When Shouta was young, he never would have imagined himself as a father. Especially not with the example of his own father. And his mothers were godsends, really, having raised Shouta from age ten on with a combination of Michiko's fiery boisterousness and Yumi's quiet mulishness. Shouta would never give up his mothers, not for the world.

And then entered Inko Midoriya.

Inko was older than Shouta, out of high school and married, but still very young. She lived in the house next door, a stay-at-home wife while her husband was out all hours of the day and night. And when his mothers asked the young woman to babysit Shouta while they were working, the ten-year-old only objected a small bit. Because one look at Inko told Shouta everything he needed to know.

Inko was lonely. Just like Shouta had been, back before his mothers. Drifting for two years through the foster system, and even before that, when hiding in closets and being locked in cellars took up the vast majority of his life. So, after only a sideways glance from Yumi, Shouta grew quiet. Because he knew that Inko needed him as much as he did her.

And so, Inko Midoriya became an older sister of sorts. She would watch Shouta while Yumi and Michiko were at work, and she would join them twice a week for dinners. That twice a week drifted down to once a week after Inko got her evening job, of course, but she always continued to make time for Shouta and the Aizawas.

Inko was there when Shouta entered high school, consoling him when he didn't pass UA's hero entrance exam with ice cream and a Studio Ghibli movie marathon. Then again, she comforted him when he was denied entry to the hero program through the Sports Festival, his second-place win not being enough to convince the school board a child with a villainous quirk could be a hero. And once more, Inko was there to celebrate with them when Shouta transferred over to Ketsubutsu, acing the hero exam with flying colors.

And then Inko became pregnant.

It happened when Shouta was in his last year of high school, far too old for a babysitter but unwilling to pull away from his big sister. Inko came over one night, happy tears in her eyes, and handed over a small black-and-white photograph. "You see, ShoSho?" she teased him, sniffling and giggling. "You're going to be an uncle!"

Shouta decided then and there that he would be the best uncle. He stated as much to Inko, who giggled again and ran a hand through his hair, long enough now to pull into a low bun and subsequently be mussed up by Inko's gentle hands. It typically irritated Shouta to no ends, but he relented that night, too in bliss by osmosis of Inko's own joy.

Yumi and Michiko spoiled Inko, of course, but Shouta spent nearly every penny of his allowance on gifts for the baby and for Inko. He bought Inko lotions and bath salts to help with her aches and pains, and he bought plushie, after teething ring, after blanket, after everything and anything for the baby. And when Inko found out it was a boy? The Aizawas threw her an entire party, even inviting Inko's friend Mitsuki and her husband Masaru, their newborn baby of their own- Katsuki- en tow. It had been a good night, Shouta remembered, full of joy and laughter.

It was one of Shouta's best memories of Inko, one of the people he was most fond of in life.

And when Izuku Midoriya was born, small and underweight, but ultimately healthy, Shouta found a new tiny being to be fond of.

Izuku was adorable, all pink skin, button nose, and twenty tiny fingers and toes. Shouta hardly ever put him down. Even when Shouta graduated high school and moved away to go to university, he would return home every weekend to visit his mothers, Inko, and- most importantly, now- Izuku.

Even for all that he was still small, Izuku grew like a weed. Before Shouta knew it, the freckled baby was crawling and babbling and driving Inko crazy.

On top of being cute, Izuku was so incredibly bright. The baby was always laughing, always smiling, always being cheery and treating his Uncle Sho to a gummy grin. It made Shouta slowly, gradually, begin to reconsider his swearing off children.

It was when Izuku was about a year old that Inko began to grow quieter. She withdrew, only a little

at first, pushing their weekly dinners to every other week. And then once a month. And then none at all. Despite this, Inko would never begrudge Shouta of his time with Izuku. Dutifully, every weekend, Inko would drop Izuku off with his Uncle and honorary grandmothers, returning to her house to have some quality time with her husband.

Shouta often wondered. If Izuku hadn't been in his life, if school hadn't been distracting him, would things have turned out different? Would Shouta still be Izuku's dear Uncle, and not his beloved Father?

Would Inko still be alive?

Because it was during one of those weekends Shouta was visiting and watching Izuku that the Midoriya house was sent ablaze.

Upon the first scent of smoke and the sound of the fire alarm going off next door, Shouta was handing Izuku off to his mothers, the baby beginning to whine at Shouta's sudden disappearance. Out the door the hero rushed, grasping his capture scarf as he entered the cracked door of the neighboring house. The flames were already consuming the kitchen and living area and were creeping up the steps. The steps that Shouta rushed up, entering the master bedroom without pause.

Inko- Inko's body- was lying on the ground, the carpet around her untouched by flames. And yet, she was shriveled up and blackened, burnt to an utter crisp. The smell of burnt flesh had made Shouta gag, and he threw up on his own feet when everything hit him.

Hisashi Midoriya had a fire quirk.

And he was nowhere to be seen.

The police and emergency services had arrived shortly thereafter, and the Aizawa house was hardly even touched by the flames.

The Midoriya house, however, was burnt to the ground. The fire starting at the base of the house had caused it to collapse, and Shouta had barely escaped with his life.

He hadn't been able to touch Inko's body, much less carry it outside. She didn't even get a proper burial, and it was Hisashi Midoriya's fault.

For a long time, Shouta was angry. Downright furious. He poured everything he had into finding Hisashi Midoriya and putting him behind bars, but even succeeding in that hadn't been enough. He ripped into villains like a madman, putting them in hospitals rather than prisons. Tsukauchi, a recent somewhat-friend of his, had tried to talk him down. But ultimately, it was his mothers that got to him.

"What do you think this will do to Izuku in the long run?" Michiko had been uncharacteristically quiet. "You know that we love Izuku, and we love fostering him, but Inko's will requested that you raise him."

"We're old, Shouta," Yumi had spoken softer to her son, but with no less severity. "We're old, and Izuku needs someone he can count on. Someone he can count on to come home to him after a long patrol. Can you be the one that offers that to him, or will you lose him forever?"

In the end, there was no question about it. Shouta would rather die than lose Izuku.

Or rather, Shouta would live for Izuku. And so, he became a father.

Shouta settled down, as much as one could settle with a newly-turned two-year-old, and finished getting his degree in Law and Ethics. He grew closer to Emi Fukukado, growing a friendship with her and a relationship reminiscent of his with Inko. Emi was a little sister to Shouta, and a wonderful Auntie Joke to Izuku.

And then, when Izuku turned four, he was diagnosed as Quirkless.

Shouta hated that word.

Diagnosed.

Not Quirkless. No, there was nothing wrong with being Quirkless. Shouta fought Quirkless himself, relying on his strength in hand-to-hand combat rather than a flashy Quirk.

But calling Izuku's Quirklessness "diagnosable" was... abhorrent.

There was nothing inherently wrong with Shouta's son just because he didn't have a goddamn Quirk. But other people didn't see it that way. God, how Shouta had been blind to Quirkless discrimination and hatred before he'd had a Quirkless son. But now? Shouta would no longer be blind. He raised Izuku the best he could, cutting ties with the Bakugous when Katsuki became utterly violent against Izuku. He moved Izuku's schools until he found one that would not only accept, but also foster and raise the Quirkless child's knowledge.

Yes, Shouta wanted to see his son grow. He wanted to see Izuku grow up happy and healthy.

And now, watching Izuku's face crumple at Yamada's question, Shouta wondered if he'd really saved his son from a painful life. If he had done enough to help save Izuku from the pain and the discrimination and the horridness of other people. If he'd done good enough to help the most important person in his life.

Shouta could only hope.

...

As soon as the words left Hizashi's mouth, he wished he could take them back. Because Izuku looked absolutely crushed, and Hizashi was immediately reminded that the world was a cruel, cruel place.

He himself was a product of it, after all. From birth, he'd had his Quirk. It had deafened his parents, the doctor, and himself upon first cry, earning him a place in an orphanage very, very young. Much of Hizashi's childhood was repressed, and he absolutely didn't remember anything before his first five years of life (which was probably for the best- he was honestly surprised he was still alive with what happened in the following years), but there were a few things that stuck out to him. Being swatted with yard sticks by his teacher in class when his voice rose too loud. Being made fun of by the other kids for being too much and yet not enough. Being told he'd never be adopted if he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Being muzzled and locked in a cellar for days on end.

That was the worst memory, of course. Hizashi still had the scars to show for it whenever he shaved, too. The puckering beneath his chin from where metal had cut too deeply into skin when he tried to speak, tried to cry, tried to breathe-

And, true to what his caretakers had told him would happen, Hizashi was never adopted. He aged out of the system and, upon entering college, took refuge surfing couches. The Iidas were particularly kind, allowing Hizashi to stay with them for nearly an entire year before Tensei graduated ahead of Hizashi and ended up moving out himself. They'd insisted Hizashi was always welcome, but something about Tensei no longer living under the same roof made Hizashi feel like he was taking advantage.

He was still in school, though, and the dorms were expensive as all hell. He'd been complaining about it to Nemuri at the teacher's lounge of UA during their tenure as teaching assistants there.

"I mean, I only have a few months left anyways, and then I'll be able to afford an apartment myself, but until then, I..." He looked down. "I'm not sure what I'll do."

Nemuri looked distraught, reaching out to squeeze her friend's shoulder. If she hadn't been staying at the dorms herself, she would have offered him a place to stay. And yet, she couldn't. But Hizashi wouldn't ask that of her anyways. Nemuri and Tensei had already done so much for Hizashi. They'd kept him alive through high school, bringing him lunches when his caretakers "forgot" to fill the fridges and giving him rides to and from his supposed "home".

(They'd kept him alive in other ways, as well. In midnight phone calls and in skipping classes, eyes always full of tears, lungs too full of painhurtpainpainsorrow to be able to breathe. They'd kept him alive and safe, and they'd helped him start to heal.)

It was at that opportune moment, that time of weakness for Hizashi, that an angel appeared.

Or rather, a not-rat. A not-bear. A maybe-stoat, if you would.

None other than Hizashi's home room teacher (recently promoted to school principal) dropped down through a vent in the ceiling. Only years of training kept Hizashi from screeching out the windows of the teacher's lounge.

"Ah, Yamada-kun! I have been made aware that you need a place to stay, no?" Nemuri snorted. "Made aware."

"Ah- I'll be fine, Nedzu-sensei," Hizashi chortled back, putting on airs for his old teacher. "Please, don't worry about anything, I'll be just fine-"

"Yamada-kun, I have long since been thinking about installing a small dormitory on campus for students in need. It is something that should have been done years ago." The silent "something I wish I could have done for you" nearly brought tears to Hizashi's eyes. "Alas, I have no volunteers within my staff for a den mother of sorts. Would you be interested in striking a deal to assist me, Yamada-kun?"

"Sure, Nedzu-sensei," came Hizashi's immediate reply, his voice cracking. "That sounds nice."

And so, for the rest of his time in university, Hizashi lived on UA's campus. There were only ever two students who needed a place to stay at the dorm, and only temporarily for both. But Hizashi stayed on campus all the same, offering after-school tutoring and training sessions for students

before retiring to his small, apartment-like room at the base of the dorm. Even after moving out, finding his own apartment, and earning his own living, Hizashi still returned to the dorm whenever temporary occupants passed through. It was one way that the man tried to pay his old teacher back.

Because Hizashi had never been able to thank Nedzu properly for helping him. He'd tried to offer up a check to the maybe-stoat at one point in time, but Nedzu had flat out refused him. It was only after months and months of trying that Nedzu finally sat Hizashi down and said, "You want to repay me, Yamada-kun? Very well. Come and teach at UA."

And so, all was well that ended well. Hizashi had a job and a home and a family with Tensei, Nemuri, the UA staff, and Nedzu.

It was more than he could have asked for.

So yes, Hizashi knew of the world's cruelty. But he also knew of the world's light. The sunshine and the happiness and the laughter. And he could see that light inside of little Izuku, could see it trying its best to burn bright. But seeing the light as it were meant that Hizashi could see the very moment his words snuffed it out.

No, not snuffed it out. The light was still there, just dimmed. Hidden behind protective hands, hands that were trying to keep it from dying. Izuku was shielding his light, and Hizashi had a duty to the boy. A duty brought on by being the one to put up that wall. A duty brought on by being a teacher and a mentor.

A duty brought on because he was here. He was here and in the present, in the presence of such a bright, luminescent child, who just needed a little push.

"I- I-" Izuku stuttered, staring down at his little hands where they were wringing at each other. Aizawa's own hand snuck forward, allowing itself to be used as a fidget for the child's nervousness. "I don't have one..." Izuku mumbled, the words barely caught by Hizashi's hearing aids.

Oh, sweetheart, Hizashi wanted to cry. Because the world may not have been kind to him because of his Quirk, but the world was downright cruel to the Quirkless.

Hizashi stilled in his light swinging, pulling himself off the swingset and crouching down in front of Izuku. Next to him, Aizawa tensed up, looking ready for a fight to break out. It almost would have made Hizashi laugh, had he not been so focused on the little boy in front of him.

What should he say next? He had been quiet for too long already, what could he say? "Sorry" was out of the question and rude, and "That sucks" was downright offensive even if it was true.

And so, Hizashi said what came naturally.

"Wow, little listener! You are so flipping cool!"

The enthusiastic reply made Izuku jump, and his eyes flickered up to Hizashi, his tears shocked away. Behind Hizashi, Aizawa was completely still even as his hand in Izuku's shook minutely.

"W-What?" Izuku croaked, looking downright astounded.

"Yeah! You're a certified badass, little dude!" Hizashi replied again, doing his best to sound natural and excited both at once. Poor little Izuku just looked confused, and Hizashi leapt to explain. "Look, kiddo, a lot of people in the world have Quirks, right?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"So, statistically speaking, not having a Quirk is rarer. Right?"

Slowly, still not following Hizashi's logic, Izuku nodded.

"Okay! So, little listener, not having a Quirk makes you special. It means that you have something not a lot of other people have, yeah?"

Something about Hizashi's reasoning must have hit the child then, because Izuku's eyes lit up even as the rest of his body was still hesitant.

Slowly but surely, those hands were retreating from around that light within the boy.

"Y-Yeah!" Izuku chirped back. "I'm- I'm special, right, Daddy?"

Hizashi could have melted from the tone of voice that spewed from Aizawa's mouth. Full of warmth and softness and utter adoration, Aizawa spoke to his son, "Yes, Izuku. You are very special. Especially to me."

And then Izuku's tears were replaced with giggles. Bright, melodic giggles that sent a wave of relief washing over Hizashi. He sat back on his haunches, grinning ear to ear as Izuku- still holding his father's hand hostage to his chest- began a tangent about all of the facts he knew about Quirkless people, as well as mentioning some of the older Quirkless people he'd met and made friends with.

And, well. It could have been much, much worse, to say the very least.

...

This... This... This blonde fucking bastard. How dare he be good with Shouta's child. How dare he not be a Quirkist piece of shit and actually a decent human being. How dare he laugh and be a ray of utter fucking sunshine as he giggled along with Shouta's son.

Shouta wanted to jump his fucking bones.

Reeling in that feeling, Shouta quickly assessed the situation.

Izuku was no longer crying or looking crushed. In fact, he was utterly gleeful as he told Yamada all about the baker down the street from their apartment who was Quirkless and made the best chocolate croissants. Yamada was nodding along, laughing and cooing and grinning at all the right places.

Shouta felt like a boss in a video game, one that was getting all of his weak points hit one by one by this utter fucking asshole of an angel.

Sure, not being Quirkist was a plus- and a big one at that- but Yamada was so much more than not Quirkist.

On a surface level, he was attractive, sure. Still in his clubbing clothes, but managing to put on a casual face and countenance that put Shouta and Izuku at ease. Not to forget, the man was funny. Shouta had a reputation to uphold, so he didn't laugh, but Yamada was funny. Much funnier than

Emi, although Shouta would take that sentiment to his grave. Yamada was a social butterfly, so kind and so, so thoughtful. (The back of Shouta's mind was almost bitter about that, wondering if Izuku would have been better off with someone more like Yamada- but he cut that train of thought off as soon as possible. His therapist would disapprove.)

Shouta wanted to get to know Yamada more and more.

"If you're so excited about Tanaka-san's croissants," Shouta drawled, gaining the attention of his son and -not a crush, Shouta told the little Emi that lived inside his brain- Yamada, "why don't we go get some?"

Izuku squealed, stomping his little feet in place. "Croissants and ice-cream?!"

Shouta winced, but he didn't want to put any kind of damper on his kid's day. Not when it was

going so well. "One scoop, Izuku."

And then Izuku was turning back to Yamada, squealing, "What kind of ice cream do you like, Mr.

Yamada-san?"

Before Yamada could reply, Shouta was standing and scooping his child up off the ground, playfully holding Izuku's knees tightly as he swung the little boy upside down. Izuku shrieked with mirthful giggles, and Shouta couldn't help but smile.

"Well, Yamada," Shouta said aloud, finding himself in the curious situation- once again- of asking his one night stand to have a playdate with him and his son, "Are you coming?"

... Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Hizashi's brain was stuck like a broken record. Because that smile?! He could die. He could die happy right here and now, because even if Izuku's giggles were cute, they tied right up there with Aizawa's gentle little smile as he played with his son. Swinging Izuku upside down, Aizawa tickled the boy's stomach as his shirt rode down, and Izuku shrieked at a volume that could put Hizashi to shame.

But then Aizawa was turning to him, asking him if he was coming with them to get ice cream and croissants.

How could Hizashi say anything but a loud and enthusiastic, "Of course!!"

Aizawa's smile briefly widened before he was turning around, swinging Izuku to sit up on his hip. And fuck.

Hizashi was so, so screwed.