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Chapter Text

Izuku sat in the teachers lounge, his body slouched across the chair. The chair he bought was red with black accents, and incredibly comfy. His eyes dazed, fingers numb from holding the pencil for so long and aching something vicious.

Beside him sat Aizawa, his long hair pulled back over his shoulder, face clean shaven and his remaining eye focused on the paperwork in front of him. It was a large pile, he’d put it off for days at this point.

He let his left hand lazily draw patterns on the desk between the two, often reaching over to squeeze Izuku's hand for a moment as well. The shy smile he got in return is worth it.

The door to the room opened quickly, a startled sound leaving Izuku’s mouth, before he sighed when he recognized the voice and body stepping through.
Bakugo sneered when he saw him.

His eyes sharpening in anger, he walked towards the desk where Izuku sat, his shoulders pulled up. Izuku tensed but watched cautiously.

Bakugo plucked a threaded thing out of his front pocket, and flung it down at Izuku’s desk.

"Here dumbass," the blonde managed out between a growl, before he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space around the lounge.

Izuku watched him leave, curious, but overall just extremely weirded out.
Aizawa sat silent for a moment.

“Well, that was strange.”

Izuku agreed wholeheartedly, nodding slightly in response. He hesitantly picked up the object, and his eyes started to water as he let out a wet laugh. He turned the object towards Aizawa, who raised an eyebrow as he carefully, gently, took it from Izuku’s hand.

The object was a bracelet, with orange and green threads and Izuku’s name on it.

It was old and frayed, Aizawa noted, and took a glance quickly at Izuku himself. He was teary eyed, and slightly pink. Cute, Aizawa thought.

“I made that when we were kids.” Izuku's voice is low and quiet. You can hear the small cry that left his mouth.

Oh, Aizawa suddenly understood.

“He still had it?” His voice stalled, confusion layering his tone.

Izuku nodded. “I guess so,“ he muttered under his breath, “but he’s the one that wanted to get rid of me. It doesn't make any sense.”

Aizawa eyed him but placed the bracelet on Izuku’s desk. It's cluttered, full of photographs, paper assignments not yet graded, a new stack he has yet to pass out, and a coffee mug.

Takes after me, Aizawa thought fondly, lifting his hand to ruffle Izuku’s tangled mess of hair. “Told you he’d come around.”

Chapter Text

It started when Aizawa saw him. It's a cool night, Aizawa can't help but notice, though it's dusk the temperature is still dropping. His eyes are dry and red from use upon the years, but they do spot a figure on the ground.

It appeared to be… a child?

A small figure was wandering on the streets below the building where he's stationed, his scarf loosely put around his neck. It's easy to grab, but enough out of the way that it won't be a bother.

He watched the child with curiosity. What is a child doing alone, nearing night?
And one that looks so young at that. Any reason, he mused, can't be a good one. The kid has green hair - although it's hard to see, he definitely thinks it's green - messy, too.
He tracked the child across the streets, running from rooftop to rooftop. It was exhilarating. He noticed when they stopped at a corner near an alley, the kid glancing in hesitantly, and called out. He received no response. Just as he thought to turn away, a hand reached out from the alley way and gripped their arm while another hand was held over their mouth.

They didn't get a chance to scream.

Aizawa, however, saw it. He's trained to after all, it's literally his job.

He jumped down the rooftop and landed on a fire escape on the brick building next to it. The fire escape was rusty and old, just barely able to hold together from the impact of his weight. From there he landed on the hard pavement, hurting his ankles a bit in the process but not enough to be debilitating.

He quickly reached the entrance to the alley, and lunged inside. What he saw not only disturbed him, but also worried him to no return.

The child he had been watching was a boy, maybe twelve years old, but looked younger. He was small, concerningly small for his age, and his face was covered in both fresh and old bruises. His roughed-up blue t-shirt is hanging off his shoulders, and there he can see marks. They looked like...burns?

That's terrifying, he admitted to himself, but he couldn't handle that right now. More pressingly, the boy was being held up by a hand around his throat, the hand's owner pressing him tightly to the wall.

Aizawa immediately sent out his capture scarf, expertly wrapping the grey bands around the man's arm holding the kid up.

I really need to learn this kid's name, passed through his mind, but that could be for later.

He harshly tugged him back, forcing him to move away from the greenette. The man responded with a snarl, attempting to grab the scarf with the same arm and quickly forgetting about the kid. It didn't help him though, since Aizawa’s scarf was long enough for him to toss around the man's body and pin his arm by its side.

The man quickly pulled out a knife – oh, hell, what if he'd tried to use it on the kid if Aizawa wasn't there- – and cut the fabric Aizawa was still holding. It shouldn't have been able to go through, let alone that quickly, so it was definitely sharper than usual. Perhaps a quirk had to do with it.

He quickly got up, grabbing the kid and shoving forward and into Aizawa before he booked it down the alley.

Aizawa grunted but caught the kid. Just as he had assumed, he was light. Definitely not by a healthy amount, either.

He glanced down and saw the child's fearful eyes, tears tracking down his face. He's downright terrified.

He hiccuped out a sob as his small, small hands gripped onto Aizawa's black long sleeve, his fingers tight as iron. Aizawa sighed and wrapped his arms around the small figure hooked onto him, making sure to keep his grip loose enough to let the kid leave if he wanted.

"Hey, kid, you're okay," he crooned to him, his hands smoothing down the small back in front of him. He felt a sigh against his chest and tightened his grip for a moment before starting to pull away.

He didn't get far. A large sob echoed in the alley, making him hesitate.

Well, that's not happening, Aizawa thought fondly.

"Yeah, okay kid."

He's positive he didn't move for a minute.

The kid shook in his arms for a few more moments before he pulled away and awkwardly wiped off his face. He looked up, giving a shaky smile.

" Thanks."

The kid's voice is low, almost a whisper. Aizawa nods down at him, his face gentle.

" I'm sorry about that."

Aizawa just smiled at him.

"Don't worry about it kiddo." He paused. "By the way, what's your name?"

The boy flinched back and averted his eyes, which definitely wasn't concerning at all. " It's Izuku Mr. Erasurehead."

Aizawa smiled. "Nice to meet you, kid."

Chapter Text

"Come on ki- Izuku." Aizawa mumbled, a soft smile on his face, as he held the boy's hand and gently tugged him forward and out of the alley.

He pulled out a phone and shot a quick message to the other heroes in the area.
‘Suspect, male, no obvious quirk, spotted by the alley on Apple street.’
He received a confirmation text back, and nodded to himself. He turned to take a good look at the kid. Izuku, he corrected. He was right, he noted. He was tiny. He appeared to be about 4’11, short for his age. His hair was wild, a tangled mess. And yes, he noted, it was green. Though the color is more similar to a snake than the forest green it appeared in the dark.

The kid's eyes were green, too, and he had freckles dotting his cheeks. The right cheek had a purple bruise, which looked new and tender. Aizawa sighed, and reached into the belt he kept on him. He took out a small pack and pressed it into the kids' shaky hands, taking note of how he flinched slightly from the cold.

" Here, it'll help with the swelling."

Izuku hesitantly took the pack and nodded at him as he held it against his cheek. Meanwhile, Aizawa took the time to really assess the kid's condition; there were multiple abrasions on his arms, and even dotting across his shoulders where his shirt had slipped down. He definitely needed a new one, the shirt he was wearing was burnt, dirty, and hung off his too-thin frame. That was far more concerning than he originally thought.

"Look, kid."

Izuku startled but hesitantly looked up at him, deep red eyes meeting tearful green ones.

"I need you to come with me, alright?"

The difference was immediate. The boy locked up and his eyes glanced around him without caring that Aizawa was right in front of him. He was in the middle of a street, so he could run, but he didn't think he'd make it far. Still, he had to try.
"So sorry Erasurehead," Izuku started in a soft voice, almost fearful. " I really need to get home." He let out a wet laugh at the end, his eyes trained on his red shoes. “My mom must be so worried."

Aizawa nodded in agreement, taking a step forward for every step Izuku took backwards.

"I'm sure she is. Which means I should take you home, yes?"

Izuku froze, but quickly turned around and darted across the street to a park nearby, disappointing but not surprising the hero. Aizawa took after him, not even batting an eye.
The kid's feet slipped over the grass, but he didn't look back. He was already running on fumes, and his lungs were gasping. I really need to exercise better, he thought mournfully, as he slipped, again, and nearly fell down. That was all it took.

A gray scarf wrapped around his legs, catching him off guard and making him tumble to the dirt below him. He used his hands to brace his fall, his palms hitting the ground before his face did, but he did go down hard. He groaned in pain and squirmed on the ground, sighing sadly when the scarf was released and strong calloused hands helped him up.

"Care to explain that to me?” Aizawa asked, curiosity flashing across face, before it settled into a smooth expression.

Izuku mumbled and looked at the ground, his feet kicking at the grass. "No, not really."

Aizawa just watched him for a moment, before he pulled out another ice pack, and handed it over. "Dropped the other one. Now, really, you're coming with me."
Twenty minutes later, Izuku was lazily kicking his feet as he sat in a surprisingly comfortable chair, which was unfortunately in a police station. Where, also unfortunately, Aizawa was watching him like a hawk.

"So," Aizawa started, approaching Izuku and leaning down to look into his eyes. "What number should I call for your mother?"

Chapter Text

Izuku did NOT want to be here, he glances mournfully at the closed door behind Erasurehead with longing. His hands are pressed between his knees and settled against the cushion of the spinning chair, his eyes lock onto them as he petulantly refuses to even glance at the man that put him in this stupid position. He shakes his head and grumbles out a "no".

Aizawa rubs a hand down his face, as he looks tiredly at the child in front of him. He leans forward and places a hand in the kid's, fluffy!, hair. He shakes his head a bit and tries to go for comforting and trusting,
" C'mon kid." He urges.

The kid, in fact, doesn't even give him a response, instead, Izuku hunches down and makes himself smaller, a small frown marrying his face, as he pulls him legs to his chest. His small hands wrapping around his knees, his knuckles white as snow.

Aizawa, thinks with despair, he may not actually be doing much good here. Izuku us closed off, not even giving him anything, and he can' just leave this kid sitting here, he needs to contact a parent. He lifts his hands in a signal of surrender.
" Okay, kiddo, we can wait."

Izuku does NOT want to wait,
" You could just let me go home on my own." He offers as a suggestion, his shoulders rolling in a gesture of uncertainty.

Aizawa levels him with a look of complete disbelief, his eyes look annoyed, but he isn't being mean. Izuku's used to adults being mean. He'd know after all, he thinks sadly, his thoughts shifting to his mother, and all the stress he puts on her, and the anger she takes out on him. He tightens his hands for a moment then pats his pant legs where he'd gripped them. Worth a shot, Izuku thinks with sadness.

The two are at a standstill, not one moving, barely even taking a breath,
" I can wait all night." Aizawa warns.

Izuku shrugs,
" Guess you're waiting all night."

This child, Aizawa thinks fondly, he's sweet, but way to wary of adults.

It takes another two hours of Aizawa's gentle prodding, to actually get anywhere.

" Okay, look, I'm going to level with you," Aizawa can tell he's getting no where with this, but he can try something,
" I'll just call, won't even tell them what happened, just give me a number kiddo." He bargains.

Izuku eyes him distrustingly, but unfurls a little bit, less tense.
" She won't know?" He asks softly, his voice wavering.

Aizawa nods quickly, FINALLY, he's getting somewhere.

Izuku rattles off a number, still quiet, but now his eyes have a SPARK of something, Aizawa isn't sure what, but at least it's something.

The woman who picks up sounds exhausted dead on her feet exhausted.
" Hello?"

Aizawa flinches, maybe he woke her up? But he backtracks, does she not know her own kid is missing?

" Yes, is this Izuku's mother?"

And that is where it all goes down hill, Aizawa can just SENSE something is wrong before the next word even leaves her mouth.

" What did he do this time?" She's annoyed now, cold, borderline angry actually. How can someone sound that upset about their child? Aizawa isn't sure, he knows damn well his husband would never sound like that if someone called about THEIR son.

" Nothing actually, he was involved in an incident today."

The other line goes dead for a moment, before the voice asks,
" Is he dead?"

Aizawa goes stone cold, damn, he thinks, she really expects the worse.

" No, I just want to get him home is all maa'm."

The woman sighs, and gives him her address with a voice full of disdain. She hangs up without another word.

Aizawa turns and looks back at Izuku, he's staring at the phone in his hand, his dull eyes trained on it, he looks...scared. Aizawa lets out a small sigh and walks towards the kid, gently helping him up, he stretches an arms across their childs frame,
" Let's get you home yeah?"

All Izuku does is nod quietly, he just knows he's in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

It doesn't take long to get to the Midoriya resident, it's a quaint place, small, almost rundown, but Aizawa can't judge, she's probably trying at least. He doesn't know how wrong he is. Izuku is holding his hand, his looks so big in comparison, should a kid be THAT tiny?

Aizawa gives the kid a comforting smile as he raises his other hand to knock on the door, it rattles slightly, it's not too thick actually. The door swings open, and a lady stands there, she's short, has deep green hair, and wears an utterly furious expression, her lips are in a thin line, and her body is tensed up. Her arms are crossed and she just stares at Izuku for a moment, before her gaze flickers up to meet dark red ones. She freezes, and her expression smooths out, plastering a smile on her face. If Aizawa hadn't seen her previous expression, he would believe this one.

She reaches out and grabs Izuku's thin, thin arms, and pulls him away from Aizawa. Her hand is curled around Izuku's wrist, it's tight enough to bruise, Izuku thinks it will. Izuku stares into Aizawa's eyes, his green ones are misty, he looks sad, like he's walking into something he doesn't think he'll walk away from.

Aizawa smiles back at the woman, his hand flexing to reach Izuku before he stops it mid air, he lowers it instead and presses it into his thigh. His smile is strained. Something more is happening here, he just doesn't know what.

The woman, Inko, she introduces herself as. She drags Izuku behind her, still gripping his oh so small wrist in her hand. She thanks him, stiffly, for bringing her, troublesome, she pauses there and grimaced, son home. Aizawa notices but says nothing. He just nods,
" It's my job maa'm."

He reaches through the door frame to ruffle Izuku's hair, and graces him with a soft grin,
" It was my pleasure, your son is a good kid."

Inko huffs out a laugh,
" Sure, good."

He doesn't understand THAT, but he does watch Izuku tilt his head down to look at the worn down carpet he's shuffling his feet on. He looks small against the woman, even though she herself is short, he just looks, tiny.

" Well thank you Erasurehead, but I'm sure my," she pushes the word through her tongue like she'd spitting it out, " son, home."

She nudges Izuku with her hand not attached to his wrist and gestures at Aizawa, Izuku lifts his head briefly to give a wobbly smile,
" Thank you Erasurehead." His voice breaks a bit, the sentence comes out half mumbled, barely flowing past pouted lips.

Before he can respond, the woman shuts the door in his face, and he hears a lock click into place, he stands there for a moment, stunned, before he turns to walk away.

Izuku watches the door close with misery, he knows he's in trouble this time. He lowers his face to the floor and tugs his wrist free from his mothers tight, tight, grip. She doesn't speak to him, she just stands there and stares for a moment. She sighs and walks past him,
" Go to bed, we'll talk about this in the morning brat."

Izuku stumbles through his house, one he wishes didn't make him feel so small, and pushes open his bedroom door. He ignores the locked window, and pretends he doesn't hear a lock click behind him. He face plants onto his bed, and curls up into a ball, his fists pressed against his eyes as he muffles his sobs, knowing that tomorrow will be no where near good, and he really wishes it wouldn't come.

Chapter Text

When Aizawa gets home that night, more like early morning really, he quietly places his capture weapon near the door, and slips his shoes off to neatly align them by the wall. He's dead tired, and worried to hell and back. He just can't get Izuku's fearful expression out of his head.

The house is quiet, the morning light trickling past half closed curtains, it splatters across yellow walls full of pictures. He walks, half dragging, himself to his bathroom where he strips, puts a t-shirt and sweats on, before slipping into bed next to his husband. He smiles and pulls the blonde into his arms, finally, he thinks, i'm home.

_

Izuku fears the morning, but he watches the sun rise, and knows in his heart that whatever exists outside his room, is worse than what he faced the other night. This is his mother, someone who loved him, but now she looks at him with disdain, like he's worth less than the air he breathes. And he'll have to face it eventually,

The inevitable comes at 7:30 that morning, when he hears a lock pulled out of place, and his door creaks open slowly, his mother's cold eyes stare at him. Her mouth twists into a grimace, and gestures for him to exit his room. He hesitantly stumbles out of bed, and manages to get out of his doorway before he's shoved against a wall as his mother passed him. He whines softly, but follows her to the living room. She nods towards a chair in the corner, it's old and frayed, it's been around a while, it's pattern is faded.

" Why were you out there?"
She asks him, practically hissing it at him, he flinches and lowers his gaze.

" It, it wasn't on purpose, you have to believe me!" He begs, his voice breaking as he gasps for breaths, his lungs tighten, and his vision blurs as he hastily explains his story. His story of walking home, being grabbed in an alley, a hand against his throat, the blocking of his air, the pure fear he felt. His mother doesn't respond, she just walks near him, and grabs his face, his cheeks hurts where she squeezes, his bruise won't heal anytime soon he acknowledges sadly. She looks at him, studying him, before she nods, " I believe you,"

"but, "

Izuku withdraws and makes himself as small as he can against the chair he's in, he knows this isn't good.

" You brought a hero home, one who saw what you have on your face."

Here she points at his very bruised cheek, one he knows looks fresh, it is fresh. He remembers that one.

" Momma, please." Izuku sounds so small, like he's an ant under a foot he knows is coming down, he's powerless to stop it. Inko sighs and runs a hand through her long hair, and just stares at him. He squirms in anticipation, " Go to your room, you can''t fix this. No food, just go."

Izuku jumps up and practically runs to the safety of his room, even if it's a false safety, he can still hide there for days until his mother forgets he exists again.

_

Aizawa wakes up late that day, the sun is heavy in the sky, and he reaches blindly across the bed for the heat he swore he fell asleep next too. But the beds bare, he lazily struggles out of bed, untangleling from the quilt he's stuck under, and yawns as he walks down the hall where he hears his sons voice. He's laughing.

Aizawa enters the kitchen with a soft fondness on his face, and ruffles Shinso's hair as he passes by. He presses a kiss to Hizashi's cheek as he reaches for the cup he conveniently leaves out before each patrol.

Once he's ready, he sits down at the table, and asks his son about school yesterday.

" It was fine Dad, thanks for asking.".. He gives a twitch of his lips, and continues munching on that godly unhealthy cereal his husband buys for the kid.

" What about you dad? Anything interesting on patrol today?"

Aizawa stops midsip and places the cup down, " Actually I saved this kid last night. He was petrified to go home."

Chapter Text

Hizashi looks up from his plate, his hand still holding the fork he was bringing to his mouth, and frowns.

" He was scared to go home?"
His voice is confused, disbelief coating it, why would a kid be scared to go home, and if Aizawa noticed, then that means it's bad. Aizawa looks tired, and stares blankly at him for a moment before sighing and running a calloused hand through his tangled hair, he needs to brush it, he didn't last night.

" Yeah, he seemed down right terrified."

At this, Shinso looks up from his bowl, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Hizashi sets his fork down, and peers at his husband through his hair that is slowly falling into his face. He reaches a hand up to brush it back. Shinso stops eating too, and watches his dad warily before asking, " How old was this kid?"

Aizawa thinks for a moment, and recalls his small stature, his thin arms, and his eyes that only held concern in their depths. " He was small, but has to be around your age, maybe 12?"
Shinso freezes, " What did this kid look like?" He fears the answer, because he just KNOWS.

" He has a head of curly green hair, almost to his shoulders, and had this pale skin, freckles across his cheeks, and green eyes as well." And Shinso freezes, a very bad picture painting in his thoughts, he clears his throat and slumps against his chair. " His name is Izuku wasn't it?" He grumbles out. His dad just turns to look at him, his face full of despair. " You know him?"

Shinso sighs, and nods his head, " Yeah he's in my grade, not very well treated, I've reported it before," He admits, " It hasn't done anything." Aizawa is getting the picture, and it is NOT a pretty one, not at all. His hand forms a fist and he holds back a growl, he hates cases like those, when no one does ANYTHING, and this is turning into one.

" Guess i'll have to do something about it.". He locks eyes with his son and nods at him," What else can you tell me about this kid?'

This has Shinso blurting out instance after instance of the kid being shoved down, lunch being spilled, his notebooks being ruined, his eyes with bags that hang under them, this kid, Bakugo, that harasses him at all hours of the day, the jeering that follows him through the halls, and the countless times he's arrived late, with bruises on his arms that he tries so hard to hide. " The kids not doing well."

Aizawa agrees wholeheartedly, he stands up and pushes his chair in, and heads towards his suit, he had left it on the bathroom floor, and reaches into a pouch. He pulls out his work phone and calls his friend down at the station.
" I need some information on an Izuku Midoriya."

-
Izuku is NOT leaving his room, it doesn't matter his stomach aches, his throat is dry, and he needs to go to the bathroom, it doesn't MATTER. He only curls up tighter in his bed, and watches the birds through the window, he wishes he could fly. Maybe if he could fly, he'd get out of here. He could soar in the clouds, away from everything else, just him and the blue sky, forever. Away from all this hate that he's dealing with, maybe everything would be better up there, out of sight, and just him.

His hands clutch his comforter tighter and pull it over his tear stained cheeks, he wishes he was anywhere but here. He knows he has school tomorrow, he can't skip it, his mom won't let him anyway. Maybe he can just wander the streets instead? He shakes those thoughts away, he was literally just held hostage last night, he does NOT want to repeat that. But, he can admit it may be better than what he deals with in the hallways. He ponders it for a moment before he nods his head, he'll skip school tomorrow, and no one will even know.

His mother won't care, the teacher will barely notice and just think that he's useless and shouldn't be there anyway. Bakugo might get mad, but he doesn't care anyway, he just hurts him, he clutches his arms against his chest, he SWEARS he can feel the hotness of the burns again, as if it had just happened, you think he'd be use to it by now. He thinks that purple haired kid MIGHT notice, he always glances at him in the hallways, and he's helped him patch up a few times. He's nice, but he doesn't want to make him an outcast so Izuku barely talks to him. It's for the kid's best after all, why would he be friends with a useless Deku anyway?

Chapter Text

Let it be known, Izuku did not want to wake up that day, he really didn't. But that didn't stop the sun from rising, or the stars going away, it just didn't, unfortunately. And frankly? He had wished it was still dark out, where he couldn’t see anything but the stars, where he could sleep and pretend nothing was happening.

He dragged himself up and out of his comfortable bed, his All Might blanket falling to the floor, and he wistfully thought maybe All Might would save him. He scoffed. Like that would ever happen. His door creaked open, slowly, and his mothers green eyes met his. Hers were chilled. He couldn’t really read them, actually.

He glanced away and nudged the door open as he passed by her. He noticed she was already dressed, all ready to leave. Leave him again. She always left him.

“Your backpacks on the table, I don't want to even see you when I get home.” She pressed her hands down across his shoulders. “Are we clear?” He nodded mutely, and wished she would leave already. She smiled and patted his head. “Good, I'm glad to hear it.” She smiled, bright.

When she turned away, Izuku continued to the kitchen, passing by the portraits on the wall. Some had him standing next to his mother, a wide smile, while he had a doll in his hand. They looked happy. He wished they still were.

He stuck his head into the fridge and frowned. There was nothing to eat. Another day of skipped meals, he guessed. It was alright, he would be alright. He hastened to get dressed, then slowed down. He was skipping school, he had no worry. So, he slowed down.

When he did leave the house, he made sure to lock it behind him. His mom never did, she always forgot. He’d just have to do it for her.

The day went by slowly. He ducked in and out of stores to peer around them, allowing himself to look at the figures he desperately wanted his mom to buy him again. He trailed his fingers across a poster, and glanced down at the price. He flinched mentally. That was expensive; no amount of his measly savings could ever buy that.

His day continued much like that, just walking, chatting with friendly strangers. They were always nice until they asked for his quirk, then he’d dodge the question and just laugh. They would just eye him weirdly, but shrug it off. It was the most normal he was treated at this point.
_

Aizawa was doing his usual routine, just strolling through the city on his break from teaching. It was exhausting, but when he remembered the progress his students were making, it was worth it. It would always be worth it. And he trained them hard, he needed them to know the dangers that came with his job. He wanted them to be as safe as they could. He didn’t want any repeats.

He was humming and checking his messages when he caught a glimpse of green again. The kid was sitting on a bench near the park, his hair was still tangled. This time he was wearing a school uniform, which was ripped and stitched in places. He needed a new one. Aizawa frowned. He knew damn well that school was in session, he was literally on his break right now.
“Hey, Izuku.” He called out, and watched the head perk up and meet his eyes. He looked rough. He watched as the kid startled, and approached him hesitantly.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Erasurehead.” Izuku scratched his hair with one hand, while the other gripped a notebook tightly. Aizawa couldn’t really read it well, but he caught “Hero” on the front. He hunched over to be closer to the kid, and he smiled. He hoped it was a soft one, he was told his could be creepy.

“What you doing out of school?”

Izuku flinched backwards hard, like physically recoiling at the question. He shrugged though, and offered a pitiful look.

“Just didn’t want to go.” Izuku admitted. Aizawa nodded, and tried to place a hand on his shoulder, noting that Izuku drew back immediately. Izuku stuttered out an apology quickly, excuses falling from his lips. But Aizawa had dealt with victims before, he knew the signs. He eyed that swollen cheek.

“Hey kid, how’s your cheek feeling? What happened anyway. ”

Izuku smiled a bit. Aizawa was caring!

“Just slipped the other day, landed face first, lucky it didn’t break my nose. It feels better though! I think the icepack did some good.”

Convenient.

Ignoring that, Aizawa offered a hand instead. “Want to get lunch together?”

_

Aizawa had been hoping he’d see the kid again. It just happened that luck was on his side. He had talked it over with Hizashi and his friend on the force, and the best they could do without evidence was offer help. And damn it, Aizawa was going to do his best. And if that started with buying Izuku food? Then at least he knew the kid was fed.

Chapter Text

The food was good, Izuku could admit. It was fried rice - his favorite - with carrots and broccoli. Not the best combination, but he liked it well enough. He lifted his head up and met Aizawa’s red ones. He gave a hesitant smile. “Thank you for getting me food, Mr. Erasurhead.”

“Don't call me that, kid. It’s Aizawa for you, alright?”

_

Quite frankly, Aizawa was not happy. The kid seemed starved with the way his lips moved so quickly and swallowed it before he had even finished chewing. But Aizawa was choosing to ignore that. For now.

He leaned back on his seat, one arm limp on the table.

“So, kid, why aren’t you in school?” He almost wished he could take that back, because Izuku froze up instantly, his hand stopping midway to his mouth. He looked away awkwardly. His other hand rose up to rub at his neck, which was dotted with bruises too, Aizawa noted.

“I was sick this morning, my mom let me stay home.”

Reasonable enough, Izuku thought, adults bought those words, right? Well, he hoped Aizawa would. But that seemed like wistful thinking.

Aizawa nodded his head, but his eyes were not very light; they seemed darker, almost. Izuku sighed, and put his hand down. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

_

Izuku looked at Aizawa as he looked around the park. He noted a few other people. The hero would not make him go, he was certain of that, but really, saying no would probably end up with him still going with Aizawa. So, he nodded and picked himself up, cradling his notebook to his chest. His hands were clutching at it like a lifeline. He knew Aizawa noticed, but the hero said nothing.

When Izuku got near enough, a long arm was plopped over his shoulder, drawing him closer to the sturdy body next to his. This close he could see stubble along Aizawa jawline, and the deep purple eyebags that seemed at home beneath his red eyes. He sent a hesitant smile up to Aizawa, and Aizawa smiled back.
_

The rest of the lunch went by normally. Well, as normal as it would get when a pro hero was staring at you all the time, like you were the most interesting subject. Perhaps it was because Aizawa saw him as a puzzle. He could see the picture in his head, but was missing a few vital pieces.

Izuku stood outside the cafe nervously. He, once again, had his notebook tucked in his arms, and stared at the pavement. He didn’t know what to say now. He had already felt awkward eating next to Aizawa, he didn’t know if Aizawa even wanted him gone at the moment. But it seemed that whatever being existed took pity, and Aizawa put a hand on his hair. The long fingers threaded through it carefully, working through a few tangles on its way. The fingers tilted his head up and he met Aizawa’s eyes.

“It was nice seeing you kid.”

Izuku grinned and thanked him, before he turned around and hurried away, ducking between a building and an alleyway. He let out a breath when he was out of the man's line of sight. That was most definitely interesting, and secretly, a greedy part of him hoped Aizawa had meant it.

_

When Izuku got home, around three fifteen, his mother was still gone. So, he let himself in, and walked down the hallway to his room. He plopped on his bed, noting that the sheets were dirty, and he would need to clean them soon.

He let out a breathy laugh and smiled, his hand tussling up his hair, and remembered a large hand in it. How gentle that had been, a gentleness he hadn’t felt in long. Really, it was no surprise that as a child with such little good in his life, could he really be blamed for wanting it to happen again. Hoping that Aizawa had meant he was glad to see him. Would it be so bad, if someone, anyone, especially a hero, would look after him?

-
Aizawa got back to his school a few minutes later than usual, but he didn’t feel too bad about it. He had, afterall, run into Izuku, and gotten a small bit closer to the kid. His grin was feral, at least that’s how his students described it when he walked into the classroom, he hoped it had enamoured him to Izuku a tad bit. Getting closer to the kid was a need, and Aizawa had always been good at narrow minded tasks. This one just had a guarantee of a success rate.

-

Inko was not a bad mother, really she wasn’t. It wasn't her fault her kid was a troublemaker, a mischievous child, the cause of fights, the reason her husband left. She wasn't a bad mother. Sure, she wasn’t the most caring, or attentive, or kind, or wonderful parent. But she feels like she deserves some credit for raising a brat like her son. He was truly a difficult child, and it had all started when he was diagnosed as quirkless. As if her life couldn’t get worse. But it had, and the cause was sitting at home, and she did have to deal with that eventually. She sighed and pulled her gloves off, before smiling at the young child in front of her.

“All done sweetie! Make sure to take those medicines the doctor gave you, okay?” Her voice was soft, her eyes warm. But never for her own child.