Chapter Text
Hybrids had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. Before your mum had passed away, she’d been both a vocal advocate for hybrids’ rights and a serial foster carer. Usually, they’d been fully grown adults, part of the generation which had suddenly started having life spans more akin to a human’s than an animal’s, taking their owners by complete surprise and being given up on mass. Your mum had worked tirelessly for their benefit, even as the cancer ate away at her, and you’d continued her work.
You specialised in “difficult” cases. That meant everything from hybrids with expensive medical conditions, to hybrids with trauma, to the ones with “behavioural” issues. You fostered a myriad of species and, with your extensive experience, had written more than one book on the subject. To call you an expert might have been an exaggeration in your view but both local and national shelters had your number for emergencies.
It was why, six months ago, you’d gotten a call in the early morning about a giant lop hybrid who was refusing to eat. None of the standard advice was helping and the hybrid had already been dangerously underweight when he entered the shelter. He had suffered mental and emotional abuse in his previous home, developing anorexia as a result; being ripped from the only people he considered family, he’d abandoned food all together, punishing himself for his perceived failure to please his owners. It wasn’t a situation that could be left alone.
The shelter itself was local, so you’d popped your head in that morning to see if there was anything you could glean from a face-to-face interaction. The giant lop had been curled in on himself in his humanoid form, too malnourished and tired to even shake despite his obvious fear. His ears were limp, eyes empty, and his coat like straw, looking for all the world like he’d already passed. Your heart, usually steady in the face of what humanity could do to its closest cousin, had wrenched painfully at the sight.
After phoning home so that your family knew not to worry, you sat by his room, in view and scenting distance, for hours. You managed to get him to talk and drink some sugar-water on the first day but it wasn’t until the next that you coaxed him into having some lettuce. Thrilled to see some progress, no matter how small, the shelter had begged you to take the giant lop. Despite his apparent lack of will to live, the hybrid himself had expressed some small interest in going home with you. So, before you really knew what was happening, you found yourself taking the emaciated young man as an emergency foster. It was just luck that you didn’t have any other hybrids being fostered already and could give him the attention he needed.
It was hard to reconcile that dire first impression with his current condition. His head was lying on your lap, fully relaxed, watching a new comedy show on TV as you gently played with his shiny dark green curls. Carefully avoiding his sensitive but oh-so-soft ears, you smiled down at him in fondness.
Filled out his frame’s the potential, which his previous owner had tried to repress, Midoriya Izuku was now broad shouldered with a trim waist and slightly chubby cheeks, lending him a boyishness despite only being a year younger than you. While his issues with food were hardly solved, he was at his expected weight and had joined some of your other hybrids in hitting the gym. You were keeping a close eye on his routine — last thing Izuku needed was swapping an obsession with weight loss for weight gain — but so far he’d been taking the others’ advice and was starting slow.
To say you were proud of his progress was an understatement. However, the stabilisation of Izuku’s condition meant the shelter had been pressing you for a decision.
You let your hand drift from his hair and placed in on his shoulder instead.
“Izuku-kun,” you said softly. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”
He turned his head in your lap, shifting onto his back so he could stare up at you with his big green eyes. In the dimmed light of your room, it cast shadows which gave light to the more angled features Izuku would have in just a year or so’s time. You could only just make out the spray of freckles across his cheeks, like a constellation of faint stars, and found yourself trying to count them.
Your heart skipped a beat when Izuku reached up to brush his fingertips against your cheek; a small reminder that you’d been talking to him. You flushed in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into your inattention.
Hybrids were, at a minimum, good looking due to the selection of genes used when they were initially made. But Izuku was definitely up there, in your opinion. Adding the trust in his gaze when he looked at you was almost fatal to your heart; no wonder you’d been basically in love with the hybrid since you took him home.
Not that you’d ever confess to your feelings.
“Sorry, got distracted for a second,” you said sheepishly. “I just wanted to tell you how proud I am about all your progress.”
Despite his innocence, Izuku could be very perceptive and his eyes glinted with suspicion at your tone.
“But…” he prompted.
You shook your head. “No buts. You’ve done me proud and the shelter was asking if I thought you could be put up for adoption yet. I wanted to discuss the options with you before getting back to them.”
Izuku tensed, his hand hovering beside your cheek closing into a loose fist. Knowing his life hadn’t been easy and he’d be jumping to the wrong conclusion, you hurried on. The betrayal gathering in his eyes tore you apart.
“It’s entirely up to you,” you reassured him, “And you don’t have to make a decision tonight. I’ve just got a few ideas, will you hear me out?”
He nodded slowly, caution radiating from him.
“The first option is that we move from an emergency foster situation to a normal one,” you said. “From your point of view, nothing would change but it’d be harder for you to get adopted if you wanted someone else.”
Izuku sat up with such speed you weren’t sure how he’d managed to avoid headbutting you. Before you could register what was going on, he was kneeling on the sofa beside you and gripped your sleeve, his big eyes becoming more watery by the second.
“Do… do you want me to go?” he asked.
You gathered up his hands and held them tight. Izuku squeezed them back.
“No, of course not,” you said, “Having you here has been wonderful. I just don’t want you to think you have to stay here if you didn’t want to. Option number two is permanent adoption but I didn’t want to pressure you.”
Tears continued to gather in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. Eventually rolling down his cheeks.
“I want to,” he said, “I really want to stay.”
He gathered you up in a hug, head buried in the crook of your neck. You patted his back, making soothing noises as you felt your shirt’s shoulder getting increasingly damp. You smiled lop-sidedly, caught between gratitude that Izuku wanted to remain with you and wry amusement at his happy-crying.
When Izuku had stopped crying, he sat beside you again, eyes still a little red from his outburst.
“If that’s what you want, I couldn’t be happier,” you told him, “But I’m sure you know, staying here isn’t for everyone. You’ll be my fifth adopted hybrid and I’ll have various fosters while you’re here. I always try to divvy up my time equally but there might be times where you feel like I’m not giving you enough attention.”
It was one your biggest fears, leaving one of your hybrids feeling neglected, and the more you took in the higher the chances got. While the presence of other hybrids in the household could provide a friend, it could also provide a rival for an owner’s attention. So bringing in multiple hybrids was a balancing act, even when they slotted into your life like they were meant to be there, like Izuku.
Hybrids weren’t pets, or even like adopted kids, they were more like an emperor’s concubines. Dependent on their owner, despite recent improvements in their rights, the power imbalance between humans and hybrids often left them desperate for their owner’s approval. Often regardless of the hybrid’s personal feelings towards them.
As much as you treated hybrids as equals, the trust that you wouldn’t simply abandon them took years, if it formed at all. It always hurt, a little, but you’d largely come to terms with the fact that the reaction wasn’t about you. Getting butt-hurt about it was only doing yourself and the hybrids a disservice.
“Do you remember Emiko-san?” you asked.
Izuku nodded. You’d introduced your older friend about a month ago and the pair had seemed to hit it off.
“If you wanted, we could see about you staying with her for a day,” you offered. “She’s also looking for a hybrid to adopt and she’d love to have you over. Emiko-san doesn’t have any other hybrids, so you’d get much more one-on-one time with her.”
The pair of floppy green ears slotted back, close to his head at the suggestion. His gaze becoming determined and impassioned.
“I want to stay with you, Nami-san,” he said. “You’ve been so kind since I’ve arrived. Not just to me but to all your hybrids. You treat us like we’re actual members of your family, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Emiko-san is nice but I only want Nami-san.”
Your cheeks warmed at the speech and you suddenly found yourself unable to meet Izuku’s gaze. Really, his face was the problem. If he’d been human, you’d have taken those words as a confession and it left you flustered.
“You really are way too adorable,” you said on a sigh, “But I’m very happy you’re staying. I’ll call the shelter tomorrow to let them know the situation.”
You’d barely finished the sentence before you were enveloped in a warm hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Izuku repeated in your ear. “I promise I’ll be the best hybrid ever.”
You huffed. “You don’t have to do that. Even if you were the worst, so long as you want to be here, this’ll be your home.”
Izuku barely seemed to hear you, thank you over and over again. You had to say enough, eventually, and settled down to watch the comedy which had been playing in the background all this time. Though both of you wore smiles that had nothing to do with the TV.