Chapter Text
“Dad…do you have to go?”
The memory was old, something he could barely cling to on nights when he was feeling the pang of nostalgia. He had been so young then, and memories fade no matter how tightly you hold on to them. He could hardly even remember his father’s face as the towering man kneeled in front of him. “I promise to be back soon.”
Sniffling as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, he mumbled, “But what if you don’t…”
A large hand was soon cupping his cheek, his father’s thumb wiping away his tears. “I will always come back. And do you know why?”
Leaning into the hand, Izuku shook his head while looking up at his father.
He remembered his father’s smile, something warm and comforting, the constellations of freckles on his cheeks that matched Izuku’s own. “I will always find my way back, because you are my Guiding Star.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
His chin began to wobble, and he half launched himself into his father’s arms with tiny sobs as his father comforted him.
“I will always find my way back home to you, my Polaris.”
That was the last time Midoriya Izuku ever saw his father.
Not all men are created equal.
The phrase was so tired and overused in his life. He learned it at a very young age. Not all at once, it was a gradual thing. It all started in a doctor’s office, sitting on a stool while the doctor so callously broke his dreams. He learned it on the day his dad “died”, learned it even truer when “died” became “left”, learned it when his mother’s smiles dimmed away to cold indifference, learned it when his peers turned against him, learned it on a tall rooftop with nothing but the bitter cold wind surrounding him—
Izuku was tired.
He still pressed on.
But through it all, he never thought it would lead him to this. Sitting in a tiny booth in the far corner of an equally tiny ramen shop, doing his best to hide the fact that he was half scarfing down his food. Having to portion out meals over the past few weeks had been difficult, and while he was thankful that starting tomorrow he would have regular meals at UA for lunch, these little extra meals that had been scattered in during his training sessions had been a boon for him.
Though his gut still twisted in guilt at the thought of taking advantage of his mentor’s generosity. Izuku knew the truth: he knew that Yagi had an idea of what was going on. The man could be a bit of a goof at times, but he had eyes. You do not become the number one hero just on strength alone. So when Yagi asked about Izuku’s sudden drop in weight during training post acceptance to UA, Izuku knew this was the beginning of the end.
But fortunately, the man never pushed. Izuku saw the concerned glances, saw the attempts to question him about how his life was, but Yagi did not reach beyond what Izuku was willing to give. He would never be able to convey how much it meant to him that Yagi never demanded more. And quietly to himself, the fact that his mentor cared meant more than anything in his life thus far.
And then the meals started.
It started as a “You’ve been working hard, let me treat you!” which quickly turned into “Let’s make this a post workout tradition, I have too much money lying around anyway.” Izuku tried to protest, but the moment Yagi mentioned not liking to eat alone, Izuku reluctantly caved to his mentor’s insistence.
But through it all, Izuku knew. He knew this was just an excuse.
Nibbling on a piece of pork, he listened intently as Yagi regaled him with yet another story about one of his numerous villain fights of his career, and Izuku just felt…calm. It was rare to feel this calm. Even with all the stress from this morning, with his first official day at UA and Aizawa’s threats of expulsion, with how close he came from actually losing his dream before it really began…he was content. Feeling calm and happy and safe was foreign to him.
He had not felt this way in a long time.
“And then I finally managed to corner them in an alley, and they decided that the smart thing to do was to throw a dumpster at me!” Yagi declared, waving his chopsticks through the air as he told his story. “Which didn’t even put a scratch on me, but I later ended up having to give my interview covered in leftover ramen—my boy?”
Izuku let out an absent hum of acknowledgement.
He had not felt this safe since his dad… left .
“My boy…are you crying?”
Reaching up to his cheek, Izuku rubbed at his eye, feeling the wetness there. “Huh?…oh.” He let out a small chuckle that was choked by a sob. “Oh, I guess I am.”
Yagi looked concerned, any words dying on his lips as he handed Izuku a napkin. The air felt heavy between them, neither really knowing what to say. Eventually, Yagi quietly remarked, “You know, my boy…if you need anything, anything at all, you can ask me.”
Izuku hummed once more, eyes dropping to the table as he carefully ripped at the napkin in his hands. “…Yagi, can we speak in hypotheticals?”
Yagi straightened in his seat. “Of course!”
Izuku nodded, eyes still cast down. “Hypothetically, I might have a friend who was going through something, but they were scared to tell anyone…because they might end up in the foster system.”
Yagi’s expression tightened with concern. “It would have to be severe to come to that…”
Izuku swallowed heavily. “…what if their mom abandoned them?”
“… what? ”
“He has an apartment and it is fully paid off, and she left some money,” he quickly began to explain, napkin twisted in his fingers as he still refused to look up at his mentor. “But its barely enough to cover utilities and school fees for the next few months, so there is hardly any for things like food and other issues—“
“How long?”
He bit his lip, then carefully replied, “Since a few days after the entrance exam.”
Yagi looked like he had been punched in the gut, and Izuku knew that the man understood that this wasn’t a hypothetical. He knew that Yagi was smart enough to figure that out.
He also knew that Yagi still felt guilty over not contacting him for the week after the entrance exams.
“He doesn’t want to end up in the foster system,” Izuku whispered quietly, still clinging to the hypothetical, still not quite ready to cross that line. “He just got into his dream school, and he can’t lose that.”
Izuku found his hands being held, and he finally looked up across the table to see Yagi staring at him with this…almost grieving expression, but filled with determination all the same. “I would tell him that I will not allow that to happen.” Yagi’s old, worn hands tightened around Izuku’s. “I promise that I will keep him safe. He just needs to ask for help.”
Izuku reached his limit. His hands squeezed tightly to Yagi’s as he whispered through tears, “Yagi-San, I need help.”
“I know, my boy. I know…” The hands never let go of his own. “And I promise that I am here .”
Izuku was still tired.
But quietly he admitted that it was nice to have someone to lean on.
Yagi was torn.
On one hand, he was elated. Knowing the boy for almost a year, it felt like such a milestone to have finally earned his trust like this. To have Izuku open up to him and admit his issues, to know that he was right to worry and now he could actually do something to ensure his successor’s well being rather than stand uselessly on the sidelines.
But on the other hand, his chest ached painfully at knowing the full truth.
Izuku had always been a bit of an odd child. Nothing terrible, just…odd. His passion and determination has been admirable, something that made him so immensely proud of his successor, and his mind…he tried not to dwell on the sheer analytical nature the boy displayed at times. He knew that he should refer Izuku to someone else to help sharpen this tool, but call him selfish, the idea of handing off his successor to train so early on made him hesitant.
But there were other oddities that made him not quite like the other children. His nervousness and timid nature, his tendency to ramble and get over excited over the smallest bit of attention…how he often cut himself off and began to stutter out almost desperate apologies, thinking that he was annoying Yagi with his rambling.
How could anyone ever find this boy anything but wonderful?
None of it was anything concrete, so Yagi focused on being supportive, on being a pillar the boy could rely on. Something steady to lean on. He assumed that the boy would open up to him about any issues…but he did not know how deep the cracks in Izuku’s psyche ran.
It all seemed to spiral after the entrance exam. Izuku showing up to practice, his stomach rumbling partway through. Yagi brushed it off as a spiking metabolism and set about adjusting Izuku’s dietary plan, adding more calorie allotments. The nervous look on Izuku’s face when he handed him the plan should have been the first sign.
But then All Might was taken away for three days, distracted by duty , and when he returned…he could finally see it.
He could see how much thinner his boy was.
The normal eye might not have noticed, but to Yagi, someone who has dedicated most of his life to maintaining his fitness, who has gone through the process of watching himself waste away after All For One ripped him open. Yagi was hyper vigilant over these types of things, and he knew that this change should not have been obvious within only three days, but with the workout schedule the boy was on paired with One For All, Izuku’s metabolism had surely skyrocketed.
He tried to press gently, to see if maybe Izuku would open up: perhaps financial issues? Struggling to pay for the amount of food he needed to consume? Yagi would gladly buy anything the boy might need should he only ask—but Izuku brushed off any queries with a panicked look to his eye, acting as if he might bolt from the conversation.
So, Yagi was at a loss. And naturally, he did what he always did when he did not know what else to do.
He asked for advice.
Naomasa knew this type of situation far too well. “Pressing him will only push him away, Toshinori.”
He felt like ripping his hair out as he wrung his hands nervously. “So I just sit there and do nothing? ”
“Not nothing . You just need to be there. Be that Pillar you always call yourself. Just instead of the Pillar of Peace, be his Pillar of trust . You need to prove that you are going to be there no matter what he tells you.”
“Of course I would be there for him! He’s my successor! We’ve worked together for months —“
“And depending on what he’s going through, it’s going to take more than that for him to believe that you will stay. I’ve seen it before, Toshinori. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with what the boy has experienced in the past.”
“…so what do you suggest I do?”
“…there is a really good ramen shop near that beach.”
And thus began the tradition. Izuku was resistant at first, hesitant to even consider letting Yagi buy his food, but eventually, he managed to convince him. Soon, it became their little tradition over the past month. And after that month of patience and opening up to the boy more and more, it finally paid off.
Yagi wished the issue was just grocery money.
“Oh dear, this sounds like a dreadful mess.”
Straightening a bit in his seat, Yagi resisted the urge to growl at the Principal over the phone. He was currently sitting on a chair in Izuku’s living room, trying desperately to figure this situation out before he would have to call Naomasa. Minors living alone for schooling is nothing new to Japan, but the clear neglect was an issue. Izuku had no trusted adults in the entire complex, and all of the food pantries were barren. All other necessities around the place were running rather low, just the remnants of what his mother had left.
His mother’s room was completely empty, and Yagi could see the signs of missing pieces of furniture throughout the house.
The place looked abandoned .
Yagi himself was sitting on one of the few chairs left, with the living room pieces and the dining room set simply gone. All that she really seemed to have not touched was Izuku’s room, which thankfully appeared fully furnished. It was all old and worn furniture, but furniture just the same.
He had noticed the little bit of All Might merch Izuku had decorating the room, even an old and worn All Might blanket on the bed, and Izuku admitted, “Mom never liked hero merch…at all. I got this with my allowance over the years and had to hide it from her…” He gave Yagi a smile far too sad for a boy so young. “Since she…left, I figured I didn’t need to hide it anymore.”
Though he may have called the boy a crybaby in fondness, Yagi soon found himself nearly crying himself.
But that was an issue to worry about later. He had a duty to this boy who was asleep in the other room, and he would like to have it sorted before Izuku’s second day of school. Taking the boy elsewhere seemed like a poor, possibly illegal , decision at the moment, so when Izuku admitted that there was no guest bed, they had swung by a store and he purchased a decent enough inflatable mattress.
He was not looking forward to it, but he would not be leaving Izuku alone.
“I would prefer if you would not refer to Young Midoriya’s personal issues as a mess ,” he replied quietly, a sternness to his tone that was unusual for him. But this whole day was unusual, so sue him.
“Oh heavens,” Nedzu chirped back, unphased by Yagi’s tone. “You know I meant no harm! Now, we shall have to look into where his mother seemed to have run off to—“
“We can worry about that once Midoriya is safe,” Yagi cut in firmly. “While I want to see justice for my boy, I also cannot bring Detective Tsukauchi in until I assure that Midoriya will not get shuffled off to foster care under my nose. I want to make this as safe and painless for him as possible.”
The principal hummed in agreement. “Ah, no worries then! I have some ideas for how to handle this tomorrow. Midoriya-kun will be safe, I can assure you.”
The tension in his shoulders eased just a bit. Nedzu was nothing if not efficient. “Very well, I trust your abilities to handle this…and thank you.”
“While I know that I cannot compare to how close you are with your successor, rest assured that my students’ well being comes first and foremost to me.”
A few other details were exchanged before the two finally hung up, and Yagi allowed himself to slump in the chair. He wanted so desperately to berate himself for not having seen the signs sooner, for not having reacted faster—but then he reminded himself that his boy was now safe , that Izuku trusted him.
Now all he had to do was not fail that trust.
And now all he had left to do today was give in to the dreaded fate of the inflatable mattress in the living room.
Fun .
Aizawa was going to be raising hell today.
Having had to pick up someone else’s patrol the night before, he was absolutely bone dead tired. He had been hoping to get a few extra hours of sleep in before classes that morning. Unfortunately for him and everyone that has to deal with him today, Nedzu called him in.
And told him to be there at six in the morning .
Slamming open the door to the Principal’s office, hair even more of a mess than usual and more visibly pronounced bags under his eyes, he snapped, “This had better be important.”
Nedzu remained unphased, sipping at his tea while a particularly large thermos of what Aizawa could only assume to be coffee sat across from him. “Aizawa-kun, I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to have a seat. This is going to be a bit of a long conversation.”
Eyeing the apology gift coffee warily, Aizawa moved to sit in the seat, lowering himself slowly as he glanced between the thermos and his boss. “What happened?”
Deciding to get straight to the point, Nedzu pointedly sat down his teacup. “I am enacting UA’s emergency foster protocols on one of your homeroom students effective immediately.”
“… fuck .” Snatching up the thermos, he unscrewed the lid and then proceeded to chug a large portion of it. Sitting it down with a bit too much force, he asked, “Who?”
“Midoriya Izuku.”
“…you have got to be joking —“
“I do not joke about these kinds of issues, Aizawa-kun.”
“I know, I—“ He ran his hands across his face. “The kid that I threatened to expel yesterday. The one that breaks bone anytime he uses his quirk. You want me to be legally responsible for that child.”
“You already handle a class full on a near daily basis,” Nedzu countered, tail swishing lazily. “This would not be much different—“
“That is incorrect, and you know it—“
“You are the best choice—“
“I am the most illogical choice—“
“You are the only choice, Aizawa.”
Aizawa’s jaw clicked shut.
Sighing, Nedzu continued. “All of the teacher’s have emergency foster licenses, but most are last ditch options. You know this.”
“…what about Hizashi?”
Nedzu’s smile dimmed. “You know he has a busier schedule than even you, and Midoriya…will require a more delicate approach.”
Aizawa blinked. “ I am more delicate—“
“You do not scream at random or make overly blunt and rude remarks, so yes. You are.”
As a last ditch effort, he asked, “What about All Might? I know the two are familiar.”
“And you know that Yagi has too many health issues to even be considered an option, among many other issues,” Nedzu replied. He did not deny the familiar part. “Yagi asked me himself about the option when he called last night to relay the situation.”
Aizawa did not quite know how to take that bit of information. “…I think I need an explanation about the how and the why of Yagi’s involvement.”
Nedzu picked up his tea once more, taking a sip. “I am launching an investigation with Detective Tsukauchi later today, but the short answer is that Yagi has been working with Izuku for the past year for physical training, and yesterday after class, Midoriya finally opened up to Yagi that his mother abandoned him after taking the Hero Course exam against her wishes.”
That…was a lot to process. “Abandoned as in—“
“As in she moved out and is now lost in the wind.” Nedzu’s eyes turned sharp as he sat his cup down firmly. “I will find her.”
That statement sounded more like a threat.
Aizawa quickly decided that the woman deserved whatever she got.
Resigning to his fate, Aizawa weakly asked, “By effective immediately, do you mean—“
“He needs to move in with you after classes today!” Nedzu victoriously chirped. “You can simply get his essentials from his apartment today and clear out the rest over the weekend . I’ve already cleared your schedule for patrols this week with your agency—“
“ What— “
“And you shall be exempt from after school meetings for the next two weeks to help Midoriya adjust,” Nedzu continued, ignoring Aizawa’s protests. “Yagi will also be assisting you with everything—“
“I do not want All Might in my apartment.”
Nedzu’s tail stilled. “…Aizawa-kun, I need you to understand,” he began, his tone tinged with a bit of seriousness that he usually lacked. “When I say that Yagi is a trusted adult, I mean that Yagi is likely the only adult that Midoriya trusts. At all .”
Everything began to sink in. “…I want the details.”
And then suddenly a file is being sat in front of him as Nedzu explained himself. “This is all I have managed to dig out so far.” Sliding it forward with a purpose, Nedzu declared, “I will find more. But for now, this is what we have.”
Aizawa was very wary about the way that was phrased.
Nedzu suddenly seemed… hesitant . Which somehow seemed worse than him being devious. “I would like to also say,” the principal began, looking up at Aizawa with apologetic eyes. “That I did not believe a particular detail to be important to point out before. I have realized that I was wrong.”
Aizawa stared at the file like it could explode at any second. It was nothing unusual, just the usual boring brown with Midoriya’s name scrawled across the label. “What detail ?”
Nedzu held firm. “Be rational, Aizawa-kun.”
“ What detail? ”
“That Midoriya’s quirk did not come in until the Entrance exam.”
Aizawa felt like punching the rat in the face. “Midoriya grew up quirkless .”
“I did not think it was necessary to mention.”
“…you mean to tell me that you allowed me to believe that Midoriya was lazy , that he had just neglected to perfect his quirk all of these years—“
“Aizawa-kun—“
“I told this child to his face that he was not cut out for heroics because of his quirk,” Aizawa cut in darkly. “A quirk that I thought he had years to perfect, not just a month— “ He paused, taking a deep breath as it all settled on him. “He grew up quirkless , probably experiencing a huge deal of quirkism for it, and now I have to try and be a parent to him after making an ass of myself yesterday—“
“Er…”
Aizawa’s head snapped around to the doorway, seeing two familiar faces standing there. “…shit.”
Nedzu seemed unphased. “Ah, Yagi-kun! Midoriya-kun! Do please come in, we are just finalizing the details of Midoriya’s fostering.”
Midoriya, hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his old, worn backpack, immediately looked terrified . Head snapping to Yagi, who was noticeably in his thinner form which meant that Midoriya likely knew , he pleaded, “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to go into the system—“
“And you are not!” Yagi urgently replied, his voice quiet and low as he placed his hands on the teen’s shoulders, urging him to calm. “I promise, you are safe —“
“I am terribly sorry for the misunderstanding,” Nedzu explained, looking genuinely…concerned. “I did not mean fostering in that nature. What I meant was that you do need a guardian—“
“Can Yagi-san be my guardian?” Midoriya asked quietly, shrinking at the taller man’s side. “I won’t be a bother, I promise, I can stay in the apartment and care for myself—“
“I am afraid,” Yagi began gently, keeping a grounding hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “That I cannot legally take you in due to my health, my boy.” He smiled sadly. “I gladly would if I could, however.”
Midoriya seemed to wilt . “…then who—“
And that’s when emerald eyes snapped to meet his own, and the understanding seemed to click .
“… oh .”
Yes. Oh indeed.
“Due to the nature of your school admission forms, your homeroom teachers have the legal capability of taking in a student when needed,” Nedzu explained, pointedly ignoring the dawning horror on Izuku’s face while Aizawa resisted the urge to slump down in his seat.
Midoriya’s hand darted out to grab Yagi’s suit sleeve, clutching it tightly. “I…don’t want to be a burden.”
Aizawa finally began to slump. Just a bit. Enough to convey how truly fucked this situation was. But Nedzu was giving him a pointed stare. So. He spoke. “It is fine, Midoriya. I am more than willing to take you in.”
Midoriya seemed to doubt that statement, but he simply nodded.
“Excellent!” Nedzu chirped, obviously wanting to move on from this. “Now, Midoriya, please do take a seat. I have a few questions for you if you do not mind answering.”
“O-okay,” the boy replied meekly as he moved to the seat farthest from Aizawa, pointedly dragging Yagi along to the middle seat.
And ouch did that sting a bit for Aizawa.
But Aizawa ignored the growing gloom in his gut and focused on the rat, who was opening up Midoriya’s file with a purpose. “Now, Midoriya,” Nedzu began, sliding the file from Aizawa to the boy. “What do you know of the protocols for children of heroes?”
Midoriya blinked. “Uh…that they usually aren’t public record?” He shrugged. “Not much else though, but I guess that’s for good reason.”
The principal nodded. “Yes, the procedures and protocols are very heavily guarded for safety reasons. Hero children are at extreme risk to villains, thus, their protection is taken very seriously! But even still, there are some fail safes in place to help identify hero children. One of which is a very specific mark on various records that pass through offices of the Commission.”
Midoriya looked confused. As did Aizawa. And Yagi. “I am sorry to interrupt,” said blonde interjected. “But what does this have to do with Young Midoriya?…is he to get such a mark for being in Aizawa’s care?”
And to that, Aizawa was hit with the realization that ‘Shit, I have a kid now. I’m a parent. Legally a parent to something other than a cat— “
“Technically, yes, he would,” Nedzu replied. “But as to why I am asking…”
Flipping open the file, Nedzu splayed all the documents across the desk. Various school enrollment forms, health certificates, the works. “All of these were submitted documents. None are flagged in my systems as being the child of a hero parent…”
Aizawa did not like where this was going.
“…all except for Midoriya’s birth certificate.”
Midoriya grew deathly still. “…what?”
Nedzu tilted his head. “According to our records, despite someone attempting to do everything they could to detach you from this fact, you are, in fact, the child of a legal Hero.”
Aizawa sucked in a hissed breath as Yagi’s attention snapped to Midoriya…Midoriya who seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
Yagi’s voice wavered. “Young Midoriya…”
“Do you understand what this means, Midoriya?” Nedzu asked calmly, folding his paws in front of him.
Midoriya did not answer.
Aizawa decided to speak for him. “You are a Legacy .”
Letting out a quiet hum, Midoriya seemed to just kind of drop his gaze. After a beat, the boy quietly stated, “I think I am going to go to class now.”
And then before any of them could find the heart to stop him, Midoriya silently scooped up his bag and hurried out the door, letting it close with a firm click .