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Chapter Text

It had been five years since his father revealed his true self and ruined the peaceful life his family had lived. Izuku was only eight at the time, but he remembered the night just as he could remember his own face.

News reports detailed the impending capture of the villain known as Dracul and Midoriya Inko could not tear her son’s eyes away from the television as a couple heroes gave a press conference concerning the villain. While Izuku’s eyes were full of curiosity and wonder, Inko’s were swimming with uncertainty and wariness.

She’d had no proof at the time, just her suspicions.

Midoriya Hisashi’s homecoming was confirmation.

He came home later than usual and smelling too much like a burning pyre. Hisashi was angry. Inko tried to steer their son to his room, but Hisashi was not having it.

“It’s about time he learned how the real world works, don’t you think?” He’d yelled. Ignoring his wife’s protests, he pulled Izuku closer and looked into his eyes, too much like Inko’s own. “The heroes won’t want you with your disability. They will look down at you and see you as a weakling. Are you a weakling, Izuku? Or are you strong like your old man?” He’d grinned with ferocious teeth as Izuku’s dreams crumbled.

Sure, Kacchan and the other kids at school have teased him for his dreams before, but these words were coming from his own father. The heroes wouldn’t want him with his disability. He couldn’t become a hero without a quirk.

At the realization, Izuku couldn’t help but cry. Hisashi hadn’t liked that.

Izuku fell to the ground in shock, his cheek stinging.

“Izuku!” His mother yelled for him. Using her quirk, she pulled him into her arms, “How could you?” she asked her husband.

“It’s time he grew up, Inko.” He replied coldly.

She scowled at him, her own tears leaking out, “I know who you really are. I won’t let you ruin him.” Izuku felt her arms tighten around his small body. “You’ve done despicable things, Hisashi.”

He laughed, “I figured you were only going to get in my way. Let go of Izuku. You wouldn’t want him getting hurt, would you?” Heat began to fill the room as smoke escaped his grin.

Inko shook as she realized what was going to happen. Looking down at her son, her sweet, kind, beautiful son, she helped him tightly, “Izuku, you are full of love. My sweet, sweet boy, you are full of so much love and I will always be with you. Never forget that” tears fell down her face, but she smiled at her son, “the world needs more love. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” With a final kiss to his forehead, Inko pushed her son towards the far side of the room.

Izuku watched in horror as his father’s mouth opened and his flames consumed his mother.

(“Will I breathe fire like you, dad?” He’d asked in awe of his father’s quirk.

The man laughed, “I’m not sure, Izu. Maybe you’ll get something more like your mother’s quirk.”

“I like your quirk, dad. It makes me feel warm!” His dad ruffled his hair and smiled.)

His insides felt frozen. Despite the fire flooding the room, Izuku felt cold.

He hadn’t even realized he was screaming.

“Momma!”

Something built up inside of him. It felt like lightning was running through his veins. Shocking his insides and pulling at his nerves. It hurt.

But his heart hurt even more.

Hisashi watched as his quirkless son released smoke from his mouth and seemed to pull some of the flames away from Inko’s burning body. His weak efforts were fruitless, but Hisashi was intrigued, nonetheless. He stomped over to the small boy and picked him up, ignoring his yells of anguish.

“Looks like you have more potential than I thought.” His smile was predatory.

Izuku watched his world burn.

Midoriya Izuku just turned thirteen.

It’d been five years, but he had never forgotten his mother and her final words to him. His father tried to train his quirk, but Izuku refused, not even allowing himself to speak, afraid of releasing the same flames that killed his mother.

Hisashi, or Dracul as he was best known as, gave up on his son’s stubbornness and instead helped to nourish his interest in analysis. Izuku had always been interested in heroes and how they fight. At first, it bothered Hisashi. His son was so enraptured with the cartoonish lives of the show ponies the world deemed worthy of praise that he never accepted his father for who he was. A villain.

However, upon seeing Izuku’s notes on Sir Nighteye, Dracul realized how useful his clever boy could really be.

For hours, they would alternate between physical training and analytical training. Dracul would put Izuku through hours of hard exercises and spar matches. By the end of their training, the mats wreaked of vomit, sweat, and blood. Izuku would fight the urge to pass out as Dracul forced him to clean it all up before taking a shower.

Afterwards, he was forced to sit and watch and write. Something that he used to love doing, now tainted by his father’s insistence on conquering all heroes. Izuku would hold back tears as he was meant to write the weaknesses of his favorite heroes on paper. Dracul didn’t like when he cried. Izuku couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed his tear ducts to empty.

Each time he finished an analysis, Dracul would make him bow as he recited his usual affirmations.

“Heroes only hurt.”

“Heroes only care for themselves and the money they earn.”

“People like us can never be heroes.”

“We are hated by heroes because we try to show the truth.”

“You were never meant to be a hero. You’re too much like me.”

Throughout these doubts, throughout the beatings and the trainings, Izuku held his mother’s words closer to his heart than any of the others his father would throw at him.

Sure, maybe he couldn’t be a hero anymore, but Izuku would never become a villain like his father.

Dracul brought pain and sadness and hatred.

Mom taught him to love and to be kind and to forgive.

After a long night of a particularly harsh beating, Izuku laid in his bed listening to the radio. The host was discussing the fight between Dracul and the pro hero Mister Blaster. As they discussed the fallout and the injuries Mister Blaster sustained, Izuku felt dread pool in him. He finished his analysis on Mister Blaster the week before. The injuries the hero received aligned with the weaknesses he pointed out in his notes.

Izuku had experienced nights like this many times before. He would lay awake and let the guilt eat his flesh until he felt exposed to the world. Countless times had his notebooks brought nothing but harm to heroes. The same heroes he adored.

The radio host was theorizing who Dracul would attack next when the green-haired boy made up his mind.

If he were to continue to act like a villain, he would never be able to live up to his mother’s words. How could he love in such a hateful home?

Izuku waited until Dracul left for the night, meeting with a new informant. Right as the door clicked shut, he gathered a dark green hoodie, a black facemask, a pair of fingerless gloves he'd often use while training, his black cargo pants, and his bright red sneakers. Getting dressed, Izuku looked at himself in the mirror. Even with Midoriya Izuku being dead to the public, he didn’t want news getting around with any information pertaining to his appearance. His father wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t stupid. If word got around of a green-haired kid running around helping heroes, he’d put two and two together and surely burn him alive.

His eyes reflected his determination before he unlocked his window and made his way into the city. Dracul’s training may have been harsh, but it was exactly what Izuku needed to begin his task.

In an attempt to make up for the many times he’d aided in his father’s acts of villainy, Izuku wanted to help the heroes in any way he could. The public needed more heroes who cared about small neighborhood troubles and heroes needed frequent back-up. Surely, with his training, Izuku could help to diminish the stress put onto his local heroes by patrolling the streets late at night.

Izuku perched on the edge of a building, looking down at Musutafu. He would fulfill his mother’s wishes and he would help the heroes he knew he could never become, even if it killed him.

As he accepted his new responsibilities, Izuku thought back to a video he had to watch for an online class. It was about learned behavior.

“The fleas are placed inside the jar and left undisturbed for three days. Then, when the jar is opened, the fleas will not jump out. In fact, the fleas will never jump higher than the level set by the lid. Their behavior is now set for the rest of their lives.”

Midoriya Izuku was not a flea.

Chapter Text

Izuku jumped from one rooftop to the next, racing through the dark city. He’s kept to his routine for four months now. Every other night, he goes out in his green hoodie, black cargo pants, black face mask, and his red sneakers, and he protects those that he can.

He’s saved many people who were cornered by thugs in alleys, he’s helped lost children find their way back, he’s even helped the occasional hero in a fight where they were outnumbered.

Izuku was doing good. After years of helping his father commit horrible crimes and bring nothing but pain to others, he was finally giving back by aiding the heroes and helping the community around him.

Tucking into a roll, Izuku vaulted over another fire escape. It had been quiet for most of the night. He’d only had to stop a single carjacker and intervene in two drunken fights. The boy allowed himself a calm moment to look over the rooftops. He startled as a familiar silhouette appeared on roof a block away.

Izuku smiled under his mask and silently crept closer, keeping to the shadows. The silhouette became clearer, and he was able to make out the man’s shoulder-length black hair that rested on top of his winding capture scarf.

Eraserhead.

Of course, Izuku had known of the pro hero and a detective that he frequently ran into would mention the man often. But, Izuku had never had the chance to meet the hero himself.

He was one of the most underground underground heroes. There were only two videos of him online and they were normally archived or wiped minutes after they circulate. Despite this, Izuku had a small page dedicated to the hero in one of his notebooks.

His quirkless fighting style is what initially drew his attention to the man. He was one of the most efficient underground heroes, yet his primary fighting style didn’t involve his quirk. The man was Izuku’s idol for a long time.

Perhaps that was why Izuku felt no hesitance when he snuck closer to the perched hero.

He was close enough to see the man’s face. Close enough to see the dark, tired eyes flick over to his own.

“So, you’re the one giving Tsukauchi gray hairs.”

His voice was deep but flat. He gave no emotions away with his words. If anything, there was a hint of intrigue.

 Eraserhead didn’t move his body as he addressed the shadowed boy. Izuku swallowed his hesitance and stepped closer.

“You know,” the hero drawled and finally turned his head to face the boy, “vigilantism is illegal in Japan. Actually, I think it’s illegal everywhere.”

Now that Eraserhead was facing him, he could see as Izuku signed to him, [Not a vigilante] he had to fingerspell the last word, but hopefully the hero knew sign.

The dark-haired man tilted his head, “Not deaf then,” noting how he’d responded to his statement, “is it to hide your voice or are you mute?” He remained sitting on the wall of the roof, but his body was facing Izuku. It was clear that the hero was trying to appear more open, trying to lure the boy closer.

[Neither.] he responded.

Eraserhead ‘hmm’d in thought before returning to his previous point, “If you aren’t a vigilante, what would you call what you’re doing right now?”

Izuku contemplated that question. He glanced over at the city he’d been scouring for the past few months and tried to think of a way to describe what he’d been doing. Wasn’t he technically a vigilante? Eraserhead was right, he was definitely committing vigilantism. But that wasn’t his intention.

He turned back to the erasure hero who was watching him with a calculating look, and he smiled under his mask.

[Helping] he signed.

Eraserhead laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh like his father. The hero’s laugh was a startled but light, lone chuckle. He nodded, “You’re not wrong. Detective Tsukauchi told me how you’ve been cleaning up the area.”

The slight praise made Izuku preen.

“But” the man continued, “he thinks you’re too young to be out doing this.” Izuku didn’t move but he prepared his body to run. Eraserhead noticed anyway and stood from his perch, “We just want to talk to you, kid.”

Well, Izuku didn’t talk. Whatever conversation they’d wanted to have would be unfairly one-sided. A wave of disappointment swept through his tense body. He was going to have to run from one of his favorite heroes.

Wait.

The disappointment was replaced with excitement. He was going to have to run from one of his favorite heroes.

Izuku didn’t give Eraserhead any time to react and sprinted away from the man.

He heard the man curse and follow after him swiftly. Izuku grinned under his mask, having fun with the chase. Eraserhead was fast but Izuku was young and nimble and used to running from fire during training.

Izuku vaulted over the lip of a building, Eraserhead vaulted over it mere seconds later. Izuku sidestepped between alley walls, Eraserhead sidestepped between alley walls.

Their cat and mouse chase lasted longer than either had expected but ended with Izuku losing the older man between his favorite pizza place and his father’s hidden facility.

As Izuku stripped his sweaty clothes and replaced them with the itchy training clothes his father gave him, he couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Eraserhead. His idol apparently had contact with the detective Izuku frequently ran into during his patrols and they talked about him. He could hear his father’s voice in the back of his head, scolding the boy for even considering that a hero would care about him.

Izuku laid down and let his muscles rest.

Maybe if Eraserhead stopped trying to catch him, they’d make a good team. Izuku fell asleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

“Aizawa,” Tsukauchi greeted from his desk, “take a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from him.

The hero sat in the chair and looked at the papers decorating the detective’s workspace. Most were printed out news articles and social media posts, some were shots pulled from security camera footage. All illustrating the vigilante Aizawa had just met the night before.

He’d told Tsukauchi of his encounter with the (child? The masked vigilante was much too short to be an adult. Maybe it was an aspect of their quirk) troublemaker and his friend had quickly demanded they meet the following night. Hence, Aizawa cutting his patrol early to meet with the only other person he knows with a sleep schedule as unhealthy as his own.

Aizawa leafed through the photos, “This is everything you have on them?” He snorted at a fairly embarrassing photo of the kid tripping over a pipe after tying up some muggers.

Tsukauchi nodded before sliding over another folder, “And this is everything we suspect of his identity.” Aizawa nodded at the silent confirmation of the vigilante being a boy.

He raised an eyebrow upon reading what was scrolled across the folder, “You named him?”

The detective laughed and shook his head. He gestured to one of the printed news articles, “A few weeks ago, he saved a little girl and her mom from getting jumped. The girl called him “Jade” and told Officer Sansa that he had the ‘most greenest eyes ever’ and they looked like her mother’s jade bracelet,” he pulled out a sketch artist’s rendition of what they know Jade looks like. There were hardly any drawn facial features due to the kid’s mask. “We’ve been calling him Jade at the precinct,” Tsukauchi finished.

Aizawa picked up the drawing, “He’s young.”

Tsukauchi’s smile thinned into a grim line, “I know,” it was said with an air of finality. Both of them had realized Jade couldn’t be older than eighteen. The implications of that were what spurred their investigation. “Did you learn anything else about him last night?”

“He’s mute but he used Japanese sign language to talk to me a little bit,” Aizawa told him. The detective nodded and began to take notes on what the pro told him. “The kid obviously has some training, not sure from where though. From what I’ve been able to see since he first popped up on my radar, he uses a mix of street-style fighting, aikido, and maybe even some judo.” He thought back to how the kid wasn’t afraid of him on the rooftop and how he actually seemed excited to see him, “He’s too trusting.”

Tsukauchi stopped writing to look at him, “What do you mean?” A teenage vigilante running around at night beating up criminals was “too trusting”? Yeah, sounds believable.

Aizawa crossed his arms as he recalled Jade’s behavior, “He only ever seemed wary of me when I chased him. The rest of the interaction, he acted like he knew I wouldn’t hurt him.” A large part of him was glad that the vigilante knew he didn’t want to hurt him, but it also led to many alarming questions.

“Maybe he knew your hero status,” Tsukauchi suggested, “he’s shown his willingness to work with heroes before.”

“That makes sense considering he doesn’t consider himself to be a vigilante,” Aizawa told him.

This was news to the detective, “What?” Tsukauchi asked, shocked, “What does he think he’s doing then?” The kid was smart, that much was clear. There’s no way he isn’t aware of the vigilantism he was committing nearly every night.

Aizawa smirked, “He told me that he’s helping,” he signed the last word as he said it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by the guts of the kid. Even with the mask, Jade had seemed determined to not be a vigilante, but to be a helper.

Tsukauchi groaned and rested his head in his hands, “He’s only been moonlighting for a couple weeks, and I can already imagine the paperwork he’s going to bring in the future.”

As his friend mourned the sleep he would no-doubt lose over the vigilante, Aizawa glanced over the photographs again. Jade really was just a kid. With his height and his skill, it was hard to pinpoint his age, but there was no doubt he was a child. A child who just wanted to help people, even if his methods were reckless. Aizawa looked at the still shot of Jade vaulting over an alley and decided he didn’t want to see the kid bloodied and beaten or dead in a ditch.

“I can help in your investigation.”

Tsukauchi looked up at the erasure hero, “Eraser, you already have so much on your plate. I couldn’t possibly ask you to-“

“You didn’t ask,” Aizawa shrugged off his friend’s concerns, “I want to be involved.” No doubt, the detective could see the look of concern and protectiveness that surged across his friend’s bloodshot eyes. “I’m covering Mr. Brave’s patrol route while he’s recovering from the fight with Dracul, but once he’s back, I want to be put on the case, Naomasa.” His voice held no room for argument, a tone that had definitely scared a student or ten in the past.

Tsukauchi nodded, “I’ll make copies of everything we have on Jade and have a folder ready for when you’re free.”

“In the meantime, don’t try to detain him,” Aizawa advised.

“Any reason why?” Tsukauchi agreed with the hero’s decision, but he’d still wanted to hear the reasoning.

Aizawa shrugged, “He’ll just run away. If we want to keep an eye on Jade and figure out who he is, we can’t scare him off by chasing after him. I realize I made a mistake last night when I followed him, hopefully that won’t deter him from interacting with us.”

“You just described how you approach stray cats,” Tsukauchi grinned.

Aizawa buried his face in his scarf, “Shut up.”

“You know the kid isn’t a cat, right Eraser?” the detective teased.

He huffed and stood up, “I’m leaving.”

“Mic won’t be happy if you bring another stray home!”

Aizawa slammed the door behind him. Jade wasn’t a stray, strays were skittish. The boy he’d encountered on the roof was cautious but not scared. He had an innocence about him that screamed trustfulness. It was stupid. That much trust in a stranger would only get him hurt.

He wouldn’t watch another kid die trying to be a hero.

It’d been almost a week since Izuku’s run-in with Eraserhead. Despite his desire to write down everything he’d observed that night, Izuku kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting them to aid in his father’s harming of the hero.

His father had been in a good mood the past few days. This was never a good sign. He’d been skipping on their trainings, giving the boy a much-needed break. However, the downtime did nothing to help Izuku relax. Dracul was busy, this meant bad news for whoever he was targeting.

Dracul left early Wednesday morning. Thursday night, Izuku lay in horror as he listened to his radio. Present Mic’s enthusiastic words were cut-off by an emergency service announcement.

“The Dragon Villain: Dracul has destroyed a wing of Tokyo’s general hospital. First responders and heroes of every kind are working diligently to subdue the villain and rescue the victims caught in the destruction. If you are in the area, stay inside. Dracul has not been detained yet. I repeat, if you are-“

Izuku stared at the ceiling in horror. His father attacked a hospital. So many people could be dead or hurt.

And he was helping him.

He was no better than the villain who raised him. His nightly activities made him feel helpful. Like he was righting the wrongs he’d helped his father commit.

Everything his mother taught him-

“Never forget that the world needs more love.”

-would be for nothing if he continued to stay with his father.

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His mother’s death would not be in vain and Izuku would no longer aid in the hatred his father spread.

Dracul would probably stay in Tokyo for another night, evading the heroes. Izuku sent a silent prayer to a god that wasn’t his own to help aid the heroes.

He grabbed the duffle bag his father gave him just in case they needed to ditch their home and began filling it with everything he needed. Dracul didn’t believe in comfort being a necessity for developing children so there were no toys or comfort items for him to take. Good. He needed more space for his notebooks.

There were thirteen in total including the one he’d kept hidden from his father. Izuku stuffed them in the bottom of his bag, grabbed his toiletries, and some spare clothes. Izuku lifted a loose floorboard and pulled out the old phone he’d repaired when he was eleven. It was old and worn, but it worked, and he managed to remove the GPS tracking capabilities.

He dressed himself in the outfit he reserved for his nightly outings, so as to stay under the radar. Surely a thirteen-year-old wandering the streets with a duffle bag would garner concern from passing adults. It was best to stay in the shadows.

Izuku perched on the windowsill. If he left, his dad would try to find him. He would be put on Dracul’s radar, not as a tool he used for his analysis, but as prey.

“I will always be with you. Never forget that.”

Pulling up his hood, Izuku jumped.

It takes two days for him to find a suitable place to live. Luckily, it hadn’t rained within those two days. Unluckily, he lost a shoe. Izuku scowled at the memory of his foot getting stuck in the sewer drain. Hopefully it would make a nice bed for a rat.

The old bank was a building full of whispers of hauntings. The doors and windows were boarded up and the grandiose chandelier had fallen to the marbled floor many moons ago.

It was perfect.

Izuku pulled his bag through the opening he’d broken in the window boards, replacing it afterwards. A shiver ran up the teenager’s spine. It was a creepy building for sure and it was way too big for a lone kid to live in. Upon further investigation, he found the vault. It was a large, empty room, but it felt secure enough to be his primary sleeping area.

Izuku placed his bag down and unpacked. A discarded lockbox became the new home of his notebooks with the key being hidden underneath a broken tile corner. If he wanted any of his possessions to be untouched by anyone else, it would be the notebooks. What once were a hobby that brought joy to him now only brought pain to others.

His clothes were folded and arranged on top of a chair he brought in from the lobby area. The large couch he found with the chair would have to be cleaned before he felt comfortable enough to use as a bed. The floor and his sleeping bag would do for now.

Settling down for the night, Izuku relished in the feeling of having four secure walls surrounding him. It was a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d taken for granted. Finally able to let his defenses down, one thought plagued his mind.

He really needed a job.

Well, two thoughts.

He was also really hungry.

Aizawa adjusted his capture weapon as he watched a familiar green blur fight off two quirkist thugs who had been harassing a boy with several arms. Despite his insistence, the boy refused to listen to his and Tsukauchi’s requests to get more protective gear. The kneepads he added did nothing to quell their worry.

Once the two men were unconscious, Jade zip-tied their hands and calmly approached the taller boy. He silently reached out a hand to the mutant boy who’d stayed on the ground for the fight. A moment passed before one of his many hands accepted Jade’s own. The boy was much taller than Jade’s small stature and Aizawa couldn’t contain the small huff of amusement.

Both boys looked up to where he was perched. Shit. His cover was blown. Backing away from the edge, he awaited the inevitable arrival of the young green-eyed boy.

It had been six months since his initial meeting of the vigilante and Aizawa was realizing how close he’d gotten to Jade.

They were able to help each other in fights with an easy understanding of who does what and who moves where. Their mutual understanding of JSL helped a lot especially when they needed to stay quiet. Otherwise, it was just Jade signing.

Tsukauchi had also gotten closer to the boy. If Jade ever needed to stay back to answer questions, he would only meet with the familiar detective. Tsukauchi was still practicing his JSL so Aizawa usually had to stay back and translate for the vigilante.

The two men have also learned how concerned they felt for Jade’s health. He was already small in height, but, over the last few months, the kid was losing body weight at an alarming rate. Thus, Aizawa and Tsukauchi took turns giving Jade snacks like protein bars or trail mix. Hizashi insisted he give the boy more fruit after he told his husband about trying to help the boy gain healthy weight.

It became a common occurrence for Aizawa to throw bananas at Jade to test his reflexes.

Sometimes they would grab a to-go meal if they ran into each other on patrol. Jade insisted he pay him back, but Aizawa always refused.

They wouldn’t speak (or sign) during these instances, accepting the comfortable silence for what it was. A sign of companionship.

The folder dedicated to Jade and his identity didn’t grow much in the past six months.

It was an easy dynamic.

But the lack of information was beginning to grate on Aizawa’s nerves. He knew Tsukauchi shared the sentiment. They were trying to be patient and earn Jade’s trust before asking him questions that could be seen as personal.

Jade never came to them when he was hurt. Aizawa would watch as he received a stab wound and walked it off. Each time he or the detective offered medical treatment, the kid would run.

It was an easy dynamic, but it pained Aizawa to see such a young kid hurting.

His thoughts faded to the background with the sound of Jade landing on the roof next to him, “Was the kid okay?”

Jade turned so he could see his hands, [Scared. Thankful.]

Aizawa nodded, “What about you?”

Jade looked at him and he could see the quizzical gleam in the boy’s eyes, [Me?]

“Yes, you,” Aizawa confirmed, sitting on an air conditioning unit, “Anything happen since I saw you last?” He felt out of his depth but tried to act casual. He couldn’t just outright ask him how he was doing, that would scare him off, right?

The vigilante remained standing, making it clear he wouldn’t be staying long, [OK. Nobody hurt.]

But were you hurt?

He was becoming too obvious. Six months and most of their interactions were filled with silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough to ensure Aizawa that Jade wasn’t going to get himself killed.

Aizawa grappled with his thoughts before sighing and tossing a protein bar to the kid. A large tear in his green hoodie pulled as he grabbed the snack from the air. [Thank you.]

“No problem, kid,” he waved off Jade’s thanks and stood, hearing his back crack as he straightened his spine.

[Old.] Jade’s smile was palpable even through his mask.

The pro fake scowled, “I’m not old you little shit,” a part of him was grateful Jade felt comfortable enough to tease him. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but the show of familiarity always made him feel better.

Jade shrugged and pocketed the protein bar, [OK] and Aizawa was sure that the boy’s ability to sign with snark would make Hizashi preen with adoration.

Before he could respond, the vigilante was vaulting over to the next rooftop.

This was how their interactions normally went. So, why did it leave him feeling so helpless?

Deciding to end his patrol a little early, Aizawa headed home. His and Hizashi’s apartment was a thirty-minute walk away. The entirety of his trip was occupied by his rampant thoughts. He and Tsukauchi had come to an understanding that they were both worried about Jade and his homelife. The boy’s clothes were in tatters, he still hasn’t said a word to either of them, it was clear that he didn’t live with someone that cared enough about his nightly whereabouts.

Sure, becoming a teacher pulled a strange parental urge from deep within his subconscious, but the concern he felt for Jade’s wellbeing was different. His status as a vigilante was becoming well-known and Aizawa couldn’t help the protectiveness he felt whenever another hero took it upon themselves to try and bring Jade in.

Tsukauchi had put a temporary hold on Jade’s detainment. The only conditions were that the vigilante could be taken in if he posed an immediate threat to the public or if it was Eraserhead detaining him.

The hold was temporary, and Aizawa felt the pressure of an unseen countdown breathing down his neck. They had to know more about Jade if they wanted to avoid his arrest.

Shutting the apartment’s window behind himself, Aizawa made quick work of hanging up his capture weapon and changing into some comfortable sleeping clothes. His husband was fast asleep, and he chuckled upon seeing how he was starfished across the bed.

Aizawa gently lifted Hizashi’s arm before placing it back over his chest, doing the same with the man’s leg across his own.

“Huh…Sho?”

He kissed his husband’s shoulder to silently confirm his presence. Hizashi repositioned himself to wrap his limbs around Aizawa’s body.

In the arms of his husband, he allowed his worries to melt away. He could ask Hizashi for his thoughts on his concerns in the morning. For now, he allowed the blonde to pull him into sleep.

Chapter Text

“Stop treating him like a coworker you’re trying to tip-toe around. Treat him like a teenager who needs your help, Sho.”

Hizashi was right. Of course, he was right.

He had been treating Jade like he was a temperamental coworker he was scared of pissing off. He’s a teenage vigilante with an obviously unhealthy homelife. He didn’t need tiptoeing, he needed help.

That was only part of the reason why he was secretly following Jade around the following night. The other part was because of another point Hizashi made during their conversation.

“Is his muteness an inability to talk or because of his quirk?”

“…”

“You know his quirk, right?”

“…”

At the realization of one very important puzzle piece missing from Jade’s file, Aizawa found himself following the vigilante through his patrol route, staying in the shadows.

So far, he hadn’t witnessed Jade using any quirk to aid him in his endeavors. Could he have an intellect quirk? Maybe something that enhanced his senses or reflexes. It didn’t seem to be anything flashy.

Aizawa watched as Jade went through the motions of his patrol. Jade walked a woman from a bar to her apartment, helped scare off some rowdy men who were obviously going to break into a fight, helped an old woman close up her fruit stand, hell, the kid even picked up litter.

By the time the sun was rising, all Aizawa learned was that Jade needed to sleep more.

Instead of immediately heading home, Aizawa diverged from Jade’s path and went to the police station, wanting to share his new focus with Tsukauchi.

The detective was nursing a fresh cup of coffee that the hero was immediately jealous of, “Aizawa? Whatever happened that kept you from heading home better not cause me more paperwork.”

Aizawa sat down with a huff, “Let me see your file on Jade.”

Tsukauchi shrugged off his tone, knowing the man’s brusqueness was only due to his lack of sleep, “Wouldn’t you have the same information that I do?”

“I just want to double-check something.”

The file was mostly full of vague online articles and the notes the two of them had shared relating to Jade. Aizawa leafed through it before pulling out a screenshot of some forum thread. All the comments were speculating what Jade’s quirk was.

He turned it so Tsukauchi could see it, “You don’t know what it is either, do you?”

Tsukauchi crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, “Personally, I think it’s an intelligence quirk. You’ve seen how he analyzes perps before he even jumps into the fight. Sure, it’s not an ideal quirk for a combat-based vigilante, but it’s helped enough.”

Aizawa ‘hmm’d in acknowledgement as he read through the internet speculations, “Sound Dampening?”

“I saw that one,” Tsukauchi laughed, “Because of how quiet he is and how nobody’s heard him speak, a very popular belief is that he has a sound dampening or a sound control quirk.”

If that were true, Hizashi would have a field day. He put all the papers back into the folder, “So, we’re running with the assumption that he has an intelligence quirk?”

Tsukauchi shrugged, “As of right now, it’s all I’ve got.”

Aizawa tucked his head into his scarf, “I think we need to push him more.” The detective made a questioning noise. “He’s getting worse. Even with us giving him food and trying to keep an eye on him, he’s either going to get killed on a rooftop or in his own home.”

The severity of his words weighed on the room. It was something that the two men had been pushing back as much as they could. Jade’s homelife was obviously a cause of concern but, with their routine of dancing around delicate topics in the hopes of gaining the boy’s trust, his health has only gotten worse.

Tsukauchi’s face was grim, “We can’t force him to tell us. He’ll just run off and then we won’t be able to monitor him.”

“You’re right that we can’t force him to tell us,” Aizawa relented, “but, he’s a teenager that needs help. I can’t continue to treat him like he’s fine. I refuse to.”

“Do you have a plan?”

Aizawa shrugged, “I’m gonna talk to him.”

If only it were ever that simple.

Izuku wiped down the dirty countertops with the harsh, lemon-scented wipes. A week after he ran from home, Mr. Kubo offered him a part-time job at his convenience store.

When he was a kid, Izuku and his mom would stop in the store to get a snack before visiting his father’s office building across the street. He could remember he and his mom sharing a bag of chips while he picked out apple juice and she picked a sparkling water. Each time they went, he would grab a random "surprise" drink for his dad. He remembered holding his mom's hand as they ran across the busy road to his father's office. The tall building remained proudly outside the small shop, filling Izuku with memories he’d long forgotten.

The boy was grateful for the job he’d been given. Not only did it pay decently for the small amount of work he had to do, but Mr. Kubo was very understanding when Izuku relayed his inability to speak. The elder knew some essential sign words and was quickly picking up on some that Izuku would show him. Seeing the older man's attempts to communicate in a way Izuku was familiar with never failed to warm his heart. It was a comfort he hadn't felt in a long time.

When the store was empty, Mr. Kubo let the news run on the TV. Sometimes, Izuku would startle when his vigilante identity was brought up. A week after working at the store, he’d learned that the media had dubbed him “Jade: The Green Rebel”. There were fierce debates between the ethics of what he was doing and whether or not Jade was "good" or "bad". Izuku had thought it was ridiculous.

He fiercely scrubbed a stubborn spot on the counter.

“-the city has never had an issue with the well-known villain until now. Dracul-“

Izuku quickly dropped the wipe and reached for the remote to turn up the TV’s volume.

“-third location he’s attacked in the last month. His targets are unknown, but his motive seems to have changed from a dislike of heroes as there have been no reports of a hero sustaining any injury in the last three fires. We’ll keep you updated on-“

Dracul was on a rampage with no clear target.

Izuku swallowed. His father’s last three attacks haven’t been towards heroes because he hasn’t had Izuku’s analysis notebooks to aid him in strategizing.

The memory of the lockbox helped him to calm down. The notebooks were locked away. His father didn’t have them. His father didn’t have him.

But he could find you.

His blood ran cold. Dracul wasn’t an idiot. It wouldn’t be long before he found him and took him back.

What about the people he’s hurting? He could be hurting people just to find you and you’re worried about yourself.

Izuku felt disgust for himself. He stumbled into the backroom of the store. He was so selfish. Why was he worrying about himself when his father was out destroying people’s lives?

No matter what he did, his existence was bringing pain to others. Living with his father, he hurt heroes by exploiting their weaknesses. Living away from his father, he hurt innocent people and set fire to livelihoods just to find him.

His hands tugged at his hair painfully.

Dracul was right, he wasn’t born to be a hero. How could he be a hero if no matter where he turned, people were hurt because of him?

I’m sorry, momma.

How could he live in her honor if he wasn’t spreading love like she so desperately wanted him to?

“-riya? Midoriya, are you okay?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked into the kind eyes of Mr. Kubo.

The man’s smile was sad, “Why don’t you head home early, huh? You look like you need some rest.”

Izuku just nodded an accepted the offer. Sure, it may have been out of pity, but the man was right.

Izuku was tired.

It took much longer than it should have, but he’d finally made his way back home. That’s what the old bank became for him. With time, Izuku had been able to clean up the building enough to be livable. All the abandoned furniture was cleaned and repurposed, the floors were swept and sparkling, the vault had become his own bedroom.

The lobby couch became his bed that he decorated with blankets and pillows he bought with the money from working. Izuku even allowed himself to splurge and buy a Present Mic plush. While the boy favored most heroes, Present Mic’s radio show was a constant even on the dreariest of days. No matter how beaten he was from his father’s “trainings”, Izuku stayed awake to listen to the loud hero’s segments.

The plush stayed at the head of the bed so Izuku could hold it as he slept. He’d felt childish the first few times he allowed himself to act on the urge to seek comfort from the plush. As months passed, it became normal for him.

Now, Izuku pushed the plush away. He didn’t deserve the comfort.

He slept for a dreamless hour before restlessness pushed him to his feet.

After seeing what his father had done, there was no way he could sleep peacefully. Pulling his hood up and his mask on, Jade started an early shift.

The sun was barely set when heard the familiar light footsteps of Eraserhead. Izuku glanced at the man tiredly as he took a seat next to him.

He'd been up there long before the sun even began to set, needing to clear his head. His thoughts were too panicked at the store for him to work through them. Up on the rooftops, away from wandering eyes and televisions blaring the news, Izuku was able to decipher his thoughts.

He wanted to be upset that his time alone was interrupted, but a small part of him craved the companionship that the hero frequently offered. They sat in silence for a few minutes, but Izuku basked in it as he allowed his self-deprecating thoughts to be put on hold.

Surprisingly, Eraserhead breaks the silence, “What do you want to get out of all this, kid?”

Izuku froze. This wasn’t how this worked. Eraserhead would sit next to him. He would pass Izuku a protein bar or a banana. Izuku would save it for later. They would sit in silence until a yell for help or a suspicious noise drew their attention. Then they would leave to go beat up bad guys. That was how it always happened. That was their routine.

Why was the hero asking him questions like that?

He’s probably getting tired of you.

Izuku thought about the question. What did he want to get out of all of this?

He raised his hands to sign before dropping them again, really thinking about his answer. His doubts today would garner a new, self-pitying answer. Maybe even a selfish one. But, at his heart, Izuku knew what he’d wanted since the start.

[I want to save people.] His hands didn’t shake once.

Eraserhead looked into his eyes, but it didn’t feel piercing like it did when his father used to. The hero wasn’t judging him or calculating how to pick his answer apart, he just seemed curious, “Why don’t you go to a hero school and get your license, then? It’d be more legal than what you’re doing now.” The last part was added like it was meant to be a joke.

Izuku shook his head, [People like me cannot be heroes.] Not with how he was raised to be. Not with all the people he’s hurt and lives he’d helped in ending.

He was more villain than hero.

Eraserhead looked away from him, setting his gaze onto the city, “People like you are exactly who we need as heroes.”

And oh how Izuku wanted to believe him. Izuku wanted to take the man’s words and make them into a warm jacket. He wanted so desperately for them to be true. But he didn’t know what Izuku had done. He didn’t know that some of his friends were hurt because Izuku was too weak to defy his father.

They sat in silence.

It was no longer the familiar silence that Izuku used to look forward to. It was something more. This silence felt like a promise.

Aizawa said nothing else as he let the kid next to him soak in his words. It was obvious that Jade doubted his own capabilities. He wasn’t aware of the heart he carried. He didn’t know he had the heart of a hero. And that hurt Aizawa to realize.

Someone made this kid believe he wasn’t able to be a hero. Jade was the epitome of a hero, minus the illegal aspect... and the fact that he’s a child.

Perhaps showing him how capable he truly was would be the key to understanding him.

No matter what this revelation unlocked in their dynamic, Aizawa refused to continue to stand idly in the sidelines.

Their silence was pierced by an explosion breaking the skyline. Jade startled at his side.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, “Dracul?” He thought aloud.

Jade’s eyes widened in fear at his utterance of the villain’s name. That alone was enough to startle Aizawa. He’d never seen such genuine fear in the boy’s eyes. Hesitance, yes. Nervousness, yes. He’s even seen the occasional look of sadness swim through his green eyes. Never had he seen such guttural fear. But, instead of running away as any sane person would do, Jade ran towards the explosion.

“Wait!” Aizawa yelled, following at the green boy’s heels. “You shouldn’t go over there, Jade!”

The vigilante ignored his yells as he raced towards the blazing fire with a type of desperation Aizawa had never seen in the kid.

He vaulted over rooves as fast as he could trying to catch up to the nimble vigilante. If Dracul really was at the scene, Jade didn’t stand a chance. The villain would take one look at the boy and burn him alive. Aizawa’s chest constricted at the thought.

They were quickly approaching the fire and new worry flooded his body as Jade showed no signs of slowing down. Was he trying to get killed?

Aizawa continued to yell at him as the boy broke through the police barricade. When Aizawa tried to follow-suit, two pairs of strong arms held him back. Dread clawed at him as Jade’s body disappeared in the fire.

“Let me go, dammit!” He yelled and tried to push through the two officers attempting to hold him back.

“We can’t let you go in there, Eraserhead. The fire department’s here and they’ll take care of it. Only rescue heroes are permitted to get through.”

The officer’s words went in one ear and out the other. Aizawa watched as the theater burned with the green-haired child inside of it.

It had happened so fast. Jade didn’t slow at all when he ran into the fire. Surely, he could have used his capture weapon to stop him. Why didn’t he stop him?

“Eraser?”

Aizawa whipped around as he broke from the officers’ grips, “Tell them to let me through,” he demanded.

Tsukauchi looked startled by his ferociousness, “You know you can’t go in there; you’ll just get burned,” and he was right. But Aizawa's usual logistical capabilities were thrown out the window when he watched a child run into flames.

“Jade’s in there,” he said to the detective, some of his desperation leaking through, “we ran here together, and he just went into the theater.”

Tsukauchi paled but quickly collected himself, “I know you want to go in there, but you’d only hurt yourself. You know this. I know you do.”

Aizawa shook off the man’s hands when he tried to place them on his shoulders, “He’s going to die in there,” he practically growled.

“And you wouldn’t?” The other man countered.

His response was cut off by one of the officer’s who’d stopped him earlier, “Isn’t that Jade?”

Both Aizawa and Tsukauchi quickly redirected their gazes to the entrance of the burning theater.

The fire that was blocking the entrance was being parted by an invisible force as Jade trudged through. He was carrying a child on his back and one in his arms. Behind him, Aizawa could see civilians who’d been caught in the theater. Jade guided them through the flames, and it was clear the parting of the flames was the vigilante’s doing as he used his free hand to manipulate the direction of the fire. Medics rushed over to help the civilians and Jade passed the children he was carrying to one of the medics who dared to get so close to the fire. The vigilante didn’t let the flames approach a single person.

Relief flooded his flames as Jade approached them, his clothes seemingly the only part of him charred.  To his shock, Jade made to leave right past them. Tsukauchi quickly caught his elbow, “You need to be seen by a medic, Jade.” Worry was bleeding from the man’s voice.

Jade pulled from the man’s grip to turn towards them, [I am OK] he signed.

Aizawa stepped closer, “Even if your quirk kept you from getting burned, Dracul could still be in the area. It’s better to stay here with us,” his plead for the boy to not be alone went unsaid.

Jade shook his head, [He is not.]

Aizawa’s brows furrowed, “Dracul?” He asked for clarification.

The green boy nodded, [Not here.] His words were punctuated with an air of finality.

Aizawa was momentarily distracted as he thought of the implications he’d collected that night, granting Jade an opening to disappear into the crowds of reporters and panicked locals.

He didn’t attempt to follow, much more absorbed in his thoughts. Pieces were clicking together.

“Dracul.”

The fear in his eyes.

The desperation.

The fire that obeyed.

Tsukauchi lurched forward to follow the boy, but the hero put an arm across the man’s chest to hold him back. The man’s look of confusion spurred him to explain, “I think we may need to revisit Jade’s file.”

Chapter Text

Izuku’s throat burned as he restrained his scream of grief. His home. The place he’d made his own for the past six months was tarnished.

The bank hadn’t been burned to the ground like the other targets. No, this was more personal. This was more violating.

His belongings and his living areas were charred.

A deep-rooted pain buried itself inside Izuku’s chest. His father just couldn’t help but take from him. He just took and he took, and he took.

His hands were leaving indents in his cheeks as he squeezed his mouth. Fire licked at his throat and Izuku wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let it out. He swallowed the taste of smoke.

Izuku allowed himself to fall to his knees, his Jade kneepads softening the harsh landing. The home he’d made for himself had been used as a taunt in the game his father was trying to play with him. It was a clear threat. A show of dominance. It screamed “I found you” in neon lights.

You’ll never outrun him.

He shivered as he crawled towards the few items that weren’t completely turned to ash. Some of his clothes looked to be wearable at the least. An extra blanket he’d kept folded in the corner just had some ash on it. A glance at his bed confirmed that his Present Mic had been burnt beyond redemption.

The small sense of comfort Izuku allowed himself to feel seemed to melt away.

In a daze, he stumbled to where he hid the lockbox. Izuku allowed a small bout of relief numb him. Dracul hadn’t found the notebooks.

He plucked the key from underneath the broken tile and stuffed it into his hoodie.

If Izuku was feeling any bit of his usual self, he would have scolded himself for revealing the lockbox when he had no idea whether or not Dracul was still in the area.

But Izuku wasn’t feeling like himself.

So, he grabbed the lockbox and his few uncharred belongings and stumbled out of his ruined home.

Dracul marked it as his own.

Izuku had the sense to stay in the shadows of midnight as he stumbled to the only place he knew he could go.

He used his spare key to unlock the frail door. A bell chimed to nobody as he entered the convenience store. The backroom had a small space he’d be able to stay in until he found somewhere else to stay. He was already burdening Mr. Kubo just by working there, he couldn’t add illegal loitering to the old man’s stress.

Still in a daze that Eraserhead would claim was “shock”, Izuku scribbled a short but clear explanation on a notepad and left it next to himself. Mr. Kubo would see it in the morning and hopefully not kick him to the curb.

As he laid down in a pitiful attempt to rest his aching body and soul, Izuku’s arms ached to wrap around the Present Mic plush. An unfamiliar stinging overwhelmed his eyes but Izuku bit back the tears that wanted to spill. Dracul never liked it when he cried. He hadn’t been allowed to since the night his mother burned.

He wouldn’t allow himself to cry over another thing the man ruined.

“Damn,” Tsukauchi cursed, “I was really betting on an intelligence quirk.”

Aizawa scoffed, “I don’t think anyone considered something like this.”

The detective slapped the folder to his desk and took a seat, “Are we sure it’s not some type of wind quirk like Skycrawler?”

“I’m sure that we would have felt it or seen him use it before tonight if that were true,” Aizawa pointed out. The other man sighed in resignation, “But,” the hero continued, “I’m not sure if Jade’s quirk is fire manipulation or if it’s something more.”

“I say we search the quirk registry for fire manipulation types first, and if we don’t find anything, consider other possibilities.” Ever the problem-solving pacifist, that man. Tsukauchi looked Aizawa dead in his tired eyes, “Now that we have that out of the way for now, tell me what happened tonight.”

Aizawa shrugged, “I really don’t know. Jade and I were on top of a building when we saw the initial explosion a few blocks away,” he chose to leave out what he and Jade were talking about specifically. Not everything the kid disclosed to him had to be shared as part of a case. “I immediately knew it was Dracul’s doing and when I said as much, Jade looked…terrified.” It was true. Aizawa had never seen the young vigilante look that scared before.

“I don’t mean to step on your feet here, but why wouldn’t he be scared?” Tsukauchi asked, “He’s a kid who obviously knows who Dracul is. Hell, I’d be worried if he wasn’t scared.” He chuckled a bit at the end, but Aizawa just shook his head.

“No, this was different,” he insisted, “he looked terrified but didn’t hesitate to run towards the explosion. If he were a kid scared of a villain, he would have run the other way or took a while to debate whether he would go or not,” Aizawa continued, trying to get his friend to understand the unseen severity, “I had to run after him towards something he was obviously scared of.”

Jade’s haunted eyes and his desperate sprint towards the villain’s flames painted an odd picture. One that even he couldn’t unpack completely.

His point seemed to have been as Tsukauchi was in deep thought. The man opened Jade’s file and began to furiously scribble his thoughts, “I’ll look into the quirk registry tomorrow,” he said once he was done writing. “Anything I find will immediately be shared with you.”

Aizawa nodded and stood from his chair, “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Aizawa,” Tsukauchi said, and he waved in return. The detective had a way of sounding sincere even in his farewells. It was a simple trait that Hizashi seemed to fixate on whenever he spoke to the man.

The dark-haired man swallowed a yawn as he began to make his way back home. In light of everything that had happened that night, Hizashi had called him and asked for him to not continue his patrol after leaving the station. Aizawa knew that the blonde was worried with Dracul being in the city and he wanted to see for himself that his husband was unharmed.

Who was he to argue with that?

Due to his lack of roof-travel, Aizawa elected to just go through the normal entrance of the apartment building as opposed to his usual window route.

His exhaustion showed as he floundered for his key that was simply in his zipper pocket, where it had always been.

The living room lamp was on and Shouta could see the form of his loud-mouth husband resting uncomfortably on the couch, hearing aids still in. He rolled his eyes fondly before brushing his hand gently through Hizashi’s hair, attempting to gently wake him up.

“You’ll be grumpy tomorrow if I let you sleep here, Zashi,” he goaded. His husband’s eyes blearily opened, “There you are.”

“Huh?” Hizashi looked up at him sleepily, “Sho,” and oh that dopey smile never ceased to fill him with a warmth Aizawa refused to let show, “you okay?” His words were mumbled through a yawn.

Shouta chuckled, “Yeah, I’m okay,” he continued to run his hands through the blonde’s hair, “I’ll be even more okay when I can lay down with you.”

That seemed to wake Hizashi up a little more, “Smart,” he chirped and stood up, bringing Shouta with him, “Let’s get you to bed,” he dragged him towards their room. Rhino, their tabby, sprinted out of the way of Hizashi’s stumbling feet.

“I’ll have to give him extra treats in the morning,” Shouta thought to himself.

He made quick work of changing into pajamas before helping his husband to gently remove his hearing aids. The two got comfortable in each other’s arms and Shouta welcomed unconsciousness with open arms.

However, his unconsciousness was playing hard-to-get as his mind raced with thoughts of the green-eyed child.

There was something familiar about the look in Jade’s eyes when he heard Dracul’s name. The fear was palpable, yes, but there was something else. The inability to recall why the look was so familiar would nag at him until he passed out. It felt like an obnoxious itch that he couldn’t scratch.

Evening his breaths, Shouta mentally laid out his primary points of interest.

Jade was scared of Dracul but not scared enough to avoid the villain. His quirk had something to do with controlling fire (Fire manipulation? Temperature control?). Jade somehow knew Dracul was no longer in the area so soon after the initial explosion. The team in charge of Dracul’s capture confirmed this. How did Jade know that, though? Maybe he could sense heat signatures with his quirk?

No, that’s a maybe. What does he know.

Jade’s fear was real, palpable even through his half-visible face. Jade was familiar with Dracul. He’d recognized the name and already knew his next steps. Jade did not agree with Dracul’s actions, as seen by how he intervened and saved all the civilians he could.

Did Jade know Dracul? Have they run into each other before? Considering Jade’s status as a vigilante, it wouldn’t be uncommon for villains to attempt to reach out to him in an attempt to get him on their side.

The fire. They both have fire-related quirks.

Could they-

No.

But they could be-

The idea of Jade being related to Dracul in some way sent waves of uneasiness down his spine. Shouta must have physically reacted as Hizashi, still asleep, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He’d talk to Tsukauchi in the morning.

Forcing his mind to calm and for his random thoughts to disperse, Shouta finally fell asleep.

Mr. Kubo gladly let Izuku stay in the background. In fact, the man seemed relieved. Izuku couldn’t understand why the elder was happy to have a mute teenager living in his storage room, but who was he to overlook the good graces.

He would stick to his usual shifts and immediately go out as Jade once he clocked out. Dracul knew him as Izuku, not as Jade. If Izuku could lay low for a good while, Jade could collect information and continue to help people.

Separating his identities into two different people gave him a headache.

It’s been five days since his home had been marked and Izuku made sure to steer clear of the area during his patrols. Part of his reason for doing so was to avoid any run-ins with his father, a larger part was to avoid the grief that would consume him upon seeing his ruined home again.

Eraserhead tried to get his attention a few times, but Izuku couldn’t bring himself to meet with the man. His mind was running with negative emotions and the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at the hero who’d only ever treated him as an equal. Sure, he and the detective made it clear that they’d prefer if he took the more legal route of helping people, but they also stopped trying to arrest him. Which was a pretty big leap of faith in his opinion.

The night that his father blew up the theater, Eraserhead tried to have an actual conversation with him. Maybe he wasn’t a burden on the hero. It seemed like the pro actually wanted to be around him.

Leaping over an alley, Izuku heard muffled shouts coming from his left. Quickly changing his direction, he stayed light on his feet to look over the opening.

It looked to be three men trying to drag two women into a van. The women looked like they had quirk suppressant collars around their necks. Izuku’s teeth bared, the men were traffickers.

No hesitation, Izuku jumped between the fire escapes stairs and landed gracefully behind the men. Taking advantage of their incompetence, Izuku kicked the largest one in the back of his knee before swinging the heel of his other foot into the side of the man’s head. He fell with a heavy thud.

“It’s that vigilante I told you about!” The brown-haired trafficker yelled to his partner. One of his hands was morphed into a large blade as he stepped in front of the two unconscious girls.

Izuku pulled a metal piece from the rusty fire escape and watched for the man’s next move. He threw his whole body into the swipe of his blade, Izuku dodged, making the man lose his balance. With a kick to the back, the low-life tripped over himself, forcing him to deactivate his quirk or risk stabbing himself. Izuku stepped on the man’s hand once the blade disappeared. Ignoring the yell of pain, he pinched the side of the trafficker’s neck, knocking him out.

One of the girl’s was in the back of the van and the last man was trying to put the second girl with her when Izuku jumped on his back. He shifted his body weight to pull the man to the ground. Izuku twisted himself around to avoid getting crushed and quickly used his knees to pin his shoulders. Izuku used the piece of metal he’d grabbed to dully knock into the piece of scum’s head, allowing him to join his partners in unconsciousness.

Izuku called the direct-line for the police station as he slowly but surely zip-tied all of the men together.

Already used to the protocol Jade followed, the secretary on the other end of the phone notified Tsukauchi who was calling.

While he waited for the detective to show up with a few officers, Izuku took the collars off of the two women and untied their hands. They were still unconscious but hopefully they would wake a little less panicked now that they were untied and uncollared.

It only took six minutes for help to arrive.

Upon seeing a familiar dark-haired man in a trench coat, Izuku waved him over. To his surprise, Eraserhead followed Tsukauchi out of the car.

The medics were already hoisting the women onto gurneys by the time the two men were standing in front of him.

Izuku contemplated running, like he used to do all those months ago. He didn’t want to see Eraserhead’s suspicious eyes or Tsukauchi’s pitying frown. Surely his actions from the past few nights had the two forming their own theories. Or maybe they didn’t even care.

Why would they care about you?

“Thanks for catching these guys, Jade,” Tsukauchi said good-naturedly as the three men were dragged away.

Eraserhead looked over the damage done to the criminals, “Good job, kid,” he praised.

Izuku looked between them with his eyebrows furrowed, [You two want something] he signed. It was a statement, and they all knew it.

“We don’t want anything from you, don’t worry,” Tsukauchi said placatingly.

He narrowed his eyes, [Not worried]. His hands were stiff as he signed, conveying his frustration.

Eraserhead sighed, “We aren’t here to grill you on where you’ve been,” he said, “we do, however, want to give you something.” He held out a small white card that Izuku slowly reached out for.

Once it was in his hand, he took three steps back, giving himself space to read the card but also keep an eye on the two men’s movements.

Oh.

It was their phone numbers.

Izuku looked up at them, [Why?] he asked them. What did he do to get them to trust him with these? Eraserhead was an underground hero, people like him weren’t supposed to know about him, not to mention own his phone number.

Tsukauchi smiled, “We thought it’d be easier to communicate that way. I’m kind of shocked we didn’t do this earlier,” he laughed.

Izuku’s head tilted, [C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-E what?].

“Cases, information, if you need back-up, locations of criminals you hit with pipes,” Eraserhead drawled.

Tsukauchi cut in, “You can even just use it to let us know if you got home safe.”

The man’s smile was steady and bright. Did he mean that? He could just text them that he was safe and they wouldn’t mind?

Why were adults so confusing?

Izuku swallowed his inner turmoil and tucked the card into one of his pockets. Looking between the men in front of him, he came to a shattering conclusion.

He wanted to trust them. He already trusted them enough to sit in comfortable silence and eat protein bars thrown his way. Is that what trust felt like? Sharing protein bars that tasted like playdoh as you sat in silence; was that trust?

Trust tasted like gross protein bars and smelled like coffee.

Izuku looked up at Tsukauchi and Eraserhead, nodding firmly, before springing between the alley’s walls and up onto the roof. He’d half-expected Eraserhead to follow him and take the card back.

He watched as Tsukauchi kept smiling at Eraserhead as the spoke and walked back to the car. The hero’s response went unheard by Izuku’s ears. The detective laughed at whatever Eraserhead said before getting into the driver’s seat.

Eraserhead paused before getting into the passenger side. His head raised and his eyes narrowed until he was making direct eye contact with Izuku.

The boy froze, waiting for a scolding or even a hateful glare.

Eraserhead smiled at him and got into the car.

Even as the car was far out of range, Izuku smiled at the empty space.

Once his joy faded into a more subdued version, Izuku made his way back to the convenience store where he sat on his sleeping bag and stared at the card between his fingers.

Neither Tsukauchi or Eraserhead had given him any reason to not trust them so then why was it so hard to accept that he felt he could trust the two adults.

He grabbed his phone and, before he could psyche himself out of it, Izuku made a group chat with Eraserhead, Tsukauchi, and himself. He sent his first message and immediately burned with embarrassment. He threw his phone into one of the shelves and buried his face into his pillow.

Maybe Kami would be merciful and let him suffocate in his sleep.

Kami was not merciful.

Shouta heard his phone chime on the bathroom counter as he dried his hair off. Mentally running through the people he knew who could possibly be texting him at this time, he frowned suspiciously.

Grabbing his phone, he swiped it open and felt his frown fade.

Groupchat of 3

***-***-**** set their name to Jade.

Jade: Made it home safe :)

***-***-**** set their name to Eraser.

Eraser: Good. Get some sleep, Problem Child.

A sigh of relief vacated his lungs and Shouta was glad Hizashi wasn’t awake to witness that.

Jade using the phone numbers they’d given him that same night felt like a large step for them. Hopefully the kid would trust them enough to message them during an emergency. Jade’s unknown homelife continued to wreak havoc on Shouta’s emotions. Their new line of communication helped him calm down a little bit now that the kid had a way to quickly communicate.

As he went to sleep that night, Shouta’s thoughts were silent.

Chapter Text

It’d been two nights since they’d given Jade the card with their phone numbers on it. The vigilante hasn’t said anything since his first message, but Aizawa held on to the possibility of Jade actually texting them if he needed their help.

The decision to give their phone numbers to the kid was an easy one. Tsukauchi even wrote down his personal number instead of the one connected to his work phone. As their suspicions regarding Jade’s identity and his connection with Dracul rose, so did Aizawa’s want to protect him.

Hizashi would tell him it was a parental feeling, but he would refute by claiming it was a normal amount of protectiveness one would feel when faced with a teenage vigilante who may or may not be related to an infamous villain.

Or something like that.

Each time Aizawa tried to push down his protective urges, his body was full of fear. Fear of seeing the small body of Jade beaten in an alley. Fear of seeing him trip and fall off of a building far too tall to recover. Fear of seeing Dracul turn him to ashes.

So, yes, he was a little protective of the child with too big of a heart. But it wasn’t parental. Nope.

Swinging down from the neighboring roof across from the precinct, Aizawa tucked into a roll and quickly entered the building. It was three in the morning which meant the building wasn’t too busy, but he knew better. The door to Tsukauchi’s office restrained multiple voices. One of which was very familiar.

Aizawa opened the office door and observed its inhabitants. Tsukauchi was stood behind his desk with several folder spread across it, papers spilling out from each of them. Next to him was Sansa, one of the lead officers in charge of the Dracul case. He’d been brought on the team once the villain made his move into the city. Across from them with his back facing the door was the unmistakable figure of Ingenium, The Turbo Hero. The hero brought two of his many sidekicks along with him.

Ingenium had overseen the Dracul case for months now, ever since there were whispers of the villain in Hosu. With his agency’s abundance of sidekicks, Ingenium had been able to travel around and follow Dracul’s path of destruction.

Aizawa hadn’t seen Tensei since the beginning of his investigation when he and Nemuri met him and Hizashi at a bar to celebrate Nemuri’s new job at UA. It was relieving to see him again.

Tsukauchi’s head snapped up after a few too many seconds, making it clear how tired the man really was, “Eraser! Thank you for joining us.” If it were anyone else who had said it, Aizawa would have suspected that they were being sarcastic. Luckily, Tsukauchi was genuine.

Ingenium pivoted to look at him, “It’s been too long since we’ve been on a case together, Eraserhead.” Since they were only in the detective’s office, he had his helmet off, letting Aizawa see the very familiar grin of his friend.

Aizawa shook his outstretched hand, “Not long enough,” he retorted dryly.

Tensei laughed, “It’s good to see you.”

Sansa cut in, “Eraser, you’re the lead hero on the Jade case?”

He nodded and stuck his hands back in his pockets, “Yes. Tsukauchi and I have been the soul leads on the task force with the occasional help as needed.”

“Which is exactly why I wanted all of us to discuss some overlaps we may have in our files,” Tsukauchi informed the room.

“I understand that Jade was spotted at the scene of the theater Dracul hit last week but do you really think he had something to do with that?” Tensei asked. Jade was known to many heroes now, having built a quiet reputation as one of the less troublesome active vigilantes. After Aizawa became the lead hero on Jade’s case, it was spread around that the vigilante was not to be detained unless absolutely necessary.

Aizawa joined Tsukauchi on his other side, “We don’t believe he had anything to do with Dracul’s attack, but we have reason to believe he has something to do with Dracul himself.”

One of the sidekicks, Pin Cushion, looked at him in confusion, “What do you mean? Are they working together?” She asked him.

“We don’t have reason to believe that,” Tsukauchi told them while pulling out their most recent papers in Jade’s file, “we do, however, think that they know each other in someway other than word of mouth.”

The papers he pulled out showed Aizawa’s own recount of what happened the night of the theater and the absolute scraps of connections they were able to find between the villain and the vigilante. There was next to nothing on that paper.

Tensei looked at the connections, “Jade’s quirk is ‘Fire Manipulation’?” His look of surprise was shared by the other three inhabitants who were unaware of Jade’s status. Chances were they’ve heard the rumors of the possible intelligence quirk.

“We saw it for ourselves,” Aizawa began, “We don’t know the specifics and we’ve only seen it the one instance but we’re fairly certain he has a fire quirk.”

The other sidekick, whose name was escaping him, crossed their arms, “So you think that just because they both have fire-related quirks, they’re related?”

“We think they’re connected,” Aizawa leveled them with a glare, matching their crossed arms, “Tsukauchi and I believe that with the additional information, we’ll be able to find even more proof of connections. If our theories are true, we may be able to find not only Jade’s identity, but Dracul’s as well.”

Tensei placed a firm hand on the sidekick’s shoulder, “If all works out as planned, what are you going to do about Jade?” Whether his friend was asking for the case or to quell is own curiosity, Aizawa couldn’t be too sure of.

Aizawa and Tsukauchi had spent many conversations on that very same topic. If they found Jade’s identity and were able to take him off the streets, where would he go? He needed a stable homelife and he needed someone capable enough to care for his needs and muteness. Despite the many connections he had in the underground scene, there weren’t many people who would take in a kid with the issues Jade exhibited. However, there weren’t many alternatives.

Tsukauchi stacked the papers neatly, “He will probably be put into witness protection or the foster care system with heavily monitored guardians.”

Pin Cushion spluttered, “Foster care? How old is he?”

Tensei and the other sidekick looked just as concerned. Sansa just looked resigned; he’d known of Jade’s age since the detective had first seen the kid.

“We think he’s between the ages of twelve and sixteen,” Tsukauchi informed them grimly.

A weight seemed to settle throughout the room. None of the occupants other than Tsukauchi, himself, and maybe Sansa had even thought of the possibility that Jade wasn’t an adult. Tensei looked nauseous. Knowing his friend, Aizawa was sure he was thinking of his little brother Tenya at that moment.

With a firm nod, Ingenium leaned over the folders on the desk, “Let’s get to work.”

An hour in and all but one of Dracul’s known aliases have been stuck to the whiteboard with their basic information listed below.

“This is the alias he used while in Tokyo, his first known hit,” Tensei gestured to one of the names, “We know this because in each of the cities he’s been in, he builds connections. Most seem harmless enough, they’re normally neighbors or coworkers. But it’s enough for us to be able to track that specific name,” he stuck a news article underneath the alias, “In the Tokyo fire, Nakano Aika was killed after being trapped in the pet store she worked at. No other victim was found in that site.”

Aizawa peered at the newspaper article, “Do you have any photos of Nakano?”

Sansa picked up a folder that had been pushed to the side and passed the first photo to him. Aizawa peered into the eyes of Nakano and found no spark of resemblance.

He put her photo on the whiteboard as well, “Can we get all of the pictures of the fire victims up here?”

Sansa and the other sidekick (Flabbergast, he’d learned) used magnets to put all the victims in the right area under each location. There wasn’t much information on the Musutafu fire yet as it was still fairly recent. However, once he’d passed down the line of fires in order of occurrence, Aizawa realized that there had been two fires in Musutafu.

He gestured to the fire from nearly six years ago, “Why does the first Musutafu fire have such little information?”

Tensei crossed his arms next to him, “We think this one was an accident. Not only because it was such a populated place to strike but because the gap between this fire and the previous one is the longest we’d tracked.” It’s true. The gap between the first Musutafu fire and the previous fire in Fyukuoka had a four-year gap. Within that gap, Dracul was reportedly part of small-time hits. Nothing huge like his usual MO.

“You think he was settling down?” Tsukauchi asked skeptically.

“I think he was settling as much as a full-time villain could,” Tensei shrugged.

The detective nodded, “That would also explain why you don’t have a listed alias for him. He was more protective of it this time.”

Aizawa read through the news article covering the apartment fire, “Who was the victim?”

“There were a few dozen since it was an inhabited apartment complex,” Sansa said.

He shook his head, “No, who was the victim he’d specifically targeted?”

Tensei pulled out a list from the files, “We aren’t sure who he was targeting specifically or even if there was a target,” he passed the paper to Aizawa, “you’re happy to search for them though.”

The list had sixteen names on it. Glancing at them quickly, no names stuck out except, “Midoriya?”

Tsukauchi looked over his shoulder, “Midori, that’s green, isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question, but Aizawa nodded anyway.

“It seems almost too easy,” he mumbled.

Tensei looked at the name they were scrutinizing, “’Midoriya, Inko’? I think we have a small bit of info on her. Why does this one stick out, Eraser?”

Aizawa looked at him flatly, “Her last name means ‘green’. Jade’s whole gimmick is very green. I know I’m grasping at straws here but it wouldn’t hurt to look into her file.”

Tensei shrugged and glanced at Sansa who was closest to the victim file.

Just like all of the victims who they believed to have a connection to Dracul, their medical records up to their deaths, education history, location history, and listed family was all on the paper. A small area was also dedicated to theories as to how they and Dracul were connected.

Sansa passed the paper to Aizawa who was starting to get irrationally annoyed at the feeling of paper in his hands.

Midoriya Inko, married to Midoriya Hisashi for three years. There was no information on the man, not even a family name. It seemed like he took her name in the marriage.

Prior to her death, the only time Inko spent at a hospital was for her work as a nurse. Although, there was a small excerpt from eight years prior to her death that said she had an appointment that lasted nearly forty-eight hours. Not suspicious or anything. He pointed this fact out to Tsukauchi who added it as a note on the whiteboard.

She had no living family but was part of the district’s elementary school PTA. Who would willingly be a part of the PTA when they didn’t even have a child? Aizawa felt a headache just at the idea of spending more time than necessary around children.

“I want all the information we have on this fire,” he said firmly, “News articles, witness reports, everything.”

Flabbergast looked confused, “We already have all the necessary information.”

Tsukauchi shook his head, “No, Eraserhead is right. There’s something missing here and with it being the only attack you all believe to be an accident; we need more emphasis on it.”

Aizawa nodded, “If any of these incidents has a connection to Jade, it’s likely to be this one.”

“Alright,” Tensei pulled out a tablet, “Pin Cushion and I will start looking at witness reports.”

“I’ll look at statements from the other victims’ families,” Flabbergast said.

“Sansa, Eraser, and I will scrub through all the news reports,” Tsukauchi concluded.

They’d all accepted that they’d be pulling an all-nighter as Sansa put on a new pot of coffee.

Over the next few hours, articles were printed out and analyzed, coffee was consumed at an unhealthy rate, highlighters were dried out, and eyedrops were used.

He’d been looking over and article that a victim’s cousin wrote about suspicious activity surrounding the case when Tsukauchi shot up from his slouched position. The room’s occupants startled with the man’s sudden actions. (Aizawa would forever deny that he was also startled by this.)

“Look at this!” The detective said urgently, pushing the paper into Aizawa’s face.

He impatiently snatched it from the other man’s hands and looked to where he’d been pointing.

“…Midoriya’s eight-year-old son was also thought to have been caught in the fire. Authorities report that an approximate eighteen people were in the fire that night.”

“’Eight-year-old son’?” He questioned.

“He wasn’t mentioned in any other articles,” Tsukauchi said hurriedly, “Hell, he’s not mentioned anywhere.”

Sansa peered at the paper, “How do you know it wasn’t a mistake?”

Aizawa was thinking the same thing when Pin Cushion handed over the paper she was currently analyzing, “This witness report also mentions a son,” she told them.

Tsukauchi read it over quickly, “’When questioned why she was at the scene of the fire, Bakugou Mitsuki claimed that her son was worried about his friend, Midoriya Inko’s son. Once told that no such boy was found out of the fire, Bakugou insisted officials continue to search for the boy.’” He flipped the paper to the other side only to scowl in frustration, “No other mentions of the kid. Why did nobody seem to care about a child potentially missing or being killed in this fire?”

“Do we have a name?” Tensei asked.

Tsukauchi shook his head, “I think we’re gonna have to get a warrant to dive into Midoriya’s medical records.”

“Wait,” Aizawa grabbed the vague medical records they’d already gotten access to, “The two day long ‘appointment’ listed in her file.”

Tensei looked at it, “Eight years before the fire.”

Wide-eyed, Tsukauchi glanced between him and the papers, “That was his birth.”

Aizawa nodded, feeling a sense of relief that they’d finally gotten somewhere with their sleepless night.

Sansa growled a little, “That still doesn’t explain why this child’s identity was buried and why the authorities in charge didn’t look into his disappearance.”

“It doesn’t,” Aizawa agreed, “but once we get that warrant, we can scrub for a birth certificate. Once we get the kid’s name, we can use that same warrant to look into his files, no matter how buried they are.”

Tsukauchi went to continue but threw a hesitant glance towards the two sidekicks in the room. Tensei caught-on, “Can you two give us a minute?” Looking put-out but not arguing, the two left the room.

The detective nodded his thanks, “If this is connected to Jade, I don’t want more people knowing his identity than necessary,” he explained.

Tensei nodded in understanding, “I’ll keep them off the tasks that would be more related to Jade’s identity.”

Tsukauchi nodded his thanks.

Aizawa looked up at the man from his seated position, “Are we both thinking the same thing?”

“I think so,” he sighed.

“Wanna share with the room before the sidekicks get bored?” Sansa asked teasingly.

“We think Jade is the missing son of Midoriya and he knows Dracul is the one who killed his mother.” Aizawa summarized.

“That would make sense,” Tensei remarked, “but what other information do we have on the husband?”

Tsukauchi shrugged, “Nothing really,” he passed a scrap piece of paper over, “He’s listed a victim of the fire as well, but I couldn’t find any other info on him.”

“Government official?” Sansa asked. It was a good theory; it would explain why his details weren’t public.

Tensei shook his head, “No, we go through all the victims to see if they’re known heroes or government employees to check for an ulterior motive. Nobody in this fire was flagged.”

“How fast can we get that warrant?” Aizawa asked, scrubbing a frustrated hand across his face.

Sansa sat heavily in his chair, “Not fast enough.”

It was true that it would take a few days for their warrant to be cleared, even with the backing of Ingenium’s agency.

He groaned and pulled out his phone, “I think I can get it faster.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes lit up with realization, “I thought you hated owing him favors,” he said, shocked.

Aizawa shut his eyes as the phone rang, “I do.”

The phone picked up in three rings.

“You’re lucky you caught me during my early tea, Aizawa-kun! How lovely to hear from you even at this early hour!”

The underground hero internally shivered at his boss’s constantly chipper tone.

“I need a favor.”

It took Nezu ten hours to get them warrants for both Midoriya Inko’s medical history and for access of any information that may come from her history.

Of course, with this, he now owed Nezu a favor. The rodent’s favors were always requested at the most inopportune times, which only served to fill Aizawa with a sense of dread that only his rodent boss could fulfill.

He sipped his coffee as he waited for Tsukauchi to finish printing out the files that had been sent to him from the hospital. He’d only sat in silence for twenty minutes before the doors were flung open with a muted fury.

Aizawa said nothing as he continued to sip his coffee. Tsukauchi threw the freshly printed papers onto his desk. Aizawa silently raised an eyebrow. He knew that whatever had the detective like this would most likely have him feeling the same way.

The other man began to pace angrily behind his desk instead of taking a seat. Understanding that whatever Tsukauchi was feeling at the moment wouldn’t go away anytime soon, Aizawa put his cup down to grab the documents.

The first one was about Midoriya Inko. Her health records and quirk status were listed underneath a photo of the kind-looking woman.

Underneath the “Relative(s)” section, there were only three names. Her parents who were also listed as deceased, and a “Midoriya Izuku”.

Flipping to the next page showed a birth certificate, confirming the existence of the missing Midoriya son.

Given Name: Izuku

Family Name: Midoriya

Date of Birth: 07/15/20XX

Father’s Name: Unregistered

Mother’s Name: Midoriya Inko

Sex: Male

Date Filed: 07/15/20XXX

Aizawa felt a wave of confusion. None of this explained why the child was left out of all official reports and never filed as missing or deceased.

“Keep reading.” Tsukauchi growled, still pacing.

Obeying, Aizawa went to the next page. Two copies of x-ray images fell out. Ignoring them for now, he scanned the page with the younger Midoriya’s medical information. His file held less information than his mother’s.

His father’s name was unlisted, just like the birth certificate, his blood type was put down as type O, his last doctor’s appointment was when he was four, and-

Oh.

“Fuck.”

Tsukauchi laughed humorlessly, “Exactly.”

Finally, Aizawa picked up the discarded x-ray images. X-rays that could completely ruin the theories they’d been leaning on. The x-rays showed the left and right foot of Midoriya Izuku.

The sharp breath of air he sucked between his teeth was followed by a sharp curse.

Finally, Tsukauchi stopped pacing to lean heavily onto the desk, “They let this kid fall through the cracks all because of his quirk status.”

Now understanding the anger the man held, Aizawa dropped the papers and raked a frustrated hand through his hair, “He fits the profile for Jade,” he began, “except for the lack of quirk.”

Tsukauchi nodded and finally sat down, “He could have been a late bloomer.”

Aizawa shook his head at the man’s suggestion, “You and I both know that the oldest late bloomer recorded was six.” It was true. A child without quirkless traits was bound to show signs of their quirk manifesting at four, but the latest recording of this was a child manifesting an elasticity quirk at six. The reasoning? Not enough milk in his diet.

“But we don’t know how old he was when it manifested.”

“Not true,” Aizawa pointed to the medical history, “His last doctor’s visit was at six. The apartment fire was when he was eight. If he manifested a quirk before then, don’t you think his mother would have taken him to get it registered?”

“Okay, not a late bloomer. So, he’s not Jade?” The disbelief in the detective’s voice was loud in the quiet office.

“I didn’t say that” Aizawa shook his head solemnly. It shouldn’t take long for the man to catch onto what he was implying. With the boy being genetically quirkless and manifesting a quirk so late, there was only one possibility that would explain Midoriya Izuku getting a quirk.

Tsukauchi’s look of confusion morphed into something between disgust and concern, “You think it was FQM?”

He nodded.

Forced Quirk Manifestation was a rare but not unheard-of phenomenon that consisted of someone developing a quirk in a time of extreme duress. Most of the cases were documented along with cases of abuse or kidnapping.

There were even trafficking rings specifically meant to abduct quirkless people and force them to manifest a quirk. Ninety percent of the time, it didn’t work. This was due to most quirkless people not having the quirk gene. Sometimes though, they will have the quirk gene, it will just be dormant. When the triggered activation did work, the forced quirk was powerful. Sometimes they would have something to do with a familial quirk, other times they were random and used purely as a defense mechanism.

“It would make sense,” he elaborated, “if it was trauma-induced, the fire resulting in his mother’s death could have been the trigger.”

“And the fire manipulation quirk is what helped him escape the building,” Tsukauchi concluded.

“Which brings us back to his connection to Dracul,” Aizawa continued, “His father being unlisted on his birth certificate and all medical records makes me think that if they’re related at all, it’s probably parental.”

Tsukauchi nodded, looking grim, “I was thinking the same thing. If Izuku was in the fire with his mother, Dracul was probably trying to kill both of them,” he pointed out, “which means he probably thinks that he died there too.”

“It could be why he became Jade,” Aizawa said, “to hide from his father.”

“Shit,” Tsukauchi sighed.

Aizawa could only hum in agreement, mind racing with all the new possibilities that they’ve uncovered. Izuku being Jade makes the most sense. He’s living on the streets to hide his living status from his father, which lead to he and Tsukauchi thinking the vigilante had a bad homelife. Technically, he had no homelife.

“I don’t think we should tell him we know.”

His statement seemed to catch the detective off guard, “Why not? If he knows we know, he could come to us and we could help him hide from Dracul.”

“Or we could push him away and closer to Dracul’s radar,” he countered, “As long as we’ve known him, he’s still skittish. Jade barely trusts us. Izuku wouldn’t trust us at all.”

“What should we do then?”

Aizawa leaned back, “We keep a closer eye on him, earn his trust, and eventually get him to tell us the truth. If we push it out of him, he’ll just push back.” He tilted his head in thought, “We should also give him more snacks.”

Tsukauchi groaned, “I need to stock up on protein bars.”

It didn’t take long for Izuku to notice that Tsukauchi and Eraserhead were trying to interact with him more. Sure, in the past they’d tried to interact with him to get information on him or even to get him to stop what he was doing, but now, it was like they were interacting with him just to have a conversation.

His mind briefly flashed back to the night of the theater fire before the initial explosion. Eraserhead was talking to him like he wasn’t just an annoying vigilante getting in the way. He spoke to Izuku like he was worried about him. Moreso, he thought he could become a hero.

Izuku wouldn’t lie, his heart raced when the hero asked why he wouldn’t go through a hero course and get his license. The idea of Eraserhead believing him to be capable of that, even without knowing his quirk, made him feel lighter than he’d felt in years.

However, the hero didn’t know that he was a villain.

He didn’t know that Izuku was just parading around as a wannabe hero when he was really just as bad as any two-bit villain, maybe even worse. If Eraserhead had any idea of what he’d helped his father do, the man wouldn’t dare recommend Izuku become a hero. He’d probably even lock him up.

Izuku’s mind raced as he pulled a protein bar from his hoodie pocket.

That was another thing, both Tsukauchi and Eraserhead were giving him even more snacks whenever he ran into them. Sometimes it was protein bars or jelly packets, other times it was actual fruit. Izuku couldn’t understand why the two men were spending money on him or why they would even bother giving him such things, but it made him feel warm.

Whenever Eraserhead would throw a jelly packet at his head, Izuku felt a warmth he’d once felt when his mom would bring him soup on sick days. He felt cared for.

And it terrified him.

Since getting his phone number, Izuku had had a few more rooftop chats with the underground hero. He was lucky the man knew JSL, or else their conversations would have been stilted, yet, probably not uncomfortable.

They would talk about normal things like the weather or recent crimes. But they would also talk about Eraserhead’s cats and how Izuku liked to look at the stars from the roof of a specific ice cream shop.

One time, Eraserhead even bought him an ice cream from the shop and joined him in stargazing.

(“I wasn’t sure which flavor you’d like so I asked what flavor is most popular with toddlers,” Eraserhead said dryly as he passed Izuku the cup of brightly colored bubblegum ice cream.

He briefly glowered at the not-so-subtle dig. Jokes on him, he enjoys bubblegum flavor.

Izuku scooped some of the dessert before awkwardly sticking it up his face mask. Eraserhead pointedly kept his gaze pointed at the sky. The small display of respect to his privacy made Izuku smile through the sweet treat.)

The man in question silently joined Izuku on the lip of the building. Weirdly, he had his full body facing Izuku, like he wanted to begin with a conversation. Normally they would greet each other in silence and then meld into a conversation.

“Aizawa.”

Izuku startled, tilting his head in question.

“My name is Aizawa Shouta,” he told him. While saying his name, he signed: [Tired Cat].

Something hesitant built in Izuku’s chest. This was huge. Not only was Eraserhead a pro-hero with a private life, but he was underground. Him telling Izuku his name was something astronomical.

Doubt clouded his mind. Why was he telling him this? Did he want something? Was it a trick? Is it a fake name meant to earn his trust only to break it?

The dark-haired man quietly turned back to face off the side of the building. Him turning away from Izuku was showing him that he didn’t need a response. Eraserhe—Aizawa wasn’t expecting something more from him in response to this information.

Izuku’s thoughts swam away like a startled school of fish and he placed a shaking hand on the hero’s arm.

Aizawa turned to look at him, surprise briefly flashing across his face.

[Call me I-Z-U] he fingerspelled his nickname. As much as he’d wanted to trust the man with his full name, he couldn’t put him in danger of finding his identity and falling under his father’s radar.

“No sign name?” Aizawa asked.

He shook his head.

“We’ll figure one out for you,” there was zero hesitance in his voice.

[We?] Izuku signed with a tilt of his head meant to convey his confusion.

Aizawa nodded, “I want to introduce you to someone. My husband. He’s the one who taught me how to sign.”

Izuku couldn’t help the small bead of shock he felt. He hadn’t even thought of the hero being married. He was hesitant to approve or reject the invitation. To some it may have sounded like a demand, but Izuku knew that the underground hero was leaving it as an opportunity he could refuse.

He hadn’t interacted with many people in the past few years. Even less in the past couple of months. But, Aizawa hadn’t done anything to hurt him. The man had shown no ill-intent in any of their interactions.

Well- okay, he did try to catch him when they first met, but that was just semantics.

This was Aizawa’s husband! That meant he had to get along with Aizawa and vice versa.

He was a good man so surely he wouldn’t introduce him to a stranger who wasn’t just as good.

[OK] he finally signed.

Aizawa’s eyes turned soft like they were trying to convey a smile without one actually gracing his features. It was a strange but welcome show of kindness.

They watched the stars together for a little longer before the older man stood up, “You should get some sleep, Jade.”

Izuku just nodded and stood as well. Aizawa nodded in farewell before jumping down the fire escape, using his scarf to swing him down safely.

He was so cool.

A small shimmer caught the corner of his eye. There was a small pile of snacks left on the ledge they’d just been sitting on.

Even if he was hiding his villainous actions from Aizawa and Tsukauchi, Izuku let himself feel the kindness that the two had been showing him.

The stab of guilt he felt from pretending to be a good person clashed with the fullness he felt after eating some of the new snacks.

He made it back to the convenience store before the sun began to rise. As he took his vigilante garb off and allowed himself to sink into his makeshift bed, Izuku felt comfortable.

Any bad dreams he’d had were quickly pushed away with a familiar gray scarf.

Chapter Text

Shouta stirred his coffee lazily. He sat across from his husband as the two had a sudden moment of solace. It was rare for them to have time to eat breakfast together due to them having such different schedules. But, due to Shouta not sleeping last night, he was awake when Hizashi was.

The blonde took a bite of his toast, “So, you talked to Jade last night?”

Shouta snorted, “I did most of the talking,” he teased.

 “You know what I meant!” Hizashi whined, kicking his husband under the table.

“Hey! Watch it, you’re gonna bruise my shin!” He glared halfheartedly. They both knew he wasn’t actually hurt by the light kicking.

His husband grinned at him, “Want me to kiss it better?” Hizashi leaned across the table making obnoxious kissing noises.

Shouta covered the man’s face with his entire hand and pushed him back, “Do you want to hear about my talk with Jade or not?” He asked dryly.

Immediately, the blonde was sitting back in his chair, looking at him with anticipation.

Shouta prepared to activate his quirk, already knowing what his husband’s reaction was going to be, “He wants to meet you.”

Before the man’s shout of joy could rock the entire apartment complex, the underground hero activated his own quirk. “Shou, this is fantastic! Do you know what food he likes? I can make him some of your mom’s caramel cookies! Is he allergic to anything?”

Hidden behind his coffee cup, Shouta smiled at Hizashi’s excitement. He’d known that the man had been wanting to meet the kid for a while, but he still found himself relieved that he was so accepting of the newest stray.

“I can show him our sign names and he can show us his and we can talk and sign together!”

Shouta’s brows furrowed as he remembered what he’d learned the past night, “Actually, he doesn’t have a sign name.”

Hizashi froze, “Did nobody give him one?” It was uncommon for someone who spoke only through sign to not have a sign name. If they learned it from someone else, their teacher would normally assign them their name. For the boy to not have a sign name for himself meant he probably didn’t have anyone in his life who also knew sign.

Shouta shrugged, “I just know he doesn’t have one and was confused by mine.”

Hizashi pouted, “You already told him yours?”

“What was I supposed to do? Spell out my entire name?” He refuted.

“Yes!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Hizashi grinned before turning back to the stove, “I’ll make him some mochi too! Do you think matcha would be too on the nose?”

Shouta huffed out a laugh, “I think he’d like anything you make,” he said honestly. Not only was his husband a very caring person, but he was also a very skilled baker. Shouta himself could cook, but he could never bake like Hizashi could.

“Wanna help me out before my shift?” Hizashi smiled over his shoulder.

Shouta made a big show of sighing and dragging himself out of the chair before slumping over his husband’s shoulders obnoxiously.

“I’m gonna get flour all over myself! Get off, you oaf!” Hizashi laughed as he tried to shrug the man’s arms off.

“No, this is me helping,” Shouta mumbled into his shoulder.

Hizashi snorted, “You’re about as helpful as a blind man giving directions.”

“Shut up and show me how to make the mochi,” Shouta finally disconnected himself from Hizashi’s back.

They spent the rest of their small time together before Hizashi’s shift making mochi and they even started to make mitsumame before the blonde had to leave. Shouta was banned from attempting to finish making the dish without Hizashi there.

Izuku pulled on his dark green hoodie and looped his mask around his ears. His fingers shook from nerves, but he tried to push them down. Pulling out his cracked phone, Izuku shot Eraserh – wait, no, he’s Aizawa now. Or would he prefer Shouta? He’d have to ask the man later.

Izuku shot Aizawa a text,

Jade: where are we meeting?

The man’s response was surprisingly quick,

Eraser: Roof from last night if that works for you.

Jade: sounds good!

“Sounds good”? Was that the proper response to a pro hero? Izuku dropped his phone into his cargo pants’ zipper pocket and covered his face with his hands. Aizawa had been so nice to him the past couple of weeks. He and Tsukauchi were giving him snacks and Aizawa even stopped another hero from trying to catch him!

None of it made any sense.

The roof that Aizawa was referring to was very close to the convenience store, making the trip very short. Sitting on the lip of the building, the boy’s mind was running rampant with anxiety.

Izuku had no idea how to act around the man now that he was trying to get closer to him. He really wanted to trust the man. However, Izuku knew to never let his guard down. That was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

Eleven-year-old Izuku was fast asleep on the cot his father gave him when he was abruptly woken up by his door slamming open.

Jolting awake, the boy tried to back away from the group of four men who invaded his room.

“Dad!” He called out for his father, clamping down on the smoke that threatened to escape his mouth. Izuku was hoping upon hope that the man would care enough to actually help him. He knew Dracul was a villain, but there was still a part of him that longed for the man to be a dad.

One of the men grabbed his small body and through him to the ground. The air was pushed out of his lungs, leaving him defenseless and gasping for breath.

His father’s face loomed over him from behind his attacker, “I told you to never get too comfortable, Izuku,” the man scolded, “There will always be someone who can take you down if you remain defenseless.”

Still catching his breath, Izuku pushed himself up only for Dracul to kick him back down.

“If this were a real scenario, you’d be incapacitated, or dead, or worse,” he leaned into the boy’s face. Izuku could smell the smoke from his mouth, “You’re lucky I’m here, Izuku. How else would you learn how to protect yourself.” His smirk turned into a sickeningly sweet smile. “You understand, don’t you?”

Izuku panted, mind trying to catch up with what was happening.

His father dropped his smile and clamped a hand into Izuku’s hair, pulling his head back, “You understand. Right, Izuku?” His throat began to glow with the unreleased flames.

Gulping, Izuku nodded, green curls flopping with the movement.

“Good,” he grinned. Turning towards the assailants he hired, his smile never fell, “finish the lesson.” He stood from his crouched position and left the room. Izuku scrambled to follow but was stopped by a gloved hand grabbing his ankle. His nails clawed into the floor weakly as he was pulled backwards.

The sound of the roof’s door broke Izuku from his thoughts. He looked at the door in alarm only to relax upon noticing the familiar figure.

“It’s just me, kid,” Aizawa said calmly, noticing Izuku’s defensive stance.

Izuku sat back down, not even realizing he’d stood up, [Husband?] he signed.

“He’s here,” Aizawa reassured, “I just wanted to greet you first, so you’re not overwhelmed,” the man walked closer to Izuku, “Are you sure you’re okay with this still? Say the word and you can go; I promise neither of us will be upset.”

Izuku smiled at the concern, regardless of it being real or not. He nodded, [OK] he signed. After all, Aizawa hadn’t hurt him yet, despite him being a villain. He basically owed this to him.

“Alright,” Aizawa nodded before turning towards the roof door, “’Zashi! You can come out now.”

The door opened and out walked a tall blonde man. He had on a purple button-down and gray slacks. His long hair was tied into a bun that allowed a few strands to escape. “’Zashi”’s green eyes were partially covered by red glasses. Most importantly, the man had a bright smile that seemed to light up the dark roof.

“Hey there, green bean!” He greeted enthusiastically.

The man’s energy was, overall, very loud. Izuku hadn’t been prepared for the energy the man carried. But, he noted, the blonde seemed familiar.

All at once, the man’s smile combined with his mustache became very reminiscent of an equally loud hero. Izuku couldn’t help the immediate excitement that flooded through him as he signed rapidly. Half of what he signed was incomprehensible and the rest were questions he rapidly asked the Voice Hero: Present Mic.

Aizawa seemed taken aback by his sudden energy, but Present Mic just laughed good naturedly, “Woah there, little guy! I barely caught any of that; you’re too good at sign!”

Izuku’s beaming smile was covered by his mask, but he was sure the roof’s other inhabitants could tell by his eyes.

“How about we take a seat and I’ll try to answer any questions you’ve got for me. Does that sound good?” Present Mic asked while sitting crisscross on the roof.

The greenette nodded quickly and sat across from the hero. Aizawa followed shortly after.

“Okay, before I answer you’re rockin’ questions; my name is Hizashi Yamada. You can call me Hizashi or Yamada or Yama or ‘Zashi or anything you want!” Hizashi beamed at him.

[H-I-Z-A-S-H-I] Izuku signed back, deciding what name he’d use for the man.

Hizashi chuckled, “That’s a little long for you to sign, dontcha think? How ‘bout you use my sign name?” The man skillfully signed [Sun Bird] for Izuku to copy. “Do you have a name you’d prefer me to use?”

Izuku shook his head, [ No sign name. I-Z-U.] He expected the man to be disappointed in him for not having a sign name, but the hero only smiled.

“We’ll fix that, don’t you worry.”

Aizawa didn’t say much as Izuku and Hizashi continued to talk and sign to each other. He did, however, assist in passing out the treats Hizashi made.

The matcha mochi was one of the best things Izuku had ever tasted. He told Hizashi as much, to which the confident man blushed.

Both heroes were respectful in not overstepping the boundaries Izuku clearly had. This made the seed of doubt he’d felt towards their trustworthiness decay little by little.

He wouldn’t lie, Izuku definitely tested the waters a little bit- just to see how the men would react.

He scooched back to make a larger gap of space between them. They said nothing and continued the conversation as normal. When he turned around to put the mochi under his mask, neither man told him not to or scolded him for being rude. When he allowed himself to sign all of his rampant thoughts on Hizashi’s quirk, they didn’t express annoyance or tell him to stop.

Before he knew it, two hours had passed and Aizawa interrupted to tell them that Hizazhi had to sleep so he wouldn’t be grumpy for his radio shift. This caused a lighthearted “argument” to break out between the two men over who was the grumpiest.

Izuku watched them with a growing fondness in his heart.

Before the left, Hizashi turned to sign at him, [Goodnight, Green Heart.]

Nothing could have wiped the smile from Izuku’s face. Even after the two heroes left, he stood dumbly in the middle of the roof. His face was beginning to ache from smiling for so long.

Okay, maybe there were two people he could actually let his guard down around.

A migraine was beginning to form behind Naomasa’s eyebrows as he looked over the new information Ingenium had sent over. In front of him laid a map that displayed all Dracul’s previous attacks and his newest ones that were retracing his steps. It looked as though he were randomly dropping into a city, he’d previously inhabited to burn something down.

The “something” is what Naomasa was currently looking over. Sometimes the locations seemed to be the target, sometimes it was a person caught in the fire.

The theater wasn’t the target in the most recent attacks, it was the theater owner who would have died in the flames had Jade not been there.

Using all Dracul’s known aliases, Ingenium was able to find that the theater owner used to be a construction manager who employed one of Dracul’s fake lives.

Each victim or location had something to do with the alias Dracul left in the city.

He was tying up loose ends.

The conclusion was interrupted by his phone vibrating. Naomasa picked it up to see a message from Eraserhead. Opening it, the detective couldn’t fight the smile that grew on his face. The underground hero had sent a picture of Jade and Hizashi sitting across from each other on a rooftop. Jade was obviously in the middle of signing something enthusiastically while Hizashi sat across from him with nothing but clear interest in his eyes.

Lie Detector: They’ll be an unstoppable force, good luck.

Eraserhead: I think we should be more scared of him meeting Nezu.

Lie Detector: Don’t say his name too loud, you’ll summon him!

Looking again at the photo, it was easy for Naomasa to connect his physical attributes to that of Midoriya Izuku. The green hair and even greener eyes were a dead giveaway. He had the same green hair that Midoriya Inko had in the photo he had for her file.

Oh.

Technically, Jade would be a loose end in Dracul’s eyes. If the villain were to ever find out Izuku was alive and running around as Jade, no doubt the boy would become a target.

Was there any way that the villain could have figured it out already?

No, surely not. Jade wasn’t reckless with his identity. With his life? Yes. But not his identity.

A knock echoed through his office.

“Come in,” he granted.

Eraserhead walked in with a noticeable lack of his loud blonde.

“Drop Mic off already?” Naomasa asked, shocked by how quick the man was.

“I sent the photo after dropping him off at home to rest,” the hero explained.

Naomasa “ahh”d in understanding. That would explain how he was here so quickly.

Eraser approached the map on the desk, “Anything new?”

“Yes, actually,” Naomasa cleared his throat, not at all happy that he must relay his terrifying theory to the other man, “We’re going under the assumption that Dracul is retracing his steps to tie up loose ends. If this is true, we need to make sure he doesn’t find out Izuku is alive and going out as Jade.”

Eraser’s eyes grew stormy, “You think he’d go after his own son like he did with the others?”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” he informed the man grimly.

“We need to find out where Jade’s staying,” Eraser decided. It would be easier to monitor the kid and make sure Dracul didn’t catch his scent if they knew where he was staying. Regardless of whatever trust they’d built over the last couple of months, the vigilante had never revealed a location of his base.

Naomasa pulled his phone out, “I’m gonna message him just to be sure he’s safe.”

Eraser nodded, despite having just seen the kid.

Tsukauchi: Just checking up; did you get home safe, Jade?

It took less than thirty seconds for the boy to respond.

Jade: Yep! Just got back from meeting with Eraserhead

Relief ran through his body, dissipating the tension he hadn't even known was there.

“He’s home safe,” Naomasa informed the dark-haired man in front of him.

Some tension visibly left the hero’s shoulders. It seemed he was just as anxious as he was.

Going back to the map, Naomasa began to build a plan, “We could-“

His discarded phone began to blow up with numerous notifications.

"What the-"

The station broke out in noise outside of the detective’s office.

Phones were ringing, officers were running to the doors, people were shouting.

Naomasa looked at Eraserhead in alarm before darting to the door and looking into the station, “Hey!” He called to a passing officer, “What the hell’s going on?”

The man, Officer Akabane, looked at him in alarm, “Another fire! It was Dracul!”

Icey fear flooded Naomasa’s veins.

Dracul hadn’t left the city yet. He was waiting for something or someone.

Jade was in danger.

Chapter Text

Izuku was pulling off his fingerless gloves when his phone vibrated next to him. Meeting Hizashi had been a fun but exhausting experience. Nothing against the man, Izuku just hadn’t had much time to socialize since leaving Dracul’s confinement. He’d loved talking to the loud blonde! His energy was a refreshing burst compared to Aizawa’s more subdued attitude. Hizashi even gave him a sign name! Izuku was [Green Heart] and just the mere idea of being given a nickname like that filled him with so much warmth that he felt like he was getting a fever.

Tsukauchi: Just checking up; did you get home safe, Jade?

He huffed a laugh at the detective’s concern. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to check-up on him. The messages reminded Izuku of a mama bird. Specifically, a duck. Imagining Tsukauchi as a duck caused Izuku to shake with muted laughter.

Jade: Yep! Just got back from meeting with Eraserhead

Did Aizawa tell the detective about their meeting? Did the man even know his real name?

Sitting down, Izuku removed his shoes. He could see a hole beginning to wear through the bottom of his right red combat boot. A scowl grew on his face. Since being on his own, Izuku had only had to purchase a pair of sneakers for work. He didn’t even remember where he’d gotten the boots, so Izuku had no clue how he’d find replacements.

His sigh of exasperation was interrupted by a ground-shaking, ear-splitting explosion.

The sound was familiar, yet it brought no comfort.

Izuku quickly put his boots, mask, and hood back on. In his haste, he’d forgotten his kneepads and fingerless gloves. He sprinted out the alleyway exit of the convenience store and stared at the blazing fire across the street.

The office building his father used to work at looked skeletal with its broken pieces and melting support beams.

It wasn’t an abandoned building. No, it was still a very popular business. Luckily, it was late at night (or early in the morning), meaning the usual employees were out of the vicinity.

But Izuku knew for a fact that there were twenty-four-hour security guards and even some late-night janitors.

Despite knowing Dracul could still be in the building, despite fearing his father more than he’d feared any other deity, despite understanding that he was running into a collapsing building, Izuku ran towards the blaze.

It was like his body moved on its own.

Using his quirk, Izuku pushed flames away from his body, making it easier to dart into the building. No sirens were audible yet, but he was certain the authorities would arrive soon. Not soon enough for the civilians left in the building.

His eyes burned with the brightness of the raging fire, but the boy didn’t let that slow him down. Already, he could hear clamoring from what seemed to be a stairway. There was a large blaze in front of the door, preventing anyone from actually leaving through it.

Izuku pushed the fire away and pulled the very hot door open. Two men stared back at him.

[Sign?] he asked. The men continued to stare. Izuku gestured at the two of them and then waved his hands at the ceiling, hoping they’d understand what he was asking.

“What the hell are you doing?” The blonde man asked, frustrated.

Izuku repeated his motions and raised his eyebrows in question.

The other man coughed, “Are you asking if anyone else is in the building?” Izuku nodded quickly. “I think there’s another janitor on the third floor,” he said.

Izuku nodded and motioned for them to follow him. The two men quickly rushed after him as he cleared a way to the exit. One of them, the oldest looking one, stumbled over a fallen piece of the building. Izuku quickly grabbed his arm and kept pulling him to the doors. The other one, a security guard judging by the uniform, grabbed the elder’s other arm and helped to pull him.

Izuku kept the path clear as they finally exited the building. He placed the fallen man a good distance away and looked at the security guard, pointing down the road. Faint sirens could be heard. He held out both his hands in a ‘stop’ motion, asking the man to stay there.

He made to run back into the building, but the man grabbed his arm, “Wait!” Izuku jerked his limb free and sprinted to the door, ignoring the yelled attempts to stop him.

Now that he knew where the stairway was, Izuku was able to quickly dart through the building’s lobby and run up the stairs he’d rescued the two civilians from. The stairway was made of concrete and steel, leaving it stable enough as he raced to the third floor.

Expecting fire on the other side of the door, Izuku reached his quirk out to push any nearby flames before opening it. The floor’s layout was an open area with a few cubicles spread out but one large meeting table in the middle.

A quick glance around revealed no sign of the missing janitor. Izuku cautiously ventured closer to the center of the room. He knocked loudly on the large table, hoping to catch the attention of the civilian or any others who may have been left.

Red and blue lights flashed through the windows, making the flames closest appear a strange purple color. Izuku couldn’t help the relief he felt at the sign of back-up. Maybe Tsukauchi would be there. This area wasn’t too close to Eraserhead’s patrol route so he doubted the man would arrive unless requested.

A loud thud stole his attention from the window. Izuku looked towards the noise to the ugly sight of a burnt body on the once regal meeting table.

The remnants of a janitor’s suit confirmed Izuku’s fearful suspicions that the body belonged to the missing janitor.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

A cold chill ran through his spine. It felt like he was plunged in ice water. Suddenly, the smoke was affecting him, and his lungs wouldn’t work why weren’t his lungs working.

A hollow laugh echoed through the room.

“I’ve gone through a lot of trouble trying to find you, Izuku,” his father’s voice crackled with the fire.

Izuku looked past the melting skin of the janitor’s corpse to look into Dracul’s orange eyes. His irises changed from his deep brown into a harsh orange whenever he used his quirk for too long. He’d clearly put a lot of energy into this attack.

The fearful step back that he took was involuntary.

“I’ve seen you running around in that ridiculous get-up. I hope you liked the gift I left you at the bank,” Dracul said mockingly, like he was talking to a small child.

Izuku swallowed his fright, looking at all the possible exits in the room. All else fails, he could jump from the third-story window and pray he didn’t completely break his bones.

Dracul crossed his arms behind his back, his relaxed demeanor purely meant to taunt Izuku. Showing that he didn’t perceive the teen as a legitimate threat.

His attention was briefly stolen by the sound of more officers showing up. One of the men he’d rescued was probably relaying his presence in the building.

“You aren’t like them,” his father said neutrally. Izuku glanced back at him. The man was leaning against the wooden table, unbothered by the corpse smoking behind him. The scent of burnt flesh was beginning to spread through the smokey room, “You can’t keep acting like you are, Izuku.”

Izuku shook his head firmly and jabbed a finger towards his father.

“You can deny it all you want but you’re more like me than any of those heroes,” he spat the last word. “Admit it, without my training, you wouldn’t have survived a week after running away,”

Izuku shook his head in denial once more.

“Yes!” Dracul nodded, “Without me, you’d be dead! Cut open in an alley and left to die!” He angrily stepped towards Izuku’s shaking frame.

Bile rose into the back of his throat as his father stalked towards him. He’d known his father was behind the fire and was most likely still in the vicinity, but knowing and seeing are two very different things. Seeing his father stood in front of him, as imposing as ever, made Izuku realize he wasn’t ready for this confrontation.

He’d thought he would be. He wasn’t. He felt like a ten-year-old kid again, being forced to fight grown men to earn his dinner.

Dracul’s throat glowed in warning, “You think you can survive without me?” He challenged. Not even waiting for a silent response, he aimed his fire to the ceiling where a support beam was already holding on by a lone wire. The wire snapped once the flame impacted it, sending the support beam to the ground.

Right towards Izuku.

Eyes widening in fear, Izuku dove to the side, attempting to avoid the falling beam. His father had stayed a safe distance away, watching and assessing.

Izuku, who’d thought he was in the clear, was startled by the sharp pain that shot through his right leg. An unwilling yell escaped him at the pain of his leg being crushed by steel. Any attempts to pull his leg out from underneath only resulted in a nauseating tearing sensation. Blood was quickly spreading underneath the limb.

Footsteps dully greeted his ears.

“If you don’t need me, then try getting out of this before you die of shock.” Dracul’s voice was laced with calm venom. His footsteps left the room in a taunting reminder of Izuku’s immobility.

Tears sprang to his eyes despite the increasing risk of dehydration.

The beam was far too heavy for him to move alone. Frustration bubbled up into his stomach. Frustrated at the stubborn metal, frustrated at his sick father, frustrated at his own stupidity for not running or fighting, frustrated at his own inability to push his emotions aside and find a rational solution for his problem.

But he was a kid. And he was scared.

Whimpers of pain escaped his mouth as helplessness swallowed him.

“Jade!”

Izuku choked on a gasp. Was that-

“Jade?”

Aizawa.

Izuku waved his hands across the floor desperately searching for something he could throw to catch the hero’s attention. His hand landed on a half-melted stapler.

“Are you in here, kid?”

He threw the stapler in the voice’s direction. Hope clawing at him in desperation. Aizawa’s yells got closer until a dark shape appeared in Izuku’s line of sight.

“Jade!” Aizawa ran towards him quickly. His capture weapon was around his nose and mouth like a mask to protect him from the smoke. As he got closer, Izuku reached a hand out to focus his quirk around the man, protecting him from the flames biting at his heels.

The darkly clothed hero kneeled next to him, “Your leg,” he observed hurriedly. Izuku made a show of trying to pull himself from under it only to stop when the pain became too unbearable. Aizawa placed a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, don’t do that! I’m gonna try to lift it off you, okay? If you can push it at all, try to do it too but focus on getting your leg loose, got it?”

He nodded deftly, tears clouding his vision. Or maybe that was just his vision. He was bleeding a lot. Maybe the blood loss was actually affecting him.

Fingers were snapping in front of his face, redirecting his attention, “You with me, Jade?” He nodded.

Aizawa placed a hand on the too-warm support beam, hissing at the heat. Izuku tried his best to manipulate the fire and the heat away from the dark-haired man. It’d been a while since he’d attempted to manipulate heat itself, but maybe it would at least help a little bit.

The beam began to budge and Izuku pushed with it, quickly sliding his leg out once there was enough space. A wounded cry rang through the third floor as the pain spread, the circulation returning to the most wounded areas.

Aizawa rubbed his burnt hands on his shirt, quickly trying to dissuade the feeling, “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? Nod if that’s okay,” his hands hovered around Izuku’s body.

Tearfully, the boy nodded in acceptance. There was no way he’d be able to walk out with his leg that way it was.

Not wasting an extra second, Aizawa tucked his hands behind his shoulders and underneath his knees, holding him in a bridal carry.

Izuku would probably be embarrassed if it didn’t feel like his leg was about to fall off.

As Aizawa carried him through the building, Izuku only focused on two things: the man’s breathing and keeping the flames away from him. There’s no doubt that the hero had seen him use his quirk at least twice now, but Izuku would be damned if he didn’t prioritize Aizawa escaping the flames over keeping part of his secret.

Exiting the building felt like finally swimming to the surface and taking a deep breath. The air felt clearer than it had ever felt before. Izuku knew he was gasping for air in Aizawa’s arms, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

“Eraser!” A muddled voice broke through his gasps. Tsukauchi’s eyes stared back at him as he was carried to an ambulance.

“His leg was crushed by a beam,” Aizawa explained to both the detective and a purple-skinned paramedic. A hundred different quirk theories swam through his head just by seeing her skin alone.

As Aizawa tried to separate himself from him, Izuku reached a hand out to grab the man’s sleeve in a desperate vice-grip.

His gasps remained frantic as his thoughts swam with thoughts of being alone and vulnerable. If Aizawa left him, he’d be alone and injured surrounded by strangers. They’d take his mask off and find his identity. They’d pump him full of drugs and never let him fully wake up. They’d w-

“Easy, Jade,” the deep voice of his hero swept over him like a warm blanket, “I’ll stay right here with you. Just let the paramedic check you out, alright? Your leg looks like shit.”

A borderline-hysterical snort shook his tense shoulders at the man’s bluntness.

The purple woman walked closer, radiating a calm energy, “Can you lean back for me please?” With Aizawa’s help, he was able to relax into the gurney. “Perfect!” She praised, “My name is Ichika Yua and my quirk is Piece By Piece. I’m able to reassemble any object, including organic matter,” Ichika explained to him, “I’m going to use it to reattach the parts of your leg that tore.”

Izuku nodded but squeezed the grip he had on Aizawa’s sleeve. The man noticed and replaced the sleeve with his own hand, holding Izuku’s in a comforting grip, “Is it going to hurt him?” he asked.

Ichika looked regretful, “It will hurt but it needs to be done as quickly as possible before any more bacteria get onto the torn tissue. His possibility of infection is already very high, and I don’t want it to increase.”

Tsukauchi bent over Aizawa’s shoulder, “Do you understand, Jade?” He nodded. “Are you ready?” Again, his muddled brain nodded.

“You can squeeze my hand as tightly as you need to,” Aizawa said, quiet but firm.

Ichika hovered her hands over his right leg, “I’m going to begin. Take deep breaths.”

A white glow emanated from her palms before Izuku’s senses were overwhelmed by intense waves of pain. His hand tightened around Aizawa’s as his body fought to escape the uncomfortable feeling.

A hand ran through his curly hair, trying to ease some of his tension. The feeling gave him something else to focus on other than the way his muscle and tissue threaded itself back together.

The pain was so saturated that Izuku wasn’t even able to tell when Ichika stopped using her quirk, the ache lingering. He hadn’t even noticed the tears that ran down the sides of his face.

Aizawa squeezed his hand, “Are you with us?” His tone was the same one would use for victims unaware of their own surroundings.

He swallowed a choked cry to nod. The man gave a small smile in response, his capture weapon having slipped down enough to no longer hide it.

Ichika came back into view, “You’ll need to stay off your leg for at least two weeks as the area heals,” she told him seriously.

Izuku shook his head drunkenly and tried to push himself up.

A different hand pushed onto his chest, “It’s not an option, kid,” Tsukauchi said.

“It’s non-negotiable,” Aizawa added. “We’ll take you home and bring you some crutches.”

Izuku was blindly shaking his head. They didn’t understand that he couldn’t not be on his legs. He needed to work, he needed to go out as Jade, he needed to walk.

“Yes,” Aizawa refuted firmly, “Show us where to take you and we’ll help you there. You’re not getting out of this, kid. You’re lucky we aren’t just taking you to a hospital.”

A shiver ran through him at the idea of being kept in a hospital.

“Can you show us where to take you, Jade?” Tsukauchi asked. He looked more worried than usual. He didn’t like that look on the man.

Still drunk off of adrenaline (and probably shock), Izuku just nodded and made another move to get up from the gurney. Aizawa quickly intercepted his movements and picked him up again. Giving in to his new position Izuku just mutely pointed across the street to the convenience store.

The detective and the hero shared a glance before following his direction. They clearly didn’t believe him, making Izuku roll his eyes. Why would he lie about living in a convenience store? If he wanted to lie about living somewhere, he’d tell them he lived somewhere super cool. Like the mall or a car dealership.

Izuku giggled to himself at the thought of him being a car salesman dressed in his Jade garb.

Aizawa looked at him funny which made him choke on his already silent giggles. Why were he and Tsukauchi so worried? Nothing was making sense in his smoke-addled brain.

When they got closer to the store, Izuku pointed to the alley next door, leading them to the side entrance that went directly to the backroom he was inhabiting.

A silent conversation seemed to occur over his head as Tsukauchi went first and scoped the area out. Izuku pointed at the door as the detective passed it. The man gestured to the door, making sure it was the one he was talking about. Izuku nodded and Aizawa finally crept closer.

Tsukauchi opened the door for the two of them and Izuku wiggled to get out of Aizawa’s grip. The man let out a startled noise but quickly readjusted so he was more of a crutch for Izuku than a carrier.

With his help, the teen led them further into the storage room and into a crowded corner. Izuku reached up to pull a cord attacked to a naked lightbulb. The area lit up, revealing his little nook he’d made his own. Tsukauchi and Aizawa stood back as he flopped over the palette he’d turned into a bed. Ignoring the looks he knew he was receiving, Izuku pulled his pillow to his chest.

“Jade…”

He hummed in question.

Aizawa crouched in front of him, “This is where you’ve been staying?” He nodded, rubbing his face against his pillow. The man sighed and ducked his head for a few seconds before looking up at him again, “I – We can’t let you stay here, kid.”

Izuku furrowed his brows. Was his nook not good enough? He had a roof over his head and food to eat, so what was the issue? Where would he go? Was he going to be put into foster care?

Aizawa placed his hand close to his own, palm up, offering comfort but not demanding it, “I want you to come home with me, at least until your leg heals.”

The offer was kind and Izuku wanted so desperately to go with the man. To let him care for him.

But his dad made it clear that he knows who he is. He probably watched Aizawa carry him out of the building. He couldn’t tell Aizawa or Tsukauchi about his connection to Dracul or else it would just put them in even more danger. He was dangerous even to be around. But he couldn’t tell them why because then they would know who he was and then they would know who Dracul is and then they would go after him and then they would die. Not just Aizawa and Tsukauchi but also Hizashi too because his father was relentless, and he knew mercy like he knew Portuguese (not at all).

His vision began to tunnel as his thoughts spiraled and his breath picked up like he was being carried out of the smoke-filled building for a second time. It was like he could no longer see either man, just all the possibilities of his father killing them like he’d killed the janitor.

Images of Aizawa with his skin melting off and eyes long gone rotted his thoughts.

A steady rhythm was under his hand. Was that a speaker? No. He felt fabric. His fingers clenched as he clawed at the material. It was a shirt. One that he’d just been clutching a few minutes ago. Was that Aizawa’s heartbeat? He latched onto the pattern of his heart and tried to match it with his own. Even just attempting to do so helped more than he thought possible.

“…kay. We…you…are okay…”

Slowly, his ears began to focus on his surroundings. He could pick up little bits of sentences Tsukauchi and Aizawa were saying.

“Whatever you’re afraid of, it’ll be okay,” Tsukauchi told him from Aizawa’s side.

Izuku was still trying to breathe correctly but he frowned at the man. They had no clue what they were dealing with.

“Hey,” Aizawa’s hand that wasn’t holding Izuku’s to his chest lightly tapped the boy’s forehead, gaining his attention, “We’re heroes, kid. We can handle whatever it is you’re thinking about, got it?”

It’s true, they’re heroes. Both Hizashi and Aizawa alike. If he went home with the man, surely the two pros would be enough to dissuade any attempts Dracul made.

But Dracul killed heroes.

But Aizawa and Hizashi weren’t regular heroes. They were good heroes. And every fiber of Izuku’s being wanted nothing more than to drift off in Eraserhead’s arms and let the man carry him to his house.

So, that’s what he did.

Ignoring the pain in his leg, ignoring the impending return of his father, ignoring the vulnerable feeling of having shown Aizawa and Tsukauchi where he was staying, Izuku let himself be selfish for just a moment.

He got his breath under control and nodded at the dark-haired man in front of him. Izuku allowed himself to drift into his selfish desires and slip into a comfortable slumber.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s awareness faded in and out like the tides on a beach. He saw Aizawa lifting him up while Tsukauchi gathered some of Izuku’s possessions. He was touching his stuff, Izuku thought grumpily before fading again.  At one point he was in a car, vaguely aware of the soft pillow under his head and the feeling of his mask still on his face. Someone was talking. A deep voice and then a tinny, higher-pitched voice. Was someone on the phone?

His body was jostled as he was, once again, held in a fireman’s carry. Opening his eyes, Izuku looked up to see Aizawa looking ahead of them. He looked tired. More tired than usual. His staring must have been obvious as the man glanced down at him. His eyebrows were tense, but he smiled just a little bit.

Izuku only felt comfort from that smile.

Aizawa carried him for a little bit longer, Izuku managing to stay awake for the entire walk. Arriving at a door with a cat-themed welcome mat, Izuku’s body shook as the man kicked the door gently. Not even a second passed before the door swung open.

“That was fast!”

Was that Hizashi? Oh yeah, Aizawa was taking him to his place. Of course, Hizashi would be there.

He was carried further into the apartment and softly placed on a red couch. Izuku blinked harshly to help his eyes open all the way, fighting the sleep they so desperately craved. The apartment wasn’t large, but it definitely wasn’t small. That pro hero money paid off.

The walls were covered in framed photos and paintings. The couch he laid on was matching with two armchairs on the other side of an antique coffee table with flowers carved into the sides. The floor was covered by a tapestry-like rug, reminding Izuku of heat waves. It was clear that Hizashi did most of the decorating.

“-istener?”

Izuku’s dry eyes snapped to the two men who were sat on the coffee table across from him. Aizawa was looking at him like he was assessing his condition while Hizashi was looking at him with something more…soft. It was almost tender. Something Izuku hadn’t seen since his mother last looked at him.

Oh. Wait. They were talking to him.

Blinking harshly, he looked at the blonde hero who was trying to catch his attention.

He grinned, “I know you’re not feeling too awesome right now but how ‘bout I make you something warm to eat, yeah?”

At the thought of eating a hot meal, Izuku’s stomach embarrassingly rumbled. He felt a blush blossom under his mask as a defensive hand rose to his stomach.

The two heroes just looked amused. “I’ll make some curry,” Hizashi said before slowly standing from the coffee table and walking into, what seemed to be, the kitchen area. If Izuku were more aware, he would have noticed that the man had gotten up slowly so as to not alarm him with sudden movements.

Izuku’s line of sight to the kitchen was broken by a small plastic bottle being pushed in front of his face. He blinked harshly to adjust his vision.

“Eyedrops,” Aizawa simply explained, “I know what dry-eye looks like, kid. Trust me, these will help.”

Izuku reached out to grab the bottle and inspect it. He’d never used eyedrops before. He looked at the dark-haired man to convey as much.

“Need help?”

Izuku nodded.

Aizawa slowly grabbed the bottle back from him, “Lean back and look up, I’ll drop them in a corner of one eye, then you blink quickly so it spreads. Then I’ll do it to the other eye, is that okay?” Izuku nodded again and sat up in the position the man had told him to take up. Aizawa reached towards the sides of Izuku’s face but stopped when he flinched minutely.

“Is it okay if I hold your head to keep you steady? You can say no if you’re not comfortable, you’ll just have to be very still.”

The boy mulled it over in his head before signing, [Hold] with shaking hands.

“Alright,” Aizawa nodded, “Would you be more comfortable if I explained everything I do while I do it?”

He’d never thought of that before. By knowing the man’s intentions, he wouldn’t have to guess and be hypervigilant. But wouldn’t that bother him? Wouldn’t it annoy Aizawa if he had to narrate everything he did?

But the man was stock still as he waited for Izuku to decide. There were no signs of annoyance on his face, just an expectant look in his eyes.

Swallowing his doubts, Izuku nodded.

Aizawa reached his hands forward again and Izuku let him hold the sides of his head. The hand holding the eyedrops was at an awkward angle, but he found himself not caring. In fact, Izuku found himself leaning towards the touch. The man said nothing about him clearly relaxing into his hold.

“I’m gonna put one drop in your right eye first. It’ll go in the corner, so you’ll be less likely to blink it out. It’s not gonna hurt but it’ll feel weird at first. Okay, one, two, three, there! Now blink quickly. Good, alright onto the next one. I promise it’s gonna feel so much better once they’re both in. Okay just like last time, one, two, three, and blink. Perfect,” Aizawa talked through the entire experience, keeping Izuku from freaking out at the strange sensation of the eyedrops.

Izuku rapidly blinked and resisted rubbing his eyes. The dried edges began to feel a lot better once the drops spread.

“Feeling better?” Aizawa asked, watching his reactions carefully. Izuku nodded as his eyes finally began to clear up. “Good,” the man nodded, “I wanted to show you what I grabbed from your…uhm…” he hesitated, “your shelter.”

The boy snorted a laugh at the man’s attempt to not insult where he’d been staying.

Aizawa glowered with no real anger behind it, “Shut it,” he mumbled as he dragged Izuku’s heavy yellow bag closer to where they’d been sitting.

Izuku carefully leaned over the edge of the couch to pull his bag closer. Inspecting its contents, he was able to see some clothes, his kneepads, and armless gloves he’d accidentally left, his blanket, his phone that he hadn’t even realized he’d left, an extra face mask, and the lockbox. The sight of the lockbox filled Izuku with a sense of relief he hadn’t even realized he was looking for.

Aizawa cleared his throat, “If there’s anything else you needed that Tsukauchi didn’t grab, we can go back tomorrow to get it.”

Glancing in every pocket of his bag, Izuku was relieved to find the key to his lockbox. Izuku shook his head, [All here], he reassured.

Just as he dropped his hands, Hizashi entered the room carrying two bowls and balancing a third in the crux of his elbow, “Shou, can you grab one of these before I drop them all?” He hurriedly asked his husband.

Aizawa rolled his eyes but hastily obeyed, handing the bowl to Izuku. Questions of how he would eat the meal with his mask up popped into his brain. But, upon feeling the heat from the bowl spread into his hands, he felt some of the tension in his body dissipate. As he held the curry and observed the two men playfully banter in front of him, his barbed wire spine unraveled, releasing the rest of the tension.

A warm feeling of security washed over him like a blanket. He’d known Aizawa for months and the man had done nothing but help him. He’d known Hizashi for less than a day and saw some of his mother in the man’s attitude. It was becoming impossible not to trust the men who’d taken him into their home so he could recover.

This realization, as startling as it was, helped Izuku to reach a solution for his previous predicament.

With Aizawa and Hizashi still playfully arguing, Izuku placed his bowl in his lap to reach up and remove his face mask along with his hood.

The “arguing” stopped.

Izuku ignored the obvious shock and just began to eat his curry, relishing in the warmth.

The silence continued a little longer before Izuku finally looked at the two men and raised an eyebrow, mocking their shock.

Aizawa snapped out of his stupor first and elbowed his husband who was still staring.

The blonde grinned, “You really are a green bean!”

Izuku’s red blush clashed with his green hair. Both heroes laughed at his embarrassment, but it wasn’t harsh or mean. No, it never was with either of them.

All three of them began eating their curry with the occasional idle chit-chat. Izuku didn’t participate due to his hands being busy helping him eat, but he did allow himself to soak in the soothing voices of both heroes.

He’d never felt so comfortable in somebody else’s home.

Once the food was eaten and Aizawa took the bowls to the kitchen, he helped Izuku hobble down the hallway with Hizashi leading the way.

“It’s not much because it’s usually just a guest room but we can get you some stuff to make you more comfortable once you’re feeling a little better,” Hizashi told him cheerfully. He opened the doorway at the end of the hallway, the two other doors they passed being Aizawa and Hizashi’s shared room and the bathroom.

Izuku looked at the guest room and couldn’t help the tears that sprang to his eyes. It’d been a long time since he slept in a proper bed.

The grip around his shoulders tightened, “Are you okay, Jade?” Aizawa quietly mumbled, trying to give him some privacy.

Swallowing his tearful emotions, Izuku raised his trembling hands so both men could see, [M-I-D-O-R-I-Y-A I-Z-U-K-U] He pointed to himself. [Green Heart].

Aizawa smiled kindly, “It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya.”

Despite the kind tone, Izuku flinched upon hearing his family name, [I-Z-U-K-U].

“You’d prefer if we called you Izuku?” Hizashi asked for clarification.

He nodded.

“Alright,” Aizawa said, “then, it’s nice to meet you Izuku.”

For the first time in a long time, Izuku smiled. Aizawa’s eyes brightened a bit and he faintly realized this was the first time the man had seen him smile.

“As absolutely adorable as this is,” Hizashi regretfully interrupted, “Izuku needs to get some much-deserved sleep,” he pointed out.

Aizawa acquiesced and lead Izuku to the desk chair, “Sit tight while I grab you something to sleep in. Your clothes look like they’re about to flake off.”

Looking down at his hoodie, Izuku couldn’t disagree. While he may be somewhat fire resistant due to his quirked genetics, his clothes were not.

While Aizawa went to fetch an outfit, Hizashi pushed the matching blue and white striped bedding aside so Izuku could get in the bed comfortably even with limited mobility. Once that was done, the blonde crouched in front of Izuku’s feet, “I’m gonna help get your shoes off, alright?”

Izuku nodded.

Hizashi smiled at him assuredly and began untying the boots. Geez, if he thought they were messed up earlier that night, Izuku had no clue how he’d even refer to the ruined shoes now.

The hero was especially careful when taking the shoe off his injured right leg. The careful tenderness both men seemed to be treating Izuku with was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Aizawa came back into the room right when the right boot was removed. He held a dark bundle of clothes under his arm, Izuku’s bag in hand, and a cloth in the other, “You didn’t have any clean sleeping clothes in your bag so you’ll have to make-do with some of my old pajamas,” he said while placing the clothes on the foot of the bed. “You can shower in the morning but I got a wet washcloth so you can get some of the ash off of your face,” he held out the mentioned cloth.

Izuku gratefully accepted the opportunity to get somewhat clean and quickly wiped his face. Once that was done, he looked at the sleep clothes. How was he going to get those on when he couldn’t lift his leg?

“If you need help with the clothes,” Hizashi began, “one of us could help you.”

The idea of either man helping him do something as simple as change into a new outfit filled Izuku with mortification. He was supposed to be stronger than this. One slight injury is leading him to need constant care, burdening the two heroes who’d already done too much for him. They were blissfully unaware of Izuku being a villain who they should probably arrest.

His shoulder was jerked slightly. Izuku’s green eyes snapped to Aizawa’s dark irises, “I know it’s rough and you don’t want us to help with the little things, but you’re only going to get better if you accept the help,” the hero advised.

Izuku nodded. He was right. The sooner he accepted help, the sooner he’d be out of their hair. The boy mutely pointed at Aizawa.

“You want me to help you?” The man asked for clarification. Izuku nodded.

Hizashi stood from his crouch, “Alrighty, little listener! I’ll see you in the morning,” he smiled before ruffling Izuku’s green, poorly maintained curls.

Izuku smiled back at the man, [Goodnight. Thank you.]

Hizashi winked, [No problem, Green Heart.]

He shut the door as he left, leaving Izuku with the warm feeling in his chest he’d felt when Hizashi used his sign name earlier that night.

“Are you ready?” Aizawa asked, breaking Izuku from his trance.

He nodded, [Shirt first].

Aizawa nodded and pulled the large dark shirt from the pile. It looked like it would fit the man just fine, but would swamp Izuku’s malnourished frame. He flipped the shirt onto his shoulder so he could use both hands in aiding Izuku’s escape from his scorched hoodie.

“Arms up. Good,” the man lifted the green hoodie over Izuku’s head. Years of vigilance helped the teen to feel the slight flinch from Aizawa as the hoodie finally came off. His black undershirt was burnt in a similar way as his hoodie, leaving a lot of his stomach out in the open.

Aizawa’s eyes flickered over the scars that littered the small area of flesh. Izuku could remember the origin of each one. The handprint-shaped mark in particular. A shiver spread over him, he was unable to decipher whether it was from the air or from the memories that unwillingly arose.

Catching-on to his discomfort, Aizawa swallowed harshly, Adam’s apple jolting, “Keep your arms up,” the man mumbled as the black undershirt followed the hoodie but was quickly replaced with the large sleep shirt he’d gifted.

“The pants are gonna be a bit awkward,” Aizawa warned but quickly backtracked upon seeing the blush rise from Izuku’s neck, “but only because it’s tricky with your leg,” he assured.

Izuku nodded and beat the embarrassment away as Aizawa helped him with his pants. He was right, it was definitely awkward. But Aizawa respected Izuku’s personal space and made sure not to touch any of his skin, just the pants. It was a generosity he hadn’t even known was possible.

Once he was situated in the oversized sleep clothes, Aizawa helped him to the bed, laying him down.

Izuku’s shoulders melted into the soft mattress, and he had to bite down a sigh of relief.

“If you need anything, ‘Zashi and I are just down the hall. Don’t hesitate to wake one of us if you need to,” he said seriously.

Izuku nodded, knowing he would never actually wake one of the men if the issue wasn’t life or death.

Aizawa accepted the nod and flicked the light off, “Goodnight, Izuku.”

The door shut and Izuku let the overwhelming tornado of emotions carry him to sleep.

Flames nipped at his skin. His fire resistance didn’t mean fireproof but this never deterred the figure towering above him.

“This is the training that’s kept you alive, Izuku.” The figure’s mouth wasn’t moving but Izuku knew it was his voice all the same.

A harsh kick to the gut filled him with the nostalgic taste of bile.

“You can’t keep acting like you’re one of them.”

The floor fell out from under him, letting him land in a dark room surrounded by orange and green flames intermingling.

On the ground lay corpses, just like the janitor in the destroyed office building. But this time, Izuku knew the corpses names.

Tsukauchi’s coat was scorched, and half of his body was absolutely ruined. His flesh was seared to his bones in a nauseating display. Hizashi’s long blonde hair had been burned off until it was more like the detective’s. His smile was wiped from his disfigured face, making even more tears fall from Izuku’s eyes. His body was much like Tsukauchi’s.

Closer to him than the other two, lay Aizawa’s body. Not only was he burnt like the others, but his body was also broken and mangled, clearly having taken a beating before his death. A sob escaped Izuku’s lips. The man – his hero – lay in front of him, burnt just like the rest of his father’s victims.

“You’re playing dress-up, Izuku.”

The very last body, the closest one, was facing away from him. Her green hair looked just as it did the last time, he saw her. Reaching a trembling hand forward, Izuku pulled her shoulder, rolling her body over to face him. Her body was singed, but the real devastation stemmed from her face. It was blank.

Not burnt. Not broken. Not ruined like the others’.

This blankness was his own fault.

“You’ve even forgotten who you’re doing this for.”

He’d forgotten his mother’s face.

Izuku choked on his grief as he shot up in his borrowed bed. Panting, he noticed the slight glow that had overtaken the dark room. There was no light source as far as he could see. Yet the glow was similar to that of his father’s fire.

Looking down, the boy realized that the glow was more saturated by him. Izuku reached a shaking hand up to his throat. It was warm.

The green glow was his cursed quirk.

Quickly, Izuku fought to calm down, knowing his quirk was only acting up because of the emotions he’d felt from his dream. His throat was burning, and he had to cover his mouth to suppress any flames that may slip out.

He was in Aizawa and Hizashi’s apartment. They were not dead. They are across the hall. Tsukauchi is safe at the station overworking himself. His mother was –

Still gone.

Guilt bubbled up in place of the flames, leaving Izuku feeling gross. He really was beginning to forget her face. He held the faint memory of a photograph he’d kept that his father burned after an argument. That was his last grasp at the memory of her.

Another cough rose into his throat that he painfully held in. Izuku wobbled out of bed, putting most of his weight on his left leg. Using the furniture to balance, he reached into the side of his bag and pulled out an empty water bottle.

He quickly debated whether to venture into the kitchen to get some water but decided that coughing and possibly setting the apartment on fire was more important than accidentally being too loud.

Izuku shuffled towards the door, leaning his weight against the wall. The door opened silently, and he listened for any signs of the apartment’s other inhabitants. A slight snoring was heard from down the hall and Izuku smiled, guessing it was the loud blonde.

Still leaning against the wall, Izuku carefully navigated down the hallway and into the kitchen. Luckily, he’d learned many years ago how to travel silently. He didn’t even have to put effort into his silence anymore.

The clock on the microwave read 04:13, as Izuku unscrewed his water bottle and filled it with tap water, not wanting to waste the purified fridge water on himself.

Izuku shut his eyes as he leaned his back onto the counter, taking all weight off of his right leg. While it had been healed, it still panged with aching pain. Faintly, Izuku could remember the purple-skinned paramedic telling him it would hurt for a little while afterwards, which was why he had to keep weight off of it.

The kitchen light blinded his sight. Izuku quickly placed his water bottle down to cover his eyes. The light was dimmed to a more manageable glow.

“Sorry,” Aizawa apologized, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing dark red sweatpants and a black t-shirt that looked very similar to the one he’d given Izuku to wear. He didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing the hero without his capture weapon.

Izuku startled, [I am sorry I am loud,] he apologized, [Did not mean to wake you].

The dark-haired man waved him off, “You didn’t wake me up, it’s fine. My sleep schedule is just awful,” he explained as he filled an electric kettle with water and turned it on. Izuku limped around the other side of the kitchen island to give the man some space. Aizawa crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter, “You don’t have to try to be quiet. ‘Zashi takes his hearing aids out to sleep.”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, confused, [Was not trying.]

The man’s eyebrows tighten as his relaxed expression becomes a little more tense. He hummed and turned back to the counter to prepare his tea.

Having refilled his water bottle, Izuku makes to go back to the guest room but is stopped by Aizawa’s low voice, “Do you want some tea to sleep?”

The man was holding out an extra mug he’d already prepared, holding his own closer to his chest.

He already made him a cup. It’d be rude not to accept.

Izuku nodded and followed Aizawa to sit at the kitchen table.

The cup he’d been given was a soft pink color and it had small drawings of cat paws on it. Aizawa’s was gray and had a large black cat painted on both sides. The handle was shaped like a cat tail.

Izuku smiled, [Cats]. It was both an observation and an inquiry.

Aizawa chuckled, “Yeah, ‘Zashi and I both like them. We actually have two of our own, but a friend is watching them for a little bit. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

Faintly, Izuku remembered a few occasions where Aizawa told him about his cats. One was named Bastard, but he couldn’t remember the other’s name.

Izuku just nodded and drank his tea silently. The shared quiet was comfortable. It felt like Jade and Eraserhead’s late night patrol meetings where they’d just look into the city, only acknowledging the others’ presence.

They’d come a long way since those quiet nights. Izuku mulled over the trust he and Aizawa have traded over the past couple of months, these past few weeks especially.

Izuku never thought he would trust another man. Not after what he’d learned his father was capable of. But he trusted Aizawa and was beginning to trust Hizashi.

The realization made him feel exposed but not upset. Maybe it would be okay to trust them.

Shouta watched Ja-Izuku drink the tea he’d prepared for him and couldn’t help but be in awe of the kid. He’d gone through so much. More than he may ever know.

He’d seen the scars. Shouta felt repulsed by the idea of a father ever leaving such marks on their own child. They were all made with varying instruments, some clearly being from hands. He and Hizashi may never learn of everything Dracul did to his son, but they would be there for him if he ever trusted them with that information.

It was clear the boy had been woken up by a bad dream. Shouta lied when he said Izuku hadn’t woken him up, but he didn’t want to tell the kid that he was yelling and crying in his sleep.

He didn’t want to barge into the room and startle Izuku, so he laid, awake and alert, keeping an ear out for any concerning noises.

When Izuku crept down the hallway, Shouta was surprised he couldn’t hear his footfalls. However, he was able to hear the slight drag his shoulder left on the wall as he used it for balance.

The boy was always quiet. He was quiet when he ran across rooftops. Quiet when he watched the stars. Quiet when he signed instead of spoke. Even quiet with his emotions. Aizawa hadn’t missed the small noises Izuku would sometimes make. It was clear the boy wasn’t medically mute. No, his quiet was ingrained in him. His quiet was stitched into his skin for years before Aizawa had even met him. 

But Izuku’s quiet fades sometimes when he chuffs a laugh or groans in annoyance.

Sitting across from Izuku now, Shouta felt a strong sense of contentment as he was able to finally assess the amount of trust the boy had put into him.

The longer he’d known him, the more common it became for the boy to make noises around him. He wasn’t speaking but he was communicating. It was a sign of trust that Aizawa had worked toward since Day 1.

Guilt lay like a weight in his stomach.

He and Tsukauchi still hadn’t told Izuku that they knew Dracul was his father.

With their trust existing but still being so fragile, Shouta didn’t want to risk breaking it and pushing Izuku into Dracul’s clutches.

He was certain Dracul was behind that night’s fire, but he had a feeling something else happened in that building. Izuku was a kid, but he was a skilled vigilante. He wouldn’t have just let a beam fall on him, he was too aware for that.

Izuku was clearly afraid to reveal his relation to the villain.

Now the question was: did Shouta wait for Izuku to tell them himself, or did he tell Izuku they’d already known.

Looking back at the boy across from him, Shouta could see that he was drifting in and out of consciousness. Smiling, he stood up and grabbed both cups, “You should go back to sleep, Izuku.”

Nodding mutely, the boy just stood shakily and made his way back to the guest room.

Footsteps hauntingly silent.

Chapter Text

Waking, Izuku thought the previous night had been a dream. The familiar flames seemed so distant in his foggy mind.

His father was going to continue to wreak his special form of havoc and it seemed as if Izuku would be caught in the crossfire. He crushed Izuku’s leg, making him immobile for at least a week. There’s no way it wasn’t on purpose. Dracul wanted Izuku to be stuck in one place.

And that place was with Hizashi and Aizawa.

Aizawa.

The man had come for him. He’d saved him from the fire. Aizawa wasn’t fireproof but he ran into a fire to help Izuku. Maybe he didn’t go in there looking for him, maybe he went in there to save civilians he thought were trapped.

He was yelling for you.

It’s true. Aizawa ran in, already looking for him. There was no way for him to deny it now; Aizawa ran into the fire for him.

As Izuku sat up, another realization ran through; he’d told them his name. He’d shown them his face.

Weirdly, Izuku didn’t regret the decision. The exposed feeling would take a while to go away, but he didn’t regret showing the men his face.

(But maybe he should regret it. Maybe he should regret pulling the two kind-hearted heroes into Dracul’s line of fire. He should feel guilty. Is he evil for not feeling guilty? They are in danger because of him. He is actively putting the heroes in danger; just as a villain would.)

A knock made Izuku freeze. Oh god what time was it? Did he wake anyone?

“Izuku, are you up?” Hizashi’s bright voice carried through the door.

“He won’t be able to answer you.” Aizawa’s dry tone joined his husband.

“Oh shoot. Okay, if you’re up then make a loud noise!”

Stifling a laugh, Izuku tried his best to get out of the bed and limp towards the door. The moment he put any weight on his right leg, he felt his body crumble. A soft rug cushioned most of his fault but did nothing to hinder his embarrassment.

“Izuku? We’re coming in to check on you, okay?” Aizawa’s voice sounded worried as he quickly opened the door.

Izuku blushed as both men immediately looked to his fallen form. In an attempt to convey that he wasn’t gravely injured, he offered a wave to the two heroes.

Hizashi covered his mouth to hide his laughter, “When I said to make a loud noise, I didn’t mean that loud.” Aizawa huffed but was smiling at his husband’s words.

The dark-haired man crouched down and held out his hands, “Do you want me to help you up?”

Nodding, Izuku placed his hands in the hero’s. Aizawa slowly helped him back into a standing position but with his right leg lifted.

“We can find you some crutches later today, Greenie,” Hizashi offered.

“But for now,” Aizawa interjected, “do you want me to help you to the kitchen? We have some breakfast ready.”

“”We”?” The blonde man spluttered indignantly, “You can’t cook to save your life!” Turning to Izuku, the man had a faux serious expression on his face, “Be glad it wasn’t him cooking, we’d probably have to see Recovery Girl if he did.”

Izuku couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him at the idea that the usually capable hero couldn’t even make toast. Distracted by that thought, the boy missed the fond look that his two heroes exchanged.

Aizawa tightened his grip on Izuku’s hands, “Is that a yes to breakfast, then?”

Hands otherwise occupied, Izuku nodded.

Hizashi went ahead to the kitchen as Aizawa wrapped one arm around Izuku’s lower back and offered the other arm as an anchor for the unsteady boy. It took a fair amount of time for them to actually get to the kitchen table, but Izuku was grateful for the help he’d gotten.

Shouta watched from the other end of the kitchen table as the boy pushed around the eggs on his plate. It would take him some time to get used to eating home-cooked meals. At least, that’s what the parenting book underneath his bed said.

(Hizashi had gotten matching ones for him and Tsukauchi when he learned about Jade. “How to Parent Your Distraught Teen: A guide on adoption and adjustment”. He nearly threw it at the blonde before realizing some of the information was kind of helpful)

Even with the ash no longer smothering his face, Izuku looked weighed down. Obviously, it would take some time for him to adjust to what happened last night and his new living situation, but Aizawa wanted nothing more than to make him feel better now.

The urge to wrap the child up in a blanket and never let anyone hurt him or scare him again was as strong as a tsunami. Shouta’s need to make Izuku feel safe was bone-deep and it physically pained him, not being able to hold the boy and let him know everything was okay.

But everything was not okay. Izuku was traumatized and Dracul was still out there.

Shouta cleared his throat, “Is it okay if Tsukauchi comes over this morning?”

Izuku looked at him confused, then looked at Hizashi, then looked back at him, [Me?]

He nodded, “Yes, I’m asking you. He wants to ask you some questions.”

Still looking confused, the boy just nodded.

He was confused as to why Shouta was getting his permission. Sure, it was normal for kids to be told what to do rather than giving their input for every single inquiry, but Izuku’s confusion over the mere notion of having a say in a decision, sent anger up his throat.

By Hizashi’s not so inconspicuous glances, his husband shared the same sentiment.

Like a light switch, Hizashi grinned at Izuku, “Before the good ol’ detective visits,” he leaned closer like he was sharing a secret, “do you want to meet the cats?”

He’d almost forgotten Nemuri dropped off the two miscreants earlier that morning. They decided to keep the two in their bedroom so they wouldn’t scare their new houseguest.

Izuku’s eye lit up. Shouta couldn’t remember seeing that type of elated excitement in the boy’s eyes before.

Wordlessly, his husband went to their bedroom door, “They’ll come to you, okay? Neither of them will scratch or bite, they’re just curious little beasts.” Izuku nodded dutifully and remained in the kitchen chair. The look of determination was nothing but adorable.

Right as Hizashi opened the door, two blobs darted between his legs and into the kitchen. Shouta prepared to grab the cats if Izuku got too scared, but the boy only looked fascinated.

“That’s Chapstick,” he pointed to the black cat rubbing her face on Izuku’s leg, already scenting him. “and that’s Bastard,” he pointed to the older calico with a disinterested look on his face. He was close enough to Izuku to watch him but not close enough to interact.

Hizashi pet the stubborn calico, “He’s an asshole but he’ll warm-up to you eventually.”

Izuku nodded but most of his attention was on Chapstick. The black cat was now staring up into green eyes that rivaled her own. Slowly, the boy reached a shaking hand closer to the feline. Chapstick steadily stuck her head out to meet the hand. Giving a sniff, she didn’t hesitate to push her head underneath Izuku’s hand, forcing him to pet her.

Shouta chuckled, used to his cat’s attention-seeking needs. Izuku looked like Chapstick was the best thing he’d ever seen. Neither man was going to tell him that Chapstick likes nearly everyone. No, there was no need to spoil this for him. The boy needed to wear this soft look more often.

Pulling out his phone, Shouta shot Tsukauchi a quick text letting him know that he could come over later, just not to be too startling.

It was clear that Izuku was still in some form of shock and Shouta wanted to make sure that when he snapped out of it, it didn’t send him spiraling.

Maybe Chapstick would let him hold her during the interview.

As Jade, he’d run into many street cats. They were always mean and aggressive but that was only because they were hungry and scared. Chapstick wasn’t a defensive street cat, no, she was a warm housecat with so much love to share and Izuku was going to soak it all up like a sponge.

He’d never gotten to hold a cat. His pspspsps’s never worked on the feral cats so he’d never gotten close enough to even pet most of them.

Was he petting her right? What if she doesn’t like being pet like this? Surely Aizawa or Hizashi would tell him if he was doing it wrong. Why is she purring did he make her upset?

Chapstick was soft and Izuku didn’t want to hurt her.

He couldn’t tell how much time passed by the time there was a knock on the apartment door. Izuku stiffened and subconsciously put his body between Chapstick and the door.

Was someone going to take Chapstick? Would they hurt her?

The last time Izuku cared for a creature, his father came home and took care of the distraction.

The spider lived on his desk. It made his home inside Izuku’s unused drawer. Before his father took him under his care, his mom told him that spiders feared us just as we feared them.

But Izuku wasn’t scared of the spider.

The spider brought comfort. It was proof that Izuku wasn’t actually alone. It’d been nearly two years since he’d last seen any of his classmates and it was hard not to feel so isolated. The spider was a friend he’d so desperately needed.

For days, Izuku would watch the spider and sign to it, despite knowing the bug couldn’t possibly understand. Izuku liked to pretend it understood him.

But the spider stopped staying in its nest. It didn’t belong inside the desk drawer of a ten-year-old.

Reining in his tears, Izuku made the decision to bring his friend outside, where it could be happier.

With a cup on top and a paper on the bottom, Izuku carried his friend to the back door of his father’s facility. The man himself was at the table, looking over news articles.

Dracul glanced up from his work, “What’s that, Izuku?”

Wordlessly, Izuku showed him his friend in the cup and then nodded to the door, asking if he could open the door for him.

For just a moment, Izuku had forgotten that his father was not kind.

The cup was smacked out of his hand and his friend was stomped on.

Izuku knew that spiders couldn’t scream but he felt like his friend could.

A firm hand grabbed his chin until he was staring into his father’s too calm eyes.

“Creatures below us are not worth our time, Izuku. They distract us and they make us weak. Don’t make that mistake again.”

Izuku wouldn’t let Chapstick meet the same fate as his friend.

Oblivious to his defensiveness, Hizashi opened the door. Perhaps the man didn’t know about the threat. Izuku’s eyes darted to all available exits and weapons. Crouched on the floor, he had access to the kitchen chairs, he could easily use one as a distraction or even splinter a leg off and use it as a weapon. The knife drawer was close enough if he was fast. The fire escape window was unlocked from Hizashi watering his plants earlier that morning, they could make a run for it if need be.

“Good morning, detective!”

Oh. It was just Tsukauchi. He wouldn’t hurt Chapstick. Izuku knew that for a fact.

“Good morning, Yamada,” the man greeted as he stepped into the apartment. As the man crouched to take his shoes off, Aizawa slid in front of Izuku’s kneeling form.

“Your mask. Do you want to put it back on?”

Aizawa was blocking him from Tsukauchi’s view because he’d forgotten his mask. Despite knowing the detective longer than he’d known Izuku, despite it not being his responsibility, he still gave him the option.

Admiration leaked into Izuku’s eyes as he stared up at his hero.

The familiar face mask was clutched in the man’s hand, covered in ash and small tears.

Tsukauchi was trustworthy. He’d never done anything to hurt Jade and he hadn’t arrested him despite his vigilantism. Aizawa and Hizashi already knew; maybe the detective should know too. Plus, Izuku felt himself wanting to tell Tsukauchi. He didn’t want very often.

Izuku smiled at Aizawa and gently pushed the mask away. The man’s eyes softened as he nodded with a grunt, “Proud of you, kid.” And oh if that didn’t make Izuku’s heart warm.

Aizawa stood and Izuku looked up at the staring detective. A blush rose to his cheeks at the attention.

Tsukauchi smiled widely, “Good morning, Jade.”

The blush didn’t go away, [I-Z-U-K-U].

“He’s telling you that his name is Izuku,” Aizawa translated for him. The two seemed to share a meaningful look that Izuku would definitely overthink about later.

It was clear that Tsukauchi was shocked by the revealed information, but he merely smiled at him and why were these adults so soft, “Nice to meet you, Izuku.”

He didn’t reach a hand out to shake which the boy was grateful for since he was still unsure of his feelings on touch. Hizashi and Aizawa had been so gentle with him last night when they helped him to get comfortable. But not everyone was gentle.

“How about you all sit in the living room, and I’ll make some tea,” Hizashi suggested.

Izuku shakily stood up to follow Tsukauchi and Aizawa to the living room, the dark-haired man waiting to offer assistance should he be unable to make the short trip himself. Izuku gave him a thumbs-up as he limped to follow the two men with Chapstick following behind him. He couldn’t help the surprise he felt as the cat shadowed him.

“Looks like she wants to stick with you, Izuku,” Aizawa remarked.

[Glue], he signed. Aizawa snorted and translated for the detective.

Izuku took the seat next to Aizawa on the couch as Tsukauchi sat across from them in an armchair. Chapstick sat nearly on top of Izuku’s feet.

Getting right down to business, Tsukauchi leaned forward, looking both at Aizawa and Izuku, “It’s been confirmed that the cause of the explosion last night was Dracul’s doing,” Izuku nodded despite already knowing this, “We’re working on figuring out his next target.”

They didn’t know that his target was now Izuku. Sure, he may set a few more fires for fun, but his eyes were set on his son.

He bit his lip to stop it from quivering with fear. Izuku didn’t think he’d ever not fear his father.

“Izuku,” Tsukauchi addressed him calmly, “do you know anything about last night or Dracul?”

Still repressing his shaking, Izuku shrugged. What could he even tell them? He couldn’t tell them that he was Dracul’s blood; they’d throw him out or arrest him. He’s a villain. But wasn’t it selfish to not tell them?

“Are you afraid of Dracul?” Aizawa asked this time, turning his body towards him. Izuku knew it was meant to show that he was paying attention to him, but the action just made him more anxious.

He has to tell them something.

Oh.

Izuku held up a finger, telling them to give him a minute. He slowly stood from the couch and held onto the wall to aid him in limping.

“Does he-“

“He’s got it,” Aizawa cut the worried Tsukauchi off.

Yeah. I got this.

Izuku limped all the way into the guest room and pulled his lockbox out of his bag along with its key. He’d have to be careful about this.

His secret notebook #3 had most of the information on Dracul and some of his closer affiliations. Izuku had to take a deep breath as he stumbled back into the living room with his precious notebook in hand.

Hizashi was sat in the chair next to Tsukauchi and four teacups had been placed on the table. Ignoring the eyes that were on him as he entered the room, Izuku placed his notebook in front of Tsukauchi.

[D-R-A-C-U-L wants that], he signed with Aizawa translating.

Tsukauchi looked surprised but opened the notebook to see its contents. Only a minute of reading and the detective was spluttering in shock, “Wh- Izuku. Did you write this? Did you write all of this?”

Curling into himself, he nodded.

Aizawa held out a hand for the notebook and Tsukauchi passed it to him with no argument. Hizashi stood from his chair to read it over his husband’s shoulder.

Izuku carefully watched as the men’s eyebrows rose and Aizawa looked at him, “Is all of this true?” He nodded. Anything that was proven false was erased or ripped out.

“Izuku, that has all of Dracul’s strengths and weaknesses in it along with analysis of many other villains,” Tsukauchi informed him like he wasn’t the author of the notebook. “Do you mind if we use this as an aid in the Dracul investigation? The only other people who would see it are those on the Dracul team.”

Wait. They weren’t upset?

His father told him that if anyone ever knew about his analysis then they would be disgusted with him. Maybe if they saw the dozens of books he had on heroes they would be.

Swallowing his guilt, he nodded at the detective.

Hizashi sounded faint, “Nezu would love him.”

Aizawa nodded but looked oddly pale.

Nezu would love Izuku and that terrified Shouta, but he also knew how he could use it in his favor. Out of everything that could have been in that lockbox, detailed notes on how to beat villains including Dracul was not one of them. His curiosity nearly overcame him when he picked up the lockbox from where the boy had been staying, but he’d wanted to build trust, not ruin it.

Judging by the messy writing, Izuku was intelligent. His analytical skills surpassed many third years at UA, hell, it even surpassed most heroes Shouta knew. Despite his uncanny analysis, some of the grammar was off and even some of the words were misspelled.

Knowing that Izuku lived on the street as Jade and most likely long before that, it brought serious concerns regarding his schooling.

Did he not go to school that entire time? He had to have learned JSL somehow, maybe he did online schooling at a library.

Without confirming it with them, Shouta was sure that Hizashi and Tsukauchi shared similar concerns.

Later, after Tsukauchi left to relay the new information to Tensei’s team, Hizashi broached the idea of taking Izuku to pick up some new clothes.

Immediately, the boy looked terrified.

“You definitely need some new clothes, Izuku. If you didn’t need to try them on at the store, I wouldn’t make you come,” Hizashi said but Shouta knew it was a lie. His husband wanted to get Izuku acclimated to everyday things such as errands, despite the boy having only been with them for a day. The blonde also wanted to spend some one-on-one time with the boy, claiming it was “unfair” how much more time Shouta had spent with him. Whatever.

Izuku looked between him and Hizashi, [Tired Cat coming with us?]

“I have to stay here and make some phone calls,” Aizawa told him, making sure to make his voice sound grumpier than normal. He wanted to spend time with Izuku but Kami he did not want to go to the mall.

His denial seemed to make Izuku look even more frightened. He subtly signaled to Hizashi to give them a second alone.

The blonde stood up, “I’m gonna check to see if I have any clothes you can borrow,” he left the two in the living room.

[Why are you scared?] Aizawa asked.

Izuku’s mouth pinched, [Not scared. N-E-R-V-O-U-S.]

Aizawa showed him the sign for ‘nervous’ before continuing, [Sun Bird or something else?]

The green-haired boy shook his head vehemently, [Not Sun Bird. Promise. Leg] he gestured to his bum leg, [Do not want bother.]

Ah. He was worried about his injury making him more of a burden while shopping. Izuku was adamant that Hizashi wasn’t what made him nervous, but it was clear he was more worried about bothering Hizashi rather than Shouta. Maybe because he’d helped him a lot since the injury?

[Not bother,] he signed firmly, punctuating his words with sharp motions, [Wheel chairs at store. Sun Bird help.] Shouta didn’t know the sign for ‘wheelchair’ but he was sure Izuku understood what he’d meant by separating the words.

Izuku looked hesitant to accept what he said, [Promise?] he asked and held out his pinkie.

Shouta smiled, “Promise.” He wrapped his own pinkie around the boy’s.

For some reason, the pinkie promise seemed to confirm everything Izuku was looking for as he looked less nervous and more determined.

“’Zashi,” Shouta called, “Are you ready?” It was more of a way to tell Hizashi that they were done conversing rather than to rush the man.

It took a few minutes for them to get Izuku ready to go but eventually, Shouta was waving at his husband and his ward as they left to go shopping. If the boy was as introverted as he was, Shouta pitied him for what he was yet to experience.

Chapstick laid close to the door, awaiting her new ward’s return. She’d been rescued along with a litter of kittens. Sadly, the ones that survived were separated from her. It was clear to Shouta that the cat thought of Izuku as a kitten she needed to care for. Seems like Izuku had that effect on more than just people.

With the apartment empty, he steeled himself for the phone call he was about to make.

The phone was picked up after just two rings.

“Aizawa-san! What a pleasant surprise!”

“You and I both know you aren’t that surprised.”

“Maybe so, but I want to hear your explanation as to why you’re calling me.”

Shouta sighed, “Jade is staying with Hizashi and I for now-“

“Oh wonderful! I take it those warrants I got you were put to good use.”

He rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle reminder of the favor he owes the mammal, “Yes, they were very useful.”

“Fantastic! Now, what is it about Jade that has you calling me?”

“He’s clever. Very clever. He has notebooks where he analyzes villains and breaks apart their strengths and weaknesses. He showed me one of them but I know he has more. The only issue I found was that some of his spelling and grammar makes me think he hasn’t received proper schooling.”

“He sounds like quite the little marvel, doesn’t he? How old did you say he is?”

“I didn’t,” Shouta deadpanned.

“Now, now, Aizawa-san. I am merely trying to gauge where his education level should stand.”

There’s no way that the mammal didn’t already know Jade’s identity. With the warrants for the Midoriya family’s medical files being the only ones he’d requested and now Jade being in his care, it didn’t take an intelligence quirk to put together what was happening.

Nezu was simply toying with him.

“He’s thirteen,” he ground out.

“And at what level would you say his notebooks stand on a scale of one to ten, ten being something I, myself, would have written?”

“Is the rating based on information or on structure?”

“Moreso the information. I wouldn’t want to judge his intelligence purely off of a few misspelled words.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would say maybe a seven or an eight. A skilled pro would be at a four or five.”

Shouta could practically feel Nezu’s excitement through the phone, “Splendid! If you were to get custody of Jade, bring him to me for an assessment of his capabilities. I may be able to tutor him should he seem fit.”

“Now hold on-“Shouta cut in, “I just wanted to ask for advice on how to deal with an intelligent kid who’s behind on some basic teachings. This wasn’t meant to be an opportunity for you to meet him.” If he could prevent it, Izuku would not meet Nezu for years. The principal would try to mold the boy into a malnourished version of himself.

“Oh, but Aizawa, think of it as that favor you owe me.”

Shit.

Shouta sighed, “Fine. But Hizashi or I must be present.”

“I expect nothing less!” Damn he hated how smug his old teacher sounded.

With a grunt, Shouta hung up. Nezu would know that he would keep him updated on Izuku’s custody status. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Were they ready for a kid? Sure, they’ve talked about it a few times, Hizashi being the most excited to have a child, but they hadn’t looked into it seriously.

They could find a good foster home for Izuku. He and Tsukauchi would thoroughly vet the foster parents and make sure they were a good fit for Izuku. It would be fine.

But that couldn’t be done until Dracul was locked away.

He couldn’t possibly be a dad, could he?

Better than Dracul. Well, that’s not saying much.

With his phone call out of the way and Hizashi and Izuku not back from the mall, Shouta realized there was one errand he could run before the two came back.

The errand took longer than expected and he still got back to the apartment before his husband and ward. As he set up the surprise, Bastard glared at him from the hallway. The calico was still upset that he’d had to go to Nemuri’s for a little bit despite her spoiling the cats every time.

A key was stuck into the door and Shouta quickly threw a blanket over the box.

“Woah there! Careful, Greenie!” Hizashi helped Izuku into the apartment as they both carried two large paper bags with them. Shopping went well then. “Hey Shou!”

He waved at the two, “What did you get?”

Izuku’s smile was impossibly wide as he excitedly dropped to the floor and pulled various articles of clothing out of the bags.

A glance at his husband’s face revealed an impossibly soft look in his eyes and Shouta knew that they wouldn’t be able to find another home for Izuku. There’s no way that either of them would find a place they’d feel comfortable sending him off to.

The green-haired boy showed off all the new clothes he picked out including a few ridiculous shirts with singular words written across them. Hizashi minutely shrugged at Shouta’s inquisitive look. They both made sure to praise Izuku for his choices, wanting to inspire individuality.

“My turn,” Shouta said as Izuku finished. Both the boy and Hizashi looked curious when he went back to the couch and pulled the blanket away. He picked up the box and placed it in front of Izuku who was still sat on the floor, “Open it up.” His husband moved to stand next to him so they could both watch Izuku’s reaction.

Slowly opening the box, Izuku glanced up at him with hesitance, seemingly expecting something bad but Shouta just nodded encouragingly.

Inside the box was a black and silver leg brace with a mechanical joint.

Izuku gasped and Shouta had to blink at the strange glow he thought he’d seen in the boy’s mouth. He pulled out the brace and stared in awe.

“Need some help getting it on?” Hizashi asked with a wide grin.

Izuku nodded hurriedly and unfastened the straps so he could place them around his leg. It took some maneuvering between the three of them, but they eventually got it. Chapstick watched as Izuku stood like a baby deer and tried to balance with the brace.

He walked back and forth around the living room and kitchen a few times with Hizashi and Shouta alongside him, ready to catch him should he stumble.

Finally, Izuku was beaming as he walked almost normally. There was a slight limp to his step, but the brace helped keep his leg from moving and isolating the pressure.

Shouta had to get the brace specially made by Power Loader but his coworker was able to finish it in a few hours.

He stood next to Hizashi as Izuku played with Chapstick in the living room by running around. His footsteps were still as silent as the cat’s, but he seemed more relaxed than he had been the entire day.

A nudge to his side brought his attention to his husband’s imploring eyes.

[Ours?] Hizashi signed.

Shouta ducked to hide his fond smile, [Ours.]

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since the Yamazawa couple welcomed Izuku into their home. During that time, Hizashi took him shopping for new clothes, made him a home-cooked meal every night, and even helped him learn how to care for his curly hair! Aizawa helped him get used to living with other people and sleeping properly.

Since the night of the fire, Izuku noticed that he was in a strange headspace. It was like one part of his brain had been fighting the processing of what happened. Aizawa said he was in shock but that didn’t really make sense since Izuku wasn’t very shocked that his father hurt him enough to incapacitate him. But the underground hero didn’t know that he was that familiar with the villain, so he couldn’t refute the notion.

Coming out of the strange headspace, Izuku found it very difficult to sleep peacefully. He would either toss and turn endlessly or wake up, silently screaming from his glowing mouth. Each time the nightmares were too bad for him to go back to sleep, Izuku would find peace in the living room. Nine out of ten times, Aizawa would join him.

He had a feeling that this wasn’t just due to the man’s erratic sleep schedule, but also that he had some kind of super sense that let him know when Izuku was bordering on a panic attack. Either way, Izuku never refused the man’s company.

Their late-night tea-sharing sessions were so much like their rooftops meetings that the familiarity helped to ground Izuku. He was having some difficulty adjusting to a life off the streets and out of his father’s clutches.

Tsukauchi kept Aizawa updated on everything he learned from the Dracul investigators, and he’d found himself eavesdropping on some of their phone calls (and when Izuku learned that Ingenium was on that team he had to repress his fangirling because- wow! Ingenium investigating his dad? It was like a messed up two degrees of separation situation) which he felt guilty over. Izuku knew that eavesdropping wasn’t a way to build trust and if Aizawa or Hizashi ever caught him, they would surely kick him out, but he was still too paranoid.

Living with his father and then on the streets of Musutafu, Izuku learned quickly that you have to always pay attention to your surroundings and the more information you had, the easier it would be to defend yourself.

He still felt guilty.

Especially when Aizawa would make him a sandwich and do crossword puzzles with him or help him stretch with his brace or teach him Chapstick’s favorite way to play or help him figure out his favorite snack food or help him read or-

Yeah. He felt like shit for eavesdropping.

A small part of Izuku wanted to believe that Aizawa would understand if he explained to the man why he did it. The other part told him that he was just participating in villainous activities and the hero would shun him.

If they kicked me out, would they let me keep the brace?

Izuku’s leg had gotten much better in the past week. He barely needed the brace to help support his injury, but he still found that it helped to keep the ache away.

They won’t kick you out; they’re heroes.

He trusted the two heroes. Izuku learned over the past week that the warm feeling he felt in his chest was not a part of his quirk, but the realization that he felt cared for. The married couple cared for Izuku and he could feel it.

Izuku knew that he trusted Aizawa when the man pulled him out of a burning building, but he knew that he trusted Hizashi when the man made him katsudon for the first time. Was it getting easier to trust people? Was the loud hero just a very trustworthy person? Was he getting weak?

As much as he wanted to doubt his heart’s choices and build his defenses back up, Izuku found himself relishing in the warmth he felt from his new caregivers.

It was a selfish, childish thing, but Izuku was already eavesdropping on phone calls, why couldn’t he be selfish?

Nearly eight days after the fire, Izuku heard Aizawa pacing in his bedroom. Hizashi had gone to work earlier and Izuku slept in. He Aizawa on speakerphone in his room, presumably getting ready for the day.

“-genium’s sure of his new pattern. He’s still attacking places his previous identities were affiliated with.”

Tsukauchi was talking about Dracul, that, Izuku was sure of.

“How are we able to track the specific places he’s targeting?” Aizawa sounded tense, “He could go after his least favorite grocery store for all we know.”

“Actually, Ingenium’s team already figured it out,” Izuku could hear drawers opening and shutting over the phone, like the detective was looking for something. “They think it has more to do with the people who are still a part of the affiliation. His old boss got promoted and stayed in the building he attacked last week. Last night-“ Izuku hadn’t heard of a new attack yet, “he lit a park on fire. Not because of the park itself, but because of the woman who was in the area. She was an ex-girlfriend of one of his earlier identities.”

“We already knew he was tying up loose ends, but it seems like he’s speeding up the process and switching his changing motive.”

“Which makes him more of a threat. Keep a close eye on Izuku.”

“We haven’t really let him out of the apartment because of his leg.”

“Oh yeah, how’s the leg doing?” Tsukauchi was still digging in his desk for something if the scrambling noise was anything to go by.

“Better,” Aizawa grunted, “he can walk on his own again.”

“That’s great!” Tsukauchi chirped, “Speaking of Izuku, you haven’t seen my Jade file, have you?”

“You lost your file on him?” The dark-haired hero sounded incredibly done with his associate.

“Lost is such a strong word, Eraser! I’d say that I temporarily misplaced it,” Tsukauchi said, flustered.

Aizawa scoffed, “Sure. Find the file and keep me updated on the Dracul information you get. If you need me to make copies from my file, let me know.”

Before he ended the phone call, Izuku quickly went back into his bedroom.

He grabbed his beat-up emergency phone he’d used as Jade and looked at the news. Dracul attacked Ren Park with one casualty. They didn’t know that Ren Park was meaningful to him because it was meaningful to her. Agawa Mizuki was not just an ex of Dracul but also an associate of his after his mother died. She frequented the first facility that Izuku was kept in in the immediate aftermath, fully aware of his villain status.

Agawa would go to Ren Park every Wednesday and help tend to the gardens with her hydration quirk.

Dracul wasn’t just typing up loose ends, he was killing them in places that meant something to them.

With Izuku’s bank refuge already gone, he knew only one place where Dracul would go if it was him he was after.

If he didn’t do anything, Aizawa and Hizashi would be in danger. Izuku would be putting them in danger. He had the ability to prevent them from getting hurt. He’d be a villain if he did nothing to help, and Izuku was tired of being a villain.

After dinner, Izuku seemed more subdued than usual. Shouta watched as he plastered a smile to his face and tried to play cards with Hizashi. The boy watched the two of them like he was soaking up every detail of their presence. Had he become hypervigilant again? Shouta thought that he’d gotten better; that he’d felt more comfortable at the apartment.

Three days after Izuku began staying with him and Hizashi, they gained temporary emergency custody of him. With Tsukauchi’s help, they’ve been working on a more permanent form of custody. It would take a while to finalize it, but Shouta thought that Izuku would be more comfortable living with them than with strangers.

If Izuku was still uncomfortable living with them, they may have to put a hold on the custody arrangement.

Hizashi had obviously picked up on Izuku’s behavior as well as he was consistently trying to get the green-haired boy to interact with them or respond sincerely. All of Izuku’s reactions that night had been artificial.

After his sixth win at War, Izuku stood from his position at the coffee table, [Tired. Going sleep.]

It wasn’t even 22:30 yet but they let Izuku go with no arguments, just wishes of good dreams.

Hizashi waited a few moments to be sure the boy was out of hearing range, “Did we do something wrong?” His husband sounded guilty without even knowing the cause.

Shouta shook his head, “I think it could have just been a bad dream that effected his mood.”

“The nightmares haven’t lessened up?” The concern in Hizashi’s voice was as thick as a syrup, leaking through his words as much as his expression. Shouta’s heart fluttered at his husband’s kindness.

“Not really,” he told him glumly, “I was hoping my presence at night would help him, but I’m not too sure if it’s done anything.”

Hizashi cupped his stubbled cheek, “Sho, it’s been barely a week since he’s been here. It’s gonna take some time for him to adjust and feel better.”

He sighed into his husband’s hand, “I want him to be okay, ‘Zashi,” he expressed in an oddly vulnerable way. Maybe his interrupted sleep was finally hitting him, “I felt powerless when I couldn’t help him as Jade and now, he’s here and I can actually help but I just feel useless all over again.”

“Sho,” Hizashi crooned, “Izuku weaseled his way into that big ole heart of yours that you keep protected,” his other hand reached up to poke Shouta’s chest, “and now you want to do everything to help him and that just means you’re good, but you and I both know that it takes more than a safe place and some good food to heal.”

He nodded. It was illogical for him to think otherwise.

Hizashi leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead with an obnoxious smack. Shouta glowered and pushed the man away. Hizashi just laughed and stood up, “Let’s head to bed early, you’re looking a little grumpy.” The blonde was clearly trying to lighten the mood after such a gloomy moment, a talent of his that Shouta appreciated more than he’d ever express.

They changed into sleep clothes and relaxed in their shared bed. Bastard soon joined them, and Shouta could only assume that Chapstick was with Izuku. The black cat quickly became inseparable from the boy and he and Hizashi realized that it was more than Chapstick’s normal form of affection towards everyone. She genuinely felt like Izuku was her kitten. When he’d told his husband about this, the blonde nearly blew the windows out with his cries of how adorable it was.

Hizashi was asleep barely ten minutes after taking his hearing aids out, but Shouta was too restless. Surely, with how he’d been acting, Izuku would wake up from a bad dream tonight. It nearly felt inevitable.

When his bedside alarm clock read 01:14, Shouta heard an incessant scratching at his bedroom door.

Chapstick?

He carefully got up so as to not wake Hizashi with any sudden movements. The door squeaked just a little bit as he opened it to let Chapstick in. She seemed distressed, pacing around the door and meowing at him incessantly.

“What’s wrong?” he crouched to pet the upset cat. Glancing down the hallway, Shouta looked to Izuku’s door and found it completely shut. Normally, the boy would leave it a foot open to let Chapstick go in or out as she wished. (Shouta also knew that the boy used it to reassure himself that he could leave the room when he wanted, he wasn’t locked in.)

“Did Izuku kick you out?” He whispered to Chapstick rhetorically. The cat just meowed and guided him to the boy’s door.

Shouta put an ear to the door and listened for any sign that the boy was awake. There was no noise. However, he did feel a slight breeze coming from under the door.

“Izuku?” He called quietly. When there was no answer, Shouta slowly but quietly opened the door. Chapstick immediately darted into the room. He mentally cursed as he anticipated the cat waking up the green-haired boy. No sounds of upset came.

Finally walking into the room, Shouta saw that Izuku’s bed was empty, and his window was slightly open. Okay. No need to panic. He’s probably in the living room or kitchen after having a bad dream again.

A quick trip to both areas of the apartment proved that he was just lying to himself.

Shit.

Shouta flicked Izuku’s light on and quickly took stock of everything that was present and everything that was not.

Izuku’s Jade outfit that he and Hizashi tried to stitch back together, gone. Izuku’s mask, gone. His new sneakers, gone. His phone, on his desk. His lockbox, under his bed.

If his lockbox was still there, then he planned to come back. Shouta knew that the container was important to Izuku despite not knowing its contents so there was no way the teen would leave it on purpose.

The Jade costume was gone, meaning he wasn’t kidnapped. He’s probably just out on a secret patrol. That’s fine, they would just have to talk about it with him and set some ground rules.

Wait. His phone was still there.

Shouta grabbed the outdated device and quickly opened it. Izuku didn’t put a lock on it because he told them he had nothing to hide on it, he barely used it. Immediately after opening it, Shouta saw recent articles on Dracul. In another tab, there was a map of the area.

Why was he looking into this? Was he trying to find Dracul? Why would he do it alone when they all know what happened last time?

Izuku was still a target of Dracul. Why would-

Oh.

The phone call he’d had with Tsukauchi. The way he was acting yesterday. The map.  

Shouta quickly used Izuku’s phone to call Tsukauchi.

“Hello? Iz-Jade? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Eraserhead. I think Jade went to find Dracul.”

“What? Explain.”

“He was snooping around and found some of the newest articles on the park attack. I think that he knows how Dracul is targeting his victims and is planning to lure him in.” While explaining, Shouta was grabbing his patrol garb and his capture weapon.

“He’s using himself as bait?! Do you know where he is?” He could hear scrambling over the phone.

Shouta grabbed his goggles, “I think he’s going to his old apartment. Can you see if the place was renovated and text me the address?” He grabbed his own phone so he wouldn’t have to bring Izuku’s.

Tsukauchi’s loud keyboard echoed over the speaker, “It looks like the complex was renovated two years ago. You think Dracul is gonna target the entire building?”

“I think that Dracul knows Izuku would come to him. I think he knows Izuku is Jade.”

“Dammit! I’ll go with a unit to the building. Are you heading over now?”

“Yes. Text me the address.” With that, Shouta hung up and quickly put the phone back in Izuku’s room. Nearly tripping over Chapstick, he went back to his and Hizashi’s room and flipped the light on and off.

Hizashi grumbled but turned toward him, “Huh?”

[Green Heart danger. Go ask Truth Lie.] He signed quickly. Hizashi squinted his eyes in concentration,  struggling to understand so soon after waking up so Shouta repeated the message again.

His husband bolted up from his lying position and grabbed his hearing aids, “Go! I’ll ask Tsukauchi!” He shooed him away.

Nodding, Shouta hurriedly kissed him on the forehead and looked Hizashi in the eyes, “I’ll find him, ‘Zashi,” he promised.

Once he got the address from Tsukauchi, Eraserhead was running across rooftops to find his kid.

After understanding where he was in the city, it didn’t take Izuku very long to find his way back to the apartment complex. It felt like muscle memory kicked in and his feet carried him to his destination on their own accord. Maybe he was panicking a little bit. There was still time to turn around-

No.

If he didn’t do this, his heroes wouldn’t be safe. They didn’t know the danger they put themselves in by caring about Izuku. It was his responsibility to make up for it.

The rebuilt apartment complex looked nearly identical to the one Izuku was familiar with. It’d been nearly six years since he’d last seen the building, but it felt like running into an old friend.

Izuku desperately wanted to absorb the nostalgic presence, but he had a job to do.

Not even attempting to use the elevator, Izuku climbed the stairs to the third floor.

307

The number his mother made him memorize just in case he’d gotten lost. His brain was unable to let go of all the little details that reminded him of his mother.

Then why do you dream of her faceless?

The faint smell of smoke entered Izuku’s senses, and he quickly snapped out of his haunted thoughts. The doorknob opened with no resistance.

The apartment’s layout was slightly different, but it still had a large living room, exactly like the one he and his mom would watch the news in.

A tall man with dark hair and a brown leather jacket stood in the middle of the baren living room. He was holding a lit cigarette above a trash-bin that Izuku knew contained several flammable objects.

“Finally able to get away from those annoying heroes?” Dracul asked, unbothered by Izuku’s presence.

He clenched his fists, the familiar fingerless gloves of his Jade outfit softening the biting of his nails.

Dracul turned to face him, “Still not talking, huh?” He dropped the cigarette and Izuku quickly ran to grab the bin and put it in the sink to extinguish the fire.

A strong, calloused hand grabbed him by his throat and pinned him against the wall. Izuku choked on his breath as the bin caught on fire in the middle of the room.

His father’s glowing eyes pierced into the green from his mother, “You’re going to watch as I burn this shit hole again because of you,” he growled, his throat glowing from his unused flames.

Still trying to catch his breath, Izuku clawed at his father’s hand and watched as the bin tipped over and the fire spread to the carpet.

“This was all you, Izuku. This was your fault. But don’t worry! It’s what we do,” Dracul grinned, “We aren’t heroes, son,” his other hand went up to pet Izuku’s hair condescendingly.

As he prepared to face his father, Izuku felt fear. He’d always been scared of his father and what he was capable of, so the fear didn’t surprise him. But what did surprise him, was the fear for something else. Izuku was scared to lose the people he’d bonded with. Hizashi and Aizawa cared about him. Aizawa cared about him even when he was a bothersome vigilante. Izuku was terrified of losing their care and their concern and their warmth.

Staring into his Dracul’s too-jovial eyes, Izuku didn’t feel fear- he felt rage.

“You’re wrong,” his voice cracked weakly from disuse and the hand around his throat, but Izuku held his father’s gaze with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. Using the man’s momentary shock from him using his voice, Izuku squeezed the wrist of the hand holding his throat in a way that Aizawa had taught him one night on patrol.

“If your opponent has you by your neck or even by your hair, grab the side of their wrist that the pinkie is on, and squeeze the tendon. You want to put pressure on it, so their grip loosens,” Eraserhead demonstrated.

Jade had been pinned by a thug holding his throat to the ground in a raid earlier that night. He was saved by Eraserhead’s capture scarf before he lost consciousness.

[Why learn when you are here?] He asked cheekily.

Eraserhead ducked his head into his scarf, “Because I’m not always going to be there. So, you’ll have to fight like hell if I’m not, got it?” He held his pinkie out.

Jade had only hesitated for a moment before interlocking their pinkies in a childish promise. Even with his mouth covered by the scarf, Jade could swear the Eraserhead was smiling.

Dracul shouted in pain and Izuku quickly ducked and rolled away from him. The fire was spreading but it wasn’t unmanageable yet. Focusing on the edges of the flames, Izuku tried to corral the fire into one spot.

Still focused on the fire, Izuku kept one eye on his father’s rising figure, “Did those heroes tell you that you can be like them?” Dracul’s voice was calm. It was a calm Izuku knew could only be followed by a damaging blow.

Dracul walked towards the kitchen counter and picked up a manila folder. He held it up mockingly, like one would taunt a dog with a treat, “Did they say you could be a hero, Izuku?” He tossed the folder at Izuku’s feet where he quickly guarded it from the flames. “Take a look.”

With one last push to isolate the fire, Izuku turned his attention to the folder on the ground. “Jade” was written in Tsukauchi’s messy scrawl. This was the file the man had said he lost on the phone with Aizawa. He bent down to open the folder but shot Dracul an apprehensive glance. The man held his hands in a surrendering position and took a few steps back.

The first paper showed a report on Jade that Tsukauchi wrote when he was first spotted. There was almost no information on it. The next few pages were news reports on Jade and eye-witness accounts. A few rough sketches of him were thrown in but none of them were too accurate. Near the back of the folder, Izuku pulled out a paper with Dracul sightings listed on them.

Why did they have this in here? Jade wasn’t affiliated with Dracul.

Dracul’s victims were listed, and his mother’s name was circled in red pen. Izuku swallowed thickly when he read her name. Underneath that, he found his and his mother’s medical records. A photocopy of a warrant was paperclipped to them, showing that the papers were requested long before Izuku revealed himself to Aizawa and Tsukauchi.

“They’ve known, Izuku,” Dracul spoke as the fire roared, Izuku’s concentration having been broken.

“They…what?” He was confused. They’ve known this whole time? The rest of the papers in the file showed that Tsukauchi and Aizawa figured out he was the son of Midoriya Inko and Dracul’s fake identity, Midoriya Hisashi.

“They were playing you. Those heroes have known the truth for a long time,” his father’s voice wasn’t taunting anymore, it was almost…pitying.

Izuku shook his head, “No…no! They would have told me!” His creaky, unused voice wavered with tears. Everything in the file points towards his father telling the truth. They knew and they didn’t say anything to him.

Dracul stepped closer to his kneeled form, “They were using you,” he sounded less pitying and more forceful, “Using you to get to me. Heroes don’t care about brats who run away from home and defy their parents,” he told him firmly, flames escaping his mouth, “They care about villains! We are villains, Izuku,” Dracul squatted down in front of him, “They played you like the stupid kid you are.”

Pins and needles wash over his skin. Did Hizashi know? Did Aizawa let him into his home just so he could be used as a trump card? Was any of it real?

The apartment’s door was thrown open with a crack and Izuku looked to his left to see the very man who could answer his question.

Aizawa’s eyes were cold as he glared at Dracul. He stepped forward with his hand on his capture weapon, “Izuku, get b-“

“You knew.”

The hero’s eyes widened at Izuku’s voice. The first words he’d heard him say.

When Izuku had dreams about another reality where he could speak without singing the earth, he’d planned out his first words to the people in his life. To Tsukauchi, he wanted to say something cool like, “I like your trench coat” or “All in a day’s work” after they finish a case like in those old crime shows. To Hizashi, he would say, “Your smile makes me happy” because it’s true, the man’s smile always made Izuku want to grow one of his own. To Aizawa, he wanted to say, “Thank you.”

“You knew.” He wanted to spit the words out like they were venom on his tongue, but it was hard to hide devastation when you only felt betrayal running through your veins like ice water.

Aizawa held his hands out, now only looking at him and not the villain in the room, “Izuku,” he glanced to the file in his hands, “it’s not what you think.”

The edges of the folder bent under his frustration, “But you st-still knew.” It felt like his throat was bleeding.

Aizawa hesitated and it was all Izuku needed to know.

He shook his head as tears fell from his eyes. He thought he could trust them he thought he was safe. Dracul couldn’t be trusted, and neither could the heroes he’d come to know. Putting them on the same pedestal as his father hurt but it was all his brain could do.

Izuku dropped the folder and covered his ears as the fire roared and Aizawa pleaded, and his father lied and they were all liars why were they all liars?

His throat felt far too warm, and it wasn’t from his aching voice.

“You knew.”

Shouta imagined the moment that Izuku would speak to him for the first time. He’d known that the boy still had his voice because of all the noises he was able to make still. It was obviously a decision that he had made himself and Shouta, Tsukauchi, and Hizashi all agreed not to push him to speak.

He imagined scenarios where Izuku’s first words to him were, “Hi” or “Goodnight” or “I need help” or “Let’s watch a movie”.

Not once did he imagine hearing the pure devastation behind Izuku’s first words to him.

And it was all Shouta’s fault.

He knew that he should have told Izuku that they knew he was related to Dracul, but he didn’t because he felt it was never the right time and Izuku wasn’t ready to hear it.

Seeing Izuku kneel on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking through the cracks, hands clawed over ears, and throat glowing green, Shouta knew that all the reasonings he’d formed in his head meant nothing.

The glowing grew and Shouta knew it had something to do with the boy’s quirk, “Izuku, try to calm down. Take deep bre-“

“Sh-shut up! Just stop! Stop tal-talking! There’s too much!” Izuku screamed and Shouta’s heart broke.

“Burn the world, Izuku!” Dracul stepped closer, “Burn it for what it did to us!” Shouta gritted his teeth and prepared his capture weapon to incapacitate the goading villain.

“Us?” Izuku yelled, looking up at Dracul, “Us?” His voice was full of disdain, “You wanted me to hate the world so bad, but the only person I ever hated was you!” The green glow was bleeding out of Izuku’s mouth and Shouta immediately tried to activate his quirk.

A gruff hand wrapped around his face as Dracul tried to stop him. The older man was only half paying attention to him while he watched in glee as his son succumbed to his repressed quirk. The right side of Shouta’s face grew warm as green fire exploded from Izuku’s mouth and around his body. With him obscured by the flames, Erasure wouldn’t work.

The room was flooded with armored officers led by Ingenium and the fire only grew.

“Get out!” Shouta yelled, “It’s an out of control quirk! Evacuate the building!” While commanding the new group, he activated Erasure and wrapped his capture weapon around Dracul, making sure to cover his mouth with a strand of the carbon alloy.

Ingenium ran up to him while the other officers fled, “The building’s already evacuated, let’s get out of here.”

“Wait-“ Shouta was cut off as he was grabbed around the waist and he could only watch as Izuku’s small form was fully enveloped by his flames.

Ingenium brought him and Dracul out where at least a dozen emergency vehicles were awaiting instruction. Tsukauchi ran up to them as some of Ingenium’s team took Dracul away with quirk-cancelling cuffs on him, giving him his capture weapon back.

Once he had it around his neck once again, Shouta took a step back towards the building.

“Eraser!” Tsukauchi stood in front of him, looking between him and the building, an unasked question on the tip of his tongue.

“Izuku’s still in there and I’m the only one who can help him,” he tried to strongarm his way past the detective.

Dracul scoffed from his position next to an officer’s car with Pin Cushion guiding him, “You’ll burn if you go in there.”

Shouta shook his head, “He won’t hurt me.”

Tsukauchi put a hand on his arm, “Eraser, you know I want to help him too, but it’s a raging inferno-“

“How are you so sure?” Dracul glowered at him, speaking over the other man. It was clearly meant to be a taunt. If he were more in his right mind, Shouta would have ignored the villain. But his mind was in overdrive, and he could only think about the kid he needed to save.

“Because he’s good.”

Shouta pushed through Tsukauchi and approached the shamrock flames. It felt like the crowd watched with baited breaths as he stepped closer and closer to the blaze.

He took a deep breath and made the final step into the fire. As his foot touched down, the flames moved away from him.

Hope bloomed in Shouta’s chest. Izuku was still in there. A part of him thought it wouldn’t work and he would have been badly burned in front of all the officers. His quirk was clearly evolving as he was able to manipulate the flames even without seeing them.

As Shouta ventured further into the apartment and up the stairs, the fire and smoke were kept away from him. Finally, he approached the ruined door of apartment 307 and stared at the impossible flame that was his kid.

Izuku was feeling hurt and angry and betrayed. He wouldn’t be able to listen to a longwinded explanation as to why what happened happened or why he did what he did.

He was a hurting child who needed comfort.

Shouta approached the center of the room and watched as the cocooning flame began to part. Finally, he could see Izuku.

The boy was still on the ground, but he had his arms wrapped around his knees, so he was in a ball. His eyes were glowing a toxic green and there were no more flames spitting from his tongue. His tears were evaporating right after they left his eyes. Eyes that wouldn’t look up at Shouta.

He’d done this. Guilt-ridden thoughts swarmed every crevice of his mind before he tampered them down. As much as Shouta wanted to wallow in his guilt, he needed to be there for Izuku.

So, instead of explaining himself or making up excuses or wasting time with wasted words, Shouta wrapped Izuku in his arms and hugged him.

A part of him preened because he knew if Izuku lost all of his trust in him, he wouldn’t have let him hug him.

Shouta hoped that all of his feelings and reassurances could be conveyed through the hug as Izuku sobbed into his shoulder. He felt tears spring to his own eyes at the pure hurt in the boy’s cries.

“Why di-did you do it? Why did you use me?” Izuku wailed, “Did-did you really care? Was all y-your kindness even real?” There was desperation in his voice, like he wanted Shouta to deny it all and say it was all a lie and there was nothing to worry about and Dracul was just a liar.

But Shouta knew it wouldn’t be the truth. He knew that it was a longer explanation than Izuku would allow right now in this compromised state.

“I can explain everything once you’re safe,” he compromised, trying to keep the tears out of his voice, “We had no intention of betraying your trust, Izuku. Please believe me,” he begged.

Izuku soaked in his words as he let his tears run out and his sobs quiet. Shouta could practically feel the cogs in his clever brain work to decide whether to believe him.

“Let us take you to the hospital,” Shouta pleaded, “I’ll explain everything there, but you need to be treated for quirk exhaustion.”

The boy nodded in acknowledgement, “’Zashi?” He asked weakly. Shouta’s resolve wavered at the soft way Izuku said his husband’s name and he knew that the man himself would share the same sentiment once he heard it for the first time.

Shouta nodded into Izuku’s curly hair, “Yeah, ‘Zashi can meet us there,” he assured.

He watched as the green flames grew smaller and smaller as Izuku’s eyelids grew heavier. To reassure himself, he kept two fingers pressed to the boy’s pulse point, despite knowing his unconsciousness was just due to exhaustion.

When the flames were fully extinguished, Shouta lifted the sleeping boy into his arms and carried him out of the scorched building.

Shouta could only pray that he hadn’t destroyed everything they’d worked so hard to heal.

Chapter Text

Izuku was in and out of consciousness as Tsukauchi drove them to the hospital. The detective had already talked to Hizashi and told him to meet them at the pediatric ward, something Shouta was disgustingly grateful for.

The second he’d taken Izuku outside of the apartment building, the boy fainted. Their whole journey out of the fire, not a single flame was able to bite at Shouta’s skin. His adoration for the green-haired boy bubbled up like boiling water, only to be replaced by the toxic feeling of guilt.

Shouta hadn’t told Tsukauchi about the folder yet, knowing that the man would only feel the same guilt that he was feeling. There was no need to spur that on the way to the hospital.

The pediatric ward. Because Izuku is a child.

Not even waiting for the car to stop, Shouta was already jumping out and sprinting through the hospital doors. His capture weapon was swaddling his precious cargo to himself. (Shouta could lie and say it was only because he didn’t want Izuku to jostle too much, aggravating his injuries. That was definitely a factor, but the reassurance he felt holding his kid so close, so secure in his own support tool, was immeasurable. It was selfish and it was desperate, but he needed his kid to be okay.)

The words he yelled into the hospital waiting room were lost on him. They were pleading and groveling yells that could have been incoherent for all he knew. Nurses rushed to him and his charge, but Shouta was paying more attention to the grass green eyes that were blearily looking up at him.

“Kid…” And he choked on the murmured word because it was all he could say at the moment. There was so much he wanted to say; so much he wanted to tell Izuku. Shouta wanted to beg for forgiveness, he wanted to plead his case a thousand times over. But the nurses were wheeling a stretcher over and he had to tell them what he knew but the acidic green eyes never left his own.

As the incoherent fog seemed to clear from his face, anguish and betrayal emerged. Izuku looked up at him with so much trepidation that Shouta was, once again, reminded of a stray cat, only this time it wasn’t cute or humorous. His perfidy hurt Izuku more than he may ever know, and the boy’s eyes reflected that as he was placed on the stretcher.

Unsure of what Izuku would want, Shouta began to let go of his small frame. He didn’t want to relinquish Izuku from his grasp (no, that was the last thing he wanted), but Izuku’s eyes were heavy with a broken heart, and it was hard to ignore his fault in it.

Before he could fully retract his hand from Izuku’s body, a firm (but far too small, far too boney and scarred) hand grabbed his pointer and middle fingers.

The green eyes were swimming with upset and confusion; it was clear that Izuku wasn’t able to distinguish his thoughts. But Shouta could recognize that expression anywhere. It was the same look that victims wore. People who had been rescued but still needed someone there to make sure everything was okay. It was the way people looked at heroes.

Shouta understood that, while Izuku had been betrayed and is feeling a gut-wrenching hurt, he was a child that needed a hero to stay with him.

He gave a single, firm nod and gave Izuku his whole hand to hold, “Thank you.” Kami, he’d meant it. Shouta was so achingly grateful for the small sign of trust that he hadn’t noticed Tsukauchi being left in the waiting room. He hadn’t even noticed the other man walking through the doors, all his attention was on his kid.

The nurses seemed to understand that it was Izuku who was keeping him there, needing his comfort, so they let the hero walk alongside the stretcher as they wheeled it into a private room.

Time seems fraudulent as Shouta held Izuku’s hand. He was vaguely aware of the cables and IV being attached to the boy, the nurses swapping his scorched clothes for a hospital gown, the damp cloth wiping ash and tears from Izuku’s pale face, and salves being applied to burns. Izuku seemed to be in a similar state, not paying attention to his surroundings, letting the nurses do whatever they needed to do, staring into Shouta’s gray eyes.

The man both loved and hated the staring match he was having with his kid. Hated because he could tell Izuku wasn’t very present. His eyes were glazed, lids half fallen, pupils dilated. Loved because the boy’s numb eyes weren’t looking into his own with contempt and distrust.

It seemed like no time at all had passed when the bustling nurses left, and a very serious-looking man stood next to Shouta by Izuku’s feet.

“Eraserhead? Can you hear me?”

Shouta blinked and turned to look at the man. He was young with pointed ears and dark eyes. Observational training and years of reading people made it clear that the doctor wasn’t as stern as he looked. He was relaxed and purposefully keeping his body language open, trying not to appear as a threat. His fingers twitched like he wanted to hold something or keep his hands in his pockets, but he kept them open for Shouta and Izuku to see.

Noting all of this, Shouta gave the doctor eighty percent of his attention, keeping the rest on his charge.

The doctor smiled easily, “I’m Dr. Iyashi, the resident pediatric doctor here. A Tsukauchi Naomasa informed us that the boy’s name is Midoriya Izuku, and you are his primary caretaker, is this correct.”

“Correct,” Shouta confirmed steadily.

Dr. Iyashi nodded, “Do you mind if I see your Hero I.D.?” The man’s voice was level but firm. Shouta liked him, it was clear he took his job seriously and seemed to care about the children under his care.

Wordlessly, he pulled out his wallet and handed the doctor his Hero I.D. Dr. Iyashi scanned the card before visibly brightening and passing the card back.

“With that out of the way, would you like to hear Midoriya’s current condition? This would include all visible injuries and some internal injuries, not including those that would need a machine scan for further inspection.” Shouta nodded, “Alright, and would you like to be told this as a hero or as a caregiver?”

The question threw him off and Shouta looked up at the man curiously, “How do you mean?”

Dr. Iyashi leveled him with a look that veered on pitying, “I can tell you exact details in a clinical fashion, like one would receive an update on a victim, or I can tell you about the important details with the understanding that the victim is a child- your child.”

Kami, that hurt. Did he want to hear the blunt, gory details of Izuku’s hurt, told to him as a hero on a case, or did he want to hear the important parts of how his kid was hurt, told to him as someone who cares about him.

Logically, Shouta should request the more thorough explanation. He should hear it all and he should compartmentalize and assess Izuku’s condition just like he would for another hero or someone he’d rescued.

But Shouta was selfish, and he already saw his kid consumed by his own flames fueled by guttural upset tonight, so he let himself act illogically.

He cleared his throat, “The second one.”

Dr. Iyashi nodded and looked at him with understanding, “Alright. Midoriya is being treated for several burns along his arms, feet, and sides. Thankfully, none of them are third-degree burns. Few are second-degree but will be treated by a specialist who will be here by tomorrow night. One of the nurses was able to see that Midoriya’s skin is slightly fire-resistant, so the burns are not as large as they should be.

“His neck is heavily bruised but there won’t be any lasting issues. We’ll run tests for his throat once he wakes up,” the doctor smiled, “All in all, Midoriya will make a speedy recovery.”

The man didn’t tell him that Izuku’s burns were probably going to scar, he didn’t tell him that the boy’s quirk exhaustion is so awful that Izuku may be sore for weeks, he didn’t tell him that the test they take tomorrow will determine whether or not his son would be able to speak normally, and he didn’t tell him about the years-old scars they’d found while Shouta had been in his daze.

That information could wait for the morning once everyone has calmed and gotten some rest. The standard procedure when informing parents.

Shouta absorbed all this information and tightened his hold on his kid. Izuku would be okay. He’s not in immediate danger; he will be okay.

Dr. Iyashi left and Shouta pulled his phone out. He had multiple missed calls from both Hizashi and Tsukauchi. He also had an email from Nezu but chose to ignore it for the time being.

Pulling up his husband’s panicked messages, he typed a quick update.

S: Izuku will be kept here for a few more nights. Getting tests done tomorrow + specialist arriving. You and Tsukauchi may be able to visit tomorrow. Go home. Sleep. Feed the demons.

H: Poor green bean!!! :((( What are his injuries?? ALSO if you think I’m leaving this hospital before you or the little listener, u r crazy!!

Shouta smiled at his husband’s message. He readjusted his phone to make it easier to type with his free hand.

S: I won’t try to argue with you. You and Tsuka sleep well, leave if you are uncomfortable. Love you.

H: Keep us updated on Izuku’s status!! Love you tooooo!!

A refreshing wave of calm ran through his bones, his husband always able to ease his tension with words alone. Putting his phone down, Shouta lightly squeezed Izuku’s hand.

The foster papers he and Hizashi had requested were still sitting in his bag at home. The memory of them weighed heavy on Shouta’s shoulders. He and his husband had been sure that Izuku would agree to them wanting to foster him, but now…Shouta didn’t even know if the boy would want to see him once he was awake and coherent.

His care and protectiveness he felt towards Izuku hadn’t faded in the slightest, so the idea of their proposition being rejected laid dreadfully over his head like an upset storm cloud.

“They were using you.” Dracul stood over him. Where was he? He wasn’t at the apartment where he’d last seen his father.

It was Aizawa’s apartment with Hizashi. The familiar wallpaper and tacky rug were dark with soot.

Dracul reach down and grabbed him by his throat in a far too familiar manner.

“’Z- ‘Zawa-“ Izuku keened, wanting nothing more than the hero to help him – to save him.

A dark head of hair appeared over Dracul’s shoulder, “This was always the endgame, Jade,” Aizawa sneered at him. It was an ugly, harsh expression on the man and Izuku didn’t like it one bit.

He choked, “Wh-“

Tsukauchi emerged, holding his folder, “It’s about time you realized the truth.”

“No,” Izuku begged, tears falling from his irritated eyes.

“You thought we did all this because we want you here?” Hizashi’s normally light, sunshine on a cloudy day, voice was laced with venom.

“We didn’t want you,” Aizawa smiled and it was nothing like the man’s Cheshire grin that never failed to make Izuku feel comforted, it was a mockery of it, “We needed you for the job.”

“You’re an inconvenience.”

“We don’t care what he does to you.”

“You’re not necessary anymore.”

Izuku sobbed as the barbed words pierced his too vulnerable skin. His arms felt itchy, his neck was covered in sweat, everything was too much and too close. The familiar tang of bile sparked the back of Izuku’s aching throat.

That wasn’t a part of his nightmare.

Izuku rolled onto his side and expelled the bitter vomit that escaped his stomach. He was vaguely aware of the hospital bed he was laying on and the sobs that paired with his hacking. Izuku’s body felt like an exposed nerve, spread over the edge of a hospital bed, leaking heavy tears, vomiting on the floor.

He was aware of nothing but his tears and aching throat and stomach acid on his chin and snot dribbling down his nose and a calloused hand holding his own.

There were no rumblings of a voice that Izuku knew belonged to the calloused hand and there were no additional touches in an attempt to restrain him. Aizawa was just holding his hand in his own, squeezing in a pattern that he recognized as a tune Hizashi would often whistle in the morning.

The dark-haired man wasn’t spitting words of dislike at him nor was he laughing at Izuku’s struggle.

“We had no intention of betraying your trust, Izuku. Please believe me.” He could remember the desperation in the hero’s voice as he begged Izuku to understand his intentions. He didn’t loom over him or aid Dracul in hurting him; Aizawa helped him.

But the file.

Regaining control of his lungs, not even aware of his tears stopping, Izuku looked from their conjoined hands to Aizawa’s dark eyes that were already looking into his. He nearly flinched at the attention before tamping it down.

Silence spread across them like a flash freeze. Izuku couldn’t find the question he wanted to ask and, unbeknownst to him, Aizawa was waiting for him to make the first move, giving Izuku control of the conversation. Although, the man’s freehand twitched with the want to comfort his kid even more and wipe off the mess on his face; it wasn’t about what he wanted.

Wiggling to sit up straight, Izuku didn’t break eye contact, peering into the older man’s oily eyes, searching for any deceit or distasteful emotions buried beneath. Despite the cautiousness, the boy did not retract his hand. It felt like his brain wouldn’t let him no matter how hard he tried because, even after the night’s revelations, Izuku craved the comfort that the hero gave him. He wanted to let the man hold him and tell him everything will be okay. He wanted to forget every word Dracul told him. He wanted Aizawa to tell him that everything the villain said was a cruel lie.

Stopping his body from lunging into a hug he needed like water, Izuku swallowed through the pain in his throat.

“’xplain.” His voice was weak and wobbly like a tree that just barely survived a forest fire. His throat hurt like he’d swallowed sandpaper, but Izuku didn’t let that stop him from using his voice. The lightheadedness due to his vomiting guaranteed his hands would be far too shaky to properly sign.

If he didn’t know the man, Izuku wouldn’t have caught the brief flash of surprise that flittered across Aizawa’s face. Whether that be from the use of his voice or the demand, Izuku didn’t care.

Aizawa’s eyes flicked to the mess on the floor, “I think we should call someone to get that cleaned up first, don’t you?”

Izuku huffed but pressed the red button next to his IV. Doing a double take, he gestured to the drip bag connected to his arm.

“Pretty sure it’s just a mild sedative,” Aizawa answered his unspoken question. The man was keeping his voice even and quiet, but it still sounded more somber than Izuku had ever heard it.

Good. He should feel upset for lying.

He mentally swatted the harsh thought away. Izuku didn’t want the hero to feel sad, he wanted the man to explain, and he needed Dracul to be wrong.

A knock broke their continued staring match before the nurse slowly opened the door. Izuku’s analytical gaze swept over the woman’s black eyes and snow-white hair. Her fingers had a slight webbing connecting them near the knuckles so that must mean- yep! There were near-invisible gills just underneath the nurse’s jaw.

Aquatic quirk. Possibly centered around water or specific sea creature. Ability to breathe underwater and above, possible swim bladder? She had to have lungs to breathe above water so were her gills separated from her respirato- She could have two respiratory systems! The existence of a swim bladder would confirm this but there was no way to tell just by observing. Maybe if-

Izuku was broken out of his mumbling by a soft giggle. The nurse was watching him with amusement sparkling her eyes and he couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face like a rash. His throat was aching with a new scratchiness, meaning he’d been mumbling some of his thoughts aloud.

“You’re right about the two respiratory systems,” she chirped, “but I don’t have a swim bladder since my quirk isn’t swimming related,” the nurse let a janitor in with a mop as she went around the opposite side of the bed to check the monitors relaying Izuku’s health. “Any other guesses of what my quirk could be?”

It was a laughable attempt to distract Izuku and keep him calm. It was childish and easy and- it was absolutely working. Izuku’s thoughts raced with all the possibilities but this time, he kept quiet to not irritate his throat even more.

So, it’s an aquatic quirk but has no reliance on swimming. The gills could be a secondary mutation from a parent if it doesn’t have a main function. Her eyes are a deep black- could be in relation to a specific sea animal. Is her vision impaired? No, she’s navigating easily. Maybe echolocation or sonar? Dolphins and whales use echolocation – not sure which sea animals use sonar. She could –

“All done!” She smiled brightly, revealing pointed teeth, and placed her clipboard down, “What’s your final guess, kiddo?”

Izuku painfully cleared his throat, ignoring Aizawa flexing his hand in his grip, “Ph-phys’cal muta-ations se’ondary,” he croaked, trying not to emphasize the more painful letters, “Main ‘uirk sonar?”

“Wow!” The nurse exclaimed, “You got that quick! My physical mutations are a secondary factor, got them from my mother. She has a shark quirk, thus giving me the dark predator-fish eyes, the gills, and the teeth,” she gestured to each feature as she listed them, “My quirk is called Feel Find. Using five-point touch, I can use small waves of vibrations to see, almost like echolocation. I’m even able to use it on people since the vibrations are so slight, letting me get a vague x-ray of someone’s body.”

Izuku was sure that his eyes were glimmering as he hung on to every word the woman had to say about her quirk.

(Shouta watched as the kid’s brain analyzed and theorized and ran at miles a minute. The slight glimpse at normalcy was something Izuku needed and if that came in the form of him mumbling and analyzing a stranger’s quirk? So be it.)

The nurse finished her check-up and bid the two a friendly goodbye along with a reminder that visitor hours start soon.

With the room only being occupied by the two of them once again, Izuku allowed himself to take a moment and assess how he was feeling. It was confusing. He felt that the trust he’d put in the adults around him who he thought cared about him was broken, yet he didn’t want to let go of Aizawa’s hand.

Maybe he didn’t even deserve an explanation from the man. It was only logical that he uses Izuku as a resource for the Dracul case. It’s not like he was obligated to care about him. And Kami does that thought hurt.

Izuku took a deep breath, “Wan’a know y-your side.”

Aizawa nodded, “I’ll tell you everything. Tsukauchi and ‘Zashi are going to be here soon if you want to wait for them. If you don’t want to wait, that’s completely fine, Izuku.”

Why was he being so nice.

Izuku knew his brain wasn’t processing everything correctly, it felt like he was yanking at embroidery thread and hoping the string forms a thought.

The feeling of his own fire tasted like copper in the back of his throat even without it activated. Aizawa had seen him use the fire. Dracul’s fire. If him no longer being needed to solve the case isn’t what drives the man away, surely his poor copy of a villain’s quirk would do the job.

Disgust pulled at his stomach when he was reminded of the quirk he shared with his father. He’d let it get out of control and nearly finished the job his father set out to do himself. But that’s what Izuku always did; aided his father in his destruction.

He didn’t deserve an explanation from the dark-haired hero, he deserved quirk suppressant handcuffs and a cold cell.

Izuku’s cyclone thoughts were cut off by a quick knock on the door. Aizawa moved to open it but stopped when the grip on his hand didn’t change. Not bringing attention to Izuku’s moment of weakness, the man called for the visitors to come in.

Hizashi and Tsukauchi walked into the room with differing levels of energy but the same sag of relief when they looked at him in the hospital bed.

The blonde hero was dressed in his casual outfit- a red worn-out sweater with glasses to match, light jeans, brown loafers that he’d stolen from Aizawa, and his hair in a bun. Him and Tsukauchi had matching dark circles, clearly displaying that the two hadn’t gotten any rest.

Hizashi quickly took the seat next to his husband and set a steady hand on Izuku’s knee. Tsukauchi moved to get closer but, at Izuku’s flinch, was stopped by Aizawa using his other arm as a blocker.

The newest visitors looked at Aizawa with confusion and even slight upset, but the man was only looking at Izuku. “Tsukauchi, Izuku has some questions for us,” he dropped his arm once he was assured that the detective wouldn’t try to approach again, “Dracul had your missing file.”

Tsukauchi’s brows furrowed in confusion before a damning look of realization took over. Izuku shrunk away at the man’s understanding.

Hizashi looked between the other inhabitants, “It’s not good that Dracul had the file, but Izuku, you know Tsuka would never give your information to a villain on purpose.”

Tsukauchi sighed, “I don’t think it’s about that, Hizashi,” he sat in the chair next to the door, the farthest position from Izuku.

The boy shook his head, willing his tears to not fall, “e’plain,” Hizashi quietly gasped at hearing Izuku’s voice. Tsukauchi may have had a similar reaction had he not been under the scrutiny of a tearful, heartbroken teenager. “You u-used me,” Izuku spat, looking between the detective and the underground hero.

He could tell Hizashi was shocked and even more confused, but the man stayed quiet to observe the scene.

Aizawa turned his gaze to the scratchy hospital blanket, “Dracul had the file and told Izuku that we’ve known their relation the whole time and we were only using Izuku for the Dracul case,” he informed Tsukauchi who Izuku knew had already pieced it together.

The detective sighed and Izuku watched as he leaned his forearms on his knees and looked at him just as Aizawa had done earlier, “Kid- Izuku, I wish I could give you my quirk so you could know for certain that everything we tell you is the absolute truth.” Izuku felt the first tear fall as he let himself hope that everything his father said would be false.

Looking up from the blanket, Aizawa shared a look with Tsukauchi before staring at Izuku again, “We’d figured out that you were Dracul’s son prior to tonight, but, it was only a short bit ago; a few days before you began staying with ‘Zashi and I,” Izuku stayed silent as he processed everything the man was telling him, “We didn’t tell you that we knew because we thought it was scare you and then we wouldn’t see you again.”

Tsukauchi interjected, “We also didn’t have all the details. Until the night at the office building, we had been under the impression that Dracul didn’t know you were alive and going out as Jade.”

Aizawa moved his free hand to cover the other side of Izuku’s, “We never thought of using you to find Dracul. Tsukauchi and I investigated Jade and found your identity to protect you, never to use you as a pawn for our case,” the man’s voice was dewy, and his words felt heavy with pleads. More tears fell from Izuku’s eyes.

“We found your identity through Dracul’s fake ones. Looking in to all our leads and everyone connected to his identities,” Tsukauchi paused to glance at Aizawa nervously, “we found your mother, Midoriya Inko.”

Izuku’s bottom lip quivered as he thought of the men seeing his mom and seeing him in her silhouette. He knew that’s not how it happened; it wouldn’t be logical. Idly, Izuku wondered if he could ask Tsukauchi for the picture they found of his mom. He didn’t want to forget her face anymore.

Tsukauchi continued, “We found you through vague mentions in witness accounts and suspicious gaps in your mother’s medical records,” he winced, “We know that the carelessness with your safety was because you were diagnosed as quirkless.”

He flinched. Despite knowing he wasn’t actually quirkless, Izuku couldn’t stand the memories of being treated as weak, like an inconvenience, all because he didn’t show his quirk.

“And” the man continued, “we know that your quirk was forcibly manifested the night of your mother’s murder.”

Phantom pain from that night rushed over his nerves. His body had felt like it was melting from the inside out and all he could think of was protecting his mom. Izuku knew that his quirk was erratic because of its forced manifestation, but he blamed most of his quirk’s volatility on it being from his father.

A sharp tap on his hand drew his attention to Aizawa who flicked his eyes down to Izuku’s free hand where his nails had been digging into his palm. He released his grip and looked up at the man.

Aizawa was looking at him with nothing unkind in his eyes. He was staring at him like he cared about what Izuku was thinking, what Izuku was going to say. His dark eyes were watching him with a gentleness Izuku hadn’t been on the receiving end of in years.

“M-mom would’ve l’ked y-you g’ys.”

Some of the room’s tension was sucked out like a vacuum and Izuku couldn’t help the sad smile that grew on his face. He shouldn’t have listened to his father. Aizawa and Tsukauchi were good people. They wouldn’t try to hurt him like that. Izuku knew they cared about him – knew Hizashi cared about him as well, but his brain always made it hard to remember.

“I’m sure we would have liked her too, kid,” Aizawa told him and gave a small smile. Izuku’s chest hurt from the gentleness in the hero’s normally stony gaze.

“Considering who she raised, we definitely would have liked her,” Tsukauchi grinned but Izuku could see the hesitation in the way his eyebrows were tensed.

Izuku couldn’t help the river of tears that rolled down his face as he smiled at the detective, the man who kept Jade from being arrested, who threw granola bars at him, who would work overnight just to make sure he was safe.

No, Izuku never should have doubted either of them. The confirmation felt drilled into his bones; they cared about him.

It wasn’t long before the nice nurse came back and, upon seeing the tears and hearing Izuku’s harsh cough, added a heavier sedative to his IV. The pain from his throat faded and Izuku let himself relax onto the bed with one hand in Aizawa’s still, and the other in Tsukauchi’s after the man had been given the ‘okay’ to come closer. Hizashi kept a firm hand on Izuku’s knee and watched him with a softness in his eyes.

Falling asleep in his hospital bed, Izuku found that he’d never felt safer.

Chapter Text

The three men watched over Izuku as he slept. All far too aware of how small the body was lying on the bleak hospital bed. His hand was cramping because of its frozen position, but Shouta kept it right where it was, holding Izuku’s. Once the boy was sedated, Hizashi quietly asked questions to try and understand the situation better. When he was completely filled-in, the blonde had to be convinced not to leave the hospital and pay a visit to Dracul.

Tsukauchi said that he would go to check on the villain’s status and converge with the Dracul team, no doubt Tensei would still be at the station.

The detective left and Shouta was left with his husband and ward.

“He’ll be okay.” He couldn’t tell if Hizashi was saying it for him or for himself. Most likely both.

Reassured with it just being his husband and Izuku in the room, Shouta allowed some of his resolve to crumble, “You didn’t see him, ‘Zashi. He was crushed when he thought we had been lying to him,” he couldn’t hide the dampness of his eyes from the blonde, “The first words he spoke to me were an accusation of deception and I never want to be the cause of that devastation again.”

Hizashi places a hand at the base of his neck underneath his capture weapon, something that his husband knew helped to ease some of his tension, “Sho, he was being fed lies. We already know that Dracul was manipulating him since he was eight, maybe even before that. You and I both know that it’s easy to fall back into that malleable mentality especially when you’re a hurt kid.”

His husband was right. Without the boy even telling them anything, it was abundantly clear that he was not just physically abused by his father, but also emotionally and mentally. Nobody who wasn’t treated that way would leave to become a vigilante at his age.

“I still should have told him what we knew.”

“Well…” Hizashi shrugged, “yeah, you probably should have. But even if you did, Dracul would have found another way to hurt him. To hurt his trust in us.”

Shouta sighed, “I know you’re right, I just…”

“We want to take some of the blame so it will be easier to fix.” He looked at his husband’s knowing smile, “I know how you get, Sho,” Hizashi playfully nudged his forehead, “You want to take the blame so you can have some control over how fast everyone heals by doling out the apologies and explanations. I love you Sho, but you can’t shoulder all of this. We can be there to help him but in the end, Izuku needs to heal for himself,” he put his hand over Shouta and Izuku’s, “This is years of abuse and manipulation, it’s not something that we can fix by ourselves.”

Shouta swallowed, “You said ‘we can be there to help him’, do you still want to go through with the registration?”

Hizashi pulled back to look him in the eye, there was no humor behind his glimmering eyes, just determination and love, “Nothing that happened tonight will change my decision. If you want to, I would love to foster the green bean,” he smiled, “And if that turns into something more permanent, specifically with the help of a certain rat, I’d love that too.”

Shouta groaned, “I can’t owe Nezu anymore favors,” he tucked his face into Hizashi’s shoulder.

The blonde chuckled, “Then it can be my favor.”

“You do not want to owe Nezu anything, trust me. I have to bring Izuku to meet him eventually for an education assessment.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow, “That doesn’t seem as awful as you’re making it out to be.”

“You’ve seen the kid’s notebook, who know what he and the rodent would be able to do with their combined forces,” he said with barely concealed fear. The idea of a second Nezu gave him chills.

His husband shared the sentiment as he seemed to pale, “Shit.”

“Uh huh.”

Hizashi shook his head, “Even if he turns into a morally gray mastermind, I still want him to stay with us,” his grip tightened just a fraction, “We can keep him safe.”

Glad that they shared the same protective sentiment, Shouta smiled into his husband’s neck. They would keep Izuku safe.

Izuku woke up blearily but calm. Despite the sedatives in his veins, he could clearly remember everything that had happened and the truth of the story he’d been fed.

His left hand was sweaty and cramped in Aizawa’s grip. The man was using his free hand to slowly type on his phone. At the food of the hospital bed, Hizashi was draped next to Izuku’s feet, getting some much-needed rest regardless of the uncomfortable position his spine was in.

The sleeping man let out a loud snore and Izuku couldn’t contain his amusement.

Aizawa’s dark eyes flicked to his at the sound of his humored snort. Anxiousness drained from the man’s shoulders as he smiled, “Hey, kid.”

“Hi,” he croaked. His voice was still sounding a little rough, but it was hurting less. Whatever treatment the doctor gave him was clearly working.

Not breaking eye contact, Aizawa jabbed the snoring blonde with his elbow. Startled, the man fell out of his chair and onto the floor. Izuku’s small chuckle turned into a full-on laugh.

(As scratchy and painful as it sounded, Shouta was infinitely grateful to hear the boy’s laugh. He didn’t think he’d ever hear the noise. He’d heard Izuku chuckled and giggle both as Jade and as himself at their apartment, but he’d never heard the boy laugh so freely. Shouta was excited to hear it again once Izuku’s throat was healed.)

Hizashi was awake but trying to piece together what had happened while Izuku’s stomach began to ache from his genuine laughter. The man kicked at Aizawa’s shins from his downed position and pouted when the man avoided his attacks, “The hell was that for?”

Aizawa tilted his head towards Izuku, “You told me to wake you when Zuku did.”

Hizashi’s expression brightened at the reminder that Izuku was, indeed, awake, before playfully scowling at his husband again, “Didn’t have to wake me up like that, you ass.”

The underground hero just shrugged and took the light punch the blonde through at his shoulder.

All faux negative emotions fled from Hizashi’s face as he looked at Izuku, “How’re you feeling, Greeny?”

Taking a genuine moment to assess himself, Izuku let a small smile adorn his face, “Better,” he paused, “arms are itchy thought.”

Aizawa winced, “That would be from the burns. Your fire-resistance helped keep them from setting as third-degree but some of them are still second-degree.”

“Oh,” he muttered, becoming more aware of the heat he felt in miscellaneous areas of his body. His arms and a small area on his right thigh felt the itchiest so he assumed they were the worst ones. Izuku nauseously realized how indifferent he was towards the burns, used to them from his father’s training.

“They’re going to prescribe you a burn cream once you’re discharged,” Hizashi chimed in, keeping his tone light, “Sho and I can help you apply it and treat the burns at home.”

Izuku felt his brain stutter, “Home?”

“The apartment,” Aizawa reaffirmed, looking at him oddly, “did you want to go somewhere else?”

He shook his head, “Y-you still wa-want me? With y-you?”

The two heroes looked at him confusedly, “Of course we do, Izuku,” Aizawa told him seriously, “nothing that happened last night changed how we felt about you staying with us,” nervousness crept into his voice, “Unless you don’t want to stay with us. We’d understand if you didn’t.”

“No!” Maybe that was a tad bit louder than he’d meant, “I mean- I wa-want to s-stay with you.” His throat felt raw and torn but he ignored it.

Hizashi dramatically slumped in his chair, “Thank goodness! If we came home without you, Chapstick would murder us in our sleep!” He winked at him and Izuku couldn’t help the small laugh at the thought of the small cat attacking the two pro-heroes.

Aizawa nodded in agreement before clearing his throat, “If you want to stay with us, Hizashi and I want to ask your opinion on something. I know it’s very soon and you don’t have to decide right now, not while you’re still recovering,” his hand tightened around Izuku’s, “We want to register as your foster parents, Izuku.”

His breath caught in his throat. They really did want him. They wanted him. Hizashi and Aizawa weren’t stuck with him or reliant on him for information; They wanted him to stay with them.

Taking his silence as a negative, Hizashi quickly jumped in, “Even if you don’t want us to foster you, we would still want you to stay with us while you recover! Sho, Tsuka, and I will make sure we find you the perfect foster home for when you’re all better,” and it was clear that the man was trying to stay happy but his smile was sad. He was sad at the thought of Izuku not staying with them and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so necessary.

Izuku moved his empty hand to hold Hizashi’s just as he had been doing with Aizawa’s, “I would love to stay with you two,” he smiled through the creaky sentence.

Tears were building in the blonde’s eyes as he smiled widely, eye flitting between Izuku and his husband who was smiling with him.

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes at the silent probing in the blonde’s eyes. Despite his forced grumpiness, he still smiled, “Can we hug you, kid?”

Letting go of the man’s hand for the first time in hours, Izuku opened his arms without a second thought and braced himself for the two pairs of arms gently wrapping around his aching body.

The three of them stayed tangled together in their cocoon of comfort as they relished in each other’s company. Izuku was still hurting but he could now feel assured that he would be okay.

There were still hundreds of worries running through his mind, questions he needed answers to. But for the moment he shared with his unofficial foster parents, Izuku let himself absorb every inch of comfort they gave him.

With the help of two healing quirks and good old fashioned modern medicine, Izuku was able to leave the hospital at noon on the following day. The nurse gave Aizawa a plastic bag with some burn creams and lozenges for his throat. Izuku was still affected by his quirk exhaustion along with his still-sore leg, meaning he had to lean on the gruff hero’s shoulder to slowly walk out of the hospital. He’d felt embarrassed in his inability to walk by himself, but Aizawa didn’t seem to mind.

Hizashi walked in front of them while telling Izuku all the plans he’d made for their dinner that night. The words didn’t register in his mind, but the man’s voice did, making him feel more comfortable in the uncomfortable situation.

Finally making it out of the flashbang that was the hospital, Izuku climbed into the backseat of the car Hizashi had driven over. Aizawa was stood behind him, a reassuring presence if he were to need assistance, but distant enough to give Izuku some independence.

He wasn’t used to being in a car. Even before his father took him away, his mom never owned a car. They would walk everywhere or take the train if it were too far. Despite being in Hizashi’s car multiple times over the course of his stay with the men, Izuku’s chest still felt tight whenever he was sat in the vehicle.

Almost as if the man could tell, Hizashi made quick word of distracting everyone in the car with a rant about American music. While the blonde was raving about “country” music, Izuku noticed a tendril of Aizawa’s capture weapon sliding over the back of the man’s seat. A quick glance proved that it was purposeful as he caught the slight nod from the hero. He gently reached for the soft alloy blend and wrapped the small section around his hand, grounding himself with the pressure.

(Unbeknownst to Izuku, the couple had spoken to each other about the greenette’s anxiousness in the car. Hizashi was the first to notice it during their shopping trip and Shouta had quickly caught-on. Neither were sure where the nervousness had stemmed from, and they had quickly accepted that Izuku may never tell them. Both men decided not to bring attention to the boy’s anxiety and to just silently help him in whatever small ways they could.)

Holding the comforting strand while listening to Hizashi talk about “Blink 182” made the car ride fly by. Izuku was able to focus all of his attention on the two adults and not on the growling machine that he was locked in.

Immediately after parking, Hizashi jumped out and dramatically held the door open for Izuku, making the boy laugh quietly. Well, he may as well have given the man a billion yen with the way his face lit up at his laugh. The reaction had Izuku reddening at the positive attention only to be saved by Aizawa shoving his husband aside and offering his arm for Izuku to level himself with. He gratefully took the offered help and watched Hizashi guffaw on the ground, looking immeasurably offended.

If he hadn’t known the man, Izuku would have thought his act to be serious, but the short week and a half has allowed him to get used to Hizashi’s dramatics, or at least to better understand them.

Once the drama queen was recovered and Izuku was comfortably holding Aizawa’s arm, they made their way into their apartment.

Was he getting ahead of himself? Was it his apartment too? He would be staying with the two men but that didn’t mean he had the right to claim the apartment as his as well. Was the guest room still the guest room or was it Izuku’s room? The idea of getting comfortable somewhere new made his arms crawl with invisible ants. What if what happened to his bank happened to the apartment? What if he breaks something? What if Bastard never gets used to him?

A dull thump reverberated across his forehead and Izuku only had a second of spluttering in offense before Aizawa thumped him with his thumb again.

“Wh-“

“Don’t get lost in your head, problem child,” Aizawa chided, “No need to overthink everything so soon,” he could hear the humor in the man’s voice and felt himself untense.

Hizashi unlocked the door and quickly bent down to stop Chapstick’s sprint out the door, “Your kitten’s right here, mama bear!” He held the black cat so she was facing Izuku and he had to stop himself from immediately reaching out for her. The doctor had warned him about straining his burnt arms but the look on Chapstick’s face made him want to ignore all warnings.

Ignoring the cautioning stare from Aizawa, he slowly reached out a hand for the cat to smell. Clearly remembering him and his scent, she didn’t waste a second before rubbing her head against his palm.

(Izuku was giggling the entire interaction and the two husbands shared small looks of glee, remembering the boy’s first day with them just over a week ago. It was good to hear him laugh like the kid he was, and it was even better to hear it after everything he’d experienced.)

Hizashi placed Chapstick on the ground and began making a lunch for all of them while Aizawa helped Izuku to the guest room.

Feeling stable enough, Izuku wobbled on his own to his desk chair, sitting down heavily. Aizawa stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. His eyes were sweeping over the room, not prying, just observing.

“I think we should get some paint for your room.”

Your room.

So, it was his now, not the guest room.

Ignoring the look in the hero’s knowing eyes that screamed “I know what I just did”, Izuku assessed the plain walls, “Red?”

Aizawa smiled easily, “Sure, kid.”

The dark-haired man left and Izuku changed into more comfortable clothes. Due to the burns on his legs still healing, he opted out of putting his splint back on his leg, despite the limb’s pain flaring up.

Hizashi made an easy lunch of stir-fried vegetables over rice and Izuku gratefully ate it all. He tried to maintain a smooth conversation with the two men (caregivers? Foster parents? Foster dads?) but it was hard to ignore the progressing itch that was climbing up his body like an ivy. He tried to subtly poke at the itchiest places rather than scratch at them but the irritation persisted.

“’Zuku?”

He was broken out of his ideas on how to inconspicuously scratch at his skin by Hizashi calling him. He looked up at the man to see him and Aizawa watching him with the same expression. It wasn’t necessarily concern, but it was worry and it was knowing. Like they were trying to hide their concern or at least not overwhelm him with it.

Aizawa’s face turned stern, “If your burns are bothering you, you gotta tell us, kid. The doctor told us how to help with it, remember?”

Izuku nodded hesitantly, “They’re itchy.” His voice still sounded like a creaky floorboard, but it was definitely an improvement from yesterday.

“Alright,” Aizawa nodded and rose from his seat, making his way to his satchel that was on the coffee table. He quickly grabbed a small tube out of a side pocket and made his way back to the table to sit next to Izuku, “Do you want me to do it now or after lunch?”

He nervously looked between the two heroes. He didn’t want to interrupt their lunch but the itching was almost unbearable.

Hizashi leaned forward so his elbows were on the table, “There’s no wrong answer, Greeny. The food can be warmed up again.”

Succumbing to the reassurance and the incessant itchiness, Izuku pointed to the bottle, “Now, p-please.”

Aizawa wordlessly opened tube and held his right hand out for Izuku to place his arm in, “Can you point to where it’s the worst?” Izuku gestured to the most annoying spots, one right above his elbow and the other at the hilt of his wrist. “I’m going to rub some of the ointment on both of the areas, let me know if it starts to hurt.” The man waited for a nod of understanding before beginning his application.

Izuku stared at the stable and tried to trace the woodgrain patterns with his eyes as a distraction from the uncomfortable feeling of the ointment. The feeling once it was applied was nice, immediately soothing the itch. The application of the ointment was uncomfortable for multiple reasons. His arms felt like a big bruise, so, no matter how gentle Aizawa was while dressing the burns, it still ached. The other reason wasn’t Aizawa fault, but it was because of how close the man was. Normally, whenever an adult man was this close to Izuku, it was so he could either burn him or hurt him in some other way.

Over the past couple of weeks, he’d gotten better at being closer to Aizawa and Tsukauchi, adding Hizashi to the mix recently. But with the memory of his father looming over him with orange and green warring in the background, Izuku couldn’t help his trepidation, especially since it was accompanied by pain. Had it just been Aizawa sitting close to him, he may have felt better, but because pain was blossoming under the man’s fingertips (despite it not being his fault), Izuku’s reaction was more defensive.

Perhaps Aizawa noticed his nervousness from the proximity or maybe Izuku zoned out for far too long because quicker than expected, the older man was wrapping a flexible gauze around the ointment-applied areas. Izuku idly noted that the bandages looked almost like the man’s capture weapon.

“All done. Let either of us know if it itches again or if the bandages are too tight,” Aizawa walked back over to his bag to place the ointment back, but the bag tipped over, spilling some of its content. The man swore and Izuku nearly giggled before his eyes fell on a familiar folder among the spilled contents.

Ignoring Hizashi’s alarmed questions, Izuku stood far too quickly and wobbled like a baby deer towards the folder.

“Kid, what are- oh.” Aizawa’s confusion turned sorrowful as he realized what Izuku had found.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku brought the folder back to the kitchen table, “Is this…”

Aizawa followed behind him, sharing worried looks with his husband, “That’s my folder. Tsukauchi and I both had one,” he was watching over Izuku’s shoulder as the boy stared at the front of the file with Jade written across in Aizawa’s classy scrawl. His hands hovered over the opening, not daring to open its contents.

A large, scarred hand slowly settled on his own, giving him time to pull away from the touch, “You can look in it if you’d like.”

He swallowed, “I don’t know if I wa-want to,” he pushed resolutely pushed the file away and closer to Hizashi.

“If you have any questions about it or if you ever want to look in it, feel free to ask. You have the right to know what’s truly in there,” Aizawa’s voice steadily rumbled as he moved from behind Izuku towards his chair, not yet taking a seat, “We’ll always be honest with you, Izuku. No more secrets,” the man paused, “Well, unless it is to keep someone safe or it’s classified hero business.”

Izuku wrung his hands together until his knuckles blossomed with red. Aizawa abandoned his move towards his seat and crouched in front of him, placing a heavy hand over his anxious ones, trying to stop him from hurting himself. The man’s eyes were questioning but not prodding. Izuku took a deep breath, “I need to be honest too.”

“You can tell us anything, Greeny,” Hizashi smiled easily and moved the folder farther away so it was no longer between them.

Izuku swallowed his trepidation, “The notebooks,” he began, knowing that the two would remember what he was referring to, “There are more, and they aren’t about villains.”

The men shared a quick glance before looking at Izuku with only kindness, “You don’t have to show us, Izuku, but if you want to, we won’t judge you for them,” Aizawa told him evenly. There was no anxiousness or anger in the man’s expression.

Izuku nodded and hastily limped to his room. His lockbox was exactly where he’d left it untouched. Instead of pulling individual notebooks out, he took a deep breath and brought the entire box out to the living room. Aizawa and Hizashi had moved to sit on the couch together with a space between them.

Hizashi nudged his head towards the space with a calm smile and Izuku’s heart fluttered when he realized they left that space for him. Sitting down, he shakily opened the box to reveal all his notebooks, including the ones he’d kept hidden from Dracul. Neither man made a move to touch them, waiting for him to show them or pass the notebooks out.

With shaking hands, he passed one notebook to each of them, “I refused to use my quirk like he did. So, he used me for my analysis. It was the only way I was useful to him.”

Aizawa moved his leg so it was right up against Izuku’s. He was grateful for the pressure as he tried to ground himself, “These are really good,” the man praised as he looked over the pages on Best Jeanist with accompanying sketches of the hero.

Izuku furrowed his brows and shook his head, “No, you don’t get it,” frustratingly, tears of guilt began to leak from his eyes, “I helped him hurt all those heroes. I’m the reason they got hurt. It’s why I ran from him and took the notebooks with me.” They weren’t understanding that he was a villain. He’d accepted that he wasn’t anymore, but he was.

“Kid,” Aizawa shut notebook #6 so he could look at him properly, “Dracul would have hurt them regardless of your notes. You aren’t villainous for being forced to analyze heroes,” the man’s face was soft but certain, “You are not evil, Izuku.”

Hizashi places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “These notebooks don’t make you a villain, they make you a hero.” Izuku looked at the man with tearful confusion, but the blonde just smiled like sunshine, “Not only were you smart enough to write these, but you ran away and took them with you because Dracul was misusing them. You put your life at risk to keep these away from him.”

“N-no! I-“he tried to stutter an excuse, scrambling for a reason as to why he couldn’t be heroic, why he was bad.

Aizawa slowly pulled Izuku closer to him, so he was leaning on the man’s shoulder. The action was cautious, allowing Izuku to pull away should he be uncomfortable. He let his exhausted body and mind sag onto the man, giving up his argument far too easily.

“Thank you for protecting the heroes, Izuku.” It was a whispered thanks from the dark-haired man, but it was everything Izuku wanted to hear.

With a pathetic whimper, his tears began soaking into Aizawa’s black sweater and he felt like something tight in his chest was finally released. Izuku had cried multiple times in the past few weeks, more than he’d ever cried while living with his father. The man would only get angry whenever he cried so Izuku learned to hold it in.

Crying freely without being scolded felt odd.

A hand was carding through his curls, “Wanna tell us how you’re feeling, Greeny?” Hizashi asked calmly.

He bit back the sobs in his voice, “F-feels we-weird to cr-ry.”

“You can always cry, Zuku,” he could feel the vibrations of Aizawa’s voice through the man’s shoulder.

“No,” he refuted pitifully and shook his head, accidentally wiping more tears onto the sweater, “He di-didn’t let m-me.”

The hand carding through his hair paused for a fraction of a second before continuing its ministrations, “He didn’t let you cry?” Izuku nodded.

Aizawa’s hand that was wrapped around his back and holding his upper arm tightened but it wasn’t painful, just grounding, “You can cry. It’s okay.”

“But-but my qu-quirk,” he stuttered.

The dark-haired hero just smiled, “I’ll take care of it if we need to,” his eyes flashed red with his own quirk, “You can cry, Izuku.”

So, he did.

Izuku allowed genuine, throat-closing sobs to rack his body. The only other times he’d felt even a fraction of this were when his bank refuge was destroyed and when his mother was taken from him. Even then, away from his father, he couldn’t fully let himself feel like this due to the fear of his quirk.

Reassured by Erasure and trusting Aizawa to stop him if he needed to, Izuku finally let all his pain out. He cried for his mother, for the heroes he tried to protect, for his heroes, for himself. Izuku cried for himself and the childhood he’d never get back. He cried for the pain his body endured and the scars it carried. He hadn’t been able to just feel in so long.

Within his sobs, he’d felt the familiar warmth at the back of his throat build-up but never release.

(He wouldn’t realize it until later, but the ceased flames were not due to Erasure. That control was purely Izuku, something that both heroes noticed as the boy’s neck began to glow a toxic green only to never actually erupt.)

This wasn’t like the night of the apartment when all his feelings were birthed from anger and betrayal, this was the emptying of everything he’d hidden away.

The whole time, Hizashi and Aizawa were gentle with him. They held him and reassured him and didn’t stop him from feeling. They were so gentle and Izuku couldn’t help but wish his father had been gentle like that. His body endured fists and flames for so long but a part of Izuku just wanted his father to be his dad again.

That wouldn’t happen. He knew that.

His father wasn’t gentle with him, but Aizawa and Hizashi were, and it was all he could have asked for.

Chapter Text

A harsh kick dug into his spine and Izuku landed harshly on his chest. The eight-year-old cried out when he tried to lift himself up but was knocked down again.

“This can all end quickly if you just use your birthright, Izuku.”

His chin scraped against the dirty warehouse’s floor as he shook his head in refusal. He’d seen what his “birthright” can do to people, to his mother.

A harsh hand dug into his curls and pulled his head off the ground. Izuku whimpered at the pain in his scalp. “Are you ashamed of it? Is my quirk not good enough for you, brat?” His father dropped him back onto the ground only to kick him again, “What? Did you want your mother’s weakling quirk? Did you want something better?”

The fire breather was quickly becoming enraged and Izuku cringed back at the heat coming from the man’s mouth.

“You can either use my quirk, or you can die hiding it.”

It’d been two weeks since Izuku had been taken into the Yamada-Aizawa household, ten days since Aizawa built a special bookshelf for his notebooks, one week since Tsukauchi and Nezu helped the husbands to complete their foster parent application, four days since Izuku had to give his statement and re-register as a living citizen, two days since Izuku was registered as an emergency foster placement under Aizawa and Hizashi, and twenty-nine hours since he’d slept.

“They were using you, Izuku.”

[Midoriya Izuku son of Midoriya Inko (deceased)]

[Midoriya Izuku has been missing and unreported since the night of Midoriya Inko’s death.]

[Suspect: Dracul alias Midoriya Hisashi]

[Midoriya Izuku last seen at 8, believed to be 13 now.]

“They were playing you the whole time.”

[Theory (unconfirmed): Midoriya Izuku is the son of Dracul (born while under aforementioned alias). Midoriya Izuku escaped the apartment fire, staying under the radar since then. Began vigilantism – given the name Jade by law enforcement and general public. Knows Dracul is his father. Dracul believes Midoriya Izuku to be dead. Current location of Midoriya Izuku is unknown under Eraserhead and Present Mic’s care. Current location of Dracul is unknown.]

[Information and theories gathered by Team Idaten, Pro-Hero Eraserhead, and Lead Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa.]

Ever since his first night back from the hospital, every night has been haunted by nightmares. These dreams were different than the ones he’d previously had while staying in the apartment and Izuku couldn’t help but feel selfish. Hizashi and Aizawa had taken him in and treated him with nothing but kindness. They were even changing their lives completely by fostering him. Yet, here Izuku was, having nightmares despite being safe and cared for.

He could feel his tears leaving behind salty streams as they dripped off his chin. He was crying and he could hear Aizawa and Hizashi talking to him, trying to comfort him.

Didn’t they know?

Didn’t they know not to get too close?

A sob tore out of his searing throat and radioactive flames spewed out. He could hear gasps of fear as both men stepped away from him. They were afraid of him, as they should be.

His breathing became even more jagged when a familiar, calloused hand landed on his shoulder. Izuku flinched back and that was all it took for his flames to spill out.

It was too quick for Aizawa to activate Erasure.

Izuku could only watch in horror as his own fire consumed his two caretakers.

He woke up nauseous. It wasn’t a “going to throw up” type of nausea, it was a bone-deep, gut-twisting sickness that was eating away at him.

When he would have previously gone into the living room to calm himself and “run in to” Aizawa, Izuku found himself smothering his cries and trying to make as little noise as possible. Aizawa couldn’t provide a home for him, food, safety, and deal with his stupid nightmares. It was self-centered and childish and who was he to take up even more of the time of two pro heroes? Aizawa was out on patrol anyways, Izuku had been keeping his attention for long enough.

But the room his room was suffocating him. The red walls felt like they were closing-in on him and Izuku just wanted to breathe.

The living room window was already unlocked for Aizawa to use as another entrance option even though he’d heard Hizashi scold the man numerous times for the shoe scuffs on the windowsill. Izuku was practically on autopilot as he silently left his room and navigated through the living room. Chapstick was dead asleep on her cat tower and Bastard wasn’t a concern due to the cat still refusing to welcome Izuku into his home.

Izuku smiled as he passed the bookshelf Aizawa had made to hold his notebooks. Having them on display like that was a large sign of trust and they all knew that.

(The dark-haired man had put the shelf together before even telling Izuku about his idea for it and the boy couldn’t believe that the piece of furniture was actually for him. Once Aizawa told him about his idea for the shelf, Izuku took half an hour just looking into his lockbox, contemplating every factor that could possibly play a part in his decision.

He’d shown the two heroes their sections of their notebooks and he was shocked when he was met with nothing but praise and amazement. They didn’t push when he doesn’t show them his personal notebook and they don’t ask to see any others, only opening them when he passes them over.

Aizawa made it clear that neither he nor his husband would look into the notebooks without Izuku’s permission, despite them being clearly displayed.

It took a lot of thinking, but Izuku found a part of his heavy heart lifting weightlessly when he proudly displayed the notebooks. For so long they’d been a source of self-hatred and disgust, but here they were, being shown off like a trophy case, built by two of the heroes he’d written about.)

The cold night air seeps into his pores and Izuku takes a deep breath before climbing the fire escape, skillfully stepping over the terracotta pots of dead plants Hizashi neglected.

Lifting himself up to take a seat on the lip of the roof was a calm familiarity that wrapped around him like a blanket. It’d been a while since he went out as Jade, but the rooftops still welcomed him like an old friend.

He looked over the edge and watched the odd car or two drive by and people drunkenly stumble home from a night out. The skyline felt welcome yet distant. Izuku didn’t know when he would be Jade again, if he would be Jade again, and the cityscape felt comfortable but so far out of his reach.

Despite his attention on the sky, he wasn’t able to ignore the quiet landing of boots. He’d startle if they weren’t familiar. No, instead he was able to take a deep, weary breath as Aizawa sat down next to him.

No words were exchanged as they merely absorbed each other’s presence.

(Sitting on the roof, they were Jade and Eraserhead, not Izuku who was haunted by nightmares and Shouta who was stretching himself thin but wouldn’t want anything else other than to comfort his kid.)

The beginnings of the rising sun seemed to bring an awareness from Aizawa, “You can tell us anything, you know that, right?” He didn’t turn to face Izuku has he said this, “We want to listen to you.” His displaced attention was purposeful as it let Izuku know there was no pressure in however he answered.

But Izuku didn’t want the carefulness, he wanted to feel grounded in his own body away from nightmares, he wanted firm answers and words built on finality. “Why?” his question came out a little harsher than he’d intended but it seemed to let the hero know what he needed.

“We care about you.” It was such a simple, honest answer that Izuku couldn’t help the tears that bubbled up. His mouth quivered as he barricaded his desperation with stone teeth.

He knew that the two heroes and one detective cared about him, they wouldn’t have done everything they had if they didn’t. It would be illogical. But knowing is one thing and hearing it when he needed to hear it was another.

“I’ll tell you both in the morning,” it was a subtle inclusion of the man’s husband that had him nodding in acknowledgement. Izuku was comfortable with the blonde, had been since the moment they’d been introduced to each other, but when talking about Jade or Dracul-related topics, he was more hesitant to share his thoughts with Hizashi.

Izuku’s tears fade and the two watch as birds begin to wake, and the sky turns from a bleak black into a smooth navy blue and then to a warm purple.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” he tells Aizawa who hadn’t left his side despite being tired from patrol. The man would never admit to his fatigue, but Izuku could see it in the way his neck is slouched, and his left eye is twitching from using his quirk.

“I know,” the man tells him evenly. His voice wasn’t showing exhaustion either.

Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed, “So, why are you?”

Aizawa leaned back onto his hands and flicked his eyes to his own, “Like I said,” his voice rumbled, “we care about you.” It was said so matter-of-factly that Izuku nearly felt stupid for asking. If he weren’t overwhelmed with care attention warmth amazement, he may have felt offended at the tone.

They stay until the purple turns pink and then Izuku slips over the edge, landing on the fire escape. He had clearly startled his foster father as the man was leaning over rigidly with his capture weapon prepared to catch him. Izuku just smiled cheekily in a similar way he’d done behind the privacy of his Jade mask.

Aizawa grumbles but follows him as they crawl through the window, “Brat.” With an annoying hair ruffle, the two silently part ways between their respective rooms.

Deciding to get a little more rest before having to talk to his foster fathers in a few hours, Izuku rests his head on the pillow and lets the morning birds sing him to sleep.

It didn’t take too long for all three of the apartment’s inhabitants to get comfortable on the couch after eating a quick breakfast. Aizawa had obviously told Hizashi that he needed to talk to them because the blonde was waiting patiently alongside his husband before Izuku could even ask for their attention.

He took a deep breath, fidgeting with his shaking hands before standing up and quickly sitting in the armchair across from the two heroes on the couch. Neither questioned his actions and instead just moved closer to each other, waiting for him to begin speaking.

Izuku glanced up at Aizawa fleetingly, “Could…If y-you need to, c-could you…?”

The man nodded, clearly understanding the request for Erasure if necessary.

He swallowed his anxiety but avoided eye contact, keeping his green eyes firmly planted on his twisting and turning hands, “My ni-nightmares haven’t s-stopped- they ha-haven’t stopped since, uh, s-since the fire,” he admitted. Both adults told him to come to either of them if he had nightmares, it had been the only acknowledgement of them since Aizawa’s wordless acceptance of their late-night meetings.

A quick glance let Izuku know that Hizashi looked a little crestfallen but understanding. Aizawa was looking sad but knowing, like he’d already guessed this as a possibility.

“They’re- the ni-nightmares- are ab-about my f-father’s,” he spat the word like a gross taste in his mouth, no anger behind it, “trainings. That -uh- that’s what h-he called it. Training.” Izuku laughed a little bit but there was no humor in the noise, “I th-think he j-just wanted an ex-excuse to hurt me.”

There was a tensing of fists but both heroes stayed silent, clearly not trying to interrupt Izuku’s confession.

The tightness in the back of his throat felt like more than just nerves, “He wa-wanted me to use my qu-quirk. His quirk.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands and Aizawa’s eyes nervously flicked to them as he noticed. “I didn’t u-use it. I was sc-scared.”

Tears flittered across his eyelashes as he blinked at them. A slow movement caught his attention and Izuku watched as Aizawa stood and slowly approached him. It wasn’t a cautious movement like he’d done with Jade when they’d been getting used to each other, when they hadn’t trusted each other to keep their weapons to themselves. It was a slow movement to give Izuku time to refuse the coming contact if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to.

Heavy hands pulled at his own, forcing them to open up and reveal the crescent indents that nearly broke skin. No words were exchanged, they were still letting Izuku go at his own pace.

“His quir-quirk hurt so m-many people,” he choked out, “it k-ki-killed my mom,” a single gasping sob broke through at the words, “And I ha-have it. I have his-his cursed quirk and I-I hate it!”

His tears were heavy, but it wasn’t like the hospital. He wasn’t crying for everything he hadn’t been able to feel or everything he was feeling all at once, Izuku was crying for the quirk he felt stuck with. Why couldn’t he have just gotten the Flame Pull aspect? Why did he have to manifest his father’s Dragon’s Breath. It felt like a spit in the face to his mother’s memory; trying to honor her by bearing the same quirk that killed her.

“Can you tell us about it?”

Hizashi’s question caught him off guard, wide eyes looking up at the blonde, “Hi-his quirk?”

He shook his head, “Your quirk, Greeny,” and he was looking at Izuku with an easy smile and soft eyes, how could he refuse?

Knowing that his words wouldn’t be able to properly escape his stuttering tongue and wavering mouth, Izuku stood from the armchair, Aizawa still perched on one of the arms, and walked over to his bookcase. The notebooks being placed in order without having to be crammed in a secret compartment made a small bit of his chest flutter before his eyes zeroed in on the one he was looking for.

It was his private notebook that he guarded more than any others. Not only did it hold an analysis of his own quirk, but it had his mother’s, speculations of All Might’s, Tsukauchi’s, and the updated page he’d written for Eraserhead after he’d started running into him as Jade. Izuku swore that if anyone else got their hands on the notebook, he’d burn it to ash no matter what he had to do to do so.

Turning back to the living room, Izuku opened the book to his quirk’s section. There was a crude drawing of himself and more detailed depictions of his throat and anatomy. Izuku had to visit the library to get an exact diagram of the average person’s throat so he could compare it to his own. Most of the differences were just guesses due to him never getting a proper quirk examination after the manifestation.

“Can I…?” He gestured to the middle of the couch where he’d been sitting earlier. Hizashi practically scrambled to make room for him and Aizawa came back to join them on Izuku’s other side.

Izuku took a deep breath before splaying the pages open for the two heroes to see, “This is th-the page on m-my quirk,” he gestured to a cluster of paragraphs, “It has two p-primary aspects and th-three secondary. The primaries a-are Flame Pull and Dra-Dragon’s Breath,” he swallowed the name of his shared quirk like a bitter medicine. “Flame Pull is a mi-mix of both my p-parents’ quirks,” he explained, “Mom had a tel-telekinetic quirk, letting h-her pull things towards herself. Mixed with my-my father’s, it lets me partially control flames. It’s ea-easier to pull them towards myself, but I can move them in other directions. Its secondary lets me control temperatures,” he blushed, “but that aspect is really w-weak. I can only do it on one thing and I can only increase or decrease it by twenty-five degrees or so.” Izuku didn’t notice his lack of stutter as his analysis continued.

(The two heroes did.)

Izuku’s attention turned to the other part of his analysis spread and he shakily continued, “Dra-Dragon’s Breath is my father’s quirk,” the paper crinkled slightly as his grip tightened, “You both already kn-know what it does. The secondaries are exterior fire-resistance and interior fireproofing. In order to create and house the fire, most of my organs had to become fire-proof so I don’t combust from the inside,” his explanation of the secondary quirk factors was recited blandly and mechanically.

As he explained, Izuku gestured to certain areas of the notebook, letting Aizawa and Hizashi follow along as he explained. Some of his writing was harsh and pointed in a way that blatantly displayed his dislike of the quirk. Aizawa’s arm wrap around his shoulders tensely when he skimmed over an area where Izuku wrote about his theory of his flames manifesting from a single area in his throat and whether or not cutting it out would get rid of the quirk entirely. Neither he nor Hizashi said anything about it, observing him and his reactions alone.

“Because I didn’t use it,” he continued, “it’s easy for me to lose control over it. That’s why I didn’t talk. I didn’t want to accidentally use it,” admitting it felt stupid because Izuku knew it was his own fault. If he would have just learned how to use it or cut the damn thing out then he wouldn’t have had to stay mute or learn JSL to communicate.

A hand covered his own that had been pointing to the paragraph in which Izuku listed all the many ways he could lose control of his quirk and hurt people just like Dracul. “Your quirk won’t hurt us.”

Your quirk.

Aizawa continued, “Even if you do lose control of it, Erasure can help contain it and so can Flame Pull, like how you used it to keep the flames away from me in the apartment.”

He said it like it was only logical but Izuku couldn’t help his visible confusion, “What do you mean?” He couldn’t remember doing anything in the apartment but burn.

The man’s head tilted, a small tic of confusion Izuku had noticed months prior, “When I ran back in to get you, you didn’t let the fire touch me.”

He didn’t remember that at all. How would he have been able to reach that far with his quirk? Was Flame Pull developing further? Was it working with Dragon’s Breath to strengthen and tame the green flames? Questions were running through his mind a mile a second before he dumbly stated, “I didn’t know I was doing that.” Izuku felt oddly guilty for admitting he hadn’t meant to protect Aizawa, but the man just smiled and pulled him closer with the arm around his shoulders.

“Sho and I both have had our fair share of experiences with out-of-control quirks, ‘Zuku,” Hizashi told him kindly, turning his body towards him, training all his attention on the green-haired boy, “Not only with students, bu1t with ourselves too.”

That shocked him. For some reason, Izuku had kept heroes on a high pedestal of perfection and control. In his mind, Eraserhead could never lose a fight, Present Mic could never fail a mission, and All Might will always be the Symbol of Peace. Logically, he knew all of this could very well be false, but the eight-year-old in him shook with hero worship and Izuku wanted nothing more than to indulge his inner-child and believe his heroes to be invincible. To hear that they’d had similar experiences with lack of control, rattled him more than it should have.

“My quirk developed earlier than most,” the blonde told him somberly, yet his smile remained, “Nobody knew how to deal with a kid whose cries could burst eardrums. By the time I was five, my parents were partially deaf, and I was rapidly losing my own hearing,” The arm around Izuku’s shoulders moved further so a comforting hand could be placed on Hizashi’s arm. The man smiled at his husband in thanks, “With quirk counseling and a couple of teachers who cared enough, I was able to get a better handle on Voice. I still have outbursts when my emotions are strong, but they’re nothing like they were when I was a kid,” he finished.

Hizashi leaned forward so he was eye-level with Izuku, “The point of me telling you this is to let you know that control is learned. You had some pretty-“he said a word in English that Izuku couldn’t understand, but judging by Aizawa’s light smack to Hizashi’s arm, it was probably offensive,” -teachers. We can help you practice your quirk and even get you into some quirk counselling sessions if you’d be comfortable with that.”

The sincerity and determination in the man’s voice was so comforting that Izuku wanted nothing more than to give-in and accept the offered help, but he shook his head, “I don’t want to use his quirk, I want to get rid of it!” He knew it wasn’t possible and it definitely wasn’t logical, but his father’s quirk felt like sandpaper against his veins, and he wanted it out.

“It’s not his quirk, Izuku, it’s yours. The combination of Flame Pull and Dragon’s Breath is uniquely yours. You get to decide what you do with it,” Aizawa’s deep voice rumbled through him and Izuku felt some of the fight melt out of his muscles, “It’s your quirk.”

(Izuku didn’t know it then, but he would carry those words with him all the way into his first year of UA, where he would share them with another fire quirk-user. He would use his dad’s words to free the other boy from his father’s quirk, just as his dad did for him.)

“My quirk?” He asked, more to himself than the two heroes. It felt like an odd concept after years of rejecting Dragon’s Breath. Aizawa said that the combination of it with Flame Pull was his. “What…what do I call it?” He shyly asked, trepidations leaking through as he began to accept that this could be his quirk. His own quirk.

Aizawa hummed, “That’s something you have to figure out as you learn more about it, kiddo. It’s like deciding a hero name.”

“That’s pretty hypocritical of you, Sho,” Hizashi interjected playfully, “I clearly remember an even shorter version of you begging for me to help you come up with a name.”

If the dark-haired hero had feathers, they’d surely be ruffled at his husband’s accusation, “I didn’t “beg” you to help,” he growled, “I just didn’t care and accepted your first idea.”

“Thus, Eraserhead was born!” Hizashi cried dramatically and threw an arm around Izuku, joining his husband in the comforting action.

He tearfully laughed as Aizawa begins to make fun of the blonde’s hero name in return.  

Izuku had expected fear and hatred once he told them he had his father’s destructive quirk. He expected his new foster parents to reject him and scorn him for the fire in his throat and destruction under his skin.

He should have known better.

Aizawa, Hizashi, and Tsukauchi had only ever welcomed him with warm smiles and too much care in their hearts.

Granola bars thrown at his head, rooftop ice cream, private conversations in JSL, jumping into a fight with Eraserhead at his side and knowing he’d be safe with the hero there, handing a criminal over to Tsukauchi and getting a proud smile from the man in exchange, picking out obnoxious t-shirts at the mall as Hizashi encouraged his undeveloped fashion sense, teaching Chapstick how to high-five despite Aizawa telling him she was too stupid to learn, showing his new foster parents their pages in his notebooks and nearly crying as they praised him for it.

Dracul told him that people like “them” were meant to make the world their own. Dracul raised him to hate heroes and anyone who opposed their ideas of how a quirked society should be.

His mother told him that he held love in his body that needed to be shared with the world. She told him that his heart was too heavy for just himself to carry, he needed others to help him, others who could share his love and kindness and gentleness and everything good in the world.

For the first time since he was eight years old, Izuku felt loved. Looking at his new foster dads tease each other with while keeping gentle arms around him, Izuku knew his mother was right; He wasn’t born to be a villain, Izuku was born to love.

Chapter Text

“Did you pick up the mochi?”

“Of course, I picked up the mochi.”

“The green tea- “

“Yes, ‘Zashi, I got the green tea mochi.”

The blonde man pouted, “Don’t get grumpy with me! I just want to make sure everything’s perfect tomorrow.”

Shouta smiled and wrapped his arms around his husband from behind, “I know you do. I also know that no matter what Izuku wants to do tomorrow, we’re going to make sure he has a good time doing it,” he spun Hizashi around so they were facing each other. Shouta leaned forward and kissed his husband on the corner of his mouth.

Hizashi’s pout vanished and was replaced with his usual sweet smile, “What do you think ‘Zuku will choose to do?”

The dark-haired man shrugged, “I’m not too sure. He’s not much of an extrovert, so I don’t see him really wanting to go out somewhere,” he thought aloud.

Hizashi hummed in agreement before startling as he remembered something, “Is Tsuka’ able to come tomorrow night? I called him last week and he said he’d be available but I know he’s busy so that could have changed and I want him to be there because he’s important to Greeny and- “his ramblings were cut off by his husband’s hand covering his mouth.

“’Zashi, he’ll be there. Sansa is covering for him no matter what.”

The loud man took a deep breath and ducked under Shouta’s hand, “Good. That’s good.”

“Yes, it is,” Shouta agreed, once again wrapping his arms around the other man, “Now will you come to bed? Even Izuku’s asleep and he’s practically an insomniac.”

Hizashi snorted, “Like you’re one to talk,”

“Hey,” Shouta shrugged, “I never said I wasn’t one.” In his defense, he’d been getting more sleep in the past week due to taking time off patrol to prepare for the coming semester. If his prep week just so happen to overlap with Izuku’s birthday weekend, that was a simply a coincidence. A very odd and unintended coincidence. Definitely.

A loud meow reverberated into the kitchen from the hallway. Bastard was tired and waiting for them to head to bed so he could lay on them. Hizashi shushed the cat despite the feline not understanding and not caring even if he did understand.

“The bastard baby says it’s bedtime,” Shouta chuckled.

Rolling his eyes but never losing his smile, Hizashi held their hands together and walked them to their bedroom.

Shouta paused for a second as they passed Izuku’s room. The boy never slept without the door open a crack, and Shouta had developed a habit of peaking in before he goes to sleep, just to make sure Izuku was still there. It’s not that he didn’t trust the teen, he was just too vigilant for his own good.

A quick look through the door crack confirmed that Izuku was sleeping peacefully, Chapstick laying across his chest. Shouta had to bite back a huff of amusement at the sight of the cat sprawled across the boy in such a ridiculous way.

Backing away, he made sure that the door stayed open just as Izuku liked it before turning back towards the master bedroom, only to freeze when he sees his husband watching him with his arms crossed and fond amusement decorating his face.

[What?] he signed to the man.

[You are so soft.] Hizashi smiled.

Shouta rolled his eyes, [I made sure he is breathing.]

His husband huffed, [Sure,] he signed before turning to enter the bedroom, ending the conversation.

Hizashi was right; Shouta had grown soft since they’d begun fostering Izuku. According to Tsukauchi, he’d grown soft far before the fostering began. The detective claimed that Shouta had grown soft the first night he met Jade. He was also right.

Would he ever admit that to either man? Nope. They could hypothesize as much as they wanted to, Shouta would never confirm anything.

However, he knew that it was true and Izuku had managed to a place in Shouta’s heart that he wasn’t even aware existed. Knowing this, Shouta went to sleep, determined to make sure his kid’s birthday was perfect.

Izuku woke up with excitement bleeding from every part of him. It’d been a long time since he had been able to celebrate his birthday, but Dad and Pops had been asking him questions about it for the past two weeks and Izuku couldn’t help but feel excited. It wasn’t the idea of sweets or presents that excited him (although, that was certainly something he had been looking forward to. He may be one year older, but he was still a kid, and his Pops was an incredible gift-giver), but the idea of his two foster dads celebrating his birthday with him. Nobody had done that since he was eight.

Chapstick was licking his forehead harshly and the boy took it as his sign to get up. He could smell the makings of an American breakfast being prepared in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the blonde hero to introduce Izuku to more American concepts including music and food he’d enjoyed when he learned about the country. With his Pops’ encouragement, Izuku learned that he really liked pancakes. Dad said they were too sweet, despite his coffee being 75% sugar and creamer.

Izuku quickly put on his favorite outfit consisting of dark denim jeans, his red sneakers, and a gray t-shirt with “Critter” written on it. His choice in t-shirts had garnered some funny looks from strangers and his dads alike, but not once did either man make a discouraging comment towards his fashion sense.

Leaving his room, Chapstick followed at his heels like the shadow she often appeared to be. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised to see his dad awake and helping to make breakfast. Normally, the underground hero would wake around 11:00 on the weekends and wouldn’t even bother to eat breakfast unless it was a sugary coffee.

Pops turned around and let out and gasped dramatically when he saw Izuku, “It’s the birthday boy!” The blonde quickly scooped him up and spun with him theatrically. Izuku could see Dad from over Pops’ shoulder, watching them with a content smile.

The gruff man caught his eye and Izuku watched as his eyes softened, “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Pops put him down and passed him a plate of pancakes, fresh fruit, and eggs. All three of them sat at the kitchen table and enjoyed the American-style breakfast. Izuku listened as his foster parents told him that they’d taken the day off to spend it with him and he quickly had to shovel strawberries into his mouth to avoid crying.

The living room windows were open and letting the sunrays beam into the apartment. His dads began to debate dinner plans and all Izuku could do was watch them in awe. Before, his awe may have stemmed from his adoration of heroes and how cool and strong they are. Now, Izuku was in awe of his dads and the way they’re both so caring and how that care was towards him.

A year ago, Izuku would have never guess he’d be sitting in an apartment listening to Present Mic and Eraserhead discuss dinner plans because “That’s a good idea but Greeny’s allergic to almonds, remember?” “Good point, I’ll make sure Tsukauchi remembers that too.” “Oh smart! Is everything for dessert in order?” “Yes, ‘Zashi, dessert is taken care of.” “Great! So just-“

They were spending so much time and thought just trying to plan his birthday and it made Izuku’s heart feel unbelievably warm.

“-a think. ‘Zuku?”

“Huh?” He unintelligibly replied, too absorbed in his thoughts to have heard the discussion. His dad just smiled.

“We were wondering what you wanted to do today,” he explained. “As much as we want to plan everything to make sure you have a good day, ‘Zashi and I want to do what you want to do today.”

Pops nodded excitedly, “We wouldn’t want to make you feel overwhelmed, so we’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with!”

Possibilities swept through his thoughts like a rushing current. They could go to the beach and watch the waves like they did for his Pops’ birthday, they could go to a theater and see a new movie, they could go to an arcade so he could be both of them at air hockey, they could stay home and play games and watch movies, they-

Oh.

Izuku knew what he wanted to do. At the realization, a feeling of comfort and home spread around him like falling petals.

He looked up at the awaiting husbands and smiled, “I want you to meet someone.”

The walk through the city was peaceful and familiar. Izuku didn’t want to spend any moment of his birthday in a metal death-trap, so the group of three decided to walk.

Izuku still hadn’t revealed where he was taking them, but there was no doubt in his mind that his dad had already figured it out.

The path felt almost mechanical to Izuku as his body moved on autopilot. It had been a while since his footsteps carried him to such an important destination, but Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to feel melancholy; his dads were coming with him this time.

Two blocks from their destination, Izuku spotted a familiar flower cart. Mrs. Hanae had owned the cart for years now, simply as a side-project. Her real job was working at a large-scale greenhouse that she and her wife started together. It was on the weekends when she would bring out seasonal flowers and sell them for a very small price.

Every time he’d visited the flower cart, Mrs. Hanae had made an effort to practice simple JSL terms in an attempt to better communicate with Izuku. He grinned at the possibility of her reaction upon hearing his voice.

Izuku abruptly split from his dads, ignoring their cries of confusion, and ran to the red-haired woman. “Hanae-san!”

The woman’s head swung his direction, a brief look of confusion quickly being overtaken by stunned recognition, “Bean!” She stepped around her flower cart to meet Izuku halfway and wrap her arms around him.

He didn’t have to look to know that her quirk was responding to her emotions as he felt thin vines wind around her body and gently touch his arms. Izuku was able to hear his dads approach and carefully pulled away from the woman. Her eyes never left his face as she looked at him softly, “I thought something happened to you, Bean,” she signed “bean” as she said it.

He smiled back at her, “Something did. Something good,” he gestured to the two men standing behind him and Mrs. Hanae finally looked away from him to look at his dad and pops.

Her bright yellow eyes were sharp but not harsh as she analyzed the two heroes, “You’re taking care of him?”

Dad nodded, “We are.” Pops smiled warmly but seemed a little cautious of her. Izuku could tell by the way he stepped closer to the other man.

Mrs. Hanae hummed and looked back at him, “They’re treating you well?” It was asked quietly so that his dads couldn’t hear.

Izuku laughed and nodded, “I promise.”

The woman smiled and a vine reached out from her shoulder to ruffle his hair, “It’s good to hear your voice, Bean,” the sincerity in her voice made Izuku’s throat fill with emotions and every word he wanted to say to the woman, but all he did was smile at her and try to push all his gratefulness into it. She seemed to understand.

“Are you getting the usual today?” Mrs. Hanae asked, turning back to her flower cart.

Izuku followed with his dads trailing behind him, steady pillars of reassurance. “Do you have any carnations?”

“Yep!” The woman chirped and pulled out a bundle of light pink carnations. They looked lightly blushed but just colorful enough to stand out. Izuku gratefully took hold of the bundle and held out the change he had in his pocket. Mrs. Hanae shook her head, “No need, short-stack. Consider it a ‘glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere’ gift.”

“No, really-“

“Kid,” she off his persistent argument, “If you don’t take those damn flowers, I’m gonna tell the missus that you’ve been alive but haven’t come back to see her.”

He paled. Hanae-san was scary when she was worried, but her wife was even scarier. Izuku wearily put his change back into his pocket and bowed gratefully, “I’ll visit you both again soon,” he promised.

“You’d better,” she smirked teasingly.

As Izuku backed away to continue their trek, his dad approached Mrs. Hanae, “How much for the hydrangeas?”

She looked at him, assessing his choice in florals, “Five hundred yen,” and Izuku knew it was a low price for such a beautiful flower.

Dad hummed and passed her two thousand yen, taking the hydrangeas before she could refuse the extra change, “Thank you,” he told her sincerely. Izuku knew that he wasn’t just thanking her for the flowers.

Mrs. Hanae just nodded in return but smiled back at Izuku as they left, “Say hi for me, okay?”

“I will,” he shouted back as he and his dads began their walk again.

Three minutes later and they were stood in front of a familiar iron entrance. Surprising himself, Izuku didn’t even pause before making his way through the headstones. Dad and Pops followed silently as he ventured into the back corner of the yard.

Izuku took a deep breath before kneeling in front of a headstone that had been neglected enough to grow moss on it. “Hi, mom.” Pops placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I know it’s been a while, but I wanted you to meet some people.” He glanced between his dads and waited for them to join him either kneeling or crouching in front of his mom.

“It’s nice to mee you, Mrs. Midoriya,” Dad said earnestly.

Pops’s hand squeezed Izuku’s shoulder, “We’ve both heard incredible things about you.”

The men weren’t mocking Izuku for his childish idea of talking to the grave and they weren’t humoring him like one would do for a child when they introduce you to an imaginary friend, his dads were introducing themselves to his mom and it made Izuku happier than he’d ever expected.

He sniffled, “Dad and Pops are taking care of me now. They helped me get away from him, mom.” His hands tightened as they dug into his knees. It wasn’t painful so neither of his dads said anything. They stayed as silent sentries, waiting for their first sign to defend.

“There are so many things I want to say to you, so many things I want to tell you. But each time I’ve visited you, it was to talk about what he’d done. And I’m so sorry, mom, because a broken part of me misses him,” it felt dirty to admit but Izuku barreled through, “He’d hurt me until I puked. He’d burn me and lock me away but to me, he was the only thing I had since you were gone. Why do I miss him? Why is there still a part of me that wants him to love me?”

Dad laid a hand over his own that was still squeezing into his legs. Izuku knew that this wasn’t just an admission to his mother, it was an admission to the two men who’d taken him in, who’d helped lock his father away. He felt guilty for missing the man and he wanted them to know that despite this, he doesn’t want to see the villain ever again.

It was a childish plead; to want your bully to care about you.

“But I’m away from him now,” Izuku unraveled the bundle of carnations and began placing them in the vases that were sat around the grave, “And I have two dads who love me. They’re going to help me be a hero like them. I’m gonna be a hero, mom. Just like we talked about. I’m going to save people.” He wetly smiled and wiped a tear away.

“It’s my birthday today. When I turn 16, it will have been 8 years since you died. I knew you for 8 years. Isn’t that disgusting? I’ll grow up remembering you for longer than I’ve known you,” Izuku felt nauseated at that fact. “But I’m fourteen now and not a year has gone by where I haven’t missed celebrating my birthday with you and trying to make a cake that will inevitably turn out ugly,” he laughed and felt the two men next to him laugh as well.

Izuku took a moment to look over his mother’s dirty grave and he couldn’t help the frown that quickly took over his laughter. To see his mother’s beautiful life reduced to a dirty stone felt like an impossible insult. “When you’re a kid,” he began shakily, “You think your parents are immortal. I would imagine growing old and still having you be there with me. I’d visit you and you’d be ready to make everything better,” Izuku smiled sadly, “But you weren’t here yesterday, and you won’t be here tomorrow.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, but this is how it is,” he swallowed the congestion of tears in the back of his throat, “I hope that when we see each other again, we can sit at the kitchen table and eat breakfast. I hope that when it’s my time too, it will feel like you’re carrying back to my bed after I fell asleep watching All Might movies on the couch again. I want it to feel familiar. I miss you, mom. I’ll always miss you, but I’ll love you for even longer.”

His dads held him close as sobs racked his body. Izuku had had time to process his mother’s death, but it still hurt to be sitting in front of her grave and talking to her like she was still there listening. If he were there alone, Izuku would have let himself sink into his darkest thoughts and his saddest memories of his shining mother- but, Izuku wasn’t alone. His family was there to keep him grounded and hold him afloat.

The three of them stayed knelt on the grass until Izuku calmed down enough to run a finger over the moss creeping across the headstone.

“I think I saw some cleaning tools at the entrance,” Pops said, “We could go fetch them and give the memorial a good scrubbing,” the man was smiling as he tucked a loose curl behind Izuku’s ear.

He nodded, “I’d like that,” Izuku smiled up at the blonde.

“Great!” The man stood and offered a hand for Izuku to take, “We can go grab that stuff and Sho can keep your mom company, yeah?”

Izuku looked over at the silent man, “You wouldn’t mind?”

Dad shook his head, “Not at all. I think she and I need to compare notes on your trouble-making tendencies, anyway,” he teased.

Izuku huffed out a laugh as he led his pops back to the iron entrance.

Shouta watched as Izuku and Hizashi walked away before carefully placing the hydrangeas in the vase alongside the carnations.

“Hizashi and I owe you the world, Midoriya-san,” he said lowly, “Without you, we wouldn’t have Izuku in our lives, and I can’t even imagine what that would look like. You raised him well and I’m sorry that horrible man tried to take your son.”

Shouta fidgeted with his hands, “Izuku brings out the good in people, but he has trouble seeing the good in himself. Hizashi and I are working on it, but he has a long way to go.”

He looked up at the grave, imagining eyes as bright as Izuku’s, hair as green as the boy’s curls, and a smile as gentle as her son’s.

“We’ll look out for him now,” It was a promise to the woman and to himself. They’d worked so hard to get Izuku with them, under their care, and Shouta would protect the boy or die trying.

Faint chattering grew clearer as his family returned from their search and Shouta smiled at the smooth stone memorial, “You can rest, Midoriya-san. We’ll keep your son safe.”