Hitoshi sat in one of the chairs in the hospital waiting room, slumped over with his chin in his hands. He watched Izuku pace back and forth nervously. Back and forth. Back and forth. Izuku fidgeted the whole way, biting his lip.

He'd seen Izuku bite his lip before. He'd also seen Inko do it, so he knew where he got it from.

Hitoshi could see Inko clearly in his mind: smiling and laughing, humming softly as she cooked. He could see her and Hisashi trading looks and glances in silent conversation the way only couples could. He could see her shoving Tenko, Izuku, and even him and Shoto out the door before they were late for school. He could even see her asking him what kind of food he liked and buying him clothes when she realized how little he had.

He'd always been an outsider to her family, but she'd never treated him as one. That was far more than he could say for any of the families he'd actually lived with.

As he watched Izuku pace for what felt like the hundredth lap, he felt a tight knot in his chest. Inko wasn't his mom, of course. This wasn't his family. But he still clenched his fists so hard his nails left marks in his skin when he thought about something he loved so much falling apart.

With a short sigh, he looked around the quiet, nearly empty, white-walled waiting room. Chairs lined the walls, a door here and there, and a desk at the back with a surprisingly cheerful receptionist behind it.

Shoto had been called home by his dad not long after they arrived, and Hitoshi's older foster sister, who had driven them there—the bribery that took—had ditched them around the hour mark when she got bored. So it was just Izuku and Hitoshi now.

Izuku had already been questioned by a police officer who was somewhere around, or maybe had left as well. He found out they couldn't get a hold of Tenko or Hisashi at all—apparently their numbers had both blocked Inko's phone, and when Izuku checked, he realized they had blocked his too. If Hitoshi hadn't mumbled some creative words and walked out of the room and back at that, he'd be darned.

Now they were both just driving themselves a little mad with anticipation and anxiety as they just waited. Currently, nobody would tell them anything except that she hadn't woken up yet. Hitoshi was about ready to punch someone, and it was partially because Izuku would not sit the heck down.

"Izuku," he finally grumbled.

Izuku stopped, startled, and turned to him with wide eyes. He'd probably been in his own world till now. "U-um, yeah?"

Hitoshi just nodded to the chair next to him.

Izuku glanced between him and the chair a few times, looked down, then finally shuffled his way over and plopped into it. His leg almost immediately started bouncing, but it was better than the pacing.

Hitoshi sighed. "I'm sure she's fine. They would tell you if it was bad."

Izuku was quiet for a moment, then whispered, "Would they?"

Hitoshi didn't respond.

They both jerked to attention a long moment later as a door to their right opened and a short woman stepped out and looked at them. "Midoriya?"

Izuku jumped up. "Yes, me. How is she?"

The woman nodded her head and turned to walk back in. "Follow me."

Izuku shot a conflicted glance at Hitoshi, but he just waved him off. "I'll stay here, you go ahead."

Izuku nodded and gave him a small smile before running off after the nurse. Hitoshi watched him go until the door closed, and then looked down again.

Now that he was alone, he was hit with a sense of deja vu not for the first time that day. He was reminded of a day years ago when he sat by himself in this very waiting room, an anxious and terrified little kid, no family but the woman he waited to hear news on.

He was four, his quirk brand new, but he remembered it surprisingly well. He'd only ever had his mom, never knowing his dad, so he was predictably terrified when she collapsed on the floor one day. But he did know to call 911.

His mom had turned out to have an undiagnosed heart condition and had died of a heart attack at 23. She was dead nearly on arrival, but he still didn't find out for almost an hour.

Before he met Shoto and Izuku and their family, she was the only person he ever remembered not caring about his quirk. She had planned to try and help him learn how to control it and homeschool him if kids at school were mean. Of course, none of that happened.

He was young, but he still remembered her. Not in detail, but enough. And he remembered how much sitting there, waiting, hurt. How much more finding out what happened hurt. He still knew how much the foster system hurt. How much more it hurt because of his quirk.

But if there was one thing he knew, it was that he'd go through that day and everything after all over again before he watched the same thing happen to Izuku.

Inko better be alright.

It was maybe another half hour of waiting before he found out. The door opened again, and he looked up to see Izuku.

A teary-eyed, red-faced, stiff-walking Izuku who didn't meet his eyes when he came to stand in front of him.

He straightened and held his breath.

When Izuku looked up and met his eyes, however, the words he spoke forced the air out. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or horrified.

Izuku wiped his eyes. "She- she has amn- amnesia. She doesn't- she doesn't remember any- anything at all."

—-

"Tenko, you're back."

Tenko stared ahead at the glowing screen, just a white light, the only sign anything was behind it being his father's voice coming through. He sat in the chair in front of it, surrounded by the dark lab with tables covered in equipment, the same room he was brought to that first day here.

He tried for a smile but wasn't sure it quite showed the way he meant. "Hey, Dad."

He hadn't seen Hisashi at all since he woke up, except through screens where he couldn't even see his face. Not that he could entirely blame him; he had seen what he looked like in the pod after all. He would be hesitant to be seen too.

"How'd it go?" Hisashi sounded tired, which he had a lot recently. He hadn't woken up from a week-long coma that long ago.

"About as well as it could have gone. She got mad about the quirk thing and kinda freaked out when I first told her about your injury—" he was undermining things, but his father didn't need all the details, "—but other than that, she stayed mostly calm."

Hisashi grunted, and Tenko could imagine him nodding. "Anything else?"

Tenko swallowed, looking down. "Well… I couldn't tell her that you decided to cut off connection and not come back. She thinks you're just waiting till you're more healed."

Silence.

"And I asked her to tell Izuku the truth."

He kept his eyes down as the silence stretched on, waiting for a response. He'd never before been so uncertain about how his father would react. He'd never felt like he didn't know Hisashi before. But right now, he did.

Which side would he get? Hisashi, his father? Or All For One, the top villain and underground leader?

The side he was finally realizing he didn't know at all.

All he got was an exhausted-sounding sigh. "Alright."

Tenko looked up and blinked, surprised. He'd been expecting so much more of a reaction.

"Is that all?"

Tenko cleared his throat. "Actually, there is one more thing."

He stood up and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the blank envelope Mom had given him. He looked it over for a second, then held it up in front of the screen. "Mom wanted me to give this to you."

There was no response, but a moment later, a small warp gate opened up to Tenko's left. Not bothering to wonder anymore how Dad and Kurogiri seemed to communicate silently, he stuck the letter through. On the other end, the envelope was pulled from his grip.

Tenko fidgeted for a moment after the portal closed and he still heard nothing. "I guess I'll get going now."

"Wait, one more thing."

Tenko had already turned away, but he looked back questioningly.

Hisashi sighed, and there was a soft thump. "Tenko, you know the last thing I want is to leave our family, right?"

Tenko turned all the way back around slowly. Yeah, he knew.

"I don't have a choice." Hisashi's voice cracked, just barely, and something told Tenko he was looking down at that letter. "I can't put them in danger anymore, not like I have been all this time. And especially now, with all that's happened…"

His father's voice trailed off, but he didn't have to finish. Tenko squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bury the imposing thought that Hisashi did have a choice. But he knew what he was saying; he already knew.

"My point is—" Hisashi continued in a quiet voice, "—I don't have a choice. You did, but you chose this. So now this is what we both have to do.

"There are changes, sacrifices, we have to make."

Tenko was looking just down from the screen. He felt suddenly cold, but why?

"Tenko, we can no longer use our names. We have to use new ones to hide our identities.

"We have to let go of the name Midoriya."