus - Mama’s red-stained face, the smell of decaying bodies, the buzz of the helicopters, the scrapes of pain on his hands and knees (and how did that get there?), and the man who had caused it all.

All For One was laughing.

Mama was looking through Izuku again and she sure as hell wasn’t sitting on a couch right now.

His family was gone.

And with a look up at the villain, Izuku finally came to terms with something.

Papa was dead.

But still, with tears dripping down his cheeks, he smiled down at his Mama. “Yeah, Mama. It’s me.”

And something told Izuku that his Mama didn’t believe him, that she believed that she was dreaming in this last look of life. Her eyes were dulled, practically dead, her skull bashed in and it was a wonder how she was still alive. “Baby,” she reached a hand up shaking.

Izuku grabbed it and pressed it to his wet cheek. 

“My baby.”

His silent tears fell harder, but he smiled through his pain. “Yes, Mama.”

He smiled.

“I-I love you, my baby. I’m sorry I-I left you there. I’m sorry I left you and Tenko and Hana. I love you, green pea.”

Because he knew somewhere deep down.

“I love you, too, Mama.”

That this was the end.

“I-Izuku, I-I love y-you.”

And something told him that that time at the park was momma’s end, too.

All For One ceased his laughter, now seemingly bored at the whole ordeal. “So you had a third, Shimura.”

The statement fell on deaf ears.

Nana was not listening to the man, only staring at the illusion of her son through blurred vision with love in her teary eyes.

____________________

Shimura Nana knew this was her end.

She just wished that she had a chance to tell her kids how she felt, so that they wouldn't need to live with the feeling of abandonment and hatred in their hearts.

Her vision swelled and she allowed herself to cry, tears streaming down her face as she stared up at this cruel illusion, that her son was there for her at that moment. She doesn't know why she told it how she felt because she knew it was fake, knew that this Izuku was a cruel hallucination at her bitter end.

But please... to any deity up there, would you please carry on her message to her kids.

This fake illusion of Izuku would disappear in a moment's notice, but his warmth was real. She caressed his cheek in her hand with what little strength she had left. 

Shimura Nana knew this was her last moment. The only thing she regretted was not telling her kids how she felt. With a last look at her son, she passed on.

____________________

The villain sighed, raising his fist once again as power surged through its veins. “I guess he’s joining you, too.”

Izuku looked up at the man with pure hatred in his eyes, though it was watered down tremendously with the tears blocking his vision.

This was the end for him.

He knew it.

Sorry, Tecchan, Hana.

He bent down and hugged his Mama, her damp locks sprawled out on the rocky floor.

I guess I can’t come back, huh.

Izuku embraced the woman tightly, covering her frame with as much body he could afford from the man’s attack.

It seems I couldn't fulfill that promise I made with Aka-chan, either.

He felt the loneliness and pain coming from his Mama in waves, a hint of resignation in them.

He hid as much body of his Mama as he could with his own, shielding her because this would help her too, right?

This will lessen Mama’s pain?

He’ll take the brunt of the attack.

His arms bled, stinging from the cuts he had gotten from sprinting blindly towards the two before. Izuku didn’t care, though. He only hugged the woman who could not hug back tighter, blood gushing out of his arm from the force.

He didn’t care.

And he waited for the powered punch to come.

Waited for the arms of death to wrap around his broken frame.

And he felt the fist come closer and closer to him, his back tingling with unwanted anticipation.

Izuku smiled, burrowing his nose into the crook of his Mama’s bloodied neck.

He couldn’t feel her pulse.

Tears erupted his vision, silent ones as water trickled.

And finally a quick pain pushed into his back, the harsh impact shoving him into his mother and oh wait, did it go through his side?

It did.

But the pain was dulled, instead a warm feeling sprouting through his chest (though it may have just been the hot blood) as pride flowed through him.

He protected his Mama to the end.

He smiled.

To the end.

____________________

Tenko watched in horror, staring at the screen as his sister cried to his side.

The fear he had felt waking up to Izuku’s empty bed was nothing compared to this feeling of dread rushing through him.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, standing up sharply, his chair flying behind him. “Izu’s not dead…” He scratched at his neck.

“Izu’s not dead, Izu’s not gone, he didn’t leave, he’s here still…” He got up and started speed walking towards the exit, in need of a breath of air.

He exited the orphanage, rushing to the side of the building as that horrible moment played behind his lids from the TV screen.

“... Izu’s alive. My little brother, he just went out for a bit-”

“TENKO!” A grasp at his wrist snapped the boy out of his thoughts, eyes wide as he stared at his crying sister. 

Apparently all he had been doing for the past twenty minutes was muttering to himself as Hana stood idly by.

“Tenko…”

“Nee-chan, where’s Izuku? Ma left us here - all of us - so where’d he go? Where… Where’d my brother go?”

“Tenko, I-”

“He must have gone to the restroom, right? I should go check, he must be there, that boy wasn’t Izukkun. It was Ma and some other kid, yeah.” He waddled past the girl, only to be stopped by the same hand again.

“TENKO.”

He paused, looking back at his sister’s teary face. “Tenko, Izuku’s gone.”

And just like that he snapped.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HANA, IZUKU’S NOT DEAD. IZUKU’S ALIVE, HE’S JUST HIDING!” He cupped his hands together and positioned it to his mouth, shouting, "IZUKU! WHERE ARE YOU, ZUZU? YOUR," his voice cracked, "your nii-chan is looking for you."

Hana slapped the boy’s cheek, glaring up at the younger. “IZUKU IS DEAD, TENKO, I SAW. IT ZOOMED IN, TENKO, HIS SIDE WAS MISSING, HE WAS DEAD.”

Tenko screamed and pushed the girl back by her chest with his hands.

He shouldn’t have done that.

Hana screamed in agony, flinching back.

His gloves weren’t on.

Tenko jerked his hand back, holding it up to his own chest with wide eyes. “H-Hana-nee?”

She collapsed in a broken pile on the ground.

Tenko’s eyes widened as he took his sister into view.

He had disintegrated her heart.

He stared in shock. “H-Hana-nee? Nee-chan? Hey,” he crouched down next to her lifeless body, shaking her shoulder with his hand, “nee-chan, get up. W-We still gotta find Izu!”

Her upper body turned to dust.

The ten year old flinched, bringing his head back as her own rolled into view.

Her eyes, they were dull.

And something told Tenko that she was dead.

And something told Tenko that Izuku was dead.

Just as his sister was.

In less than two days, he was alone. His family was gone.

He was the last Shimura left.

Tenko doesn’t know when his body moved, but he ran.

Just like Izuku had, he ran.

But the difference was that he ran to save himself.

And, though he didn’t know, Izuku ran to save his Mama.

Tenko ran for what was probably hours, away from the orphanage ad he stuck close to the trees. But then he finally reached a city. Exhausted, he slid down the side of a building in an alleyway and sat there for hours, a trashcan hiding him from view.

Sooner or later however, a thug ran into the alleyway, holding a knife to the boy’s neck and demanding money (which Tenko found stupid - did he look like he had anything on him?)

So to his own shock and horror, Tenko raised his hand and touched the man without a second thought, listening to the man’s screams of agony as he blew away in the wind.

Shimura Tenko lowered his hand back to his side, slipping on a pair of gloves he had found stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

Then all of a sudden, a man stood before him (when had he gotten there? Tenko hadn’t heard anyone).

The man smirked, reaching a hand out to the boy. “My name is All For One, but you may call me Sensei.”

Shimura Tenko looked at the man and noticed it was the same white haired male who had slaughtered his family. He felt rage.

But then Shimura Tenko noticed something.

It was not this man, All For One, who had killed his brother.

It was his mother.

Shimura Tenko looked at the hand for a moment longer before reaching out and grabbing it with his own gloved one.

That day, Shigaraki Tomura walked out of the alleyway with his Sensei.

The Shimuras were dead.

____________________

Were they really?

____________________

They couldn’t do anything.

All they could do was stare at the screen with horror in their eyes, an acidic feeling in their chest as they were huddled together on the couch, frozen.

Torino Sorahiko stood abruptly in his seat, jumping at the TV.

Shuzenji Chiyo’s eyes widened at what the screen was showing from an aerial view.

Tsukauchi Haruta covered his son’s eyes from the graphic display, his other hand reaching to his mouth as tears pricked at his eyes.

Tsukauchi Naomasa had watched with dread as his little brother figure was smashed to bits before his father had covered his view.

Yagi Toshinori watched with clenched fists, his usual smile wiped off the face of earth as he only stared as his mentor and younger brother were impaled by the powerful quirk of All For One - his future enemy.

He could do nothing but watch.

They could do nothing but watch.

____________________

Midoriya Izuku woke up screaming, tears rushing down his red cheeks.

It seems his other cheeks (if you know what that means) were frozen cold, the feeling of metal on skin.

Voices were heard from the other side of wherever he was, but he ignored them, instead taking to jerking up - that was a mistake.

His head hit a metal top, a thin white sheet of fabric sliding down his frame. It occurred to him that he was naked.

He doesn’t know how he had concluded it, but Midoriya Izuku knew one thing for sure:

He was in a morgue.

Chapter Text

Yamada Hizashi clung onto his boyfriend, crying into the man’s shirt. “I don’t like it, Shouta,” he wailed loudly. “He was… he was right in front of me and I couldn’t fucking save him!”

Aizawa Shouta rubbed the man’s head soothingly, throwing an arm over his shoulder and letting his usual deadpanned look fade away. 

“I know, Zashi, but this is the cost of living as a hero.” He paused, “We can’t save everyone, babe. You need to get used to it.”

Hizashi sniffed, lessening his clutch on Shouta’s shirt as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I know. I know, but I don’t like it. He was so young , Shou. He was right there! If I just… If I just hurried up with Muscular, he could still be alive…”

The boy - later identified as Midoriya Izuku - was only a few meters away. Hizashi had watched hopelessly from his spot from afar as he got stabbed by the man with a weak time quirk. He ran as fast as he could when he finally dealt with his fight and knocked the villain off the boy when he got there, but it was too late.

‘Sorry, momma,’ he had said. The last words of Midoriya Izuku, who had bled out in the ambulance and died with Hizashi at his side, was an apology for his mother - his mother who had also passed because Present Mic was too late.

He was too late.

And those two and many others had to pay the price of it.

“I… I’m not going to say it’s okay, because losing a life is never a good thing,” Shouta sighed, “but as heroes…”

“... as heroes, we’ll save as many people as we can,” finished Hizashi. It was true. The teachers at UA had always said so. Heroes can’t always save everyone - not even All Might could. However, they couldn’t let that stop them. Heroes save as many as they can, civilians were top priority.

Shouta nodded, not saying anything else as Hizashi tried to calm himself.

They were in the hospital right then, where the bodies were kept. After filing the dead into their boxes, the doctors left the room and left the two new heroes to their own for a while. Doctors were merciless, Hizashi had concluded, because they kept shooting harsh questions like it was nothing. He was sure they were just used to the concept of death in their careers, but that didn’t mean it was a good thing.

Then the door quietly opened, two others stepping into the room - Midnight and Ingenium, or rather Kayama Nemuri and Iida Tensei.

Hizashi spared a glance at the two before lightly pushing out of Shouta’s embrace and wiping at his nose. He sniffed, “Hey.”

Nemuri sent him a sad smile and walked up to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding him. “Hey, Hizashi.”

Hizashi thought he was doing well - he really did! He had just stopped crying.

That is, until Nemuri had said those words. Sure, people might say he was crying a lot for a boy he hadn’t even known, but Hizashi was nineteen. Sure, he was a hero, but that was the first time he had failed a civilian - he had only made his big debut a month prior.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, voice cracking. “I-”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault, Zash’,” Nemuri cut off.

“But-”

Tensei interrupted next, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder as Shouta watched from behind - he was trying, but he wasn’t all that great at showing public… emotion. “Shut up.”

He turned his head towards the man. “Wha...?”

Then he saw his face.

Tensei had tears falling down his cheeks, his chin scrunched and his eyebrows knit in frustration. “Stop it!” It was obvious that the other wasn’t feeling too well about this situation either, sparing a glance at morgue no.17,  where the boy had been placed in. Tensei had a brother about the same age as Midoriya Izuku, so it was obvious why he wasn’t taking this very easily.

 Midoriya Inko, they had searched on the database, was laid in no.18 , right next to her son. “We’re heroes ! We… we need to get used ,” a voice crack, “to situations like thes-”

An ear-piercing scream rang through the air, the banging of metal following suit. The four heroes stiffened, moving into a defensive position as they scanned the room.

Then Shouta’s eye caught movement.

On one of the metal boxes on the wall.

In one of the metal boxes on the wall, the morgues.

And it seemed the rest of his company saw it, too.

The screaming continued, loud but muffled from the thick barrier of the vault door, wailing and sobs mixed in.

The note on the small squared door stood out amongst the others to the four - it was the reason they were mourning, after all.

No. 17

Midoriya Izuku

DOB : 07/15/20XX, 10:21am

TOD : 07/15/20XX, 9:48am

And Hizashi’s gut clenched after reading that because the boy had died on his birthday .

Except the screams and cries and hits and bangs on metal said otherwise.

Shouta wasted no time in going over to the vault, though his face did not betray his confusion. He turned around after placing his hand cautiously on the metal, blocking out the continuous screams. “Do I open…?”

Hizashi’s face contorted from its confusion to a more panicked look. He didn’t know how this was happening - the boy was dead just two hours ago! It’s nearly been three by now. “WELL OBVIOUSLY,” he screamed, quirk activating before Shouta stopped it. He didn’t notice the subtle pause from the morgue’s occupant’s screaming, as if the boy who was dead had stiffened. 

“He’s alive, Shou!” A hand flew to his arm, rubbing harshly, checking if this was real. This wasn’t possible, heck, maybe he was dreaming. Did he pass out at some point? 

It was wishful thinking - the boy was unresponsive, Hizashi was there when he died, though he was also there when the boy was getting stabbed, yet he couldn’t do anything.

So the other man wasted no time in opening the hatch, whipping it open.

And sure enough, the screams got louder, feet kicking as the boy - the supposedly dead boy - wiggled out of the morgue that stank of dead bodies, crying a loud, “Mama!”

The four heroes were shocked, to say the least, Hizashi erupting into a new wave of tears as Tensei only let his fall with a strangled sound coming out his throat.

The boy’s side was mangled - though it didn’t look too fatal.

But all the stab wounds were gone, safe for the scars that remained. Still, that didn’t make sense because only three hours passed.

Hell, nothing made sense right then. The boy was alive .

Hizashi still remembered when the beeps of the monitor stopped in that ambulance. He still remembered his own screams, begging for the paramedics to save the boy who had already gone.

With a heavy thud, the boy dropped from his place in the morgue, naked. He - Midoriya Izuku, he knew - was crouched on the ground, favoring the side where his flesh wasn’t missing. His arms were littered in little fresh cuts - they wouldn’t scar too badly if taken care of correctly.

A white sheet lay at the naked Midoriya’s feet, though the boy seemed to have enough sense to wrap it around his tiny frame. The boy was crying madly, a wave of fresh tears at his eyes as he looked up. 

Then he looked up at Present Mic. The boy sucked in a breath. “W-Wha?” He hiccuped.

Hizashi gave a little smile, taking a step closer to the boy who was apparently still alive. “H-Hey, little listener.”

And the boy’s screams stopped for a second, his cries dying down into sniffles.

Nemuri and Tensei stood side by side, frozen and watching.

Shouta was to the side behind Izuku, hand still on the opened morgue door.

And Hizashi was looking down at the boy, waiting hopefully for an answer.

He didn’t get one.

Midoriya Izuku scanned the room for a bit, eyes pausing and widening at something that Hizashi couldn’t catch, before he darted for the door, opening it and running out cloak and all.

And the four heroes, unsuspecting because the boy was still severely injured, stood staring at the door for a moment. Then they craned their heads at each other before realization dawned in their eyes.

The next moment, the four were out the door and running after a naked four year old.

____________________

Midoriya Izuku.

He wasn’t Shimura Izuku any longer, no. He was Midoriya Izuku.

He was back .

He didn’t get it - didn’t get how - but for some reason, he was back.

Midoriya Izuku was sure he died. He was sure because no one could imagine that amount of pain - that amount of pain that felt so realistic. When he died, he felt the stinging of the blow, felt the blood pouring out as he bled to death.

As he bled out on his Mama.

He remembered the darkness that came after, the faint sound of death bells playing. He remembered seeing these faces, though they were blurred, staring down at him with a sad look. 

Those faces looked familiar.

And those faces were see-through.

Midoriya Izuku was sure he died because he still had the injury. The flesh on the side of his stomach was gone, though Izuku was sure - even if he couldn’t see it when he died - that it was worse before than it was now. The cuts on his arms were lessened, too.

Just like that time when he woke up after Mister Stabby Man had gotten to him.

Midoriya Izuku was sure he died because he was in a morgue.

What the fuck, he was in a morgue.

His head stung from bumping it on the top of the box, though it was dull in comparison to his other wounds. He was cold, too. Not cold because of the weather cold, but cold because h e was supposed to be dead cold. Meaning he was deathly pale.

But alas, those things didn’t matter to the four year old - not seven, he knew now because he did not feel seven. It did not matter because this time like many others, he was not blessed with waking ignorance.

He could not be, because how could one forget of their Mama’s death when they had been there to witness it? When they were the ones holding them as they passed?

How could one forget their own death?

So he screamed and thrashed - not only for his Mama, but for himself because ultimately he was still confused as to why the fuck he was in a morgue.

It stank like the dead.

It stank like that time through the trees, where that man had been impaled through the stomach and into a tree.

It stank like that time when he had reached the rubble, where his Mama and that villain had fought, where he had intervened, where he had died .

It stank like that time when he was ignorantly stepping on a pile of the dead, his bare and bloodied feet on a hand going cold. At that time, he had questioned why he had forgotten his pair of red shoes at the orphanage, the pair that his loving Mama - who he knew now had only left them at that place for their safety - had gotten him.

That Mama was dead.

And so was his mommy.

And he screamed and thrashed in that confining space, hand gripping on that thin white sheet that had been meant to be draped over his still frame.

He screamed and thrashed in that confining space, where no light shone, where it was pitch black and dark. Where he sweared he could hear the moaning of the dead, quiet screams and pleading for life.

Izuku swore he could feel something faint grabbing at his leg.

He screamed and thrashed because he couldn’t breathe, the air stagnant in that small metal box that smelled of rotting flesh. 

He cried and yelled and kicked and curled because he was confused. Why was he alive? So… he did go back?

He couldn’t have.

He didn’t want to, Izuku didn’t want to!

All he wanted was to be happy again, back with his family - with Papa and Toshi and Nao-chan and Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Torino and Haru and Tecchan and Hana and Mama.

Oh, but he couldn’t do that when two of them were dead.

He should be dead with them, his Mama and Papa, so what the hell was he doing here, probably back in his own timeline?

So in that dark, confining space that stank, he panicked, blocking out the voices that came from the other side.

That is, until a deafening scream interrupted his own.

And Izuku stiffened, for he was still cautious after what he had just undergone. He waited a couple of tense seconds, expecting that man to pop out from the shadows, to crowd him in this already tight space.

But he didn’t.

So Izuku continued on his rampage.

That is, until the door he had been banging on with his feet cracked open and he kicked it wider. Light shone through the door, causing Izuku a slight headache. He wiggled out, crying for his family as his wounds stretched further.

He didn’t pay them any mind - adrenaline was pumping in his veins, he couldn’t exactly feel it all yet. To his body, he was still caught up in that fight with All For One, still guarding his [dead] Mama from a harsh blow - a harsh blow that did kill him (he knew he died then and he knew that he needed to go back ).

“ Mama ,” he cried as his small, bloodied and cold frame hit the ground with a thud. Izuku looked around the room, briefly ignoring the four others who stared at him as he unconsciously wrapped the small sheet over his body. Izuku ignored the fresh bloodstains leaking onto the white.

So Izuku scanned the room, hoping to see his Mama even though he knew that that was impossible because she didn’t have a pulse when he was shielding her, hugging the literal life out of her.

Mama was dead .

Mommy was dead.

Papa was dead.

But then again, he was supposed to be dead, too.

So he looked around, eyes desperately searching.

It was in vain, though. Mama wasn’t there.

So Izuku turned his attention towards the others in the room, looking up from his crouched position on the floor. The hospital lights flickered madly, though they were still bright enough to give the boy a throbbing headache. He blinked the white spots out of his vision, trying to focus on the silhouette of a man in front of him.

And his vision did clear.

And what he saw did confirm his thoughts.

Midoriya Izuku was back in his own timeline.

Present Mic stared down at the four year old, the man’s eyes red and hair disheveled. It occurred to the boy that the hero was crying.

He sucked in a little breath, knowing that he was right but not wanting to believe. He didn’t want to be back, he should be with Mama, dead. Though he does admit he’d rather be gone than have survived without his Mama wrapped in her loving arms with his one, big happy family at his side.

But he wasn’t.

Izuku hiccupped, and he hadn’t realized he’d been yelling still until then. “W-Wha?”

And Present Mic took a step closer and Izuku had never wanted to shy away from a person more. “H-Hey, little listener.”

The boy stared at the man longer, hands tightly gripping the sheet that protected him from flashing others. Izuku quieted down, eyes wide in confusion and fear because he really didn’t want to be there.

He wanted to be with Mama and Papa and everyone else whom he loved with all his heart.

He wanted them all to be alive.

So he looked around for an exit, tense in his position. The morgues were behind him he knew from the tingling sensation on his back, phantom feels of metal on his skin and the not-so phantom pain of debris and All For One’s attacks.

Yeah, but actually, maybe that tingling sensation wasn’t his brain telling him of those boxes.

With his head turned to the right, back pressed against metal and legs covering his kiddy parts, Izuku saw it.

His mommy, that is.

Her face was deathly pale, blood pouring down the side of her head and parts of her body indented inward slightly.

And she had just phased through the box that had been next to his own.

Box 18.

Midoriya Inko was staring at her son with concern in her eyes, whispering and choking on a sob. “Oh, my poor baby,” she coughed out.

Midoriya Inko was translucent.

Intangible.

His mommy was intangible, like a ghost - no, she was a ghost.

Izuku knew for a fact, because his body was screaming at him, screaming that she was dead just as Mama and Papa were, just as he was supposed to be.

She was a ghost.

She was dead.

Izuku’s eyes widened, roaming her broken body before trailing slowly up to her eyes. They made eye contact.

At that, Midoriya Inko’s own copied her son’s.

He could see her. She, who was dead.

A prickling feeling broke out from underneath his skin, though only now did he realize that that was what the tingling was.

His mouth opened slightly into a silent scream and he dashed for the door, sheet and all. Izuku threw it open and ran out, ignoring his momma’s cries as she chased - floated - after him.

He blocked her out.

This wasn’t the plan.

He was gonna find Mister Stabby Man, he had concluded, and make him take him back to the past. Make him take him back to before any of that happened, to the day before Papa died.

Izuku could fix it. He would stop this mess from happening.

He would stop his family from dying. From separating. 

He would go back.

Back to his family - not that momma wasn’t family. Izuku was just prioritizing. Plus, momma was dead. He must have been hallucinating. But if he was going back to the past, maybe he could stop mommy from dying in this timeline!

The voice in the back of his head - the voice he hadn’t heard for all these years - told him that he wasn’t hallucinating. That he wasn’t dreaming.

That voice told him that it was his quirk.

“It’s your quirk, Midoriya Izuku.” It said testily, mocking. “It’s your quirk .”

He blocked it out, focusing on madly maneuvering through the sea of nurses and patients, tiny feet paddling. His momma was floating at his side, begging him, touching him - holy All Might, the ghost, the hallucination was touching him and he could feel it.

But Izuku ignored that, too, pushing the thought to the side.

He was quirkless.

He didn’t have a quirk. He dealt with it for three years and then this suddenly happens? He didn’t want it.

Izuku ignored the other translucent beings he saw roaming the halls with a curious look on their faces.

He just needed to find the knife guy, go back in time and then save his family.

Doctors and nurses were in the way of Izuku’s mad sprints, some trying to reach out to him and grab him. One even yelled, “Hey, buddy, why are you naked?!”

Seriously, did that really matter? It wasn’t his fault the staff probably stripped him of his own when he was, oh yeah, dead .

He bumped into a large majority of people (and even ghosts, though sometimes he passed through them), even coming close to knocking an old lady in a wheelchair off her bumper; he mentally apologized. He really didn’t know where he was going, but he was hoping for an exit. Knife guy would probably be out rather than being treated as a regular patient when he was a literal murderer.

“W-Wait, my baby, stop!” Inko flew in front of her son, flying backwards as he ran ahead. He was ignoring her, willing himself to. So when she reached out to touch him, her hand went through rather than feeling what she felt mere moments ago. He had tears in her eyes now, he knew, but he didn’t want to acknowledge them. “Izuku, honey, stop it! Y-You can see me? I-I saw! Baby, please look at me!”

A few more tears escaped and he briefly shook his head in response. He was in denial, but Inko had her answer. He could.

So she kept pressing, talking to him in a desperate tone. “Izu, I-I love you, okay?! I’m sorry that you had to go through that a-and…” She continued on her nervous ramble.

But when his momma said those three words, a bottomless pit formed in Izuku’s stomach and his heart lurched painfully. ‘I love you,’ they had all said.

‘I love you,’ he had said back.

“I-Izuku, I-I love y-you.” Mommy had said before her ultimate death. Only now did he realize he had never said it back.

“Zuzu, love you! Tenko, Hana, I’ll see you two later, alright? Love you,” Papa had said before leaving that day.

“Love you, too, Papa!” Izuku had said back.

“I-I love you, my baby. I’m sorry…” Mama said those few moments ago, before she had died in his arms. Before he died in hers.

…

“I love you, too, Mama.”

He hated those words now. Those words, which had once been filled with kindness and mirth, tasted like ash on his tongue, like hell to his ears. 

Because whenever someone said those words to him, they died.

To Izuku, those three simple words meant the end. Those three simple words meant death, destruction, resignation.

Like a farewell.

His momma’s frame continued to ramble in his ear.

And he ignored her through it all.

Soon enough, Izuku heard the pattering of feet behind him and it reminded him of his training sessions with Toshinori, Naomasa and Tecchan, chasing him.

He only ran faster, head whipping from left to right as he searched for any sign of the exit. He was on the first floor, he had gotten that, but damn, this hospital was big.

It was right then as he was about to turn the corner when he bumped into a taller man who wore a white dress suit paired with a dark green tie and some working pants. Izuku’s shoulder harshly ran into the man’s leg, causing the older to look down at his fluffy bundle.

But Izuku paid no mind because that man was only one in the sea of people whom he ran into.

And he continued on, turning the corner as a loud ghost bugged beside him.

Oh, you couldn’t imagine how glad he was to see the front doors in his view.

You couldn’t imagine how glad he was to see the knife guy - the guy who had killed him the first time, he concluded. He was on the ground, tummy first, a police officer on top of him with a pair of quirk-suppressing handcuffs in his hand.

They weren’t on the man yet.

So Izuku ran faster with his tiny toddler legs and his smaller height from when he was seven.

Because beyond those glass doors was his answer to home.

____________________

Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa didn’t expect to have a naked kid with a bloody sheet surrounding his tiny frame bump into him as soon as he entered the hospital. The kid was getting chased by four new pro heroes with concerned and worried expressions on their faces, too. He could get why the four couldn’t catch him that easily - it was lunch time and a lot of the injured patients were roaming the halls. They didn’t want to run into them by accident.

Tsukauchi Naomasa also didn’t expect the kid to look just as his friend - his little brother by choice - did when they first met. When Shimura Izuku walked out of his adoptive mother’s bedroom doors, patched with bandages and a mop of green atop his head. Except this kid was naked. 

But really that was all the difference. Though, it wasn’t as if he’d never seen the boy naked before all those years ago. They were closer than a pack of wolves - the two plus Tenko (Tenko, whom he hadn’t seen since the… orphanage) had frequently taken baths together when they were younger. When Auntie Nana died along with Izuku, the rest of the family had done what they were told not to and searched for Tenko and Hana. So when they found that Hana died and was left in a pile of dust and Tenko had gone missing, they organized a search party.

Yeah, they never found him.

Anyway, so excuse him for doing a double take and whirling around fast enough to the point of popping his neck. His tired expression from the day’s ordeals quickly morphed into one of shock and hopefulness as he watched the boy’s back turn the corner, his green curls bouncing though matted with blood.

However as soon as that hope began to circle, it faded right away.

Shimura Izuku was dead.

They knew. They recovered his body. He, with Toshinori occasionally, would visit the grave with broken smiles on their faces and tell the boy about their days. Shimura Nana and Shimura Kotaro’s graves were right beside the boy’s, one on each side. At least there they could be a family, dead or… well, dead.

His little brother was gone.

Naomasa turned on his heel and continued on his walk towards one of the victims rooms, merely looking ahead as the flock of heroes ran past him. His face morphed back into its usual tired, caffine-addicted looking state.

And he could never come back.

He chose not to acknowledge the longing in his heart, the dull drop in his chest as water formed in his eyes. He blinked them back.

It had been years.

He was too used to it.

____________________

Shimura Izuku was dead, as far as anyone knew.

But Midoriya Izuku was back in action.

Chapter Text

Time is a funny thing, but it doesn’t make Izuku laugh.

Automatic doors are very troublesome, too, Izuku found. They’re so slow, the four strangers that were chasing him nearly caught up. They didn’t, however, because thankfully the doors slid open.

As soon as the boy was out those doors, the first thing he remembered doing was tackling the officer on top of his supposed killer to the ground. The officer grunted in surprise, his side hitting the ground as the child rammed into him. If you asked Izuku, he’d say the man needed to do better at his job - his reflexes kind of sucked. Izuku wasn’t complaining, though. It worked out for him.

The second thing Izuku remembered doing was pushing the knife person over harshly, his back to the ground rather than his tummy. He remembers positioning himself over the man, a leg on each side of his torso. Izuku had squatted down, though due to his injuries and weakened legs, he ended up falling down onto the man’s stomach, bare butt on bloodied fabric.

Even though he chooses not to acknowledge his ghost of a mother, some part of Izuku is thankful that she had tied the bloody white fabric around him so that it’d at least cover his front area. Sure, it was showing a majority of his butt cheeks, but Izuku wasn’t really worried about that at the moment. He’d assume the others around him wouldn’t mind either - he was only four here. There was nothing that unusual about it.

Izuku wasn’t sure how his “momma“ had even touched his fabric, though, seeing as she usual phased through everything but his skin. Nonetheless, Izuku didn’t see how that was very important right then.

The knife man had a pair of regular, non-quirk suppressing handcuffs locked onto his wrists - and Izuku had to question why the officers didn’t just slap the other ones on first. Maybe they assumed that his quirk wasn’t much of a threat? Oh well, it worked in his favor, anyway.

Stabby man smiled lopsidedly up at the kid, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light that shone around the small boy’s frame. “Heya, kid! How ya doin’? ‘Thought ya was dead!”

“I-I t-thought so, too,” Izuku’s voice cracked, words dry on his tongue as he commented half-heartedly. He waved the man off. The boy wasn’t here for small talk.

“Listen, sir!” Izuku chirped, false cheer in his voice - though it may have just been the way the four year old sounded. His eyes twitched with anticipation as his momma frantically hovered above him, the air around her tolding colder. She rambled worriedly about how dangerous the man was, scolding him and telling him to get off the murderer. Apparently the woman had been there when he was getting stabbed, floating idly by, helpless as her son was dying. Only when they moved her body did she leave the boy’s side - she had figured they were going to be placed in the same hospital.

Izuku gained a desperate look in his eyes, voice lowering as his expression turned as serious as a child could make it out to be. He brushed the cops trying to tear him off the man who had only been smiling derangly back at him, even hissing at one who tried grabbing him. “You’re gunna take me back, okay? You’re going to take me back to Mama.”

“I’m right here, baby, I’m sorry! ” Momma cried beside him, trying to touch him just as she had moments ago only to fail once again.

Izuku wasn’t talking about her, though.

The criminal only shrugged half-heartedly, bound hands going up to scratch at his scraggly beard before he gave the boy a wide, sloppy smile - the type of smiles you’d only find on drunkards, drug addicts.

Villains.

Villains who were in on the job for the thrill, for the joy of other’s pain.

Villains like All For One, who killed Mama and Papa.

Villains like that man who killed his mommy, reducing her to a ghost - a ghost. Momma was a ghost, now. Izuku felt that this was right, though he didn’t want to believe it. “It’s your quirk,“ that annoying voice in his head taunted repeatedly. Izuku told it to shut up.

He tensed on top of the man, going rigid - it was hardly noticeable, really; Izuku was sure only he felt it. The fact still remained, however. The pain in the toddler’s side seemed to ache more now, where that decently sized chunk of flesh was missing. His arms felt as if alcohol was being poured onto them, the cuts burning like fire. Izuku bit down on his lip to stop himself from screaming out.

That smile stood out to the boy. “Ya wan’ go back, kid,” the man slurred, the question turning into some sort of statement. Izuku just nodded, no words seeming to come out as he was frozen in something akin to fear - it wasn’t fear, Izuku felt. Anger, maybe? Izuku was scared, sure. He felt some form of fear, of course, but it was overridden with his need to save his found family.

The man only laughed, humming draggingly. “Hmmm, alright then, boyo. You wan’ continue our fun?” 

“No, mister, take me back to Mama,” Izuku furrowed his brows childishly, as if the man would understand what he meant. If Izuku heard his momma’s desperate pleas, or saw the cops inching forward from behind, he didn’t show it.

The man didn’t get what Izuku was saying, but he didn’t care. An excuse to use his useless quirk? Hell yeah. Izuku vaguely remembered what the man said those three years - hours - ago. He could use his quirk, but he wouldn’t remember when. Only the person he uses the quirk on will remember, apparently. Pretty depressing, but whatever.

The villain’s cuffed hands inched forward, coming closer to Izuku’s head in order to touch it, activate his quirk. Izuku’s gaze steeled with anticipation, determination.

The cops yelled, jumping forward with the goal of yanking the boy off, all unknowing of the man’s quirk effects. They knew of the time alternation on the quirk, but they didn’t know any other details, didn’t know the dangers that it may bring, or the limits it held. “Sato Hayame! Stop this instant! Do not touch the boy!”

Four young adults ran forward, inching closer and closer to the boy and the villain, just as the cops were the same. All were desperate to get the boy off, but Present Mic had been especially panicked because it was his fault the boy’s life had come to this. They shouted, “MIDORIYA!”

But Izuku only ignored the others, solely focused on the hand that was coming in fast, yet seemed so slow.

Closer.

His skin tingled with anticipation.

Closer.

Sato Hayame’s smile grew wide, hands twitching with the need to kill.

Closer.

His hands came closer. 

The cops came closer.

The heroes came closer.

But the bound hands were already at the boy’s temple.

And they touched.

Sato Hayame, the knife criminal - the murderer - grinned, body twitching a bit as he felt the familiar rush of his quirk flow through his skin. 

Midoriya Izuku closed his eyes rather comically, shutting them tight as he waited for that dark to come.

Officers and four heroes lurched forward as if in slow motion, faces of panic plastered on.

But it was too late.

This time, Izuku was awake. He didn’t drown in his own blood, though he did still have those large cuts on his body.

This time, Izuku didn’t wake up alone on the floor in a park that wasn’t a park. He was already awake.

The dark had come for only a second before light shone beneath closed lids again. The world was quiet in his ears for a short moment before noise filled the air around him. Slowly, he ripped his eyes open, expecting to be back at that park, or back with his Mama and Papa. With his family - Naomasa, Toshinori, Tecchan, Hana, Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Torino and Haru.

Mama and Papa, both alive.

But he wasn’t with them.

As soon as his head cleared along with his vision, Izuku noticed something.

He was in the same spot as he was before. But the scene around him he had already experienced.

“MIDORIYA!”

“Sato Hayame! Stop this instant! Do not touch the boy!”

The cops were springing forward, the heroes were running at him.

The hand was at his face.

And instead of waiting his time, Izuku slammed his head down on the villain’s hands, refusing to believe that he was only taken back seconds rather than the full years he had been before.

The dark came again, along with the silence. Then the light came, and the noise rang in his ears.

“MIDORIYA!”

“Sato Hayame! Stop this instan-”

Izuku slammed his head down again.

Dark.

Silence.

Light.

Noise.

“MIDORIY-”

And he brought his head down again and again, met with that same fate and that same insane smile from his killer.

But after so many tries…

He gave up.

Instead of bringing himself back to that repetitive state, Izuku pulled his head back from that man, tears leaking from his eyes at this failure.

“Stop it,” the child whispered weakly at the man’s still approaching hands.

He felt rough hands slide underneath his armpits, pulling him quickly off the villain. An officer, he realized. Through that, he whispered to himself more than anyone else, “it didn’t work…”

His mother’s cries fell on deaf ears.

The cops around him quickly cuffed the quirk suppressants onto Sato, to which the villain groaned at, complaining on how he ‘didn’t use his quirk yet.’ A handful of officers came to scold the young boy, telling him how reckless that was. He didn’t need another scolding - he already got enough from his ghost of a mother.

Stomps were heard, quick and sharp. By now, the cop that had pulled him off Sato Hayame had let him go, letting the semi-naked, butt-cheek flashing four year old sit in a heap on the floor. A careful hand was placed on Izuku’s shoulder, causing him to slowly turn to see who it was.

It was Present Mic, his eyes still red with a slight puff. Behind him, another man stood, along with pro-heroes Midnight and Ingenium who stood off to the side. All of them let out a collected sigh.

Present Mic smiled weakly at the boy, offering him comfort. “Hey, little listener…”

A small nod of acknowledgement from the boy.

The blonde extended his hand and that was all that really needed to be done.

Numbly, Izuku took the hold, allowing himself to be lifted from the ground in silence and into the man’s hold. Present Mic scooped the boy up into his arms and reluctantly turned around, walking back towards the entrance of the hospital as the other three adults followed behind. He carried the boy in a way that his body would not irritate the child’s own.

“Let’s go back now, hmm?”

Izuku rested his chin on the hero’s shoulder and collapsed in exhaustion.

____________________

Shigaraki Tomura clawed at his neck, fingers tapping restlessly at the wood below. Father stuck ti his face, blocking part of his view of the bar. Sister was resting in his room on the desk right now.

All those years ago, when his Sensei had taken him in as his own, Shigaraki had gone to his Pa’s corpse and collected a part of him. Over the years, Pa just became Father - he doesn’t exactly know why he changed it, though he’d just say it was because he “matured.” As for nee-chan, Shigaraki would really just alternate from calling her that and Sister.

They went back for nee-chan, too, though it was a little harder since she had been surrounded by officers, detectives and whatnot (he had even seen Uncle Tsukauchi there all those years ago, but he didn’t really want to face him after he had just killed Hana a person in an alleyway. Though admittedly, he has added quite the sum to that list since then.

He scratched lazily at his neck, thrusting the empty glass towards the mist man with careful fingers and a silent order. Reluctantly, Kurogiri refilled the drink and continued to wipe at an empty shot glass.

Groaning, the man chugged the alcohol before disintegrating the glass (much to the displeasure of the bartender) and leaping off the chair, lazily plopping himself down onto the couch. 

He huffed, readjusting Father on his face. Shigaraki stretched his hand out to grab at the remote on the table, carefully picking it up with his middle finger lifted high. He turned it on reluctantly, not exactly having anything else to do.

Imagine his surprise when it immediately turned to a local news channel talking of a recent attack on a local park. The news anchors praised new heroes Present Mic, Midnight and Ingenium who all arrived at the scene, foolishly overlooking the dead bodies that laid on the roads. It was a normal occurrence these days, nothing overly new.

He rolled his eyes in disgust, staring at the recorded footage as people ran and screamed in mute as the news talked over them. “Heroes are stupid. All they care about is fame and publicity.”

Glass clanked from behind the man, hums of acknowledgement showing that the mist man was listening.

“They don’t care about saving people.” 

He scratched at his neck. 

“They don’t care about a dead victim’s families, don’t care about how they would feel.”

The scratching intensified, blood and dead skin sticking to his nails. He glared at the screen, pausing in his bloodied rampage.

“That’s why I’m gonna tear it down.”

Shigaraki Tomura watched as a young boy with familiar green curls ran across the screen, watching as his mother was beaten down in muted silence over the voiceovers. The boy turned to the cameras, desperate and in search for help, but no one came. He tore his eyes from the media, instead running far, far away. 

The boy looked like his brother, Izuku, whom he loved with all his heart. Izuku, who had a heart of gold, who wanted to be a hero.

Who died at the hands of one, no less his own mother.

Shigaraki Tomura abruptly stood, lurching forward to get a better view of the boy who was bloodied and beaten. All too soon, though, that hope was crushed - that hope that his brother was there, alive.

It was illogical, he knew. If the boy was alive, he’d be around Shigaraki’s own age. All those years ago, he saw his little brother’s dead corpse, watched from afar as the funeral was held, Sensei standing over him as he also stood by on top of a nearby building. Originally on that day, they were going to take a piece of Izuku for Shigaraki - however, the younger boy decided against it last second.

The hands he wore provided him a sense of comfort, yet it made him feel sick for feeling that way. Instead, just for his little green headed bean, he would settle with going to visit the gravesite when the cemetery was closed. It disgusted him how close Shimura Nana’s own grave was to his beloved brother’s, but he’d have to deal with it.

He sat back down on the couch, propping a leg up.

“Even if this hero society comes crashing down…”

He grabbed the remote, four fingers clenching around the device hard.

“...even if I rise to rule the underworld…”

He took a deep breath. The man thought this time, brows knotting in frustration.

I’ll still feel empty.

“I’ll still hate everything.”

He growled in anger, placing that last finger onto the item and scattering its dusted remains throughout the area.

“Every living, breathing thing with a heartbeat. I hate it.”

The kitchen was silent now, though the soft breathing coming from it told Shigaraki that his mentor was still there.

“I’ll destroy it all,” he whispered. “Every last thing in this corrupt society, I’ll destroy it.”

On the wall hung a picture of a once happy family, ten people in total. A young boy with green curls stood in the middle of it all, smiling happily at the camera as he held his siblings’ hands. Their parents stood behind them, laughing with arms thrown around their friends. Two others stood beside the siblings, friends that had quickly became family.

Shigaraki stared at the photo, jaw clenching as he stared at the smiles on all their faces.

“I’ll do it for him.”

But on the frame, two faces were messily scribbled over with sharpie - one that had been ruined by a young boy - the remnants of a child named Shimura Tenko, the other ruined recently by Shigaraki Tomura, villain and successor of All For One.

The rest of the people in the photo (sans Izuku), he held no feelings over - none good nor bad. They were a part of the corrupt society, and if he really had to, he would get rid of them in a heartbeat. The other two in which he had scribbled out were the ones he had a real problem over.

One of those faces was Shimura Nana, mother and murderer of young Izuku, abandoner of Shimura Hana and Shimura Tenko.

The other one was Yagi Toshinori, also known as the hero All Might. The man had once been his friend. All those years of growing up, Shigaraki held no other harsh feelings for the man, other than the ones he already held. A love-hate relationship, he supposed. However, when Toshinori had debut and shown off just how strong he was, just how strong he had become, a deep hatred started to slowly fuel Shigaraki.

Because that man could have saved his brother had he worked harder to achieve.

It was a stupid reasoning, he knew, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He was blinded by his hatred.

“Young master, All For One is calling for you.”

Shigaraki Tomura stood as Kurogiri made a portal for the man to enter. He patted his palm on his leg pant, ridding of the leftover dust as he walked through.

Shimura Izuku was dead and it was all their fault.

____________________

Yagi Toshinori’s hands clenched as he stared at the screen, watching helplessly from the diner’s couch as people were maimed and killed. A cup of coffee sat mockingly in his own hand, as if telling him hey, people are dying and here’s All Might! Sitting on a couch peacefully as he sips his drink.

He sat on a couch in one of the many cafes in hero agencies. Many of his comrades in justice sat back, too, laughing and glancing at the television in disinterest. Toshinori knew that he shouldn’t feel disgust over the others’ lack of acknowledgment for the news, but he couldn’t help it.

He knew that no one could save everyone, but he had to try.

“I need to get stronger,” he muttered under his breath only to be harshly slapped on the back - it was good-natured, of course.

“This again, Toshinori,” the retired hero dragged. “I’ve told you many times, boy. You can’t save everyone and you know it.”

“I know, but-”

Torino Sorahiko, otherwise known as Gran Torino, cut his former student off, to which the man noticeably flinched at. “No buts! It’s not possible, boy. We’re human!”

Toshinori nodded numbly, returning his gaze back onto the screen. Civilians screamed for help, but All Might had to live with the knowledge that he couldn’t help because what he was watching wasn’t live. It was recorded - if it were live, oh boy, he would be flying across the city and jumping in.

After a few more moments of tensed silence between the two, Toshinori spoke up. “But I want to save everyone," he said quietly, placing the drink in his hand down on the table as he placed his elbows on his knees and rest his chin on the knuckles of his clenched hands.

“I-”

“Those people,” he jabbed a finger at the screen, “have families. Families who are waiting for them to come back .”

Torino listened in silence, urging the man on.

“I don’t… I don’t want people to feel what I felt when they died.” He whispered lowly, knowing full well that his mentor knew who he was talking about. “I know that I can’t save everyone - people are dying right now and I don’t even know about it.”

The elder just nodded.

“Even so, I’m going to save as many people as I can.”

Gradually his voice grew louder with his growing determination, attracting the attention of nearby heroes and sidekicks alike.

“I’ll get stronger for the people! I… I won’t let them die at the hands of villains.”

Heroes and aspiring heroes stared at him in awe, but he paid them no mind.

“Because that’s what a true hero would do.”

He was already the number one hero, but that didn’t mean that he had no room for improvement. For the sake of others, he’d grow stronger. He didn’t want civilians to feel the pain he had felt all those years ago.

The cafe was quiet for a while, and it was then that Toshinori realized just how loud he had been. He shrunk in his seat - and for such a famous hero, he was rather bashful when he wasn’t in his attire.

Soon, the room erupted into whoops and claps, some newbie heroes just now realizing that All Might himself was there. Some came over for autographs, but just as fast as they came they left. The attention was off him once again, now, as the other heroes went back to what they were doing previously.

Those new heroes left, however, because Gran Torino is scary .

Torino whacked the back of his student’s head, causing the latter to bend over in his seat from the force.

“ Gah !” Toshinori yelped, massaging at his head as he craned his head to look at his mentor. “What was that for, old man-?!”

That earned him another slap to the head. He groaned in defeat.

The air around the two turned light back from its previously suffocating presence.

Torino continued to whack at the younger’s back, albeit lighter due to the increase in attacks.

Toshinori would say that he took it like a man.

After a while, the elder stopped, letting the younger sit back up. Both of them slouched back as they began to laugh, Toshinori picking up the long forgotten coffee he had set down before.

“I know, you know.” Torino said a while after both of them had calmed down.

Toshinori hummed questioningly, taking a sip of his now cold drink before bringing it down. He looked at his mentor, giving the man his full attention.

The old man huffed a sigh, glancing at his former student before looking back ahead at the news on the screen. “You’ve always been a stubborn one, Toshi. Back at UA, when I was training you.” He rolled his eyes playfully, “Boy, you were so hard to teach. Had ta’ beat a load of sense into you and that still didn’t work, you and your heroic ideals.”

Toshinori weakly chuckled at the memories, scooting away an inch involuntarily while Torino weakly glared. There was no heat behind it, only a touch of fondness. Torino smirked, scooting that extra inch closer to the younger.

He paused, looking down at his fingers. “I know you’ll save those people like you said you would, ya stubborn bastard,” Torino laughed. “Heroic to the bones, huh. That’s why Nana chose you.”

Toshinori smiled at the man, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Yeah.”

The two continued staring at the television, though admittedly both weren’t paying a dime of their attention to it.

“...”

“...”

“Hey…” Toshinori whispered quietly, eyes scrunching. “Do… do you think Nana and Izuku would have been proud of me?”

Torino turned to the man, and Toshinori did the same. Torino gave a small smile, reaching up and ruffling the man’s hair.

“For sure, boy. Heck, little Izu would be ecstatic! If he were here, there's no doubt he’d be kicking ass with ya,” Torino pressed his fist to the younger’s shoulder, giving it a small jab.

“Yeah,” Toshinori gulped, untangling his hands before he smiled brightly at his mentor. “Yeah, I would’ve liked that a lot.”

Chapter Text

The next time Izuku woke up, he wasn’t in a morgue.

Instead, Izuku awoke to the sound of machines beeping and the feeling of clothes against his skin. A nice change, he'd admit.

He groaned lightly, a throbbing headache erupting as he tried to open his eyes. He was met with a blinding white. Izuku blinked the dark spots away from his vision, squinting through narrowed eyes up at the ceiling.

White.

“Oh my god, Izuku, you’re awake!”

He turned his head to the left where he was met with a rather disturbing sight. His mother’s head passed through a curtain - and to four year old Izuku, who was pretty groggy at the moment, it looked as if her bloodied, bashed-in and transparent head was floating.

He screamed, using bandaged arms to push him further away from the sight. If it weren’t for the bed railings, he would have fell to the floor. Instead, he took to pushing himself very close to the protector.

“Ah, Zuzu, I-I’m sorry!” His mother trilled, flying through the thin sheet further.

Izuku screamed louder, shaking at the sight of his mother. He was reminded of what he was seeing, what he had the ability to see.

A quirk.

He had a quirk.

That voice said so.

Izuku couldn’t really deny it anymore with how much evidence was being shown.

Izuku wasn’t quirkless.

He had a quirk.

…

He didn’t like it. It was scary.

He screamed louder, kicking his feet and making the blanket that had once been on top of him crumble at the feet of his bed.

Inko retreated, going back into the sheet and making it seem as if her head was floating to the boy once again. "O-Oh, I’m sorry! I-I don’t know w-what… I- You can see me, a-an-”

Izuku just continued his thrashing over her apologies. The head was floating. His mommy’s head was floating and messed up, and it was probably his fault that she was dead because he ran away.

The rooms doors were thrown open and the four people from before ran in, pushing past objecting doctors.

The four year old was crying out incoherent words, though a continued stream of, “sorry”’s was the only thing that had really been heard clearly.

A pink mist hovered over Izuku’s head and the boy’s body instantly relaxed. “Wh-Wha…?”

The boy inhaled the intoxication through his heavy hiccups from his cries, and Izuku found that it smelled strangely familiar.

It smelled like home. It also smelled like cookies. Cookies that Naocchan kept freaking stealing.

The boy’s cries died slowly and his eyes closed, heavy with new found exhaustion. Somewhere to the right, Izuku heard three heavy thuds and a soft, feminine, “shit.”

Izuku mumbled through a yawn. “Dun s-ay that. ‘T’s a ba-bad word.”

And with that, he fell asleep.

The next time Izuku woke up, voices were heard arguing playfully from a corner somewhere to the left of him.

“I can’t believe you used your quirk on us, too.”

“My god, Zash, I said sorry ! I can’t control who fuc- freaking sniffs my mist! Don’t breathe and you’ll be fine.”

A light jab echoed through the otherwise silent room, resulting in a whiny, “hey! What was that for, Tensei! I mean, unless you’ve got a slapping kink, I wo-”

Another hit.

“Stooop,” the woman dragged.

“My side still hurts from fuckin’ dropping to the ground like a fish .”

“Only I control when I sleep, thank you.”

Izuku groaned then, letting out a quiet hum. “No poopy words, mister.”

He rolled on his side, letting out a small whimper as a chilling pain resounded from his side. He quickly rolled back on his back. He peeled his eyes open slowly, quickly glancing to both of the curtains that surrounded his sides. He was rather pleased to find no floating head.

“Little listener! You’re awake!” A man said, quickly jumping from his visitor’s seat to Izuku’s bedside. The boy quickly realized it was Present Mic.

He nodded groggily, wiping at his eyes. He took a glance around the room and noticed that his mommy’s ghost was sitting on a vacant seat near the one the hero leaped off of. She smiled sadly at the boy, but said nothing. It made Izuku sad, but he knew that he wouldn’t have reacted well if she had just jumped out at him. He blinked at her, also sending a tiny, hesitant nod her way.

The rest of the group made their way towards the boy, though it was noticeable how Present Mic was trying to snag the boy’s attention. There was a sad look in his eyes, followed by guilt.

Izuku knew that look from his own experience. Afterall, it was his fault his family died.

One man squatted on his legs, taking a hand and hesitantly ruffling the boy’s hair. After he saw how the boy was fine with it, the tenseness went away. “Hey kid, you really scared us there, you know?”

“Sorry, mister.”

“Aizawa.”

He tilted his head, propping it on the hospital bed’s pillow. “Hmm?”

“That’s my name, kid. Aizawa Shouta.”

Izuku nodded listlessly, taking the information into account. “A’zawa.”

The man laughed.

“I’m Yamada Hizashi,” Present Mic said softly, smiling down at the boy. “Sorry that I… I’m sorry that I couldn’t save her.”

Izuku shook his head. Truthfully, to Izuku, it had been three years. That was nearly double his current lifespan, and Izuku’s young mind couldn’t really hold onto all the details of that day’s events. He didn’t remember a lot - only flashes and instants that stood out to the toddler. “‘T’s fine,  Ya-ma. Don’ remember a lot.”

At that, Yamada’s eyes took on a sadder light and the air coming from Inko turned slightly colder. Yamada gave a broken smile but said nothing else.

Another man came to Izuku’s side, and this one Izuku recognized barely as Ingenium - he looked a lot different when he wasn’t in hero attire. “Hey, Midoriya-kun,” he smiled softly, voice lowered. “Sorry for saying a poopy word, hmm?”

Izuku nodded from his spot on the bed, weakly pointed. “You are forgiven. Don’t say again, Ingen’yum.”

The man smiled, hand going up to fiddle with his dark hair. “Yeah, okay. I’m Iida Tensei, by the way.”

Izuku nodded shortly.

Next, the woman introduced herself. “Hi, Mido-chan! How ya' coping?”

He was doing pretty damn good until the lady asked that question. Damn, that morning ignorance lasted a while. 

Tears gathered quickly in his eyes as those frequent flashes over All For One poured into his brain. Just as quickly, Midnight seemed to panic, a face of realization taking over her expression.

She really messed up.

One of the most important things they had taught in heroics was to not remind their victim’s of traumatic experiences. Her conscience had thought it'd be fine because Yamada had mentioned it already once, but she was wrong.

“O-Oh, crap, Mido-chan! Hey, h-hey, it’s gonna be alright baby, it’s gonna be alright. Breathe, kid, breathe.”

Somewhere above the boy, Inko floated restlessly.

That did not calm Izuku’s nerves in the slightest.

He erupted into another series of cries and it occurred to the group of living beings just how much four year olds cried.

Abruptly, Izuku was picked up from his spot on the bed and placed into the arms of Yamada. It had irritated his wounds, but the pain subsided gradually. 

“Hey, hey, little listener!” Yamada tutted, clicking his tongue. “Shhhh, it’s gonna be fine. It’ll be okay eventually.” The man started to hum a tune - one that Izuku remembered vaguely from years before, one that Present Mic had put on on his new radio show.

The three adults stood idly by, Midnight whispering apologies and, “I’m so stupid,”’ s as Tensei continued comforting attempts, occasionally slapping her shoulder as she said something dumb about herself. Aizawa watched his boyfriend, walking up to the two as he started to pet at Izuku’s curls in a silent comfort.

It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours, but eventually Izuku’s cries died down. By the end of it, Izuku’s eyes had that slight swole that had started to become quite normal these days.

Midnight came over shyly, fumbling with her shirt. It was a weird sight to see with the normally charismatic teen hero. “Sorry, Mido-chan. That was inconsiderate of me.”

Izuku sniffled out a quiet, “It’s ‘kay, Midnight-san, not your fault,” before burying his head back into Yamada’s shoulder.

Midnight gave a small smile at the boy before trying to distract him, blabbering on about random things like types of flowers, or embarrassing stories about her UA days. A few more minutes passed, and by then the five had all moved to sit on the visiting chairs, Izuku still glued to Yamada, now sitting on his lap.

It worked, to say the least, as Izuku, unravelled himself a bit from Yamada’s neck, one arm sill slung around the man as he stared at Midnight in awe. She went to UA!

“...and Shouta over there,” she waved her finger at Aizawa excitedly, “even fell asleep on his macaroni! He didn’t even realize there was food stuck on his face until the end of the day!”

Aizawa’s scarf quickly unraveled from his neck, flying forward to smack Midnight in the middle of her face. Her head whipped back and she landed on Tensei’s shoulder with an, “oof! ” but she laughed manically through it all. Izuku joined in, too, copying her laugh.

“Alright Nemuri, that’s enough,” Aizawa said deadpan, further eliciting Midnight’s giggles. Izuku copied her volume, too, and Aizawa for one was grateful that the boy seemed to have a one-tracked mind at the moment.

The door connecting the room to the hall opened, and in came a doctor, dutifully holding a clipboard. The two laughing gradually stopped, now all five turning their heads to the woman.

“Hello! I’m sorry, we have some tests to run on Midoriya-kun over here, some basic check-ups and monitoring his wounds. I’m afraid visiting hours are over, too. However, you all are free to come back tomorrow! Midoriya-kun will be staying at the hospital for a while due to his… unique situation and his injuries from the villain attack. A young child his age shouldn’t have even been running around like that yesterday with wounds as serious as that.”

The doctor gave a friendly smile. “For now, may I please have,” she looked at her clipboard, “Yamada Hizashi to discuss payment?”

Yamada grabbed Izuku from the underpits and placed him on the chair he was sitting on, standing up and smiling. “Yes, of course.” The doctor motioned for the door, walking towards it as Yamada followed. He glanced behind for a moment, turning to the group. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Izuku felt that that was more targeted for him. The child hesitantly nodded in return.

Midnight ruffled his hair fondly, gaining his attention. “Oh right, Mido-chan, I haven’t told you my name yet, huh?”

Izuku nodded. “Midnight-san.” He had been calling her in his head.

Midnight smiled. “Ah, so you’re a fan of heroes!”

Izuku nodded vigorously, soft curls (that he now noticed had been cleaned from his earlier state) bouncing. He had a very one tracked mind, but that would soon change with age - much faster than he’d think, actually.

“Ahh, well my name’s Kayama Nemuri! But you can call me whatever you wa- OW!”

Aizawa had slammed his capture weapon into her side once again, eliciting a snort from Tensei. “Nemuri, he’s four.”

“Awh dang, I know! It just slipped! That’s how I always greet people!”

Izuku stiffened, digging through his mind as he searched for where he had heard that before.

“What’s your name, miss… miss-san?”

The woman laughed, throwing her head back and snorting. She wiped at non-existent tears, hand on her stomach before she looked down with a wide smile at the boy.

“Shimura Nana, but you can call me whatever you want - wait.”

His Mama.

And just like that once again, the child remembered - and he felt so damn stupid for forgetting about his dilemma even for a second again.

He was laughing happily with heroes in a hospital, while his family was… well, dead.

Mommy was dead, too, and he had forgotten that. He had forgotten of that detail even when her ghost was still in the same room as him. He shuddered, all happiness instantly getting sucked out of him once again. He didn’t cry this time, didn’t break into tears or yell or scream.

He just stared at the floor.

The three others noticed his sudden dullness, too.

Aizawa was the first to speak up.

“Kid? Hey kid,” he waved his hand in front of the boy’s face, snapping. Then he groaned. “Ugh, Nem, you are really bad with kids.”

“Nemuri, you broke him again!” Tensei shrilled, strangling his friend. “Every! Time! You! Talk!”

“Oh my god, Mido-chan, what did I do now? You can hit me if you want, I’m sorry bean.”

If the boy suddenly slouched more at the nickname, only he didn’t notice.

Nemuri continued on her tangent, while Aizawa tried at comforting the kid. Tensei just kept hitting Nemuri on the head. “And I’d do it again, bop bop!” Tensei shouted, trying to subtly lighten the mood with Nemuri’s pain. It worked for a moment, as Izuku glanced up, but it stopped as soon as it started.

The four year old, once seven, he counted, shook himself out of his stupor momentarily. He glanced at his momma, who was buzzing worriedly further away from the child so as to not scare him.

He could see ghosts.

He didn’t like it at all. It was scary and surreal, and he wanted to cower now that he realized the other beings that occasionally slipped through the walls. This was a hospital - of course it would have a lot of dead things.

But he could see ghosts .

Dead people.

And… And Mama and Papa weren’t alive .

Maybe he could find them and save them?

A foolish wish for a naive child, but he was young. Izuku could always try.

He blinked, looking up at the three adults. “A-Ah, sorry. Not your fault, not your fault.” He glanced at Tensei, giving a false smile. It looked eerily real. “No more bop bops, Ten…” He tried to say the name but found it difficult. “Tenten.”

The older boy stared down at the boy who sat on the chair before dropping Nemuri and cooing, jumping at the boy as he continued to screech, "Holy hel- heck, I wish Tenya was this cute fudgecakesss." Aizawa sighed and relaxed a bit more in his seat, throwing his arm around the chair Izuku was sitting on. Nemuri smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair - again - slouching in relief as she enthusiastically offered for Izuku to hit her. He kindly declined.

A few moments later and Yamada came back in, the doctor noticeably walking away in another direction.

“Hey guys! What happened here?”

“Nemuri’s stupid.” Tensei offered. Aizawa nodded in agreement.

Yamada didn’t question it.

He walked up to Izuku, who was staring at the man. “Hey little listener, the doctors are gonna run some tests on you to make sure you’re healthy, okay? They’ll be doing that for your stay here, and’ll be watching you to make sure your booboos heal, alrighty?”

Izuku hesitantly nodded.

“We gotta go now, Midoriya.”

“A-Are y-you gonna c-come bac-k?” Izuku looked up at the man.

Yamada paused before giving the boy a sad smile. “Of course, Midoriya.”

“Izuku.”

“Hmm?”

The child looked at the others before turning back to Yamada. “Uh, c-can you call m-me Izuku? M-Midoriya s-s-sounds weird.”

Afterall, he hadn’t heard that name for so long.

Yamada smiled before nodding. “Alrighty, Izuku.” The others made sounds of agreement.

Inko was crestfallen.

Izuku gave a small tilt of his lips before letting it fall.

“We’ll see you soon, okay?”

The child hummed quietly.

With that, the other three who were sitting stood, Nemuri and Tensei waving goodbyes with smiles on their faces before they walked out.

Izuku plastered a wide smile on his face. It lacked its shine.

Aizawa looked down at the boy, watching as he slowly made his way to his own hospital bed. “Are you gonna be okay, problem child?”

Izuku looked back at the man from his bed. “Yeah.” He gave a convincing grin that a four year old should not have the skill to have.

But he was technically seven, huh.

Aizawa nodded before patting the boy’s shoulder lightly and making his way out.

Yamada remained. “Bye, Izuku.”

Izuku blinked. 

Bye.

“See you soon, Tecchan-nii, Hana-nee,” Izuku whispered in the dead of night, wind from the open window blowing cooly on his back. “We’ll all be together again soon!”

Izuku smiled brightly, looking down at his older sibling’s sleeping frames. “So until then, wait for me, okay?”

Tecchan gave a light snore, shifting in his place.

Izuku grinned.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

And with that, Yamada walked out, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts and memories from nights before.

____________________

The next time Yamada visited Izuku, he had only brought Aizawa; his boyfriend, who insisted on coming along. Normally, Yamada wouldn’t visit victims frequently because there were far too many. But Izuku was different because it was his fault that the boy’s mother was dead.

The next time Yamada visited Izuku, the boy wasn’t the same. He didn’t put up as many smiles and he was quieter, more reserved.

That would be normal, seeing as his only other family member died. The boy was orphaned now - this they knew because his father had become unreachable. The father abandoned him.

So the boy would go to an orphanage after his hospital stay, where he would hopefully get adopted.

Except that would be harder.

“The boy is quirkless,” the doctor said before. “He has an extra toe-joint, and it seems the day of the accident, he had discovered this on his own. It is very peculiar. We were sure he had a quirk that brought him back from the dead, though I would say this is better for the boy.”

Yamada had questioned this. “Why is that?”

The doctor gave a small frown, whispering to the man. It was evident that she did not like the idea either. “A quirk as rare as that would probably be experimented on. In fact, I heard some calls coming in from the government about the situation - they wanted the boy brought to them.”

She huffed, leaning back from Yamada’s ear. “But that was before we found that he was quirkless.” She sucked in a breath, pressing a finger to her chin. “But it is very odd. The boy was dead for three hours!”

Yamada nodded, but said nothing else. The thought of experimentation on the boy disgusted him, but he would be lying if he said he didn't know this kind of thing was happening. He wasn't that stupid. He knew that the large variety of quirks always ended up attracting the government and Hero Commission's unwanted attention.

Yamada frequently visited with his boyfriend, trying to get through to Izuku. On some days, the boy would smile and laugh like normal. On others, he kept to himself.

____________________

It had been nearly two weeks since he had been brought to the hospital, nearly two weeks since he came back.

Izuku didn’t mind his mother’s ghost anymore much, but he still couldn’t really speak to her without feeling bad. So he didn’t. He knew he should, but he couldn’t. Not with the guilt of her death, not with the guilt he held for not remembering much of her. Her ghost floated close to him now, but she didn’t speak as much as she had before. He knew she wanted to say so much, but she didn’t. For that he was grateful.

But he was kind of scared, admittedly. If he had already forgotten his momma, what was stopping him from forgetting his family back then? Mama?

Yamada and Aizawa visited a lot now these days, and Izuku kind of felt bad for not having enough energy to speak with them a lot. On some days, he would push himself to try. On others, he was too emotionally drained to care.

He liked them a lot. More than he should, really. It made him feel guilty, for some reason, like he was betraying his parents.

Because to Izuku, they gave a natural parental vibe.

Some days, Nemuri and Tensei would come along, others they wouldn’t.

It had been two weeks since he came here.

Two weeks.

And on the fourteenth day, his stay was over.

Without another word, he was transported to an orphanage.

An orphanage.

And.

It.

Was.

The.

Same.

One.

Izuku broke down as soon as he got in, much to the displeasure of the receptionist, who had just discovered of his quirkless “disease.”

He wasn’t quirkless.

But he didn’t want others to know of this curse of a quirk.

The ghosts had been crowding around him ever since he accidentally apologized to one for bumping into them. They either tormented him or begged him to deliver messages to loved ones in the living world. He was four. He didn’t get what they meant.

So he ignored them.

As soon as the nice hospital people who drove him there left, the caretaker practically dragged the crying boy into one of the crammed bedrooms.

And.

It.

Was.

The.

Same.

Bedroom.

Izuku cried harder, causing some of the other orphaned kids to go and try to comfort him.

Izuku wasn’t only crying because he regretted leaving Tecchan and Hana at this orphanage.

He wasn’t only crying because he was here.

He was crying because he was abandoned again.

Every single person he takes a liking to leaves him eventually.

Mommy didn’t leave him even through death, but it sure felt like it - or rather, he might have left her. He couldn’t talk to her because he was scared that she would leave, too.

He sat crumbled on the floor, a handful of kids surrounding him and patting his back comfortingly. He sat on his knees, body bent over his legs as he cried, forehead smashed stubbornly to the ground.

Izuku turned his head, ear now pressed to the ground instead. He looked at his ghost of a mother, her eyes scrunched in worry but lips pursed and shaking, like she wanted to speak but knew he would react poorly. 

And if ghosts could cry, Izuku knew that his mother was crying.

Regardless of if she would leave or not, he opened his mouth, throat cracking through his tears. 

“M-mommy, s-s-s-s-sorry, momma.”

And Inko choked on her voice, going forward regardless of how she felt Izuku would react just so that she could comfort her baby boy.

The kids around him thought he was still stricken with loss, so they questioned nothing.

Eventually, his cries died down from exhaustion. His eyes puffed, but that was nothing new these days.

He sniffled tiredly, looking around the familiar room he had been in only weeks before. Izuku looked at the kids surrounding him, some on beds, others surrounding him. 

“S-Sorry,” he croaked, wiping at his nose with his forearm. “T-Thanks.”

A boy with dark brown hair smiled at him, and he looked to be around six or seven. “No biggie, greenie! We’ve all been there.”

Izuku hummed, too tired to come up with a response.

The boy and others joined in, saying semi-comforting things and spilling jokes. Izuku didn’t have the energy to laugh.

“Oh yeah!” The energetic boy said, turning back to Izuku, who now sat up. “What’s your quirk, greenie?”

An inevitable question.

Izuku looked to his mother once again, meeting eyes with her. She gave a smile.

He looked back to the boy dejectedly.

“Quirkless.”

And just like that, those who were being nice to Izuku blanched. All traces of smiles vanished, and the energetic kid stood with disgust written on his face.

“Quirkless?! I wasted my time on trash like you?!”

The others around him started to murmur agreements.

Izuku stared blankly at him. No sadness, no grief.

He felt numb to it.

He didn’t stutter this time. He didn’t bat an eye, because he remembered how people treated the quirkless in this timeline. It was much worse than before.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The boy shoved him down with his foot, and Izuku laid flat on the ground, back to the ground and eyes to the ceiling. His mother gave a worried shout, but he paid it no heed.

“Trash like you belongs in this dump.”

Mama looked back at the three, eyes narrowed with disgust as she opened the door to the orphanage.

“... it’s your fault.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Izuku stayed down as the others made their way back to their assigned beds.

____________________

The rest of the night wasn’t pleasant, to say the least.

The other orphans tormented Izuku, going out of their way to make his stay a living nightmare.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He felt numb.

He responded to his mother now - not as much as he could have, but enough. Izuku could tell that his momma was happier.

If he was going to be honest, Izuku felt better knowing that she was there for him, too.

“Izuku, are you okay?” Inko asked, circling around Izuku - she had discovered not too long ago that she could change her appearance some. She decided to lose the blood and the bashed in skull. Izuku was glad.

He nodded. Right now, he was on his bed, staring out the window and into the moonlight.

And.

It.

Was.

The.

Same.

Bed.

“I’m fine, momma.” He whispered, sitting with his knees held close to his chest, arms wrapping around them as he buried his head in between. “I’m fine.”

“Shut up, freak!” The brown haired boy, Akira, shouted from the bed next to him, throwing a pillow at the boy’s sitting frame.

That.

Was.

Tecchan’s.

Bed.

Izuku pursed his lips, burying his head further into his knees as he scooted into the far corner of the bed, his side at the wall.

He stayed silent.

Momma stayed silent, too, instead taking to leaning against Izuku. She was light, and she was cold. So, so very cold, but Izuku seeked some form of comfort.

Plus, he was growing used to his quirk, growing used to the cold that followed.

Momma could only touch him and nothing else. All ghosts could touch him and nothing else. But Izuku found that if he really tried, if he was really desperate, he could make them stop touching him.

But that only happened once, when he was focused on using Sato Hayame.

Izuku didn’t mind right now, though, because the boy needed his mother.

Needed the feeling that he wasn’t alone in this dull orphanage.

He didn’t feel alone when Yamada and Aizawa came to visit, didn’t feel alone when Nemuri and Tensei came to crack jokes and laugh.

But then again, they were just like anyone else, right?

Like Mama and Papa, or Tecchan and Hana. 

Like Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Torino. 

Like Uncle Haru and Nao-chan.

They were just like anyone else.

Everyone always left them.

They were no exception.

Izuku fell asleep leaning on the molding wall in that dark corner with nothing but the dead.

There were no exceptions.

____________________

Shinsou Hitoshi watched as Akira and the others bullied the new kid.

He watched with a dull look.

Some part of him that was still there told him to go help the boy, to go defend him.

He pushed that side of him away.

That side of him was dead.

That side of him had been killed as soon as he turned four.

As soon as he got his quirk.

He watched with dull eyes as the boy, Midoriya Izuku, had been beaten down by cruel words.

Shinsou Hitoshi felt disgusted with himself, because that voice in his head told him, “better him than me.”

And Shinsou agreed. He knew that it wouldn’t last very long, but he agreed.

He turned his back on the boy, and every remaining heroic cell in his body screamed at him to go back.

He didn’t.

Afterall, he was nothing more than a villain, right?

____________________

So it turns out that Yamada and Aizawa were exceptions.

There the two stood at the doorway of the bedroom, staring into the room and searching for the boy.

It was morning time now, and Izuku had woken up hours before.

You can’t really sleep when the image of your Mama’s scattered skull is embedded beneath closed lids.

So yeah, he just… sat on his bed the rest of the morning as his momma floated idly by somewhere.

The others in the room straightened, batting their lashes at the two as they normally would when possible parents would chose their adoptive kids. It was sad, to say the least.

Izuku blinked at the two with a straight face, not yet being able to process their presence as one walked closer and closer. The kids who they passed noticeably deflated, but continued on their normal routine, obviously used to the rejection.

Yamada smiled as he walked closer to the orphan, Aizawa staying at the doorway as he hid a rare smile in his scarf.

Now they were face to face, Izuku looking up with dark circles at the man who stood at the foot of his bed. He barely processed the sounds of disgust coming from the others in the room.

Yamada grinned down at the boy, sticking out a hand for the boy to grab. 

“You took a real long time to find, little listener.” Yamada chuckled, shaking his hand in the air in emphasis for the boy.

Izuku stared at the hand before looking back up at the hero and then down again, eyes wide in realization. Yamada was here.

Silently he glanced up again.

He was met with a pearl white smile.

“Let’s go home, Izuku.”

“H-Home?”

“Yeah.”

Izuku hesitantly reached his hand out and grabbed the man’s own.

“Home.”

And Yamada lifted the boy from the bed, placing his feet down lightly on the ground before connecting their hands again. The two walked together down the beds of children, reaching the door. Izuku ignored the jeers and sneers of the other children.

Aizawa placed his hand on the boy’s green bundle firmly, giving it a shake. Izuku looked up at the man, hand still on his head.

“Welcome to the family, problem child.”

For the first time in that orphanage, Izuku gave a smile.

Aizawa Izuku left that familiar room, and that familiar orphanage hand in hand with his new caretakers.

Hopefully this time he wouldn’t kill them.

He knows he said this before...

But he'd give it one last shot.

Izuku wasn't totally joining their family, he reasurred himself. He wasn't abandoning Mama and Papa, and Tecchan and Hana just as they did to him. He was just gonna follow them back to their house.

He wasn't gonna say those three cursed words, so that meant he wasn't gonna be their family, right? That's what families say, right?

He looked up at the two, watching with no objections as Aizawa held his other hand.

Right then he knew that he was lying to himself.

____________________

Inko watched with happy tears in her eyes as she watched her son walk away with a new family.

With a smile, she laughed from that corner in the room on that bed where Izuku had sat with her.

Where Izuku talked with her.

It was more than she could ask for. She had another chance to apologize, had another chance to tell him she loved him.

When she found of his quirklessness, that day at the doctor, she felt sad. Not because she hated the fact that he was quirkless, but because she felt grief. 

Her son had already looked so much like that boy she had met all those years ago.

That boy who had died not even a day after she had met him.

Shimura Izuku.

Her baby boy’s godfather.

Shimura Izuku had been her best friend, even though they had only met for a day. That boy was quirkless too, just as her son was. 

Inko saw the news that day, she knew what happened. How he died. She could only watch with tears in her eyes as she had stared at the screen, wondering, “Mommy, if w-we had let Izuku stay last night, w-would he still be here?”

Her mother had only pulled her into a hug, crying.

Now Inko could only watch just as she had that day. But this time, she didn’t feel sorrow, didn’t feel pain or loss.

She felt happy for her child, who conversed with her even through death. With a quirk like that, he could be a hero. She knew it.

“Thank you… thank you,” she whispered to the two men who were long gone.

“Thank you…”

And with that, Midoriya Inko passed on into the afterlife.

____________________

Shuzenji Chiyo sighed in her infirmary, watching as the same student walked in with another set of injuries.

“Again, child?” She started in exasperation, patting the bed beside her and motioning for him to come sit.

The boy rubbed his neck bashfully, nodding as he made his way to the bed and sat down. “Sorry, Recovery Girl.”

Chiyo nodded, waving the boy off as she pulled a few support item treats out of her hero costume.

“Yes, yes. Here, take some gummies.”

She had gotten rid of the skittles a long time ago.

Chapter Text

“Let’s go home, Izuku.”

Everyone watched from their bunks, saw as the quirkless boy got adopted not even a full day after being sent to this hell hole. They deflated in their beds, groaning and sending words of jealousy. 

Shinsou Hitoshi only watched with dulled eyes as the two walked down the aisle, sitting up on his bed with a thin blanket covering his skinny legs. He stared in silence as they walked past him, eye bags weighing his face down.

The other man at the doorway patted Midoriya’s head with a lilt of his lips.

“Welcome to the family, problem child.”

He tore his eyes away lamely as they walked out, instead sliding his body into the bed and throwing the thin comforters over his head.

A family.

The door to the room shut and the voices of the frustrated grew louder. Shinsou breathed quietly, suffocating in the tight space underneath his blanket. He blinked, huddling closer as he stared at the dirty sheets on top of him with hot breath.

He craved for the love of a family, for the warmth that he had felt before that dreaded day. 

That day he turned four.

“Hey, villain!” Akira shouted. “Seems like our little greenie is gone. Up for some fun ?”

The crack of a knuckle.

Shinsou closed his eyes slowly.

The heavy stomps of a child’s approaching footsteps.

He huffed, laying in stiff silence as he awaited the pain to come.

The swoosh of a hand, the loud smack that came upon contact.

Shinsou Hitoshi had grown numb to it all in these seemingly long couple of weeks.

A family was all he wanted now.

But that was more than what a villain could ask for, wasn’t it.

____________________

“Here’s your room,” Aizawa said lamely as he threw the door open.

It was filled with junk.

Izuku stepped in and avoided the many papers and boxes that littered the floor, only nodding.

Yamada scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, awkward little laughs spilling out his mouth. Izuku turned toward him. 

“Ahh, yeah, sorry little listener. We didn’t really plan this whole thing out.” 

It was true; the moment they had heard Izuku had been sent to some random orphanage, they searched day and night for the boy. The whole adoption process was put out on a whim, and Aizawa was kind of surprised they’d let nineteen year olds take such a huge responsibility. Usually the government would make possible parents go under a test to see if they were capable enough to take care of a kid. It was probably due to their careers as pro heroes that had helped them out, though. 

Or maybe it was the fact that the kid they were taking in was quirkless.

The room they dubbed as Izuku’s was just an extra room in the quaint house, which had three bedrooms (two of which were empty, as Aizawa and Yamada typically shared one), two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. It also had an attic and a basement, but no one went there. One of the empty rooms just became Nemuri’s room whenever she’d visit, or Tensei’s if he’d ever decide to crash. The one they were giving Izuku was the other room, where Aizawa would lazily keep all of his paperwork.

“We’ll just have to start cleaning!” Yamada shouted loudly, lowering it a notch when he saw Izuku jump.

Aizawa groaned, inching his way toward the door.

“Hey! This is your mess, so you’re gonna help, too!” Yamada exclaimed, grabbing his boyfriend by the back of his capture gear and dragging him toward the mess. Aizawa complied, albeit reluctantly.

Turning to Izuku who stood in the center quietly watching the exchange, Aizawa cleated his throat. “You don’t have to pitch in, kid. Go explore the house or something, I’m sure the cats would like to meet you.”

Said cats began to trickle in, the two furry creatures slowly making their ways to Izuku. The boy crouched down silently and began petting them, watching as they purred before glancing back up at the heroes.

“It's 'kay, A’zawa. I can help, too!”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow and Yamada just blinked.

“I wanna,” Izuku insisted, eyes hidden naturally behind curly bangs as he leaned to pet his company. One of the cats, a grey chartreux, rubbed against the boy’s bare leg, the other against his hand. A hand rest lightly against the animal. “Mama said I should always help when I can.”

A second passed before a large hand fell on the boy’s head, its body now crouched beside his own. Izuku raised his head to meet the man.

Aizawa sat beside him, ruffling the child’s hair as he hid his face beneath a thick white. He hummed. 

“Okay then, let’s get started, problem child,” Aizawa mumbled as he grabbed the boy by his underarms and lifted him up, cuddling him to his chest.

Izuku smiled gently before letting his head hit Aizawa’s shoulder. “Mmmhm.”

Yamada stood silently at the doorway.

____________________

It took an hour or two, but the three eventually finished emptying the room of its overdue paperwork and whatnot. Yamada and Aizawa did most of the work, seeing as they could carry more and they didn’t really want Izuku ripping any scarring injuries open, but the boy did what he could.

So yeah.

The room was empty, completely stripped of any inanimate object. Sorted boxes and trashbags sat outside the door, where the two cats - Mochi and Noir - clawed happily at the plastic. Aizawa shooed them away.

“This room looks dead.”

“Like your soul, Shou!”

“Sure let's go with that.”

Yamada turned to Izuku, who stared at the barren room in contemplation. “Got any ideas for your room, little listener? We’ll go buy them afterwards.”

The boy tilted his head towards the man, looking up at the taller figure. He tilted his head. “I- uh, I t-think I h-have stuff at ho-home? W-We won’t have to buy anything, I ca-can just m-move my ro-room over h-here, Yama.”

He’d get rid of the stutter eventually.

Yamada nodded hesitantly. He didn’t know what was being done to the Midoriyas’ old apartment - someone may have moved in and eradicated all the stuff already, though it was highly unlikely.

The pro smiled lightly down at the child. “Yeah, okay Izu, we can do that.” He looked at Aizawa. ”Let’s gooooo !”

Izuku gave a wide smile but Yamada could tell, no matter how convincing it looked, it was fake and clapped his tiny hands together. “Mmm!”

Aizawa bent down and swiftly scooped the child up into his arms, to which Izuku responded by wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and resting his chin on his shoulder. Aizawa turned to follow his husband, who was walking backwards towards the door, watching the encounter with a small smile on his face.

Said man tripped upon reaching the exit to the room, landing on his back with an, “ omph !” on a series of shredded paper and plastic.

The cats seemed to laugh mockingly at their owner, who lay in the middle of their masterpiece.

Yamada groaned, lifting his head and throwing an accusatory glare at the felines before flopping back down on the ground, defeated.

Aizawa snorted and Izuku shifted in the man’s arms, head turning towards the loud hero. The boy let out a childish gasp, twisting his body towards the man. “Yama, you okay?”

Yamada lifted his arm and gave a quick thumbs up, moaning dramatically, before dropping it back down to his side. He pushed himself up, using his feet to propel himself into a sitting position. He sighed.

“Okay, change of plans. Shou, you take the listener and get his stuff. I need tah clean this mess.” He threw another look at the cats. “Might as well sort through the papers, too.”

Aizawa nodded, adjusting his hold on the boy.

So yeah.

Again .

Here they were at the Midoriyas’ old apartment (which thankfully still contained all of the stuff inside).

Aizawa lifted Izuku from his seat in the car, kicking the door open and setting him down on the ground and turning to give the taxi driver his payment from the opened window. With that the man drove away.

Aizawa offered the boy his hand and Izuku grabbed it with ease, pulling the man towards the door he remembered from all those years ago.

The building was back.

It wasn’t missing.

What was missing, however, was his mother.

Inko’s ghost was gone, ever since Izuku had left the orphanage. The child had peeked around corners, glared at the cracks in the floor and stared heavenward always expecting to see a ghost hovering around his frame. Sometimes, he'd swear he'd seen her, but it always turned out to be a lingering ghost.

Sometimes, Izuku would see himself as a ghost, his arms in front of him transparent and splattered with a familiar red. Sometimes, he would feel lighter, would look to the ground and see himself hovering a few inches above the floor.

Then he’d blink and his skin would be solid.

He’d blink and his feet would be touching the floor.

He wasn't sure if it was part of his quirk. No one around him took notice of his translucent hallucinations - it’d happen even when he was talking to Aizawa and Yamada and both adults wouldn’t bat an eye.

He didn’t feel like it was part of his quirk, anyway.

Though, that didn’t matter to the boy for now, because he was too caught up searching for his mother.

She stuck with him. She wouldn’t leave him like the others did to him, like he did to others, so surely she wasn’t totally gone.

Right?

Apartment 601.

Izuku stood in front of the tall dark green door hand in hand with Aizawa. Surely, with how he couldn’t find his momma anywhere else, she would be here, right? She would have come home, right?

He hadn’t really liked his mother’s presence in the first couple of days he had that power, but he had grown use to it and had even enjoyed the company. He wasn’t alone.

Now with her gone, Izuku realized just how much his momma’s absence affected him. He had seen his Mama’s death, had been there to hold her freshly dead body.

Maybe momma was his coping mechanism.

“You good, kid?” Aizawa questioned, noticing the boy’s daze.

Izuku blinked. “Huh? U-Uh, yeah, mhm.”

“Is this the room?” He checked his phone over, eyes skimming over the address.

Izuku hummed, nodding shortly.

Aizawa let out a breath, squeezing the boy’s hand lightly. “Need a minute, kid?”

“U-Umm, no. It’s fine, I can just go in right now.” Izuku tilted his head to look at the older.

He didn’t question it. If the kid wanted to go in, then they would go in. Letting go of Izuku’s hand, Aizawa stuck his hand into his pocket and fumbled with the keys he had gotten after talking to the land owner a short while ago. He stuck the key into the hole and turned it, hearing the familiar click of a lock.

He twisted the knob and they were in.

Izuku looked around upon entering the vaguely familiar space, eyes exploring the room as if testing what they remembered.

Not much, apparently.

He parted with Aizawa as soon as he entered the room, feet moving on their own as his head whipped around corners, hands throwing doors open as he searched for his momma.

A quick search through the apartment and it was evident that she wasn’t there.

“Oh.”

Oh.

He returned to his guardian’s side, who was watching the boy with a quiet gaze, eyebrow lifted in question.

Izuku plastered a smile on his face, looking up to the man from his short height on the ground.  “Everything looks the same!” He excused.

Aizawa nodded and said nothing else on the matter. “Where’s your room, kid? We’ll pack your stuff up and anything else you want to keep.”

Izuku tugged on the man’s sleeve and let his legs guide him towards the room that was once his own. An All Might sign hung brightly on the door, his name scribbled neatly in the middle by his mother in sharpie.

With his other free hand, Izuku twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

It was a literal All Might shrine in there.

At least ten All Might posters hung on the walls, All Might figurines messily propped on All Might themed dressers. The comforters on his bed were filled by the hero’s signature colors; blue, red, yellow and white. A blue rug lay on the floor, outlined by a layer of white.

Izuku let a smile fall on his face as he let go of Aizawa’s sleeve and bounced into the room, excitedly looking around. It had been so long since he had seen so much All Might merch in one place - at the hospital, he would see clips and scenes regularly, but it was nice to see something that belonged to him.

“Woah-a! Look, A’zawa! So many things !”

He didn’t process the small groan that left the man’s mouth, or the fingers that went up to pinch the bridge of Aizawa’s nose. “Problem child,” he sighed with a small hint of fondness. His eyes burned from the amount of color and All Might in the room, but if it made the boy happy, he’d bare with it.

Izuku twirled in his spot, body twisting to meet Aizawa’s. He let out a small giggle, a real smile. 

“All Might’s so cool !” He shouted, nearly hopping over to Aizawa’s side.

The man huffed and nodded his head once again, putting a hand on the boy and humming. “Mhm, I’m sure he is, kid. Let’s get all this stuff packed now, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Again, it took longer than it should have (mostly because the stoic hero kept looking through many baby albums of Izuku when he was younger), but they managed to strip the room of its belongings and place them in multiple boxes Aizawa had found unfolded in a shoe closet. They’d call for a moving truck and load them up to take to the house, Aizawa had said. The furniture was still in its place, but Aizawa had also said they’d move that to his their house, too.

“Alright, problem child, we’ve got everything here. Got anything else you want to pack?”

Izuku lifted a hand to his hair, twirling a curly strand with his finger. “I, uh.. I don’t r-remember? I’mma go check!” He gave a little smile.

Without another word, Izuku ran out of his now dull room and searched the otherwise normal apartment. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was disappointed when he found that his mother wouldn’t pass through a wall he’d discreetly whisper at.

Baby albums and family photos stacked together in Izuku’s arms, as well as random toys and old drawings lying around the house.

He looked under the couch, where his mother sat with him watching his favorite shows featuring All Might (or at least, All Might impersonators), munching on popcorn under a shared blanket. He found a necklace. He added it to the pile in his arms.

He looked over shelves that picture frames sat upon, a pair of a once happy family sitting atop it. He added that to the pile in his arms.

After doing a thorough search for hero figurines in the main room, Izuku decided it was time to search the only other bedroom in the cozy apartment; his mother’s room. 

The door had been left open in Izuku’s previous search for the ghost, a small crack between the wall and itself. Distantly in another room, he heard Aizawa calling for a moving truck.

He walked in, leg kicking the door open a little more as he scanned the room a second time. It looked the same as it always had; like it did that day they left for the doctor. The bed was messily made, a result of Izuku’s previous excitement in finding his quirk. He had a quirk now - it just took three years, or a few hours to the others, to activate.

The bed looked welcoming to Izuku, very vague memories of sleepless nights where he would crawl into the comforters beside his momma when his room became too confining. Izuku wobbled over to it, dropping his chosen belongings to the side in favor of crawling atop the bed.

It was soft.

Izuku just now realized how much he missed his birth mother over the last few years.

The sheets below him were thinner than how they were before, a preparation his momma had taken for the hot weather in summer.

She wouldn’t need to worry about the heat anymore.

He flopped down on the bed, feet kicking over the ledge as his back met with the mattress. His hands fisted at the fabric below, taking in the coldness of the untouched. Izuku sighed and pushed back the oncoming tears.

He didn’t need those right now.

After a while of basking in the deafening silence, sans Aizawa’s distant movement in the background, Izuku kicked himself up into a sitting position, eyes scanning the room more as his feet stilled. The mattress sucked him in.

His pile of belongings sat on the corner of the bed, slightly dipping to the side because of the texture of where it sat. Izuku jumped down, socked toes making contact with the fuzzy carpet. He looked around getting to work, grabbing at pretty much anything and everything in the room and adding it to his growing pile.

Then at the bedside table he saw a small photo, framed and propped up with a stand.

He walked closer until it was at an arm's length.

Izuku crouched down slightly (albeit not that much with his short height), eyes meeting the image.

There in the photo sat two sleeping children strapped to a car seat, heads clashing together as gravity pulled them down.

Both children had green hair.

Both children looked to be around their mid-decades, maybe a bit older than five or six.

Both children looked familiar to Izuku.

Because one was him.

The other was Aka-chan.

Akatani Inko.

Midoriya Inko.

With shaky, hesitant hands and near watering eyes, Izuku grabbed the picture frame. His hands traced along the edges of the photo as if drinking in the view, and recalling the memories.

Aka-chan had been his momma.

He turned the frame over and unlatched the door that allowed the picture in, and sure enough there was writing scribbled across the white behind the photo.

“To Shimura Izuku,” it wrote messily in a child’s handwriting. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry we didn’t let you stay. We should have walked you home.”

It occurred to Izuku how wavy the paper was, splotches and circles crumbled miscellaneously around the picture. It was dried tears. The white was edged with a dull yellow, tortured by old age, but even then it had looked otherwise well kept.

Below that message, another one lay, this time in neater handwriting.

“Zuzu! We just had a baby! I know you’re watching from somewhere, so I’ll just tell you that it’s a boy. We’re naming him after you; Midoriya Izuku. You aren’t here to approve, but will you be his godfather?” 

Of course, there was no written response.

Shimura Izuku was dead.

Midoriya Inko was dead.

He was dead.

Momma was dead.

A deafening silence rang in his ears, but even then he could hear the loud static that clouded his senses. He looked down.

He was bloody once again, his side torn apart and the scars that had scabbed over were now a blistering red. His arms were a colorless see through, shining yet dull, but the blood on his figure stood out on pale skin.

The picture frame was gone.

The bedroom blurred into a scene that had haunted his dreams over the past few weeks.

He sat in the middle of the rubble, phantom pains that weren’t so phantom anymore shooting up his body.

A weight fell on his lap, and a sickening feeling rose up his chest.

He knew where he was now.

“I-I love you, green pea.”

Izuku looked hellward and sure enough, his Mama’s crushed head lay amongst his legs. With wide eyes he scanned her torn frame before a noise above caught his attention. He whipped his head up and his eyes met that monster’s own.

“So you had a third, Shimura.”

It happened faster than before - faster than the real events and faster than what his dreams portrayed, but he still did the same as he did the last.

He’d always do the same for his Mama.

His body shot down to shield his Mama from a shaking impact, covering the already dead body her frame with his own.

His mouth opened to yell - something that hadn’t happened before - and a deafening scream came out. He huddled over her, waiting for that familiar pain to come.

But before then, he blinked and he was back in a four year old’s body.

He blinked and he was solid again, just like before.

He blinked and the wounds were scarred over, the pain still there but not as prominent as before.

A crash fell to the floor, glass breaking and scattering. A door was kicked open, heavy footsteps following, but Izuku only stood in his spot, loud tears dripping down his face.

“Izuku!” Aizawa shouted.

The boy had his back turned to the man. His head slowly made its way down to the ground where he saw the shattered frame.

He bent down to pick it up, the pain of glass shards cutting through soft skin not apparent to the child.

The frame was smacked away from his grasp only a moment later, and Izuku noticed Aizawa crouched down beside him with a panicked expression on his face.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?! Don-”

“I w-want the picture.” Izuku whispered with an edge he didn’t know he had, pain soaring down his cheeks as hiccupped sobs began to vibrate through his throat. “G-Gimme the picture !”

The boy’s eyes traveled to his guardian’s own with a leveled glare before it softened guiltily at the devastated look on Aizawa’s face.

“.. please,” he added.

The man just shook his head, long strands of hair covering part of his face as he set the broken object to the side.

Izuku was about to protest before he saw the blood trickling down Aizawa’s hand.

The four, maybe seven, year old burst out into a louder series of cries. Muttered apologies echoed through the room, loud sobs covering them with ease.

Aizawa sighed, slowly reaching over to take Izuku’s injured hands as he slipped his phone into a pocket. With careful hands, he pulled stubborn glass out of the boy’s hands. He was partially surprised when Izuku made no noise of acknowledgement at the removal. The boy just continued to cry.

Aizawa’s hands hovered awkwardly above the child, not knowing what to do. He always had a soft spot for younger kids, but he wasn’t very good at comforting them. Eventually he settled for placing his hand - scraped, but not too bloody - onto Izuku’s head, giving it a little rub.

“It’s fine, Izuku.” Aizawa murmured softly, petting the boy’s hair. “Just.. just don’t go grabbing glass. Nearly gave me a heart attack, kid.”

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Izuku hiccuped through tears, “sorry, sorry.”

They stared there for a while waiting for Izuku’s cries to die down. When it did a considerable amount, Aizawa picked the child up along with the shattered picture frame after shaking the glass off. Izuku took it and hugged it with his arm, the other draped around Aizawa’s shoulder.

They left the room without Izuku’s other belongings.

It was fine. They’d get it later.

The two made their way outside, where they were greeted by a small moving truck. Apparently the company ran with a driver dropping the vehicle outside the designated area. If you needed movers, you’d need to pay extra and Aizawa hadn’t wanted to waste that money.

So Aizawa placed Izuku in the passenger’s seat, rolling the window down a bit and turning the air conditioner on. The man told him to stay, telling him he’d be back. He would go back to load the furniture and boxes into the truck.

Just as the hobo hero was about to close the door, he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to Izuku, who stared down at him with irritated eyes.

“Y-You’re c-c-oming back, ri-right?”

Aizawa blinked before grabbing Izuku’s hand and softly putting it back down on the boy’s lap.

“Of course.” Aizawa raised his hand, pinky held high for the boy to take. “Promise.”

“I’ll call you over again, hmm? We can have playdates! You can meet nii-chan and nee-chan! And Toshi and Nao-nii!”

Inko laughed, blearily reaching down from her seat in the car to tug at one of Izuku’s curls gently. “Promise?”

“Yeah, pinky promise!”

Their pinkies had intertwined back then.

That promise had never come true.

Izuku didn’t take the finger this time. Instead, he gave a weak smile and a small nod as a dismissal. Reluctantly, Aizawa lowered his hand and turned, deciding not to push.

Izuku’s smile fell as soon as the man’s back was to him. He slouched in his seat in silence, hugging the broken frame in his arms.

It took a few minutes - maybe half an hour - before Aizawa had been done loading everything in. Throughout the wait, Izuku drifted between his sleep, waking from constant flashbacks of violence or memories that’d he miss, memories of a once happy family. It’d bring him to tears, his mind wandering.

“This is your fault.” The voice in his head taunted. “They’re dead because of you. They’re not together anymore because of you.”

He knew.

“You shouldn’t have stayed with them. You should have ran.”

He should have ran.

“It’s all your fault.”

He hugged the picture to his chest, bringing his legs up and hugging them. He rested his head on his knees. “I know,” he whispered.

He knew.

The car shook with the impact of the trunk slamming shut. Izuku quickly shoved his feet back down, hurriedly wiping at his eyes and trying to play it off as a sleepy act. The door beside him opened and in came Aizawa.

He didn’t suspect a thing.

“Sleepy, kid?” He said, closing the door beside him and turning the key to start the engine.

Izuku faked a yawn, surprised at how convincing it sounded. “Uh-huh.”

“We’ll be home soon. You’ll have to sleep in a different room, though. Couldn’t fit the bed in the car. It’s fine, we’ll just buy a new one. Yours looked like it was tearing, anyway.”

Izuku hummed in response and the car began to drive without another word. The two sat in silence.

Halfway through, Izuku broke it.

“.. A-Are you and Y-Yama my da-daddys' n-now?”

The car nearly crashed into a pole. Aizawa played it off coolly.

“Uhhh…”

Totally cool.

“A-Ah, I’m s-sorry, you don’t ha-have to answer, I was just..”

His mommy was gone - to where, Izuku didn’t know. Mama and Papa were dead, too. Daddy hadn’t really ever been in his life.

He was orphaned.

Maybe it was better that way. No more death. 

He seemed to be cursed.

“I.. Yeah, kid. If you want us to, we’ll be that for you.”

But Izuku was selfish in an innocent way.

He had many families.

He had lost those families but he’d get them back if it was the last thing he did.

He had lost those precious people and cluelessly, he had been wanting to fill that emptying void in his chest.

So Izuku smiled a small smile at the man who had been staring too intently at the road.

“D-Daddy?” He tested, fingers twiddling with the frame in his hand, the faces of two ghosts looming up at him.

Aizawa couldn’t keep avoiding Izuku’s gaze after that. He took a look at the boy and hid his mouth in his capture gear. 

“Yeah, problem child.”

Izuku’s heart lurched in his chest, and Izuku told himself that it was from glee rather than the guilt that was clawing at his throat.

Guilt, because he knew now that as soon as the man had accepted that role, he was plagued with Izuku’s curse.

All his parents died.

All his parents died, or left him.

Maybe this time he’d be able to stop that. This time he wouldn’t allow his family to die at the hands of villains, though that would probably prove harder now that they were pro heroes.

He’d just have to work harder.

A lot harder.

Aizawa looked back to the road, cheeks red. Izuku’s gaze went to his lap, a mixture of determination and grief hidden behind his hair. Since that time, he had started calling Aizawa his father.

A week later, Izuku had his own bed again.

A week later, Izuku had a room plagued with All Might merch.

A week later, Izuku had a family again (and he wouldn’t allow this one to fail).

A month later, Izuku called Yamada Papa.

Guilt had rose in his chest once again, but it vanished upon seeing the man’s joy filled expression. Papa wouldn’t be replaced, they’d just share the same title is all. The man had always spouted things like, “sharing is caring,” anyway. He wouldn’t mind, right? When Izuku finds him, he'd ask.

That month later, the four maybe seven year old cuddled between his parents on the couch as they watched a movie, all three draped under a thick blanket.

“Want some popcorn, little listener?”

Izuku gave a smile. “Yes please, Papa!”

He grabbed the entire bowl from Yamada’s lap and dug in.

“Hey!” The loud hero shouted, whining playfully as he looked over Izuku to turn to his boyfriend. “Shouuu, Izu stole my popcorn!”

Aizawa grinned, grabbing some of the popcorn from the bowl on Izuku’s lap and popping it into his mouth as Yamada watched.

And Izuku laughed a real laugh, gave a real smile.

He wouldn’t forget his family from before. Wouldn’t forget Tecchan and Hana, or Mama and Papa. He wouldn’t forget Toshinori and Naomasa, or Auntie Chiyo and Uncle Torino, or Uncle Haruta and momma.

He’d just appreciate the two new precious people he had been blessed with. Just for a while. He'd try not to get too attached, though he knew he was already failing horribly.

Yamada dramatically flopped over Izuku, yelling a loud, “Woe is me!”

Izuku guffawed before giggling to himself.

He wouldn’t ever say it, for this was the activation to his curse..

But he loved those two just as he had loved his own from before.

The front door slammed open, the jingle of keys following suit. Two familiar people walked in chaotically, arms swinging and mouths running loud.

"Movie time without us? Sounds like shit!" Tensei shouted, Nemuri's arm wrapped drunkenly around his shoulder.

"POOPY WORD, TENTEN."

"SORRY."

He was already as attached to these people as he could be. He knew it was bad, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret his decision.

He was plagued with hidden guilt, but he could not regret a thing.

Chapter Text

“Marry me,” Aizawa said, accepting the coffee from his boyfriend with grace before chugging half of its contents down and slamming it on the table akin to how one would a shot glass.

Yamada, who was half way into giving Izuku his orange juice, froze. Slowly he returned his gaze to Aizawa. “W-What was that, babe?”

Izuku, now six maybe nine, decided to grab the drink from his papa’s hands by himself. The man didn’t complain.

“Ugh, come on Zashi, you know I don’t like repeating myself.” Aizawa groaned, hiding the faint blush on his face by lightly slamming his head down on the breakfast table, coffee mug in hand as per usual.

“Shooouuuu, I didn’t hear you right, say it again!” Yamada whined, checking to see if his hearing aids were turned off. He could hear fairly well without them, but wearing them increased his hearing by a lot.

Sighing, the coffee addict slung back up in his seat and looked at his boyfriend with a pointed look. “Marry me, you loud mouthed basta-”

“YEEEEESSSSS!” Yamada interuptted, happy tears erupting from his eyes, and even Aizawa’s blush heated glare could not silence the man. It wasn’t a fancy proposal, for Aizawa was not a fancy man.

“I could just,” he reached over and grabbed his fiance’s face, said fiance hurriedly pushing his coffee to a safe place. A wet kiss on the lips emphasised with an audible mwah!, “ kiss you right now!”

Either way, Aizawa didn’t object.

The tired hobo lightly head bumped Yamada off of him, reaching over to his pocket and grabbing a necklace with an engagement ring attached.

Aizawa shoved the piece of jewelry at his lover. “Here.”

The blush on his cheeks betrayed his forced deadpan.

“AAAWWWEEE, SHOUTAAA YOU DIDN’T HAVE TOOOO-”

A bop to the head and Yamada quieted down.

“Papa! We have neighbors!” Izuku whispered aggressively.

The man hushed himself, finger pushed against his lips for the child's giggling delight. "Sorry, Zuzu."

Aizawa sighed. “Not even a minute in and I’m already regretting my decision.”  He took a swig at his black coffee and stuffed part of his egg into his mouth.

The words held no truth, of course, nor had they held any malice or disgust. After many years of knowing Aizawa, Yamada knew this. The blonde laughed. “Oh hush, you love me.”

“Eat your damn food, Zashi.”

“Daddy! What’d I say a-about potty words!”

Yamada laughed once more at the encounter, Izuku looking over at his second papa with a stern look. Yamada only smiled innocently and stuffed a pancake into his mouth.

The rest of breakfast goes by as normal, with Yamada being clingier than usual and Aizawa being a bit more quiet - a good kind of quiet, with lots of hiding beneath his scarf and rosy red cheeks.

And Izuku, the six maybe nine year old, is as childishly curious as always.

“Now that Papa and Daddy are married, do I get a sister? Or a brother? Actually how are babies made?” He gasped. “Do birds really deliver them?!“  Then his eyes blew wide, voice hushed as a single finger placed over his mouth. “Is there some secret kind of ritual you do? Are you gonna do it?”

The child looked at his second adoptive parents with big doe eyes full of curiosity. He didn’t really need another person to look out for, didn’t need another person to cry over when they’d leave, but if it was what his new parents wished for, then it was what he’d deal with.

He didn’t need another Tecchan, or another Hana, but if it was what they wanted, it was what he’d get.

[But he knew that somewhere deep down, he needed someone to fill that role, that empty spot in his chest. But that was being selfish, right? So no, he didn’t need it.]

Besides, that’s what marrying is for, right? To get more kids? Mommy and his old father had never given him another sibling, but that was because they never saw each other.

Aizawa choked on a piece of bacon.

Yamada spluttered over an empty plate.

Izuku just blinked and tilted his head, awaiting an answer.

He never got one.

Aizawa banged on his chest with two hard hits, clearing his throat of the lodged food and abruptly standing up. Yamada’s hand still stuck to his sleeve.

“Izuku, time for training. Let’s go, let’s go,” Aizawa said, a light pink dusted across his cheeks. For such a serious guy, he blushed a lot. “Meet me in the backyard, I need to go to the restroom.”

Izuku frowned at the lack of response to his question but nonetheless gathered his dishes and placed them in the sink before turning to go to the backyard. It was something he had asked for when he was younger - hero training.

No, it wasn’t running around playing tag. He realized only a year ago that that was what his old training had been after he had his first training session with Aizawa. Because of his young age, Aizawa only made Izuku work on stealth and escape, seeing as Izuku decided he wanted to become underground due to his “quirklessness” (his parents didn’t know of his quirk - the boy was sure to make it stay that way). Strength lessons would come with age.

Izuku placed a hand on the doorknob before turning around to face his parents. He was met with the two adults' backs, both going towards the hallway.

“Where you going, Papa?” Izuku asked, head lolling to the side in question. “Don’t you wash dishes?”

Yamada stiffened along with Aizawa, and then turned around with a gasp locked on his face. He grabbed at his chest in theatrical shock. “Zucchan, is that all you see me as? A maid?” He pointed a finger at his son. “Maybe you should wash the dishes! About time you learn.”

The boy let out a gasp before hurriedly, almost comically rushing out the door. Ten seconds later, he cracked it open a bit and peeked an eye through. The room was empty. He positioned his mouth at the crack and yelled, “Daddy, hurry it’s hot!”

“Give me a second, Izuku!”

The boy closed the door and sat on the patio, watching but not directly staring as ghosts whizzed by. Even now he didn’t like the idea of ghosts knowing of his abilities, but he still liked his quirk. It reminded him of his mother, Inko. Some ghosts know about Izuku. Nice ones.

He tries to help them move on, but he can’t seem to fulfill all their tasks with his young age. They say it’s okay, say that they like watching their loved ones going about their happy lives. But Izuku knows that some of them want to move on. Some want to go but don’t know how.

Then some don’t want to leave at all, already having fulfilled their peace but wanting to stay and watch over their families. Like guardian angels, he supposed. That was fine too, Izuku left them to themselves.

When Izuku found out that ghosts could pass on to another afterlife, he was happy. He was happy with the found knowledge that his mother hadn’t up and left him. Izuku was glad, even, knowing that she found some sort of peace through her death. He hadn’t been abandoned.

Izuku, though admittedly he thought this was pretty selfish of him, just wished that his Mama and Papa hadn’t moved on either. He wanted to feel their warmth again, though it was probably cold now. He wanted to feel their love again, though he would never vocally give that back. He just wanted to thank them and apologize to them for ruining the peace. After that, he thinks he’d be okay with them resting.

Thats what he says, anyway.

Knees hugged to his chest loosely, Izuku twirled a rock in his palm, humming a tune he had heard on his papa’s radioshow. Lightly he dragged the rock over white concrete with scarred arms, waiting for his dad to show himself.

And after fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, the man came through the door.

Izuku stood up, looking down at his clothes and lightly dusting them off. He turned to his father. 

“Took you long enough, daddy,” he said, finger gliding across his itchy nose. “My butt hurts!”

Aizawa huffed, hiding his face in his capture gear as per usual. “Mine does, too,” he grumbled inaudibly.

“What ya say? I couldn’t hear you.” Izuku asks, curious as always. He rubbed at his ears.

“Nothing.”

“What took you so long, Dad? I didn’t know big people pee that long! Or did you take a poopy? Also what was Papa doing with you? Do I need to wash dishes? Agh, I don’t wanna wash dishes!” He stomped petulantly and looked over at his beet red dad again. He continued on. 

“Why is your hair messy? Your pants isn’t pulled up the way.” Then Izuku gasped loudly, pointing at Aizawa’s clothes. “Daddy! I thought you were using the restroom! Did you eat my yogurt?!”

Izuku stepped forward, pointer finger out and before Aizawa could stop his son, the young and innocent boy scooped the white yogurt off his father’s shirt and licked it.

Aizawa stood there, mouth openly agape as his body was frozen in uncharacteristic shock.

Izuku clomped his lips together, tongue hitting the roof of his mouth twice before he blanched.

“Why is it spicy-”

“SPIT IT OUT, ZUKU!” His father yelled.

Ms. Himekawa, the ghost of a nice middle-aged lady, ‘tsked and gagged, zooming over to Izuku’s side to help.

Izuku was a confused, curious boy that day.

____________________

The boy swings his feet over the ledge, legs kicking and head bobbing subtly to a tune quietly coming from an earbud. The other one hung loosely on his ear.

Aizawa-Yamada Izuku, though elsewhere he is solely known as Midoriya, sits on the rooftop of his school after discreetly sneaking out of the cafeteria. The boy is ten now, maybe thirteen.

He wouldn’t jump, don’t worry. Despite that voice in the back of his head telling him to, he wouldn’t. Skillfully, with years of practice, he ignored it. [He still heard it, of course. Still heard its voice, or rather voices that sounded exactly of his old family. His dead family. Sometimes he would love to give in, to join the ghosts. But he wouldn’t.]

A lunch tray sat next to the boy, played around at but untouched. Tohru, one of the boy’s only friends sat quietly besides the boy. He always told Izuku to eat, but the greenhead always waved the older off with a lazy smile.

Tohru was a ghost.

Tohru, a teenager - maybe sixteen or seventeen - was dead. Had been for who knows how long. He could’ve been twenty or thirty, or maybe even a hundred years old had he lived.

But he was dead.

Izuku didn’t have many living people stick by, besides his dads and self-adopted aunt and uncle.

And quote unquote cousin, though the boy didn’t always have the luxury to see him nowadays.

He didn’t have the luxury of making normal, living friends because the boy was quirkless.

He wasn’t quirkless, per say, but no one knew that - no one but his said quirk; the dead. And maybe a few stuffed animals he ranted to when he was younger. He wasn’t quirkless, but he was useless in more ways than one.

A Deku.

Izuku was, anyway.

Tohru groaned in exasperation, grabbing at the boy’s earbuds only to pass through it and pinch Izuku instead. The boy didn’t flinch, already used to the cold that touched his skin. “Midoriya, I swear if you don’t eat your damn fo-”

“DEKU!”

A door slammed aggressively against the wall to the rooftop, angry footsteps loud and thunderous following. More followed suit, though it was obvious that they were weaker in its sound, more forced as if its owners were playing follow the leader.

Now the boy stiffened, feeling a phantom heat on his shoulder as the stomps grew closer. He turned ever so slowly, upper body craning to face the boys as his legs hung limply over the side of the roof.

The music in his ears, once tacky and heavy, shifted songs and it was as if the world knew the boy’s fate. A sad song took its place. How fitting, for Izuku’s situation.

“Alexa, play despacito,” Tohru muttered from Izuku’s side and if he wasn’t so frozen with unwanted anticipation, Izuku would have snorted.

“Y-Yes, Kacchan?” The short male, usually calm and precise, stuttered.

“Don’t ‘yes, Kacchan,’ me, you fucking nerd,” The blonde said, mocking the boy’s words with a stutter. “The hell you doing over there?! Get your scrawny ass down here!”

“W-Wha?” Izuku questioned, fiddling with the loose earbud. “W-Why? I-I’m ju-just s-sittin-”

“Hah?! Did I stutter?!” Bakugou took a step closer, hands crackling to the side as Izuku cowered behind Tohru’s transparent frame. That would do nothing, he knew, because in the next second the explosive ten year old stepped through the teen and grabbed onto Izuku’s collar, forcing the light boy by the fabric and tossing him back to the solid floor.

Izuku landed on his side, dark green hoodie saving him from any possible scrapes but not saving the hoodie from any possible damage. The boy didn’t whine or flinch, already used to being thrown around from training sessions. The pain also wasn’t the same as that time from before, where debris flew idly by and the laughs of a monster rung throughout the empty air.

It was never the same.

Izuku only let out a quiet, “omph,” with the air getting knocked out of his lungs.

If he wasn’t busy hugging the floor, maybe he would have seen the worry lines in Bakugou’s face.

If he wasn’t busy listening to Tohru’s creative swear chains, maybe he would have seen the nervous bite of his old friend turned bully’s lips.

But he didn’t. He didn’t because the floor needed some company and Izuku was sure as hell to deliver it. He patted the floor with his palm before looking back to Bakugou and his lackeys. Tohru hung dejectedly to the side, accepting that he couldn’t do anything just as he always had.

He always said ghost life sucked. Izuku thought it looked pretty promising right now.

“Was quirkless little Deku trying to see if he could fly?” Bakugou teased.

The ten, maybe thirteen year old overlooked the slight wince on his former friend’s face.

Two unknown lackeys laughed haughtily in the background, showering Bakugou with words of praise. That alone made the blonde feel more prideful, whatever pity or concern he had for the green head pushed to the side.

“You think you can escape, Deku?” Bakugou, a boy he had once thought of as family, sneered. “Try. I’d fucking love to see what comes next.”

Stupidly, Izuku retorted. “I-I’m not as weak as you think, K-Kacchan . I-I’m going t-to be a h-hero one day and I’m g-going to wa-watch you burn .”

Bakugou blinked, a second of silence passing before he as well as his lackeys exploded with a mocking jeer.

The blonde abruptly stopped mid-laugh before kicking Izuku in the stomach and pushing him down harshly with the boot of his foot. Izuku coughed, a wheeze eliciting from his mouth as his head hit the floor.

Bakugou kicked at the green’s leg with the tip of his shoe hard. Izuku lurched forward, hands moving to the sore before quickly going back up to tuck into his chest. More was to come, he knew.

He was just a weak, useless Deku right now, afterall.

“You really think a quirkless loser like you can become a hero.” Bakugou said, the question coming off more as a statement with the lack of belief, lack of emotion in his tone. A complete deadpan.

Izuku nodded from his spot on the floor.

Another kick, this time to his shin. Reflectively Izuku covered his crotch with his leg, both limbs now touching the ground.

Bakugou shoved his hands into the pocket of his black school uniform jeans, tilting his head up with intimidation. “Try again.”

A nod.

A kick.

A nod.

A kick.

Somewhere in that gruelling pattern, the lackeys joined in and at that point Izuku had just stopped responding. The bullies were smart, at least, because they had the decency to aim for places that would be easy to hide. 

Meaning they didn’t hit his face.

Yay.

The boy didn’t know how long this lasted, in all honesty. He had began to disassociate, body growing cold with the smell of tangy blood wafting up his nose. He didn’t react, didn’t freak out like he had the first couple of times it happened after he realized what was occurring.

At this point in time, six years after coming back, this was normal. It did feel weird and strange, but it had become a normal part of his life.

It felt normal to feel dead.

At some points in his life, whether he was just watching TV or getting the everloving shit beat out of him, he felt dead to the world, dead to himself. Death was normal to the boy - it was a major factor in what he could see with his quirk.

At some points in his life, he wasn’t sure if he was living or dead.

Midoriya Izuku, or rather Aizawa-Yamada Izuku, wasn't the one he'd be when he disassociate. Midoriya Izuku was alive, up and running.

Shimura Izuku was dead, beat to the ground in a seven year old body. Shimura Izuku was the one who became whole in those episodes.

Flashbacks were normal, too. Often he’d find himself back in that hell, fallen buildings and the stench of the dead around him. Often he’d find himself back at home - the place he had called home long ago - surrounded with warmth and love and mirth. Often he’d hear that sickening laughter echoing in his ears, hear the crunch of his bones, the moans of his dead Mama.

Often he’d feel the pain of a punch cutting through his side like a knife.

Then he’d wake up, screaming quietly into a pillow to mask his pain. 

Quietly so as to not wake his fathers.

Quietly so as to hide himself from the world of the living and of the dead, not wanting those pitying looks he had received when he couldn’t hide his terror.

For years he’d awaken to his screams. At this point, he had learned the skill of silence and stealth, of lying and masking his pain.

He’d scream and cry into his soft pillow, tears gathering and soaking the sheets. It was all normal. Then he’d stay awake for the rest of the night and eat breakfast with his dad and papa as usual, a bright smile on his face.

And his parents, both pros who were supposed to detect lies regularly on the job, suspected nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Izuku was fine with that. Lying was easy for the boy, but then again it was hard, too. But he’d keep doing it for the sake of his pride, for the sake of the small grasp at life he had.

The kicks continued, along with added pain from Bakugou’s hot explosions.

Then he was saved by the bell.

Quite literally, obviously.

Izuku blinked with that realization and then the world around him turned normal again, the feeling of his skin solidifying coming back.

Bakugou shoved the boy back with his foot, Izuku squinting up at the older.

“You’ll never be a hero, Deku.”

With that the three walked away with high heads, leaving the battered boy sore and aching. Izuku was used to pain, yes. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

Tohru flew back to his side, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry, Midoriya.”

The rooftop door slammed shut.

Izuku smiled goofily, punching his friend on the shoulder. “It’s fine, Toh-kun. And I thought I told you to call me Izuku!” He flashed another quick bright smile.

Tohru gave a small smile back, believing the boy’s actions as always.

But lying, as stated before, became a major part of Izuku’s life. Lying was something he had grown good at.

Because behind that smile lay thousands of thoughts. Behind that smile held the sorrow and regret of a young boy, the hidden pain of the many obstacles he had been put through.

Izuku had said it was fine. He said it was fine, but he doesn’t know why he said it.

One day he’d figure out that nothing was okay. Not anymore, at least.

Nothing would be fine for quite a while.

With that the boy stood back up, limping on battered legs and picking up his full tray before dumping its contents down the nearest trash can. A ghost followed closely behind.

____________________

School ends as slow as it always does for the boy, with spitballs aimed at his head and crumbled papers filled with suicide baits thrown his way. He takes them to the trash can as usual.

He packs his things quickly, stuffing his notes into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

A sharp, “Deku!” is shouted across the emptying room, but Izuku ignores it, hiding the limp in his walk with much effort as he hobbles his way out the door fast. Stomps are heard behind him, crackling with heat and anger. He turns the corner into an empty classroom and waits for the yells to disperse.

They do, eventually.

“Come on, Midoriya! You can take that guy out in a second, why don’t you just do it?” Tohru asks, cold breath on Izuku’s shoulder.

He shakes his head softly. “Not Kacchan. Never Kacchan.”

No response comes after that. Izuku slips out into the scarce hallway, double checking corners before turning them with silent feet - well, as silent as he could make them out to be with the pain flaring up his legs.

He hides it, just as he does with everything.

It’s not long before he’s out the building and making his way home on heavy feet. He’d dropped the “ okay” facade as soon as he’d been left alone, only a ghost trailing his behind. Izuku shoves his hands into his pockets.

“You gonna go out today?” Tohru questions, flying to the child’s side.

Izuku bumps his shoulder into the cold, laughing quietly.  “Of course, Toh-kun.”

The teenager groans, fiddling with the hoodie he died in. “Mido, you literally got beat up, bro. Take a break, you’re hurt.”

Izuku only shrugs, gaze lifted skyward. “I’ll be fine,” he says before looking over to his friend. “I’ve got you looking out for me, after all.”

“Ugh, you know I do, Midoriya, but you can barely walk in a straight line right now! How do you expect to be jumping buildings and all that? You need to tell Aizawa and Yamada about what happens at school, too. They can change things.”

Izuku huffs, a hand going up to his face to tug at a strand of hair. He ignores the last part of the statement. “No one will notice, Tohru. I’m good at acting.” 

Like everything’s alright.

“I’ll be fine.” He says with a little more bite than he had anticipated.

The ghost only blinks before silencing himself once again.

The rest of the walk home is quiet, safe for the tiny gasps that leave Izuku’s mouth when he walks wrong. He’ll clean himself up at home, just as he always has.

Quiet and quick so as to not disturb his family members.

Alone in his room, against the door because his room does not have a lock.

It would be troublesome if his parents saw his field of scars and bruises, after all.

They reach the house in due time, maybe a half hour walk plus some because the boy can’t walk any faster.

He takes a deep breath, composing himself before placing the key in the hole and twisting it gently. It clicks. Tohru only phases through the wall, not waiting for the boy any longer in what seems to be frustration.

They’ll come to turns eventually. They always do. 

They’re all they have left, after all.

Izuku places his hand on the knob, pausing to practice a smile. He looked down at his hoodie and uniform, which only looked mildly beat, like he was playing in the dirt and couldn’t get all the stuff out. Izuku shrugged. It looked fine. Then he twists it open and pushes.

“Papa, Dad! I’m home!” He shouts, the ten year old taking his shoes off gently.

A man rounds the corner, an apron strung to his chest with a frying pan encased around his fingers. He’s cooking dinner. “Ah, Izukkun! Welcome home! How was school?” Yamada asks.

The boy grabs at the string to his backpack, pulling it down before giving his papa a wide, mirth filled smile.

“Good!”

Yamada gives a smile back, and it is clear that he suspects nothing of his son. He heads back to the kitchen leaving Izuku to his own.

“Your dad is in the shower, Zuzu, so don’t open it!” Yamada shouts from afar. “Darn lock’s been broken for a week, we need to get that fixed..”

Izuku hums loud enough for his papa to hear before heading to his room upstairs and shutting the door softly behind him. He hangs his backpack on his bed’s headboard before going over to his desk and opening the drawer.

A first aid kit nearly out of supplies.

He tsked before taking out the alcohol and burn treatment. “I should really get a new one soon.” He says to himself. Then he cleans himself up, a bunch of hisses falling from his mouth.

It was still quiet though.

It was always quiet.

He places what little supplies he has left into the box before closing it and taking the painkiller he had set to the side. He swallows it dry.

Izuku stands, bones popping with a satisfying crack.

“Toh-kun?” He calls, looking around for any sight of the ghost, feeling around for any shift in temperature.

There is none besides the cold seeping behind his back. He turns around, head whipping to meet his friend.

It is only just Ms. Himekawa.

“You good, Shimura-kun?” She asks with the tilt of her head. “Look a little pale there.”

Izuku only nods in response. “Have you seen Tohru around, Himekawa-san?”

She pauses a moment, chin up in contemplation before she shakes her head. “Sorry.” Then she looks over at Izuku again and scrunches her brows together. “Are you sure you’re okay, Shimura-kun?”

Izuku nods again before turning his back on the woman. “I’m fine, Hime-san. If you see Toh-kun around, tell him I’m looking for him please.”

He hears a hum before the warmth is back on his skin and he is left alone. Ghosts were never good for sneaking around - at least with Izuku. He sees small chills and shivers for a reaction when a creature passes through a living being, but nothing more. Izuku feels all of the cold that comes with the dead.

The ten year old takes a step to his bed and falls down on its soft comforts.

He falls asleep to the sound of static in his ears.

But of course, he doesn’t stay asleep for very long.

He never does.

Chapter Text

On that fateful day, she had closed her eyes accepting the death she was sure she could not escape. Her skull had been shattered, along with various bones down below.

The first thing Nana had realized after that was the cold that immediately encased her body along with the bright light that made her eyes ache.

That was death.

The second thing she had realized after her sight had begun to clear was that she hadn’t moved from the spot she had originally been in. There was no heaven nor hell in her tango with the devils.

In fact, she was still in that place where All For One stood above her.

Above her body, anyway.

And the third thing that she had come to realize was that it wasn’t a hallucination. Even to this day she wished that it was.

Izuku was there after all, deep cuts running along his arms and legs, and Nana only stood there in what appeared to have been the inbetween. A ghost. She was dead, of course, she had known that much. But there was something after this stage; an eternal peace.

She was not in that she knew.

She loomed over her body, a couple of feet away from her arch-nemesis who took no heed to her.

But then again, she paid him no mind in that small moment, only caught up in the fact that her son was there.

“So you had a third, Shimura.”

Izuku was there huddling over her already dead body, protecting it, guarding it with his life that would soon crumble away.

Then he would join her in this cruel cycle of death, merely a ghost upon the living.

Shimura Nana watched as her son, Izuku, had draped his tiny form around the body of her own, watched as the devil brought his hand down on her son. 

Her baby didn’t run, even when she saw the way he tensed, shaking with silent tears as he only hugged the body tighter. Something told Nana that he knew then, that she was dead in his arms. 

Yet he still had not run.

Why.

Hadn’t.

He.

Run.

And All For One’s hand only came closer and closer to her son, and it was only then that Nana fully realized what was about to happen.

“NO!” She had screamed, lurching forward as her arm stretched out.

But of course no one spared her a glance, for she was only a ghost who could not be heard in the land of the living.

Her hand dripping with blood that never seemed to end only passed through All For One’s own, then it had passed through Izuku.

And she only stood there for what little time she could spare, looking down on her hand with disbelief, for she couldn’t bring herself to believe that she had been useless in that time of desperate need.

She whipped around and was met with a sight that would haunt her for decades more than her own life itself.

A thunderous boom shook the ground, soundwaves knocking rubble back and if she weren’t a ghost, she was sure she would have flown far across the sky from the impact.

She had seen the hand cut through her son’s side, piercing him in a lethal blow and killing him in an instant. The hand continued from the momentum and hit her own already dead body.

But she didn’t care about that small detail because her son was dead.

He was dead because of her stupid decisions and it was all her fault.

It was always her fault.

Everything was her fault.

So she waited for his ghost to arise from his own body and she was sure now that ghosts could hold their breath because hers had back then.

But Izuku’s ghost had never come, and still to this day, decades later she still wonders why.

Why did he have to die?

Why didn’t he run?

Why was she so stupid?

“I am here!” Toshinori shouted a couple feet ahead of her, scooping up injured civilians into his arms.

Nana laughed, shaking off the memory as she followed her old student who had begun to sprint to a nearby ambulance with a wide smile on his face. 

“Toshi, slow your ass down and wait for me, you muscled pig!” She shouted, fully aware that he would never respond.

He only went faster.

____________________

“Well I think it’s a great idea!” Yamada said before taking a big bite out of his food. “Bring him over some time! We always have leftovers and you two,” the man waved an accusing finger, “ never eat them.”

Aizawa groaned. “Zash, you know he doesn’t fully trust me yet. As soon as I invite him over he’ll run off thinking it was a trap and then all my hard work would have been for nothing.”

Izuku scratched the back of his neck, his other hand still grasping his fork. It was about eight in the evening right now. They were all gathered at the dinner table after Yamada had called his ten year old and his husband down for food. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Papa,” he said before bringing his hand down to scratch at his nose. “H-He’s a wanted vigilante and two pro heroes are i-inviting him over for dinner? Sounds suspicious to me.”

Aizawa only nodded in agreement and Yamada pouted. “But Shichi’s different! Shou’s on his case!”

“Yeah, Zashi, all the more reason for the kid to trust the man who’s supposed to arrest him. It took me a year before he even willingly let me get near him.”

Yamada huffed. “Well at least bring some food for him! What if he’s hungry?”

“I’ll do it if you pack the food.”

Yamada sighed and accepted the task. “You’re so lazy, babe.”

Aizawa hummed and the conversation turned elsewhere for the rest of dinnertime. When Izuku was done eating he gathered his empty plate along with his fathers’, who both seemed to be done as well. He placed them in the sink and began scrubbing. 

Yamada came over after packing a small bento for Aizawa to give to his case and ruffled the boy’s hair as usual. “Alrighty, bedtime after you wash those dishes, little listener!”

Izuku hummed, shaking his sleeves to make them go down and raising his foot to tug at his joggers. Having his papa standing over him when he had just felt so vulnerable hours before made him feel uncomfortable, like he was exposed. “I know, Papa.”

Yamada patted the boy’s head again before walking off, muttering a soft, “I’m gonna catch up on some sleep today,” before promptly heading to his shared bedroom. Izuku got back to washing.

A chair skidded backward slightly somewhere to his left, Aizawa getting up. It was the man’s turn to go over to his son. Izuku gave the man a quick glance to acknowledge his presence before looking back to his task.

As always, just as any other parental figure had done for him, Aizawa rubbed the boy’s hair. “You good, kid? You’ve been looking a little down today.”

If Izuku had been surprised that the man had even noticed, he didn’t allow his face to show it. “I’m fine, Dad. We took a test in class today and I dunno if I did very well,” he lied.

Aizawa hummed before scratching at his chin. “I’m sure you did fine. Nedzu didn’t take an interest in you for nothing.”

The boy nodded, looking intently at the plate in his hand as he scrubbed it gently with the sponge. He said nothing else.

The man placed a hand on the boy’s head, lightly pulling it to him as he bent down and gave his son a small kiss on the head. “Anyway, gotta head to patrol, give that brat his food.” He ruffled the boy’s head again. “See you later, problem child.”

“Bye, Dad! Stay safe!” He yelled as he watched the man retreat out the door, bento box in hand. He knew the man would be waiting for a while.

A few minutes of washing and rinsing the dishes later, the boy was done. He took a pump of soap and washed his hands, not liking the feeling of microscopic grime on his hands, and dried himself on a dry towel. He quickly headed upstairs, hearing his papa’s snores from rooms adjacent to his own.

Quietly, the ten year old closed his door, flicking the switch on swiftly for he did not enjoy the pitch black that loomed in the corners. He quickly changed into his gear, though it is only really a hoodie with a few small yet efficient items strapped on. A mask with a battery-ran voice modulator sat to the side, waiting to be put on.

Elbow, shin and knee guards were velcroed onto their assigned spots, the result of a poor budget, or rather finding stuff on the streets. They worked well enough. A utility belt draped around his waist, two knives for emergencies tucked away at the sides. More things could be added in the back, though he only really puts fun things such as glitter bombs or smokescreens there. Lastly his main weapon stuck to his back - a simple, extendable bo staff.

The ten year old shoved his shoes on with a bit of a wince, having forgotten about his wounds in his hurry. He slowed down a bit, caution in his moves as he finished.

“Tohru?” He whisper-yelled, pausing as he took a look around the room. “Tohru!”

He was met with a stilled silence.

The boy huffed, pulling his hood up and slapping his mask on. He switched the flip in the mask, voice coming off to a deeper tone. It wasn’t of a man’s, though it did help in hiding the pre-pubescent tone in Izuku’s still high voice. It was more of an older teen’s pitch, hence why the police estimate the vigilante to be around his late teens to early twenties, possibly with a small mutant quirk that’d cut off quite the height.

Of course they weren’t expecting a ten year old.

“I’m leaving, Toh-kun, with or without you,” he said in a petulant tone. “I’ll be fine either way. Things like this always happen - you’re always there when I go down.”

He wondered if his friend was even listening.

He sighed, propping up some pillows under a blanket as an extra precaution before going over to the window and pulling it up. The boy paused, a foot propped up against the sill ready to take a leap for the tree. “... You coming?”

Still, no response.

Izuku tugged at the corner of his hood, shielding his face from view before taking a painful leap toward the tree next to his window. He hissed out a cry but continued to make his way down.

The familiar cold that hovered somewhere to the high of his behind told him he wasn’t alone.

He smiled a goofy little victory smile before making his way toward his usual patrolling area, the world around him dark with the rare exceptions of the street lamps.

Those lights were the only things that kept him from acting out on the terror that crawled in his chest in the dark of night.

The cold around him felt ominous as usual, though Izuku wasn’t scared because he knew that it was his friend.

He jumped from building to building, nearly falling more times than once due to his irritating bruises and burns. He pushed through. He wasn’t doing this for fun, wasn’t doing it for himself.

Eventually he arrived at his destination, though he’d admit that it took him longer than he had wanted it to be. 

“Took you long enough, Shichi,” a voice from behind him spoke. Izuku held the urge to yelp with a fierce grip.

He spun in his spot, a carefree smile hidden beneath his mask. He turned just in time to see the figure rise from the shadows of the tall building next to the one he was currently standing on.

The vigilante laughed. “Eraser!” He shouted with mirth before tutting, backing away as an instinctive response to his short size compared to the hero’s looming figure. “So nice to see you again.”

He clasped his gloved hands together. “But again, please! Call me Shimura.”

The hero only rolled his eyes and shoved a box full of food at the vigilante’s chest.

____________________

Shichi, otherwise known as Shimura, wasn’t created by the once nine year old boy for fun.

Shichi wasn’t made for Izuku’s own enjoyment, though he must admit he did love the wind that blew against his hooded face, the adrenaline rush he’d get when fighting crime.

Shichi was made because Izuku couldn’t handle things alone.

That’s why.

Simple as that.

Izuku couldn’t run around protecting his hero fathers from the sideline, couldn’t make sure they’d die and leave him, too.

Shichi could.

Izuku couldn’t find his Mama and Papa’s spirits on his own, couldn’t spread the name Shimura on his own.

Shichi could, though Izuku had already given up long ago, accepting the fact that decades was too long for a ghost as bright as his former parents to have stayed. He was glad, actually, already having accepted that his parents had almost positively found their eternal peace.

The third and last reason Shichi was created was because Izuku couldn’t seem to torture his old brother as much as he’d like to, not having the balls to go up to a man whom hasn’t seen his Izuku in years.

But guess what.

Shichi could.

Letters and notes he’d leave for the detective after beating a criminal, post it notes stuck to a villain’s head signed cheekily with a small ‘Shimura’ and a doodle at the bottom.

Izuku truly loved seeing the faces Tsukauchi Naomasa would make after reading a note.

If he’d only stayed long enough, or rather had the strength to stay long enough, he would stop.

Because only then would he see the pain that would edge its way into the man’s face, a look as if questioning why that name would pop up years later.

Izuku only left notes like that because some part of him wanted to be closer to his older family, a part of him still yearned to break the pattern they had going in their lives just so he could squeeze in.

He nearly did it one day many years ago, after searching Naomasa’s name on the internet. A successful detective, he was, working at a local police station. He had ran out of the house, running towards that address in slippers.

He had almost gone over to hug the man whom he saw beyond those glass doors, standing behind the counter with a mug in his hands.

But he saw his brother, older than he was the last time he saw him, taller too, smile.

That man smiled a smile that looked so real that Izuku hadn’t the heart to break it.

So he only stood there, outside those doors behind a bush for a while longer, watching as the man talked with a coworker.

That day, seven maybe ten year old Izuku left with an empty feeling in his chest. However, like many other times, he pushed that void down and ignored it.

For this boy was too kind to worry about his own problems. Naomasa looked happy. Who was he to change that?

If only he had been closer that day, maybe he would have seen the hollowness in that man’s eyes.

But he didn’t.

So Shichi, otherwise known as Shimura, was created because Izuku felt that his other persona could be allowed the treat of selfishness. Shichi was created because Izuku wanted to feel even just the tiniest bit to his old life.

What funner way to do that than this?

____________________

Shinsou Hitoshi had had enough.

He had been done with the load of crap he’d endure during his stay at that orphanage. Years had gone by and nearly everyone from before had gotten adopted, Akira included. 

Shinsou had expected the bullying to stop after that, with his main tormentor gone.

But it didn’t.

More children were dropped like garbage into this dump and the cycle started all over again.

Shinsou only ignored them this time.

The days had stretched longer and the taunting worsened. The boy had ignored them to the best of his ability, but even he had a limit.

So at the age of ten, nearly eleven, he ran away.

That was a month ago.

Shinsou was now that extra digit, having turned eleven only just a day ago. It was July 2nd now. If he were in school, summer break would already be halfway done.

The boy had managed to claim an alleyway in the vicious land of the homeless, already having been beaten up by more than one territorial being. He’d been living off of garbage he’d find in dumpsters, but there were many days he’d have to deal without food.

He lost a lot of weight over the month, but he still doesn’t regret leaving the orphanage. He’d do it all over again if he had to. The only thing he did regret, however, was not packing enough resources, like extra food. He had gotten one other outfit, though, so that was something.

Today was one of those unfortunate days where he found little food. Throughout the day, he had been running on the little adrenaline left in his body, using it to run around the area in search of food behind restaurants or nearby dumpsters.

He found nearly nothing, because the staff working at local diners were tired of the poor ravanging in their trash. Other dumpsters scattered around the city had already been raided by other unfortunate souls.

So there Shinsou lay, body worn, slumped against the wall in a narrow alleyway as his eyes scanned the darkening sky above. An apple lay in his palm, hand resting upturned against the hard floor.

He wanted to eat it right then, but his jaw was tired and the apple was dry, stripped of its freshness. He didn’t want to risk choking on it, for he was sure he wouldn’t have the energy to try and get it out. His stomach ached, feeling bruised even though he was sure it was only the hunger clawing at his insides.

Vomiting was another issue that he didn’t want to experience again on his journey, already having nothing in his stomach to throw up.

Then again, he was starving to death. His stomach grumbled loudly, bouncing off the walls of the alley and if he wasn’t currently feeling like crap, he was sure he’d have been embarrassed.

This time however, he only groaned, rolling to the side and bringing his knees to his chest, hugging it tight as if it’d make him feel better. His body leaned fully against the wall now, apple hidden in his chest along with his hand.

He needed to eat.

Shinsou brought the apple to his mouth and bit down, munching on it until he had salivated the apple enough that he could swallow without worry. 

It was rotten in the middle.

“Blergh!” He spat the apple to the side, coughing and hacking as he lurched forward. He threw the apple far from him, watching as it splattered on the wall and fell to the floor, bouncing twice before it rolled to a stop. A hand went down to the floor for support, knees on the ground as his free arm pounded against his chest.

Apparently he did have the energy to do that much.

His throat burned like fire and contrary to what he told himself earlier, he questioned if he made the right decision in leaving the orphanage. He felt the acid swish in his stomach, tasted the germs crawling on his tongue and he asked himself.

“.. Was it worth it?”

And Shinsou jumped at the voice that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a deep voice that wasn’t his own but seemed to have read his mind.

His head whipped around, eyes widening in alarm at the intruder. Shinsou stiffened, eyes expecting to meet another homeless person, crazed and looking for a place to claim just as the others had from before.

All the eleven year old saw was a hooded vigilante that had caught the attention of many news stations and the police. The vigilante stared down at him, albeit not much with his super short height, with the softest of eyes wielding some form of pity.

Shichi, they would call him.

Shinsou sucked in a breath, the answer ‘no’ on the tip of his tongue. That didn’t come out.

“What do you want?” The boy said loudly, body puffing out in an attempt at coming out more fierce, though it was clear that it didn’t work because the hooded boy took a step closer.

“I’m not here to hu-”

An answer was all he needed. The person in front of him stopped dead in their tracks, eyes glazing and body becoming slack as Shinsou’s quirk took over. A sense of pride washed over the boy, however it was quickly replaced with fear and disgust towards himself.

He let his control down with a small yip, expecting a yell or the look of undeniable fear from the vigilante, just as everyone else he’s accidentally used his quirk on had done.

All that came from the boy was a muffled yelp, this time not in the deep voice he had heard before, but a higher pitch like one he’d hear from a younger kid.

Shinsou didn’t question it, already lost in his own head.

The vigilante cleared his throat, blinking the shock out of his eyes before turning to Shinsou. “W-Was that your q-quirk?” The high voice spoke, timid and lacking the confidence it had before.

Shinsou glanced up at the hooded boy before dropping his gaze back to the floor with a glare. “What, you scared? A big bad vigilante like you is scared of a villain in the making like me?” He taunted, though it was at himself more than anything.

“A-A villain?” The vigilante said, making his way towards Shinsou and stopping a few feet away.

Shinsou shifted uncomfortably. “That’s what they say ‘cause of this stupid fuckin’ quirk I’ve got.”

“W-What?!” The boy, Shinsou concluded, said, a dark sky above their heads. “You think a quirk can be s-stupid? I’m sure you can do a lot with yours! All quirks can be used to help others! I didn’t think such a useless quirk like mine could help people, b-but l’m where I am now! W-What’s your quirk?” Shichi rambled, tone higher with its excitement.

Shinsou tsked, turning his head away from the stranger in rejection. He wouldn’t answer that question.

But the vigilante seemed to have other plans, because he only crouched down beside the boy, waiting quietly with patience.

Shinsou thought that was hella awkward. And creepy, to say the least.

“... Brainwashing,” he muttered.

“What w-was that?” The boy cocked his head to the side.

Shinsou groaned, losing the last bit of stiffness in his posture as it was replaced with annoyance. He let his guard down, the vigilante seeming safe enough. “I said Brainwashing, you dolt, check your ears!” He snapped, head whizzing to meet the stranger.

Silence engulfed the two and Shinsou rubbed his palms together as he waited for that familiar look of disgust to take over the vigilante’s blank face. “You gonna run like the rest o-?”

“Brainwashing?! THAT’S SO COOL! M-Mister, you could do so much with that! Hostage situations would be so easy, imagine all the people you could save!” He paused, looking at the shell shocked expression on the other’s face before looking hellward with a shy expression. “T-That is i-if y-you wanted to- OH CRAP, MY VOICE!”

Shinsou thought it was bull that the boy had only now realized his malfunction, but it was definitely fun to watch as he struggled with his mask. He laughed a laugh that he hadn’t used in years and it came as a shock to him that it was unlocked with such a person that sounded so intimidating when talked about on television.

“What are you, five?” Shinsou chuckled as Shichi seemed to pout behind his mask.

“I am much older than that, thank you.” He retorted, voice deep once again.

Just like that, all the tension in the alley was sucked out as both of them chuckled.

“Mhm, sure,” Shinsou grinned with this person that seemed nicer than all the people he’d met in his life combined. He was going to add more, another snarky remark, but his stomach seemed to have other plans.

Another loud growl came from down below and the boy groaned at the emptiness in his stomach. It jabbed him from the inside and he had to wonder, though it was probably completely unrelated, how women managed to go nine months with a baby pounding against their walls.

Shichi stopped his laughter, a solemn face taking over his covered features once again. “... Are you a runaway?”

Shinsou gripped at the dirty shirt he had on, grabbing onto some of his stomach with it. He hummed a short yes.

That brought up the question that started the whole conversation once again.

“Was it worth it?” Shichi questioned in a low voice, quiet and barely audible. All playfulness in his tone was gone and Shinsou had to question why.

After a few moments, Shinsou responded, the race in his stomach subsiding. “I got away from my bullies, so yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just move schools then? Tell your parents or something and leave?”

Shinsou looked at the boy in the eyes before speaking in a monotone voice. “I don’t have parents. They left me. I lived in an orphanage ever since I got my quirk.” He scratched at his leg. “I lived with my bullies.”

“Oh.” Was all he said.

A brief quiet stayed between the two before the vigilante broke it with the sudden rustle of his movements. He pulled a post-it note and a pen from his belt before writing on it on his knee. Shinsou, the eleven year old hungry and bruised from his journey alone, watched in silent curiosity.

Shichi pulled the post-it from its stack, sticking his two items back into his utilities before thrusting the paper onto Shinsou’s forehead. The latter grabbed it and turned it towards his eyes.

An address, he presumed.

“What’s this for?”

“Drugs.”

“Wha?”

The vigilante dragged his palm over his face. “Agh, no, that’s not what I meant. Uh, go to that address. I know this probably sounds sketchy coming from someone like me, but the people there are... nice. They can help you.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and realized the situation he was in. He was talking to a wanted person. An infamous, wanted vigilante. The talk of the news for nearly a year, an escape artist that has managed to dodge heroes for so long. “Why should I trust you?”

Shichi shook his head, raising his hands in the air casually before dropping them back down to rest on his knees in his crouching position. “You shouldn’t! But tell me, purple,” The boy swayed on his feet, “ever heard of Eraserhead?”

____________________

It didn’t take much to convince the boy to leave the alley in search of the address. He was a hungry, growing child who had gone through the dirt and grime of the runaway life. If the building looked sketchy when he’d arrive, he’d just turn right back and crawl to his alley. No harm done.

The sky was nearly pitch black now and the time was probably around midnight. Shinsou had felt the eyes of the vigilante on his back nearly half way through his trek before he watched the faint silhouette of the boy run over buildings and disappear into the distance ahead.

He wondered where the boy was headed.

Shinsou turned many corners and glanced at many street signs in frustration. His stomach ached in loss and his legs felt like sticks that would snap in half if he took even one more step forward.

They didn’t though, so he kept at it.

His sense of direction was poor in the dark of night, but it was polished trumensely over the past month.

When he made it to the door nearly an hour of searching later, his mind was too weak and his body was too tired to question the stupidity of walking into a quote unquote hero’s house blindly on the words of a criminal.

He crawled - like, almost literally crawled - up the stairs to the opening of the house and pretty much collapsed on the door, body hunched over in a curl. The child skidded to the floor with a thud, and it was a wonder how important food had become to the boy nowadays.

A muffled shout came from inside the house, Shinsou barely hearing it through the door. “Papa! S-Someone’s at the door!” A young, bright voice shouted from the inside at this time of nearly one in the morning. Heavy stomps on wood followed, one pair of feet slowly becoming two.

Shinsou, body sore and jabbing, moaned lightly, wiggling uncomfortably in his spot on the floor of the porch.

The door quickly opened from the inside, making Shinsou who had been leaning on it for support crumble at the side, upper body intruding the household. Light shone in his eyes from above, his own that had adjusted to the darkness of the outside throbbing with the sudden change. He squinted them.

Two gasps came from above, a squawk coming from a high pitched tone . “Papa!”

Shinsou heard another pair of footsteps making its way down the stairs, his hand crumbling the post-it note in his palm.

In an annoyed tone, scratchy from sleep, another man spoke out. “What the hell is going on down here.” A pause. “Oh shit.”

A set of arms grabbed him from his underpits and gently lifted him off the ground. A small sized, green haired boy bounced along behind him, Shinsou facing him in the arms of a blonde stranger.

Next thing he knew, he was on a couch with a family of three - one he had recognized as his favorite hero, Eraserhead, just as the vigilante had said - tending to him with no small amount of care.

Shinsou Hitoshi ended up passing out from exhaustion after taking a sip of water from the green headed child.

____________________

“Was it worth it?” Tohru said from the side of Izuku, who sat on the flight of stairs, watching as his parents quietly tended to the passed out boy on the couch. The question had become used that day more than twice, ever since Izuku had ran into the runaway by chance.

Izuku hummed quietly, yawning before slumping his head on the palm of his hand. He glanced at the ghost. “It’s always worth the trouble if you’re helping someone,” he whispered. “He ran from the orphanage. I did that too, once upon a time.”

Tohru lifted an eyebrow, squatting down in an attempt to sit next to Izuku. His butt passed through the floor.

Izuku blinked tiredly. “He reminded me of myself. I was just curious.” He turned his head very subtly towards his friend. “I hated myself for running. Things could have turned out different. I could have been with my siblings still. It wasn’t… I should have stayed.”

Mama could have been alive still.

The boy exhaled from his nose before leaning against the railing of the stairs. “I was just curious,” he said again.

Izuku closed his eyes. “Was it different for him?”

Chapter Text

Aizawa rummaged with the grocery bags in his hands, a young eight year old Izuku walking beside him with a bag or two of his own. They hadn’t taken the car on their trip to the store, not needing to since they already lived so close.

The man glanced down at his son, the boy already staring up at his father, before his brows lifted up slightly as if recalling something. “Ah,” he had said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a manila folder. He turned to Izuku apologetically. “We need to make a quick stop before we head home, Izuku. Gotta turn in some paperwork for a case.”

Izuku had only hummed, adjusting the bag in his hand and pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie. It had been windy that day.

So the two continued walking, the boy only following his father. They hadn’t changed course, so that meant that they had already passed the place they were headed along the way. A comfortable silence rested between them, Izuku’s side lightly bumping Aizawa’s. The child’s free hand tugged onto the man’s sweatpants.

That day, whether he knew it or not, Izuku’s thoughts lay hidden under soft cloth.

“If I hold onto him like this, he won’t leave, too, right?” He would think, looking down at his shoes as he dragged his feet on the concrete ground.

Then Aizawa stopped, legs slowing into a more casual walk. Izuku slowed, too, a gust of wind slapping at his cheeks. He let go of his father’s pant leg before pulling his All Might themed hood up. The yellow “rabbit” ears hung beside his head, flopping in every which way.

His hand went back to grabbing his dad, eyes still cast low, face hiding from mother nature.

“Tsukauchi!” Aizawa yelled then, a hand waving in the air with the folder in its grasp.

And Izuku had froze, legs stiffening and eyes widening just a fraction. Aizawa went without him, continuing to walk forward, not taking any notice of his son’s hand that had dropped from his thigh.

The grip was too light.

His grip was too light.

The eight year old looked up, hair tickling his forehead as he took in the view. He wasn’t careful enough, didn’t realize where he had been led, didn’t notice.

It was the same place he had gone to only just a year earlier, when he had been seven, maybe eleven.

That place where he saw his older older brother. That place where he had let his old life wither away just a smidge, if only for the sake of another man’s happiness.

“Oh,” that vaguely familiar voice had said, deep but still noticeably his Naocchan. “It’s just you, Aizawa. What do you need? I was just about to head home, but by all means,” the man spread his arms before dropping them down to the side with an exaggerated sigh, a playful smile on his lips, “go ahead and give me more work.”

Aizawa made an amused noise and brought the folder down to his chest. He opened it and started flipping through, explaining the details it held within. At some point he had given it to the detective. Izuku stood behind for a minute or two, only listening with a strained face before slowly scooting his way behind his father.

He hadn’t wanted him to leave now, did he.

Tsukauchi peeped his head over Aizawa’s frame, eyes settling on the small hooded boy behind his coworker. “Hm? Who’s this?”

Aizawa twisted his body slightly to look down at Izuku, a handful of groceries in one hand as the other went down to rest atop the boy’s clothed noggin. He hummed. “This is my son,” Aizawa pushed the boy lightly from the back, making the younger crush into his side. 

“Oh?” Tsukauchi teased, body tilting forward slightly before leaning back. “Aizawa Shouta taking in a child? Who would have known.”

“Shut up, Tsukauchi.”

Said man had let out a hearty laugh before leaning down, hands on his knees as he bent slightly at Izuku’s level. “Hello, the name’s Tsukauchi Naomasa,” he held out a hand.

Izuku already knew that.

The boy huddled closer to his father, clearly uncomfortable with how near his old friend was to him, unknowing of the situation. Only a piece of fabric lay between them. Izuku kept his head down.

Tsukauchi only smiled at the lack of response before straightening again. “The shy type, eh? I used to know someone like that.”

Aizawa patted the boy’s head again, hand sliding down and pulling the hood off with it. A mop of green sat on top. “Come on, Izuku, introduce yourself.” He had said encouragingly, a father figure as always, though more stoic than Papa was.

Which Papa he was talking of, he did not know.

Still, his name rang in his head. “Izuku,” Aizawa had said.

Right in front of Tsukauchi, he had said his name, pulled his hood down.

And Tsukauchi froze then.

Izuku froze, too.

But he strained his eyes with a focus he didn’t know he had, as if that would make Tsukauchi forget - that he was there, the color of his hair, his name.

Everything.

Izuku looked up, and he still remembers how much he regretted that to this day, staring up at his brother’s unfamiliarly familiar face.

“H-Hi,” he breathed quietly, eyes looking into sad orbs. Why those eyes looked glazed over and wet, he did not know. Stupidly, he did not question it, does not question a thing. 

Green curls, unruly yet tamed, flocked over his head, vibrant and tickling his skin. “‘M name’s Iz-uku.”

Tsukauchi had only blinked and that hidden layer of pain was gone in a flash. He smiled and lent out his hand again, Izuku accepting it reluctantly. They shook one another, the older’s palm warm against his own. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

Then he looked back at Aizawa, letting Izuku shy back away behind his dad, heart racing a mile a minute. 

“Okay then, I’ll take these back home and look over ‘em.” Tsukauchi slapped the folder lightly against the front of his hand before waving and walking in the opposite direction of them, back towards his car.

And Izuku had only stared at the man’s retreating form, hand holding Aizawa’s as they started to walk away, too. A pang tugged at his chest, dull and hardly noticeable. Izuku, young and scarred, watched as his unknowing brother opened the door to his car and drove off.

He was alone again, always alone.

(But he had his Dad and Papa with him, right?)

So Izuku turned his head and continued on his journey home with his father, that familiar feeling prickling at his eyes. Again, he’d push it down.

He always pushed it down.

Aizawa then craned his head down to meet Izuku’s gaze before letting go of his hand and turning quietly in the opposite direction. Izuku stood there, turning his head and reaching an arm out for his dad, mouth opening in objection.

But no words could fall out.

And he watched, feet stuck to the ground as the man he called his father walked away silently, hands casually slipped into his pockets as the grocery bags rested upon his arms. Casually, as though Izuku had never been there in his life, as though he never existed in the eyes of his own.

Another one bites the dust.

Another one leaves the boy alone and parentless.

He didn’t-

He couldn’t be left-

“Dad!”

The boy jolted up in his bed, feet kicking with the phantom memory of walking. His hand was outstretched and pointed towards the ceiling, reaching for a man who had not been there in reality.

Izuku huffed, pulling his arm back down to his chest and holding it close. His breathing was erratic, but that was nothing out of the ordinary when he’d awaken to those types of dreams.

The last part didn’t happen, he reminded himself. His dad was still here, only Tsukauchi had left that day.

“Another one?” Tohru questioned from the side of the bed, back against the wall.

Izuku blinked once, turning towards his friend and nodded.

“You okay, Izuku-kun?” A voice came from the other side of the room, and Izuku jumped, feet bristling against the thick sheets. He whipped his head toward the sound.

It was just Shinsou.

Right.

He had forgotten.

Another addition to the family had been added, only just a week ago. He’d have to be quieter.

“A-Ah, I’m fine, nii-chan.” Izuku answered, dropping his hand to the side. His eyes swept around his room - their room - taking in the change for the nth time. Everything looked relatively the same for now. Papa and Dad had only moved the furniture around a bit to make room for Shinsou’s bed. That’d change soon, though. They’d go shopping for the others’ belongings soon enough. “Just a dream.”

Shinsou blinked from his bed, sighing and moving around a bit so his back would hit the bed frame more comfortably in his sitting position. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. It’s been a week since we met, and you said I’m only a few days older.”

Izuku knew that, of course. He didn’t have to use that term, but oddly enough, when he thought he’d hate calling someone other than Tenko that, the boy took comfort in using it. It reminded him of a time where he was at peace, flocking around with his siblings and sibling-figures.

Shinsou was his own person, though. Izuku knew this.

Tenko was Tenko, Tenko was different.

The boy smiled a gummy smile, all shine no bite. He tilted his head childishly, a teasing grin on his face. “Awh, but I like it! Hitocchan! Hito-nii! Nii-chan~!”

Although the room was dark, Izuku knew the older was blushing. He could feel it. It made his insides warm and tingly, a rush of happiness and petulant victory crawling up his spine.

“Izu-kun, we met a… a week ago!” Shinsou hesitated, but continued on. “Do you adopt everyone you meet into your family on the spot?”

The boy put a finger to his chin in contemplation, thinking of all his extended family members.

“Yeah!”