2.
As Izuku left the alley, he looked left and right, trying to see if there was anything familiar or any places that sold food.
"Piping hot american buns! Enjoy this foreign food for only five hundred yen!"
Perfect.
…
Hitoshi heard his stomach growl. Loudly.
It had been a long time since he had anything to eat, and even longer for Myrah.
The two had been thrown out because of Hitoshi's quirk, brainwashing. Hitoshi had only been four years old, and Myrah only two. But somehow, they had survived, only to be conquered by starvation and a man who took Myrah's only stuffed animal.
Baka, as the little unicorn had been called (Hitoshi had named it that, although Myrah just decided to keep calling it that) was stolen by a man who obviously didn't have anything better to do then steal from helpless kids.
It disgusted Hitoshi how useless he had felt.
"E-excuse me?" Oh great, that weeb was back. Who did he think he was, an anime protagonist?
A warm smell filled Hitoshi's nostrils, causing the week boy to look up, his tired eyes wide with wonder. The weeb had bought food!
"H-here… don't eat it too quickly, or you might throw it up again."
It was all Hitoshi could do to not devour it immediately, but he strengthened his resolve, chewing slowly but steadily. He could hear Myrah munching as well, and he could almost from her violet eyes shining with gratitude.
"Why'd you come back?" Hitoshi asked, deadpan. At least, as deadpan as he could be when he was chewing happily away on fresh, golden bread with a light slathering of salty butter. (He had a butter mustache, too, which ruined the whole effect.)
"W-well, you two looked hungry…" broccoli trailed off, as though trying to think.
"Do you both have a place to stay right now?"
Hitoshi almost choked on the vastly diminished piece of bread. Why does he care?
"No," Myrah said, inspecting and licking her buttery fingers. "Toshi takes care of me."
Why'd you say that, idiot? Hitoshi cried in his head, before turning to watch the weeb's - Izuku Midoriya's - face.
Izuku seemed thoughtful for a moment, then he asked slowly, "my mom probably wouldn't mind… would you like to stay at my house for a little bit until you are able to get around on your own again?"
Oh. No. He. Did. Not.
This invitation had to be what Myrah was hoping for, because she turned her face toward Hitoshi, crumbs still visible around her mouth. "Please, Toshi-nii?"
She knew that his walls were crumbling, and she was taking advantage of him.
"Fine," Hitoshi growled, "but only if I get a place where I can scream for at least five minutes straight."
Izuku looked at him questioningly, and Hitoshi sighed. "Forget it. Lead the way, Broccoli."
To Hitoshi's surprise, Izuku gestured towards his back as he crouched down. "Get on. I want you guys to be able to walk when we meet my mom."
Unused to kindness, still a little wary, Hitoshi considered not. But the childish side of him moved his legs, and he clambered on while Izuku held Myrah carefully.
Before he knew what happened, Hitoshi fell asleep, his face buried in soft, green fluffy hair.