Shouta relaxed into the uncomfortable seat on the train, intent on going around and around the city to catch a few hours of shut-eye after tonight's shitty patrol before he heads back to work.
The few other passengers avoided him, no one keen on sitting too close to him — probably because his clothes are filthy and covered in dust from the arrest earlier and he hasn't showered in at least four days — but that's just fine with him; better than some people who will still bother him even when he puts out more 'leave me alone' vibes than a teenager. He looks homeless at the best of times and is, technically, but spending a significant amount of his time at the Mustafa police station where they have a full locker room with showers means he's usually cleaner than this, despite what Hizashi says about his personal grooming abilities. Forgive him for not brushing his dry curly hair when it's just going to float up and get tangled again the second he uses his quirk.
The only time he's not at the station is when he's forced to take a break, like now, to "go home and rest" even though everyone and their cat can attest that he sleeps plenty between patrols and cases. And he's not the only one who does it — Detective Tsukauchi's department practically lives at the station too, but oh no, he's the one who needs to go home and rest because "he's always there". Hypocrites.
He was almost asleep when the train stopped on its usual route and he felt a presence come near him.
He glanced up as a young mother who just stepped onto the train with her young child stood near him.
Even though she was on the phone she still gave him a polite nod and a gentle smile that Shouta could swear made the room physically warmer (maybe it's her quirk?), and he tiredly returned the
I didn't pay super close attention to the editing for this oneshot, so apologies in advance for any mistakes and run-on sentences and stuff.
Big thanks to my good friend AdoreAble for helping me finish this, and for being one of the first to read it.
nod. He's never been good at manners but contrary to what his high school friends may think, he's not that rude. He can manage a nod.
There are plenty of seats around the car if you're willing to sit next to someone, but she chose to stand while her small toddler with the greenest curly hair Shouta's ever seen — even more than the woman's — without being full ringlets used both hands to climb up onto the seat next to him. Right next to him. Shouta internally sighed, only a little bit of it escaping to the outside world as he dipped his chin into his capture scarf instead of shaking his head. Kids .
He was halfway to closing his eyes again when a small warmth scooted to his side.
His gaze moved to his hand, where a tiny, chubbier one wrapped around his index finger.
He looked at the kid whose eyes are puffy, red, and shiny like he's been crying and giant green irises stared at Shouta's hand with a level of focus that only a child can have. He turned his gaze to the mother intending to get her attention but the notion died as he scanned the woman, distracted with a not-so-good looking phone call if the worried frown pinching her face and her fingers wringing in the front of her cardigan is any indication.
He sighed and let the kid play with his fingers, cooperating by turning his hand over when it was gently tugged, and watched the toddler count the lines on his palm in tiny murmurs and intense concentration, poking each one as he went, tired little sniffles every few seconds filling the silence. Looks like Shouta isn't the only one who had a shitty day.
He settled again, staring absently at his hand and unconsciously relaxed with the rhythmic, warm pokes of tiny, chubby little fingers.
He barely stopped himself from flinching when the kid poked his wrist, adding the five little scars (three old and white, and two still a tender pink) to his count.
The kid isn't old enough to know what those are but Shouta was startled when the child leaned down and kissed his wrist all of a sudden like it was a perfectly normal thing to do, and then looked up at him with bloodshot green eyes so big he had to wonder if it's part of their family's mutations (though there are no other visible signs of mutation quirks) and asked with surprising articulation for a child this young, "Owies all better?"
"..." Shouta blinked.
What is he supposed to say to that? "Yeah. ...Thanks."
Apparently, that was the correct answer, even with the gruff, awkward delivery because he was given the warmest smile Shouta's ever seen in return; And his best friend (and long-time unrequited first love) is Present Mic . A man born with summer sunshine and laughter in his veins.
The child let go of his hands and pulled his little blue and yellow All Might backpack off, sniffling as he situated it next to him on the seat before routing around in the little bag with purpose.
Shouta thought that was the end of this strange encounter until there was quiet crinkling and his hand was softly grabbed again before it could make it to his pocket.
With another sniffle, Shouta watched (clearing his throat a little against its tightening) as the kid — with all the care a small child can muster — put a Recovery-Girl-themed bandaid on the first scar; followed by an All Might one on the second scar and an Ingenium one that was displaced a little as the train turned, part of it laying over the All Might's; then a Gang Orca one, and on the final freshest scar, the kid sniffled again while he shook the empty hero-themed bandaid box. He went back to his bag and dug out another box (why does this kid have so many band-aids?) and fished out a green one that matched the child's hair color with little cartoon Totoros, trees, and acorns on it and fixed it perfectly over the final scar.
The kid stood up, Shouta reacting on instinct to grab him when the train jerked — even though the child didn't do more than sway with the movement — and barely stopped himself from jumping when two little arms wrapped around his neck, a head of soft curly green hair on his shoulder, and a warm, squishy little cheek pressed against his own filthy cold one with no reservation.
A tiny palm patted Shouta's back, "I's ok. Id'll be better soon."
Shouta was frozen, his throat tight and dry eyes burning more than a few minutes ago.
He didn't notice the woman had glanced over, eyes lingering on his wrist as her child hugged a dirty, complete stranger — who is more than likely a hobo and potentially dangerous.
Before he could think what he was supposed to do, the child patted his head, undeterred by the concrete dust coating his greasy unkempt rat's nest.
The kid pulled away, leaning entirely too close to his face as he asked, "Mama says hair time makes it feel better?"
Shouta blinked, completely stumped by what the hell that means — and seriously wondering if this kid has been taught anything about stranger danger — and apparently complete silence and a blank stare is equal to consent and acceptance now. The kid leaned down — Shouta once again having a near-heart attack as the train chose that moment to slow down and make him sway again — but his hands catching the child's waist didn't even slow the kid down as he pulled a tiny compact hairbrush out of his backpack and unfolded it.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he could guess what was about to happen, but the thought was so absurd it never reached the surface before the child turned back to him and tiny hands wrapped around a clump of his disgusting, tangled black mess with more articulation than he'd expect of a child this age and started brushing it from the ends up.
What...the fuck...is happening? How did this...? How...?
He sat still while the little brush ran through his hair — which apparently is less tangled than he thought, given how fast the tiny black bristles made it to his head with very little snagging — and after a minute he resigned himself, letting the kid do whatever he wanted.
(Shouta resolutely ignored the tingly sensation in his scalp and chest that's only ever happened when Hizashi insists on taking care of Shouta's hair for him because he's "bad at it.")
When the kid's hand touched his scruffy jaw and gently turned his head away, Shouta mechanically obeyed and found himself staring at the rest of the train car with only two other people left; one of them being an old woman with a gentle, knowing smile and staring at him with a twinkle of amusement in her crinkled eyes, while the brush was run through his hair on the back of his head, only snagging and pulling on occasion; which Shouta didn't react to even though it wasn't exactly painless.
When he was asked/told to turn back, he did, the gears in his brain having such a hard time processing this encounter that it finally gave up entirely as the kid put the brush down in Shouta's lap and started moving his hair aside with his fingers, carefully tucking it behind Shouta's ear until the child was satisfied. There's no use trying to apply logic to a child. It was a foolish exercise from the start. Children and logic don't mix in any way you'd ever be able to guess.
He stared down at his phone, just to make it seem like he's doing something, but he's exhausted and can't keep his focus off of the child even though he's not looking at the boy. All of his awareness wrapped up in warm tingles and tiny hands as they do...something, with his hair.
He didn't move as a clip was pulled out of the little yellow bag, and — presumably — used to keep some hair away from what the child wanted, and then a small clump from just behind his ear was grabbed.
Shouta ignored the painful little tug that happened when the child tried to hold on to the clump and reach for the brush at the same time before he handed it to the kid. It was taken with a sincere little, "T'ank you," before it was brushed again and the tool handed back.
It took longer than it probably should have for Shouta to figure out he was braiding his hair. He's not sure why that makes this situation make more sense(?) It just... does .
He glanced at the kid's mom, who is now staring down at her phone, typing. The frown now replaced by something soft and warm, amused. He's not sure why it made embarrassment claw at his stomach when she hasn't even looked at them. Never mind that he's not the type to even get embarrassed and definitely not over a child deciding to interact with him for some unfathomable reason.
Children are like fae, there's no reason or logic for why they do the things they do. Honestly, it's bizarre what power they have over adults when they're so weird (and terrifying) simply by virtue of being children; it's worse if they're cute children but cute, distressed children? Forget it, there's nothing you can do against that.
Shouta's never really been around kids before, but younger kids are easier to handle than older ones. Younger kids will entertain themselves with limited or zero input; just having someone there is enough for them. This green floof being case and point.
The kid finished what he was doing and Shouta's heart startled again when the boy called out, "Momma, hand."
The woman glanced and gave Shouta an embarrassed little smile, directing her question at the child, "Izuku, sweetie, did you ask first?"
From her tone, he's gonna take a wild guess and say this happens a lot. Explains why she isn't alarmed that her kid is interacting with him. Given the state he's in, he's not sure if he should be concerned about that.
"Mhm," Izuku hummed and he didn't correct him, even though he's not actually sure when or how he agreed to this.
"Ok, baby." The woman nods, satisfied, before transferring her phone to one hand and obediently handing over her left wrist, adorned with a gangle of hair ties of varying styles, colors and patterns.
"T'ank you," Izuku replied quickly and pulled his chosen band off, keeping hold of the braid in his other hand. The woman moved her hand and fingers to help him free it, and Shouta gets the distinct impression that she knows something about what's happening that he doesn't, and he's not sure what to think or how to feel about that; he doesn't have the brainpower to do either right now. The careful twining and occasional pull of the hair tie didn't let him think about it either as he suppressed a yawn.
This time his eye twitched at a sharp pull but then the tying was done and the boy had moved on to arranging it to fall against Shouta's neck. He watched it, slightly impressed with how decent the toddler's skills are, as he noted the little green bead on the hair tie.
Tired, the kid sat down with a yawn and his mother finally took a seat on the other side of the boy, smiling gently at the kid as he picked up Shouta's hand and pulled it into his lap, leaning against his upper arm, relaxing.
"Draw time?" Izuku looked up at him, and once again Shouta had no idea what the kid meant, he blinked again and the child gave a resolute nod and started pulling up his sleeve.
"Zuku," his mother gently chided and Shouta looked over at her. She gave a knowing but gentle and apologetic smile before softly patting her son's back. "Remember you need to wait for a verbal response, baby."
Izuku gasped like he'd committed a crime and looked at Shouta with expectant eyes. "... Do what you want," Shouta replied, not 100% sure what he's agreeing to.
Izuku beamed, the tiredness at the edges of his face receding a bit, before he moved Shouta's arm around to his lap and finished pulling up his sleeve.
"I'm so sorry." The woman apologized over the boy's head.
He shook his head, replying in his usual gruff but unconcerned tone, "It's fine."
A scandalized gasp escaped the kid for a second time when he found a purpling bruise on Shouta's forearm, made to look worse than it is by his ghostly pale skin against the deep black — well, grey right now — hero suit.
Shouta caught the woman's concerned face out of the corner of his eye too and it... honestly confused him. It's just a bruise, and a minor one at that — especially for his profession. (Not that either of them would know he's a pro hero. And since he's underground and only just started having the police in his zone recognize him it would be even stranger if this mother-son duo did.)
"Mom—" Izuku went to ask her something and the woman was already holding out an unpackaged bandaid, this one a bit bigger and sea-blue with small multi-colored macaroons on it.
Izuku put the bandaid on even more carefully than the others, like he was performing delicate surgery, even holding his breath as if that would affect the placement of the plaster. Shouta ignored the warmth in his arm and the feeling in his stomach, dismissing it as hunger from not having eaten since his patrol started five hours ago.
"There. All better." Izuku released his breath, satisfied as if he'd just prevented a major disaster. He half expected the kid to wipe non-existent sweat from his forehead like he'd done a hard day's manual labor. He leaned his head against Shouta's upper arm again while he moved on with what he supposes is 'drawing time'.
Drawing time, apparently, means pulling out a set of colorful whiteboard markers (Shouta noted the 'washable' label in a large white font at the top) and choosing two colors — green & yellow. He watched the kid struggle to uncap the markers before proceeding to draw on Shouta's skin.
The colors suit the kid, but the bright yellow reminds him more of the sleeping bag Hizashi got him for Christmas and of the cockatoo himself.
Shouta's not sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. He's not sure what he expected him to draw either, but it also wasn't this. The little boy leaned over in a way that only a kid can at that angle, getting his eyes as close to his drawing as possible while still being able to see it — presumably —, drawing with the most intense focus yet.
He felt the tip of the marker on his skin, a little cool and a little wet and dragging with a little more pressure than necessary over his arm. As the minutes ticked by the warm feeling grew until ignoring it was no longer an option. Instead of thinking too hard, he opted to just accept it and sit with it while he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, trying to figure out what the kid is drawing based solely on the feeling of the marker.
He's not sure how long he sat there, but he heard the boy's mother quietly say, "Five more minutes," trying to be respectful to Shouta whom she probably thought was sleeping, and Izuku — her tone completely flying over his head — responded with a loud, "Ok," that made Shouta crack his eye open to see him still concentrating hard on his arm.
He can see the edge of a green and yellow rainbow above the wrist bandages but everything else was covered by a mass of fluffy green curls.
The woman winced and looked up, offering another apologetic smile when she caught Shouta's eye.
He waved it off with a slow blink, shifting when Izuku pulled on his arm so the kid had better access, and tried not to think about his tight throat or why a simple child drawing on his arm is causing his permanently tight chest to loosen letting some of what he's stuffed deep down, leak through to the surface.
"I'm sorry, we didn't even get your name." The woman suddenly spoke. Shouta looked at her, "It's fine."
"I'm Midoriya Inko, this is my son, Izuku."
He can feel the motherly love radiating from this woman, it made his chest squeeze with bitter, resentful memories of his own mother, but nevertheless he was still polite as he cleared his throat and answered.
"Aizawa Shouta."
"Thank you for playing with Izuku, or rather letting him play with you."
He sees where the kid got his smile from.
"T's fine," He shrugged, "Looked like he was having a tough day."
Inko let out a weary sigh, "I think that goes for all of us."
She's got that right. His mind cast back to all of tonight's arrests. It was ridiculous how many people decided tonight was the night for nefarious activities.
The five-minute warning turned out to be for their stop as an automated voice announced the train's arrival in the cars and Inko looked ready to get up.
She turned back to him though and smiled warmly, "Would you like to come over for dinner? We don't live far from the station. Please? It's the least I can do."
Instinctively he tried to refuse but something about the way she asks questions is both completely non-threatening and leaves no option for refusal; like trying to tell your grandmother you're not hungry. So once again, he ended up consenting simply by blinking in confusion and was pulled along when Izuku stood to follow his mother off the train.
The boy held onto his hand without letting go as he waddled after her, forcing him to slouch more than usual as they walked.
His confusion didn't get any better as they left the station and she hadn't exaggerated, it really wasn't far — maybe a three-minute walk — before they were heading into an apartment building and up three flights of stairs, Izuku holding both of their hands as they went up and giggling when he decided to jump to the top step. The accomplishments of a toddler.
They didn't go far down the hall, but he felt more and more awkward with every step, trying to find a way to get out of this without being rude (a rare occasion when he actually doesn't want to
offend her), right up until Inko was pushing the door open and Izuku dragged him inside.
"Please, make yourself at home." Inko led them through to the living room after shoes were taken off at the entryway, replaced by house slippers. Izuku had a little trouble getting his sneakers off but the kid is very determined and independent, refusing help with a simple "I can do it" when Inko asked.
"Izuku, after you wash your hands, why don't you bring your notebooks to the living room and show Aizawa-san?" Inko left no room for argument as she showed them to the sitting room and went to the open kitchen on the other side to start dinner.
Izuku gasped and whipped his curly head towards Shouta, "Do you wanna see my notebooks Mr. Zawa?"
The anticipation and excitement in the kid's eyes almost blinded him, but Mr . Zawa? He never thought that at 20-years-old somebody would be calling him MR — even if Izuku's not technically wrong in calling him that, given their age difference. It's still weird to hear.
He blinked but this time the kid actually waited for a response with stars in his eyes, practically vibrating where he stood.
"Sure, kid."
Izuku squealed and raced off to a door down the hall that he assumes is the kid's room.
" After you wash your hands, Izu! You've been outside all day." Inko called and he watched Izuku run back out to what he assumes is the bathroom before running back to his room.
He stood there awkwardly, tucking his hands into his pockets to hide his closed fists.
"Do you have any allergies or food restrictions, Aizawa-san?" Inko asked, bringing his attention to her as she tied an apron around her waist and washed her own hands in the sink.
"Uh, no."
"Any favorites?" Inko smiled warmly and surprisingly it made him relax a little. He's pretty sure the jelly pouches he's recently gotten addicted to don't count. "No."
Inko nodded, her smile never diminishing, "I'll make my specialty then, it's Izuku's favorite. Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, juice, water?"
Normally he would go for coffee but being tired, wired, and in a stressful awkward situation that he's yet to figure out is not a good combination. "Water is fine. Thank you."
Inko nodded, getting a glass down from a cupboard, "Thank you again for entertaining Izuku on the train. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner what he was doing. He doesn't understand boundaries yet, even though he's already five."
"It's fine."
He's five? He thought the kid was younger than that.
"So, I've seen you on the train a few times, do you live or work around here?"
He managed to keep his impassive-face in place, not expecting someone to have remembered seeing him on the train of all places. That's bad. If he's becoming recognizable, he may need to find somewhere else to sleep for a while.
"I work at the police station a lot," He answered. He's glad she's asking the questions instead of him having to. He's not good at conversation but awkward silence would be even worse. Plus, they barely know each other.
"Oh, are you an officer?" Inko retrieved some things from the fridge and started cracking eggs into a bowl on the counter, glancing between Shouta and what she was doing. He's also glad that she's doing something and her attention isn't on him completely.
"No. I'm a pro hero. I work with the police a lot."
Inko glanced at him in surprise, her eyes darting towards Izuku's room as a smile crinkled her eyes. "Oh, that's incredible. I haven't seen you around before and you look young, are you new?"
Technically he is but he decided to give her the answer she was actually looking for, "I graduated a few years ago, but I'm underground. It's unlikely you'd have seen me."
"Oh, that makes more sense. Thanks to my little Izu, I know all the heroes in the area, or at least I thought I did," she gave a light little chuckle that eased his nerves a touch more. "Do you mind if I ask your hero name?"
He blinked again, thrown that she didn't ask what most people would, which is "what's an underground hero?" He's not even sure why he's answering these questions; telling some random woman about himself when he's known people for years that don't know this much about him.
"Eraserhead." He ignored the slight embarrassment that bubbled up each time he says his hero name. He doesn't hate his hero name — Zashi chose it for him, but it's still a little... it's more of a name that stuck than a name he chose, but whatever, at least it's not as bad as some of the ridiculous names limelight heroes come up with.
Izuku came out of his room then, carrying a big notebook and handfuls of pens and markers and crayons and some things he probably didn't need, like he had just cleaned out his school supplies drawer and brought it to the living room.
Inko smiled, amusement twinkling in her eye. "Did you get distracted again, sweetie?" "Yeah," Izuku answered without preamble or shame, dropping his stuff on the coffee table. Izuku climbed up on the couch and patted the seat next to him, "Zawa sit here."
"Izuku," Inko gently chided from the kitchen.
"Mr. Zawa, please sit here." Izuku corrected himself, looking to his mom, and Inko gave him a
little wink of approval.
He hesitated, unconsciously glancing at his hero costume that's covered in dust and debris, he opened his mouth to politely refuse when Inko drew his attention back to the kitchen, seemingly reading his mind.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Aizawa-san. We seem to have caught you at the end of your shift and didn't even give you a chance to change. If you'd like, you can clean up. I have some spare clothes that should fit you."
"It's fine, there's no need to go through the trouble. I just don't want to get your couch dirty."
"Oh, it's fine, no trouble at all. It can't be comfortable to be covered in dust, sweetie. I was going to do laundry tonight anyway, it'll just save me the trouble of hunting down something to fill the rest of the load. I can throw your suit in the wash while we eat, — assuming it can be machine- washed?"
"Yeah, it can." He isn't sure how answering that question translated into Inko pausing her cooking to show him down the hallway to the bathroom and disappearing into another room for a moment to bring out a small stack of neatly folded clothes.
"Here you are," she handed the clothes over and he took them automatically. "You can shower if you'd like but I understand if you don't want to. You can use that towel on the rack and the soap is over there," Inko pointed, "There's also washcloths under the sink. Whatever you're most comfortable with, sweetie. Help yourself to anything in the bathroom and just put the dirty stuff in the basket below the towel rack when you're done."
Shouta found himself nodding and being left alone in the hall as Izuku followed his mom back to the living room, making sure he can show 'Mr. Zawa' his notebooks when he's done; Inko patiently telling him yes.
He feels awkward, but frankly, he's too gross right now to refuse. His skin is getting itchy and it would be more awkward to refuse at this point. The Midoriya's are nice. It's been a while since someone other than his friends has done anything like this for him, and despite his decision essentially getting steam-rolled, it doesn't feel like he's being cornered into them. If he really wanted to say no, he could.
So here he is, standing in the bathroom, reluctantly unwinding his capture weapon and taking off his jumpsuit in favor of the clean black long-sleeve shirt and black sweatpants, wetting a washcloth with some soap and water and just scrubbing it over the worst parts of his skin, cleaning the dust off.
He avoided his reflection as he cleaned up. He doesn't need to know how deep his eyebags are or how awful he looks. He doesn't need the self-consciousness of knowing what he looks like sucking away what little remains of his energy.
He shook his hair out over the sink and used some water on his hands to disguise the dust. He'll shower at the station in a few hours before the pre-shift nap that's become part of his barely- existent routine. As nice as the Midoriya's are, it still feels weird to be in someone else's home and doing even this much.
When he was done, he took a deep breath, pushed his exhaustion off, and dropped his clothes in the basket before going back to the living room.
As soon as the kid saw him, he shot up from where he was laying on the floor for some reason. "Look, Mr. Zawa."
"Aizawa is fine, kid." He sat this time and Izuku beamed, jumping up onto the couch and scooching next to Shotua's side so he was right up against him, invading his space without blinking the way only kids can.
Izuku opened the notebook that's comically big for his little arms and Shouta could barely understand him as he showed it to him.
He's not sure what he expected from a five-year-old's notebook, but it wasn't quirk-analysis of pro heroes and someone called 'Kacchan', who is probably another child if he had to guess.
Reading through it and listening to Izuku explain about quirks better than most adults — and even giving Shouta some new ideas for fighting — kept both of them thoroughly busy until Inko had set the food on the table.
It should have been obvious that Izuku is a hero fan, based on the bandaids, but he wasn't expecting
the kid to be this much of a hero fan when he's only five. All kids think heroes are cool, he knew that conceptually, but it's a little different seeing it up close.
It feels odd, having dinner at a stranger's house, but what's weirder is how the feeling only lasted until they were actually sitting down, with Izuku raving about quirks and heroes then stopping to eat a few bites while Inko interjected some adult conversation before Izuku was going again.
It's still a shock that Izuku's not three. He's very small for a five-year-old, but it explains why he's so articulate and doesn't struggle with most words — though the kid is pretty smart too, so Shouta wouldn't be surprised if he had never had trouble with that.
He didn't say much throughout the meal unless prompted, but that didn't seem to bother either of them. It would be much more awkward if Izuku wasn't here. His talking was a nice enough buffer that he actually let it slip that he's a pro hero to the kid.
Izuku looked at him like he hung the moon and stars. Surprisingly, the kid even knows a fair bit about underground heroes — stuff Shouta himself didn't learn until he'd fought his way into the hero course — and that explains why Inko didn't ask when he mentioned it earlier.
He didn't even realize how much time had passed between Inko's gentle temper and Izuku's raving about him being a hero until they were on the couch again and Izuku was running off to his room to grab more of his hero stuff to show Shouta.
He wasn't gone for more than a minute before Inko filled the silence, "I have a confession to make."
He looked at her. They've barely known each other for a few hours, what could she possibly have to confess to?
Inko removed the gaggle of hair ties on her wrist and gently took his hand. Shouta looked down and froze. The green band aid with little lollipops on the inside of her wrist, followed by a light blue one with snowflakes.
She knows.
"I know we don't know each other very well and we've only just met, but I know how hard it is to
be in that place."
His eyes stung as her thumb gently brushed over his hand, he imagines this is what it would feel like if he'd had an older sister.
"If you ever need help or someone to talk to, or companionship, or even just a warm meal and a place to stay, you can come here."
His vision blurred, and his bottom lip came dangerously close to bleeding as he bit it. "Why?" "Because you're a good person."
"You don't even know me."
"Sweetie," Inko smiled at him like he was an adorable, dumb puppy. "You're a pro hero who was clearly exhausted after a long bad day, and still let a child you didn't know play with you just because he looked like he had a tough day."
He had nothing to say to that.
"I know a struggle when I see one. And I know how much it can help even just knowing you have a place to go and breathe when things get tough, no questions asked."
He didn't have the energy to be mortified when the tears finally dripped onto his hands, watching a drop roll down the back of Inko's hand.
He didn't fight it when a warm arm slowly wrapped around his shoulders — careful not to startle him, her hand gently pulling the side of his head until his eyes were tucked into her shoulder, loose enough that he could pull away and wouldn't feel trapped, and that was it. That was when the dam finally broke.
It was hard to stamp down the burning, angry hurt he had buried in his heart and the stinging in his eyes and lip. A woman who doesn't even know him — who he met barely an hour ago because her own son decided to count the lines on his hand — has done more for him than his own birth
mother ever did in his twenty years of living.
The hardest part is that Inko is not much younger than his mother, barely two years. Inko is thirty- five now and had Izuku when she was thirty, but Shouta's mother was seventeen when she got pregnant, and she never let him forget that it was the biggest mistake of her life. That it was his fault her life ended up the way it is.
He knows that's not true, that she has only herself to blame for the choices she made, but trying not to feel hurt over it and growing up feeling like you have no place in the world because of it, is another thing.
He flinched when Izuku climbed up on the couch next to him — he didn't realize the kid had come back yet — and another pair of smaller arms tried to wrap around him, but weren't big enough, so the little tike settled for grabbing his shirt instead. That tiny hand patted his back just like before, the weight of a small head resting on his shoulder as Izuku stood on the couch behind him, leaning against him.
Later he would be surprised that Izuku didn't ask any questions, just offered silent comfort; showing some frightening emotional intelligence alongside that big brain of his, but for now, he just couldn't stop the tears and had no space to care. The weight on his back was comforting and the more he tried to stop, the harder he cried. It's been a long time since he felt safe enough to be emotional. He survived by not being emotional.
——————————————
Shouta rubbed his crusty eyes as he walked out of the room, following the sound of sizzling, soft clanging, and excited chatter from the kitchen and just like the previous 7 mornings as soon as he entered the room there was a thrilled little high voice greeting him, "Good morning, Mr. Zawa!"
"Morning, kid." Shouta pat the wild fluffy green curls as the boy beamed at him before returning to rigorously coloring an All Might picture on the table and the low chatter of his rambling about heroes and this and that filled the room like a white noise machine.
"Morning, Shouta. Did you sleep ok?" Inko asked as she stirred the cooking vegetables in the skillet.
"It was fine." Shouta moved next to her and popped the rice cooker lid, making up three bowls
(one child-sized). He's still getting used to this but unlike the other days, he remembered to return the question today.
"It was ok," Inko smiled and then chuckled to herself, "Though Izuku was up at dawn again so I can't say it was long."
Shouta snorted under his breath.
"What time did you get back last night?" Inko asked curiously as she took the pan over to some plates and started scooping the vegetables onto them.
"Not sure. Past midnight." It still feels weird answering that question honestly and not hearing an immediate indignant squawk or reproach about his schedule.
"That's a fairly normal night, right?" Inko genuinely asked, glancing at him while putting the skillet back on the now cooling stove.
"Yeah."
"Zawa! Zawa! Did you catch any bad guys?" Izuku nearly stood up in his seat, leaning his hands on the table and shooting that ridiculously bright smile towards them.
Inko chuckled softly, amused, "Izuku, honey, please sit down."
Shouta took two of the rice bowls to the table, tapping the kid's shoulder until he sat down, still vibrating like hearing of Shouta's shitty midnight shift was the greatest thing he would ever hear.
"A few." He answered shortly, knowing already that the kid will come up with his own stories about what happened and what the villains quirks were and only require the occasional input of a word or two, maybe a correction of a fact if Shouta's ears weren't numb yet.
Sure enough, while he and Inko finished setting the table, Izuku went off creating his own story of what happened last night, casting everything in a light like Eraserhead was a comic book. He swears, All Might himself cannot speak as passionately about something so mundane as this kid
can.
The two adults listened with interest like it was reverse story-time, occasionally reminding Izuku to take a breath or a few bites before it gets cold, indulging the five-year-old to speak for as long as he wanted. Inko offered the occasional gasp or "oh my, then what?" until breakfast was over and Izuku ran to his room to get his backpack.
Shouta did the cleaning up while Inko poured them both some coffee. "When are you going in today? Are you still free to pick up Izuku before your shift this afternoon?"
"Yeah. I'm not heading in until 6."
He dried his hands and took the other mug next to Inko.
"Mm, there's leftover soba in the fridge for lunch and I packed you a bento so be sure to eat it before patrol." She gave him a pointed look and he took a drink so he wouldn't clear his throat awkwardly. "And try to get some more sleep before lunch, if you can, ok?"
"Yes, ma'am." Shouta answered, only half kidding. He won't be dogging Inko's mothering anytime soon after those first two days. As much as he hates to admit it, she's right. The woman has perfected the art of maintaining a balance with a messy, unpredictable schedule. Guess it comes with the territory when you're both a mother and an ER nurse. And he will never not take his own safety seriously again. He almost had nightmares of Inko's face when he ended up in her ER at 3 in the morning a couple of days ago to get these stitches on his forehead.
Inko put her finished mug in the sink, restraining herself from rinsing it and leaving it for Shouta to do, as per their agreement, and took her apron off, checking her watch. "I have to go in early today, your uniform's in the dryer, and make sure Izuku doesn't forget his lunch again."
Shouta nodded, watching her flurry about the house grabbing her things and give a soft shout for Izuku — who came bolting out of his room like a little cannonball into her arms for a hug and kiss goodbye, and the corner of his lip quirked up as Izuku continued to call things like "Have a good day, mommy!" after her until the door was long shut and he was running to the kitchen with a notebook that was half the size of him and his backpack on.
Izuku endlessly chattered, jumping over every crack on the sidewalk as he walked him to school, right up until he saw Kacchan and the little explosion boy ran towards them. Shouta flashed his
quirk at the boy's little popping hands — once again, the kid losing control in his excitement — and Bakugo didn't even notice, immediately asking him the exact same question that Izuku asks him every morning.
He set a hand on the spiky boy's head, "That depends. Did you do your exercises today?"
Bakugo scowled, "Of course I did! Lord explosion murder is the best! Only losers slack on their training!"
"Good. What did we say about calling other people losers?"
Katsuki frustratedly kicked a rock on the sidewalk but answered like he was personally miffed, "That only villains are losers."
"Good." Shouta nodded in satisfaction. "I arrested a three-person group who were robbing a store." Both kids' attention shot to him like hounds finding their prey, little fists balled in front of their chests. "Their quirks were blow-torch, muddy fingers, and stinging."
The bell sounded and one of the kindergarten teachers called from the door for all the kids to come inside.
"Go." Shouta told the two over-excited children, physically turning their heads around and watching them run sideways while they talked a mile-a-minute to each other about the fight until they were safely inside. Now it's time for his last task, napping until noon.
——————————————
"Holy shit." Hizashi's eyes almost bugged out looking at Eraser eating yet another bento before his shift. That's the fourth time this week!
"You really were adopted by a five-year-old and his mother." He almost couldn't believe it.
He's been worried about Sho for a while, but he didn't expect a stranger and her son to beat him to the punch of intervening and forcing him to take care of himself helping. He could never get
Shouta to take care of himself. Apparently, the secret was to not give him a choice. Shouta rolled his eyes and continued chewing, ignoring his friend.
"That's some terrifying intuition, especially for a kid. He took one look at you Sourpants and thought you needed some TLC." Nemuri teased but she was half-serious as she brought over two cups of coffee to the table and passed one to Eraser.
That's some impressive EQ, especially for a child. Or maybe it's easier for a child because they don't have any expectations to handle their own emotions. They just see 'sad' and know that means they need comfort. Nemuri isn't the best with kids, but children are very straightforward with feelings. They don't try to control and suppress them the way adults do. (Not safe and healthy kids, at least.)
"I need to meet this woman." Nemuri decided, "She's even got you bathing! "
Shouta shot her a glare. He's not a fucking flee-ridden dog, the station has showers and whether
these idiots believe it or not, he does use them. Regularly.
"Hold your horses, Nem, don't go milf-hunting before you even know if she swings that way." Hizashi laughed at Nemuri's indignant squawk, dodging her hand when she went to smack his arm with her bright-red face.
Shouta pinched him when Hizashi stole something off his plate but it only made the noisy idiot flinch and didn't deter him at all from eating it. "Oh my god, we seriously do need to meet this kitchen goddess though. Soon."
Shouta finished his food and coffee and completely ignored them as he got ready to leave for his patrol.
——————————————
Shouta woke up groggily once again, his eyes sore and swollen and probably redder than usual.
The smell of food made his stomach rumble, motivating enough to make him groan and roll over, putting his feet on the floor.
"Good morning!" Inko greeted, cheerful as always, and smiled even more warmly than usual. "Have a seat, breakfast is almost done. Did you sleep ok?"
"It was fine." Shouta pulled the chair out and sat down, dropping his forehead onto the cool table and crossing his arms around his head to block out the light. His skin tickled as his hair slid off the sides of his neck, falling around his head and arms.
A soft clink beside his hand made him lift his head as a warm hand rubbed his back. Inko smiled softly down at him, "Long shift last night?"
He groaned and nodded, taking the coffee mug she put beside him. The warmth soaked through the porcelain into his hand, traveling up his arm and down his throat as he took that first swallow.
"Mm, you got home pretty late. You can take it easy today, ok? Izuku's got a play date with Katsuki so you can get some more rest."
"They finally getting along again?" The coffee soothed his voice but it was still rough and strained from that last villain yesterday.
"Yes. He's finally learning how to apologize, even though he clearly doesn't like it," Inko let out a soft chuckle. "Thank you again for talking to him about his behavior towards Izuku — and other people. Those boys really look up to you. Goodness knows Mitsuki and I could never get through to him about being rude."
Shouta nodded, his hand tightening on his cup, "Those teachers are the ones that need to be talked to about quirk discrimination."
It makes him sick just thinking about what was going on under their noses. If Katsuki hadn't started taking after them and being a little shit to Izuku — and all the other kids — about it, he dreads to think how long it would have gone on. And it's not like five-year-olds would know what discrimination is, or why it's so bad.
Izu wears his heart on his sleeve most of the time, it would be a lie to say Shouta's not concerned
about how well the kid hid this from them — that he felt like he needed to hide it and he knows Inko is concerned about it too.
"Have you found a new daycare yet?" Shouta forced himself not to bite the edge of the cup as he took another drink, distracting himself from darkening trains of thought.
"I have a few candidates. Mitsuki and I are going to look at them today while Masuru takes the boys to the park. After the turnaround in Katsuki's attitude, we don't think it's a good idea to split the two of them up. I've never seen Katsuki so protective before and there's no way either of them will be staying in that awful place."
Shouta watched the line of Inko's arms tense as she turned the searing fish over in the pan, even though the explosive little boy behaving like Izuku's bodyguard made her smile.
Shouta hummed in agreement and just then, a flurry of little thumps came beelining out of the hallway in a blur of deep blue and bright yellow as it barrelled into the chair next to him.
"Zawa! Zawa!" Izuku jumped, struggling to climb onto the seat next to him, the fake muscles on his All Might costume working against him. He got there in the end and stood up, grabbing onto Shouta's shoulder as he turned his head to look at the kid.
Big forest green eyes twinkled with unbridled excitement, "Kacchan and I are going to the park today, are you going to come?"
Inko intervened with a gentle smile before he could open his mouth, "Izuku, Shouta is going to rest today. We're going to the Bakugo's tomorrow for dinner, remember? Hizashi and Nemuri will be there too."
Izuku only looked disappointed for half a second before he perked up like the sun itself had imbued him at the mention of the other heroes. " Zashi and N'Muri will be there too!? "
"Mhm," Inko exaggerated her hum, nodding as they both watched the kid nearly self-destruct with energy.
It doesn't matter how many times he sees them, his level of excitement never goes down. If anything, Shouta thinks he might be getting worse because Hizashi actually plays heroes and
villains with the kids.
"Did you get any ouchies, Zawa?" Izuku suddenly looked very concerned, picking up pieces of Shouta's hair and moving them like any amount of jostling would cause him pure agony, until he could see Shouta's entire face.
"I'm fine, bud. Just tired."
Izuku nodded but just to be sure, he put a foot on Shouta's leg and half-laid on his back, stretching his arms as far as he could get them around Shouta's shoulders and neck and squeezing with all the strength a five-year-old could muster.
"Did you finish packing your backpack, Izuku?" Inko asked as she turned off the stove and Shouta stood to help her move the dishes to the table.
"Yeah!" Izuku answered, sitting down when Shouta came back with his bowl and pushed his bushy green head down before setting it in front of the kid.
Izuku beamed as Shouta ruffled his hair and went back to the counter for his and Inko's rice bowls. After a breakfast filled with excited chatter, the three said their goodbyes at the door.
"Good luck out there, be safe. We'll swing by later with dinner so tell Hizashi and Nem to stick around, ok?" Shouta only stiffened a little as Inko hugged him, humming in acknowledgment.
"Bye Zawa! Be safe and catch lots of bad guys!" Izuku smooshed his face into Shouta's thigh, squeezing his leg with both tiny arms and Shouta patted his fluffy curls, untangling some of them with his fingers.
"You too, Kid. Remember, don't leave the park, listen to Masaru, and if anyone picks on you..." "I know, I get Kacchan!"
Shouta stuffed down an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose while Inko poorly stifled a laugh next to him.
"No. You tell Masaru." The last thing they need is Katsuki getting in trouble again for using his quirk in public to intimidate other kids, even if they were picking on Izuku (and even if he is just a little bit proud). He's lucky that kids under ten have a grace period for public quirk usage, because you can't expect six-year-olds to have control of their quirks. Especially not strong and/or volatile quirks.
"Ok," Izuku agreed so easily that Shouta's not actually sure if he understood. Izu took his mom's hand as they all walked down the stairs together, stretching his little legs and putting both feet on each stair as they went down.
They waved as they parted to head in different directions.
It was a mostly quiet day, he wasn't sure why they called him in this early to help but thankfully it went quickly, he just had to listen to Hizashi babble over the coms for a few hours; which he'll never admit is a soothing sort of white noise, and he blames both him and Izuku for this strange comfort he's developed.
By the time dinner rolled around, Shouta was stuck in the police station filling out paperwork next to the blonde.
"Zawa!" Shouta barely looked up before a green fuzz-ball nearly barrelled into his chair.
"Hey, it's the little listener!" Hizashi perked up; he's always liked kids and Izuku is, and he quotes, "Especially loveable."
Shouta patted Izuku's curls as the little boy immediately began to tell him all about his day, having fun with Kacchan in the park and playing heroes and villains in a different way (which turned out to be more like capture the flag and Izuku was the flag that Katsuki had to keep the other kids from capturing).
When Izuku tugged Shouta's chair, he automatically turned and put out a hand that wasn't holding a pen and let/helped Izuku climb onto his lap, situating him comfortably before turning back to continue filling out the mundane forms.
"Good morning, everybody. How was it today?" Inko set a big paper bag next to him as she took up the chair across from them, all but collapsing into it. Shouta spared a glance at her face. At least she looks relaxed and happy, so not a bad day, just a long one.
"God bless you, Miss Midoriya." Hizashi hugged the bag full of warm containers to his chest like his own child before answering on behalf of both of them, "Long and boring. What about you? What did you do today?"
"Well, I pulled two feet of candy rope out of a seven year old's nose, a toy arm from another, and a wrench from a man's...r e c t u m.." she spelled out, glancing at Izuku to make sure he didn't decipher it anyway like last time. "So that was fun. You and Nemuri are still coming over for Christmas dinner, right?"
"Of course!" Hizashi laughed, his face betraying both disgust, amusement and unfortunately no surprise. Inko's stories from the hospital are never normal and compared to some of the other things she's told them when talking about her day, this is among the mildest.
On the other topic, Midoriya Inko is a saint. They're all working the Holiday shifts this year, aka the worst shifts possible which is why they're handed over to the newbies and the heroes who are addicted to work, so returning home for Christmas wasn't going to happen and Inko immediately invited them all to join her family this year; going so far as to remind Hizashi and Nemuri that they always have a standing invitation to the Midoriya's house.
This year they're having a big dinner at Mitsuki's since the Midoriya's apartment is a bit small. They've even decided to do a secret santa because there's so many of them this year. In previous years it's only been the Bakugo's and the Midoriya's which only amounted to five people, but now it really feels like a family Christmas and she — and Izuku — have been overjoyed about it the whole week.
Shouta doesn't know how Inko manages to put up with all of them, much less enjoy having them around, but she seems to like the liveliness seeing as it's almost become a staple to have dinner/breakfast together at the station at least three times a week.
Heaven knows Izuku doesn't mind. He's gotten so used to the station that it's like a second home, and some of the officers — even the new detective Tsukauchi — have taken to helping him with his homework when Inko and Shouta both have the night shift. He's even had sleepovers at Hizashi's apartment a few times when he and Shouta are working a case together and the Bakugo's aren't available to watch him while Shouta and Inko are both working.
They continued to talk for a few more minutes while Shouta finished his paperwork until they finally moved to the break room to unpack the take-out and eat together, and as usual, Izuku insisted on sitting next to both Hizashi and Shouta.
"Zawa," Izuku set his hand on Shouta's wrist, distracting him from the conversation.
However, he didn't get to say whatever he was going to because there was a thud near the door that made the kid jump, followed by a haggard voice, "Oh my god, is that food?"
Nemuri dropped into the seat next to Inko like her legs had given out and the whole table did a double-take at her.
"What the he—ck happened to you?" Hizashi caught himself, staring at the soot-stained woman, her uniform with more holes than fabric as she plowed into a container of chow mein — taken right from Shouta's hands — like she hadn't eaten in centuries.
"MM, bomb-threat, can't talk, have to eat."
Inko gently patted her back, putting a bottle of water in front of her and fixed up a container with a little more food, going full-mom for the trashed hero, "Eat slowly, don't choke."
Quiet bubbly laughter smothered behind a tiny hand soon drew their attention to the five-year-old at the table. "You look like the kitty that lives outside our house."
They all looked at Nemuri who had abruptly stopped chewing to stare at Izuku. "Yeah, she does." Shouta confirmed, mercilessly.
"She totally does!" Hizashi laughed and the water cups sloshed before Shouta flashed his quirk to cancel his before he destroys their eardrums with a tone they can't even hear.
"I do see the resemblance." Inko at least had the decency to look a little guilty about it. In her defense, she loves that cat; feeds it everyday, and if their building allowed pets she would have taken it in months ago. If Mitsuki wasn't allergic to pet hair she would have made her take it.
A couple deputies in the corner didn't bother to hide their snickers.
"Ms. Midoriya is really out here finding juniors to adopt like stray cats."
Inko snapped the container closed, making a room full of grown adults jump and freeze under her steely gaze like children caught doing something they were expressly told not to.
"It's not nice to insinuate that a human being is a stray animal to be picked up. If you do it again, we're going to have a little talk."
"Y-Yes, ma'am. I apologize." The officer bowed.
"—Is he shaking?" Hizashi whispered to Shouta.
"I accept your apology, but you're not a child anymore. It's time to do better."
"...Damn," Tsukauchi muttered, probably not meaning to say it out loud, but damn is right. That was startlingly effective. Shouta has never seen that jackass back off before, not even when the detectives told him off.
"What sort of Valkyrie is she?" Nemuri muttered under her breath with unhidden reverence, awe- struck; looking at the woman like she just descended from clouds surrounded by god rays just to tell this guy off.
He's going to learn whatever magic she uses to shut people down. Whatever and however long it takes.
——————————————
Shouta sat at a table in the police station with half a dozen forms in front of him. The paperwork for bringing in villains is always tedious but he didn't expect to be here three hours after his all- night shift ended, still filling out the report. The arrest wasn't a complicated situation but because it
crossed multiple fields of law and intersected with a few other cases, both solved and unsolved, he had to link up all the little dots before he could file them in and let Tsukauchi close the case. The station usually has newbies do this part but there was a big fight downtown this morning between Endeavour and a group of arms dealers, so the collateral damage and civilian panic was overwhelming the nearby stations and all the officers they could spare from every station near the area had been sent to the scene to manage the aftermath.
Fucking Endevour.
Shouta didn't like the man before, but now that he's caused him to have to do so much paperwork after an exhausting patrol and endangered half the goddamn city for a small group of arms dealers that could have been dealt with swiftly —yeah he's seen the footage and he fucking knows as well as that walking BBQ stick that it could have been handled without destroying a whole city block in the heart of downtown and nearly grid-locking the entire city — now, ohhhh now he loathes him .
The man is one little flimsy plastic card with a "hero" name on it and a temper tantrum from being a high-priority villain. He has more casualties, injuries, and collateral damage than the entire top- ten combined , and despite his quirk being fire based it's not even the most destructive. There are plenty of fire-users out there with similar quirks — and even more volatile quirks — that control it better than that sparkler.
The station abruptly began to bustle and Shouta glanced over and speaking of the devil, the new officers and deputies began to trudge through the doors back to their desks; some of them rubbing their shoulders and stretching their backs with pained groans and irritated faces.
Shouta resisted a smug smile when he overheard a passing deputy complain, "He's the number two hero, was it really necessary to melt the tarmac of the whole street?"
The officer next to him scoffed bitterly, "And Main street at that. I feel bad for the work crews who have to fix that."
' I rest my case. ' Shouta shook his head as their conversation moved out of earshot.
He glanced at the large clock on the far wall, reading 6:05. Inko should be here soon to drop Izuku
off.
It doesn't happen often that Izuku has to come to the station and hangout so Inko can go to work
and wait for Shouta to finish his shift to take him to school, but there must be something about winter, because it's been happening more often the last month.
He didn't realize quite how common its become until Hizashi started to meet them outside to help them carry in Izuku and his backpack — which seems to get fuller by the day from all the notebooks he carries around so he can add to them whenever a hero comes into the station — or whatever the lady decided to spoil them with that night.
Shouta finally realized that he had stopped writing and had just been staring at the papers for the last few minutes. He dropped the pen and rubbed his eyes, wanting nothing but to down a whole pot of coffee, but if Inko sees him drinking coffee before he's about to go home and sleep, she'll give him that...look that only disapproving mothers can make, the one that inexplicably makes you feel guilty no matter how old you are, how capable you are, or how justified your actions may be. He can't sneak a cup after she leaves either because if Izuku sees him, he'll either tattle or spill the beans the moment Inko asks him. For a kid who managed to hide the fact he was being mercilessly bullied without so much as a change in his expression for weeks, he also cannot keep a secret to save his life.
The sound of the bell above the station door chiming, followed by the distinct sound of tiny feet scampering across the tiled floor caused Shouta to disregard the rest of his papers for now as he anticipates a small body colliding into him at any moment and he turns to accept it.
He overheard one of the newer officers commenting about how cute the little family is, Hizashi must have also heard the commotion because his excited, "Little listener!" can be heard by everyone in the station and those who have come to either love or fear the Midoriya's turn and watch as the sparkly green-eyed kid nearly crashes and burns as he makes a sharp turn away from Shouta and runs full speed before stopping in front of one of the other officers who just returned.
He watches with a weird sense of deja-vu as the kid rummages through his backpack and pulls out a yellow and green macaron themed bandaid and places it on the officer's hand over a small scrape. Inko is standing close by with a fond yet bittersweet smile on her face as she watches her son care for yet another stranger just because he saw an 'owie'
It's the same smile Shouta wears anytime he thinks about how many people saw Izuku with way more than just a scrape and choose to do less than a five-year-old. Pride for Izuku, and anger for people in positions to do something and choose to do nothing. Then again, maybe that's why Izuku does it; maybe he wants just one person aside from his mom to kiss his owies and make them all better, even a stranger. Someone to notice and understand and tell him it would be okay instead of turning a blind eye and telling themselves it's not their problem. Or maybe he's overthinking it and Izuku is just like his mother. Sees someone in pain and can't let it pass. Either way, this five-year- old has more compassion in his little, little finger than half the adults around him and "heroes" he looks up to.
"Aww, I want one! That's the sweetest thing I've ever seen," another officer coos as Izuku begins his treck back to Shouta but not before he makes sure to stop and say a polite hello to every one of the officers he knows.
"Oh my god, you have no idea." Hizashi starred in abject horror at the new deputy. "About what?"
"How do you not know this? This child is a Midoriya . He has weaponized puppy dog eyes, hypnotizes you with a smile, and captures your soul with a giggle."
As much as he would like to, Shouta can't say he's exaggerating because that's exactly what happens. He reached down to pat Izuku's fluffy head as the kid buried his face in Shouta's hero costume. If he didn't know Izu was quirkless, he'd think the kid had an empathy quirk or something.
"Everybody who meets this kid loves him. Eraser would die for that child — frankly I would too —" "And me!" Nemuri interrupted from outside, "but if anything happened to this kid, Eraser would bring the world to its knees and then some."
"Assuming Inko didn't destroy humanity first." Nemuri helpfully interjected as she came up next to them.
"She would make a terrifying villain." Hizashi realized with an expression of dawning horror to match the unfairly traumatized officer.
"Yeah, you think she's lethal now, wait until Izu grows up and there's two of them ," Shouta muttered before getting up with Izuku — who was barely paying attention to the conversation — so they could send his mom off for her shift before school. That's going to be a scary day. He already can't win against either of them. Their only saving grace is that Izuku is such a good kid and doesn't realize how much power he has. Yet.
How was Shouta to know that in nine-ish years time, he would not only have mastered Inko's ability to shut people down with one sentence, but also that people assuming they were siblings would become so normal that they just stopped correcting them and embraced it. Or that he would become a teacher at UA. Or that Nemuri and Inko had teamed up to play matchmaker and put him
and Hizashi into ambiguous situations over and over until ultimately a seven-year-old Izuku with more awareness than a child should have, asking what 'queer' meant and upon receiving an explanation immediately said, "Like Zawa and Zashi?" and that would be how he found out his well-hidden, decade-long crush was not one-sided. Or that his entire class aside from Izuku and Katsuki would find out and be floored (and mildly terrified) that their strict, scary teacher was their resident cinnamon roll's uncle, and it suddenly made complete sense why Izuku was on occasion the scariest person ever. Or that Izu & Katsuki would never stop calling him Zawa outside of school and work.
Even that the number one hero, All Might, would be absolutely scared shitless the moment he found out Aizawa and Izuku were relatives, and that Aizawa knew almost from the beginning that he had been training Izuku, and knew the moment he saw Izuku use a quirk in the exam that it was somehow related to All Might and the only reason All Might still had his teeth is because it's impossible to say no to a determined and/or tearful Midoriya. (Of course there were conditions, rules, and an intense training schedule, but ultimately he didn't really have a choice but to say that he could keep it.)
But every so often a person's life comes down to one event. One thing that changed its course for better or worse, and while there are many bad things in life, some things only get better with time, no matter which way these events shift life's course. And he owes the best of all of these life- altering events to a five-year-old with a band-aid and a woman with the biggest heart on Earth on a late night train.