Chapter 1


Shouta knew from a young age that he wanted to be a hero.

From a young age, he had always looked up to the big-name heroes of the world - old heroes, like Gran Torino, and heroes that were only just making their way into the world, like All Might.

When he'd been younger and needed an excuse to get out of the house he and his older sister, Inko, would go looking for villain fights. When they found one - which was rather easy, what with it being such a big city - they would hide on the nearest roof and wait for the heroes to come. Shouta would find himself trying to copy the heroes' moves, throwing out a flurry of punches and clumsy kicks, doing little backflips and cartwheels on the roof, just to get his blood pumping and to see his older sister smile for once.

They started this practice when Shouta was four years old and finally old enough to go outside with only his sister to watch him. His sister was much older - she had been eleven years old when he'd been born, and he couldn't quite remember a time when he'd seen the girl truly smile. That was probably the main reason why the days on the rooftops were so important to him.

His sister must have seen the talent in his flips and cartwheels, because she started saving all the money she could. When he was five years old, Inko got their mother - gaunt and tired as she always was - to sign Shouta up for gymnastics. Inko took on an after-school job to keep him in the program. When asked why, she would just ruffle his shaggy hair and say 'Can't let one of the world's future heroes go in without any training'.

Shouta had taken to gymnastics like a duck to water, as Inko had known he would. By the time he was six years old, he would do several flips in a row without any assistance. He went to competitions, and he always won. His walls and his shelves were lined with trophies and medals, gold, silver and bronze covering the cracked plaster.

Gymnastics was a good distraction for Shouta. The boy was always quite lonely. His dad was never there, always out spending the money that their mother worked so hard to bring home. His mother worked three jobs, and she came home late every night only to leave early the next morning. Inko began to distance herself, always focused on school or her new boyfriend, Hisashi Midoriya. If not for the money that was left in the cookie jar periodically for gymnastics and sweets, Shouta couldn't be certain whether Inko came home at all.

When he was seven years old, Inko graduated and stopped coming home. The money stopped appearing in the cookie jar, and instead was mailed to them in plain white envelopes with no extra notes to explain herself. His mother took on an extra job, and Shouta almost never saw her unless he stayed up into the wee hours of the night. His father stopped coming home. Life at school was miserable, all of the children taunting him because his Quirk hadn't come in yet.

He was eight when it finally did come in. He'd been watching another villain fight, and it looked like the heroes were losing. His chest had ached as he watched the underground hero be beaten into the ground. Something had tingled in the very tips of his fingers, and then his eyes had flashed red and his long, shaggy black hair had risen from his shoulders and the green fire that danced along the villain's skin had ceased abruptly. The hero lunged at the villain, and Shouta blinked, and his eyes became unbearably dry and achy. His irises - which had previously been a dark brown - were a bright red.

But his quirk had been activated.

He'd ran home to tell Inko, and had been overwhelmingly disappointed when he remembered that he wouldn't find her there.

The next day, not knowing what else to do, he told his teacher about his quirk, and how he'd made the villain's power stop working. The teacher had only given him a fearful glance and had backed away. The other students had stared at him with distrustful eyes.

The next day, a group of students had beaten him up. Shouta was expelled. The other students weren't.

His hair, which had been long and unruly and had fallen almost past the middle of his back, he cut short. It bunched up in the back, wild and unruly now that it wasn't so long and weighed down. Some patches were shorter than others. He couldn't tie his hair back for gymnastics anymore, and the hair always fell into his eyes when he did his flips.

He had to pin his hair back with his sisters old hair clips, small and bright pink with cats on the end. Shouta quite liked them, despite the fact that they were girly. Others didn't, but that was their problem, not Shouta's.

Though he couldn't understand why people could never be happy with him. He'd been bullied for his quirk coming in late, but when he got it, everyone was wary around him. They made fun of his hair for how long and unruly it was, saying it made him look like a girl, but when he cut it short and pulled it back with clips, he still got made fun of. How was he supposed to make these people happy?

It took a while to find a good school that would take someone like Shouta. Turns out, a kid with an Erasure Quirk who had fighting on his record wasn't a good combination for many of the schools in Japan.

He was eventually placed in a cheap public school. His mother was only able to afford one set of the school's uniform, so Shouta had to go to school every day in shabby, wrinkled clothes. On the first day of school, his mother took a brush to his hair - which had grown shockingly quickly, just barely brushing the middle of his neck. She was in a hurry to brush it so he could get to school, and the brush's bristles pulled and ripped at his hair roughly. When he went to school, his scalp was unbearably achy and his eyes were puffy.

The school was crowded, filled with hundreds of other children. The school had a rule against children using their quirks, but you could often hear the crackle of an explosion or the heat of flames dancing on fingertips. On the first day of school, in the hallway, a boy had extended his leg and had tripped him. But Shouta didn't use his quirk - didn't want to.

When he got home that night, he went straight to bed. His mother woke him up hours later when she got home, and had dragged him into the kitchen. She'd shaved all of his shaggy hair off with a pair of clippers, right down to the scalp. She'd cut the skin right by his ear in her haste. Shouta had hated the way the vibrating clippers had brushed over his still-sore-scalp. The sensation had made him grind his teeth.

At school the next day, a girl in his class called him SkinHead. The other children in the class had heard her, and thought it was hilarious. By the end of the day, every child in the school called him SkinHead instead of his name.

It made Shouta wonder if they would have made fun of him if they saw the pink, cat-themed hair clips.

The days slowly faded into a gray haze, one after another. School was a dull spot in his life, a dark smear on his bright enthusiasm to become a hero, like a pencil mark on plain white paper.

He hardly remembered school anymore, though he still made the highest marks in his grade. His life revolved around gymnastics and watching the heroes from rooftops, wondering if someday maybe, just maybe, that could be him.

Once a month, his mother would wake him up in the middle of the night to shave his head down to the scalp. The clippers always opened up that same, almost-healed-over scab behind his ear. He always walked to school with his ear feeling tender, hot and irritated.

She shaved his head on his birthday. Same haircut, as always - right down to the scalp. When he woke up, she was gone. No festivities. His sister didn't come to visit and his father, like always, was nowhere to be seen. His present was a bloodied ear and a lollipop from the librarian when she looked at his profile when he was turning in his books and had seen it was his birthday.

Just before he turned ten, he sent his sister a letter. Saying that he missed her, that he wished she would visit, even though he understood why she couldn't, since the return address stated she lived on the other side of Japan. Informed her that it was almost his birthday, and that he couldn't believe he was almost ten. Said he was thinking about mowing lawns so he could save up for self-defence classes along with gymnastics. To prepare him for life as a hero. Said that he loved her, and that he, once again, hoped to see her soon.

He got the response on the day of his birthday. Three hundred extra dollars for defence classes, and a single piece of white printer paper. On the paper, typed in bold letters, were the words ' Happy Birthday, Shouta '.

He took a mixed martial arts class. He got his ass handed to him to boys much older than him, again and again until he finally got the hang of it. He had been on the brink of quitting many times - when the world got too loud, when the lights were too bright, when the shallow bruises that were left by the unyielding fists of those bigger and stronger stung just a little too much. But he couldn't. Because he would be a hero. Because he was a hero.

His instructor informed him that he was a master at gymnastics, better than her, and that he should consider taking parkour classes. Shouta had no ties to the place, no nostalgia for it, no friends, so he did. And just like with gymnastics, he took to it like a pro.

When he was twelve years old, his hair cuts became fewer and farther in between as his mother became more and more tired. She cut them every two months, now, sometimes longer. The hair was always past his years when he did, sticking up and messy and shaggy. He never combed it, because the bristles hurt. When his mother was around to give him his midnight haircuts, the scab behind his ear was always almost completely healed over. But it always split open again under her mistrations.

Sometimes his mother forgot to buy groceries, and all Shouta ate was sweets with the spare money Inko sent periodically. That was okay with Shouta, since the food he cooked with the groceries was never that good anyway, though so much chocolate did make his stomach twist painfully on occasion. But Shouta could never seem to find the words to ask for more groceries, during their midnight haircuts, because his mother was always so tired and so irritated. So he made due with what he had.

When he was fourteen and he finally told his instructor why he was taking mixed martial arts classes, he told him to sign up for U.A. The greatest hero school in Japan. So Shouta did.

It was difficult. All the other students had such flashy quirks - ice, and sleeping gas, and earth and metal and some loud kid that made his head hurt why couldn't he shut up.

He was younger than the rest, since he was born during the school year, and shorter, and weaker, and less powerful. But that was okay. Because what Shouta lacked in strength, he made up for in determination.

Determination, it turned out, wasn't everything.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Aizawa," the odd looking rat-like creature said. Shouta couldn't quite respond, so busy trying to figure out what, exactly, this (person? Thing? Animal?) was.

"I understand you were trying for the hero course, but, of course, you couldn't have gotten in with a quirk such as yours."

Shouta nodded. He was disappointed. Extremely so. But there were other schools, and other ways to get hero licenses. He wasn't out of options-

"However," Nezu said, cutting off his train of thought. "You showed great promise. Despite not having a flashy quirk, you did well. I have a proposition for you."

Shouta blinked. Nodded.

"We can't put you into the hero course, but we do have room in the general studies program."

Shouta frowned. Cleared his throat.

"Sir," he said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. It was always gravelly, now that he was older, and when it wasn't gravelly it was squeaky. Shouta hoped it would find a nice median, someday, because it was truly aggravating to hear. "I appreciate it, but I need to be in a hero course to be a hero."

"Let me finish, Aizawa," Nezu said, smiling sweetly, though Shouta knew that it hid sharp teeth. "In the middle of the year, U.A. holds an annual sports festival. Many hero course students compete for a chance at getting a good internship with a hero agency, and many students in other divisions compete for a chance at being transferred into the hero course. It's rare that we do, but if you truly impress me, like you did in the exam…. I might consider it."

This was the chance of a lifetime, he knew. But was it worth it? Was it worth the precious months he would waste in the general studies program, when there was only a chance he would be transferred into the hero course?

He ran a hand through his hair. It was beginning to grow, since his last haircut, though his scalp was still prickly. He missed his longer hair. Even if he knew, to get back to his longer hair, he'd have to go back to pinning it up with clips.

He could do this. Right?

He nodded to himself, determined. His hands gripped the fabric of his black slacks. He looked up, eyes narrowed. Determination hadn't been enough to get him through the entrance exam, but it could be enough to get him through the sports festival!

"I won't let you down, sir."

~-~

After he started going to U.A., his mother stopped coming home so much. Groceries were delivered to the apartment every so often, but his mother was never with them. He still got money from his sister, and Shouta doubted she knew that his mother had stopped returning.

Before, when he woke up in the morning, there was almost always a dirty cup in the sink, smelling of tea of hot chocolate or coffee, or whatever else had struck her fancy. These days, the only cups found in the sink were his own.

But that was okay. He could adapt.

His hair grew longer, ridiculously quickly, now that his mother wasn't there to shave it all away. By the time he was two months in at U.A., he had to clip his hair back again. He didn't have the time nor the energy to go to the store to buy new clips, so he used the same old pink cat clips.

He worked harder in parkour and mixed martial arts, his muscles always straining from overuse. He got taller, eventually, but with all the chocolate he always ate instead of proper food, it wasn't all that surprising that he wasn't very tall yet.

When he was four months into U.A., just a few weeks before the sports festival, he got another letter from his sister. The usual amount of money fell out of the envelope. Along with the money was a card. An invitation. Standard, with no touch of personalization. More than likely bought at a dollar store.

It was a letter to a wedding. More specifically, Hisashi Midoriya and Inko Aizawa's wedding. The card was pink, just like the ever-present cat clips in Shouta's hair. The address was far away, and he wasn't sure how he would manage to get there, but he stuck it to the fridge with a magnet. Excitement and something like apprehension thrummed through his veins.

How long had it been? Seven years since he had seen her in person?

He'd have to get a suit. Find some way to control his hair. Get a gift. His teachers liked him well enough, if he missed a single payment then they wouldn't be too terribly upset. He'd just have to pay them back, somehow. Perhaps clean their establishments after practice, or on the weekends, to make up for it.

Yes. That's what he would do.

~-~

The wedding was two days before the sports festival. Shouta bought a nice suit, charcoal grey with a blood-red button up and a black tie. He couldn't afford dress shoes along with the suit and the gifts, along with transportation, so he just wore his nicest pair of sneakers. He took gel to his hair, and tried his best to comb it back. The stray hairs that escaped the gel's hold he pinned back with the pink cat clips.

He bought Inko a necklace with a moon charm on it. For Hisashi, who he couldn't remember much about besides the fact that he wasn't his biggest fan, he bought a simple watch. Leather strap, soft on the skin.

He took a bus to the wedding, and hoped that the seats wouldn't damage his suit. The buses always seemed too loud and dirty. After that bus, he took another bus, and then a train.

The wedding was in a garden. It was only just starting when he arrived. He kept his present on his person rather than set it on the table designated for presents, and sat at the back of the wedding.

The bride and groom wore kimonos, black and white. His sister looked different than he remembered - green hair pulled back into a bun, face powdered and lips painted red. There was a flower in her hair. She looked older, more sophisticated, not like the teenage girl who stayed up with him on rooftops to study the heroes fighting below.

The ceremony continued as could be expected. After the ceremony came the reception. The adults drank sake, danced and chatted. It was hard to find Inko over the dozens of bustling people, with the flashing lights and the loud noises. Shouta's skin prickled every time someone got too close.

Eventually, Inko sat down, and her new husband went around to talk to business associates. She leaned her head back against her seat, and let her eyes fall closed. Long, black lashes splayed on powdered cheeks. Shouta thought she looked odd. Not human.

He sat at her table. Just looking at her. She didn't notice him, for a while , until she looked up. Eyes widened. Shouta nodded in her direction.

"Shouta?" she asked, voice breathy and bordering on disbelieving.

"Hey," he said, not knowing quite how to respond.

"You're here," she noted. "Is… is mom?"

"No," Shouta said. "Just me. I haven't seen her in a while. Her cups are never in the sink anymore."

"And… dad?"

"Still gone."

"When was the last time mom was there?"

"Four months. Five months. I don't know. When I started high school, she stopped coming home at night and stopped giving me my hair cuts."

"Ah," Inko said. "So… you're alone?"

Shouta blinked at her.

"No. Yes. At home. I have my instructors. And I'm thinking about getting a cat, so I won't be alone then. I'm okay."

Inko smiled at him in that way that she had smiled at him before, so many years ago. Chapters ago. Life times ago. Or, that's what it felt like. It made something in Shouta's stomach twist and ache, like it did when he ate too much candy, or when he was sad, or scared. He couldn't tell whether she was smiling at him because she felt she had to or because she was really, truly happy to see him.

"You got old," Shouta noted. Inko laughed.

"I suppose I did. So did you. You're taller, now."

"Time tends to do that to a person," Shouta noted. "It's funny like that. Are you twenty five?"

"Unfortunately," Inko said, with a hint of bitterness.

"I wish I was twenty five. I'd be a hero by now. And I'd have lots of cats."

"I suppose you would," Inko said. "Still stuck on being a hero?"

"Yes," Shouta said. "I'm going to U.A., now. I'm in general studies, but I'm going to transfer to the hero course. I think my Quirk will be useful for taking down villains." Inko smiled fondly.

"I'm sure it will be, Shouta," she said.

"How can you be sure?" Shouta asked, tilting his head to the side. "You don't know what it is."

"I don't."

"Because you left."

"Because I left."

"It's Erasure," Shouta said. "I can erase people's quirks. No one likes me because of that. But I don't really like anyone else, either."

"That's okay, Shouta," Inko said. "If they don't like you because of your Quirk, they don't deserve you."

"You left before I got my Quirk," Shouta said. "So why don't you like me? Why didn't dad like me?"

"I don't know why dad didn't like us," Inko admitted. "That's just how life played out. But I do like you, Shouta. I love you."

"But you left me."

"But I left you."

"Will you come back?" Shouta asked. Shouta wasn't sure why he did. He already knew what the answer would be. What she would say. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Or maybe he was just tired of being alone. "I know you don't like cats. Unless they're on hair clips." He pointed at the clip in his hair. "If you come back, I won't get a cat."

"I can't come back," Inko said. "And you can't come with me. I'm sorry, Shouta."

Shouta hummed.

"No you're not. But that's okay. Can you give me a reason? Why you can't?"

"No. No, I don't think I can." Shouta nodded.

"Have a happy marriage, Inko." He handed her the box with the necklace and the watch. "The moon is for you." He stood up. "Do you have any suggestions? To name my cat."

Inko dabbed a napkin at her eyes.

"Takara," she said. "It matches with the owner." Shouta nodded.

"You said you loved me."

"I do."

"I love you too. And I hope I see you again, even though I won't. Can you just…. Can you just call? Please? Or… or write a letter, with the money, or something? "

"I'm sorry."

Shouta blinked hard.

"Why did you invite me today?"

"Because you're family."

"Did you want to see me?"

"I want to see you every day, Shouta," Inko sighed.

"Then why can't you? "

"Sometimes things don't make sense. You'll understand someday. I promise you."

"I don't think I will."

"That's okay."

"Stop saying that. Just…." He sighed. "Goodbye, Inko."

"Goodbye, Shouta."

~-~

He did well in the sports festival. He took second place, and hero agencies were scrambling to get their hands on him. He was transferred into Class 1-A immediately afterward. They sat him next to a loud blonde and a girl with a rather vulgar disposition who was always flirting with him. Both were several inches taller than him. It made him want to start eating healthier, just so he didn't have to crane his neck to speak to people.

Loud Blonde and Vulgar Girl were the only two in Class 1-A who were nice to Shouta. Apparently, when Shouta had transferred to Class 1-A, he had replaced a boy that was rather popular among his peers. Loud Blonde and Vulgar Girl, later identified as Hizashi Yamada and Nemuri Kayama, were nice to him because they didn't like the boy he had replaced. Even though he wore girly hair clips and he was always a mess and he was more than likely irritated from not sleeping enough and he talked about his Calico cat, Takara, a lot.

When the time came to pick hero names, it was Hizashi's idea for Shouta to be called Eraserhead. Shouta thought it sounded nice enough. Hizashi wanted to be called Presentation Michael, but Nemuri and Shouta convinced him that it was stupid and he shortened it to Present Mic. Nemuri called herself Midnight, and Shouta thought it was fitting. Not that he would have opposed the girl, even if he disliked it. He was terrified of her.

He got money on his birthday, as well as a black and white photo of a blob about the size of a pea. Shouta thought it looked rather like a kidney bean, though he wasn't sure why Inko would send him a photo of a kidney bean. But he didn't have much from his sister, so he pinned it to the wall with a tack.

When he sat at his desk for class that day, he immediately informed his friends of the significance of the date.

"I am fifteen today."

Hizashi and Nemuri immediately started planning for a party, which Shouta had never had someone do for him before. Shouta wasn't sure how they would have a party, but he wasn't going to complain, not when Nemuri was excited and Hizashi had that smile on his face that made Shouta want to smile too.

They went to his apartment after school. Nemuri frowned at the cracking plaster. Hizashi asked where the TV was, and Shouta informed him that there wasn't one. Nemuri looked in the fridge, intent on gathering ingredients for a cake, only to find it bare, save for a bottle of ketchup and a couple cans of tuna that was supposed to be a special treat for the fat cat that was rubbing against her calf.

It had been a while since his mother sent groceries.

Shouta wasn't sure what to do for the people in his home, so he reached into the cabinet and took out all his candy stash. He handed Hizashi the gummies and Nemuri the chocolate, and crossed his arms, squeezing his elbows. He was anxious, but he didn't know why.

Hizashi cleared his throat and started looking around, letting out a happy squeal when he saw the pinned up picture of a kidney bean on the wall.

"Is your mom pregnant?!" he demanded, jumping up and down happily.

"No. I haven't seen her in five months."

Hizashi and Nemuri gaped.

"My sister sent me that," Shouta continued. "I think it's a photo of a bean."

"No," Hizashi said, "it is not."

"It's an ultrasound image, Sho," Nemuri said, and since when does she call him Sho? "It's a photo of a baby. It means your sister's pregnant."

"Oh." He blinked. "So she's going to have a baby."

"Well, yeah," Hizashi said.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Shouta asked.

"I… think it's too soon to tell, Shouta," Nemuri said.

"She got married, just before the sports festival. I guess that's when they got a baby."

"I… suppose so," Hizashi said awkwardly. "Uh, do you want to go out to eat, Shouta? For your birthday?"

"Yes," Shouta said after a moment of thought. "I'll change. Do you have clothes to change into? I don't think anything I own will fit."

"We have clothes in our bags, don't worry about us," Hizashi said. Shouta nodded, and turned on his heel, heading to his room.

He chose a black sweater and grey jeans. He liked them because they weren't scratchy on his skin, like some of his other clothes. He decided to wear flip flops instead of sneakers, because he liked to go without socks if he could help it, and stepped out of his room where Hizashi and Nemuri were waiting, already changed somehow. They were whispering among themselves, but stopped when he stepped into the room.

"You look great!" Hizashi said. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a jean jacket with blue jeans. Nemuri was wearing a tight, backless black dress with a neckline that dipped low.

"Where do you want to go, Sho?" Nemuri asked, already taking out her wallet. "It's on me!"

They ended up getting ramen with little broiled shrimps on the side. Shouta liked it, because it wasn't his own cooking nor was it chocolate, even if he couldn't finish the entire bowl of noodles. They ended the night with a trip to the movies, where they watched a romantic comedy. Hizashi and Nemuri gorged themselves on popcorn while Shouta ate candy. The two drove him home, each taking a turn to hug him and say goodbye before departing, and Shouta felt something warm and fuzzy settle in his chest as he watched them leave.

That night, he gave Takara the special tuna for being so good while he was gone, and cuddled with his cat while he fell asleep, dreaming of the smell of buttery popcorn and the taste of Skittles.

~-~

He went through his internships and made strong connections with a few big-name heroes. He worked and worked until he finally had the highest marks in his class again. He didn't have a flashy, destructive Quirk like the others, but he still remained in the top three of his class.

Months passed. Summer began. In July, when Inko sent him more money for his classes, she also sent a photo of a rather scrunched up, red baby. Shouta thought the child looked rather odd. Its' skin was bright red and it looked very irritated at having its picture taken. Shouta could share the sentiment. He didn't like having his picture taken either.

At the bottom of the photograph was a single word. Izuku.

Shouta pinned the photo of the scrunched up creature on the wall next to his ultrasound photo, not sure if he would ever be able to meet this Izuku child.

Probably not, he noted bitterly.

He pinned the photo up, and tried to cast the child out of his mind. Izuku's unpleasantly red face still lingered.

~-~

Shouta knew he'd had feelings for Hizashi, though he had elected to ignore them until they went away, like he did with most things in his life. It was just one more annoying fly he'd have to swat to go with all the other troubling things. He hadn't expected the feelings to be reciprocated, though he had to admit, it was nice.

Hizashi kissed him on his birthday. They were at a fair, on a ferris wheel. The lights of the fair, bright and colourful, had danced off his skin. Shouta had the fleeting thought, ' I want to kiss him', and then Hizashi had. It was rather surprising, quite honestly.

It was also awkward, since they were so young, and Shouta wasn't quite sure if he had done it right. But that was okay, because it seemed Hizashi didn't know what he was doing either. Nemuri had taken a picture of them right after they'd stepped off the ferris wheel, holding hands, Shouta with a confused look in his eyes and Hizashi blushing furiously. Shouta had pinned it up on his wall, right next to Izuku.

They went on a lot of dates, after that. Nemuri came too, sometimes. They went out to eat, and to the movies, and to the arcade. It was the happiest Shouta had been in a while, admittedly. He liked being with Hizashi.

Hizashi was kind in a way Shouta couldn't quite describe. He made Shouta feel warm. He was also quite good-looking, at least Shouta thought so. He was funny, in a way, even if he was very loud and when he got over-excited he couldn't quite control his Quirk. But that was alright, since Shouta's quirk was Erasure.

He stayed over at Hizashi's place a lot, and Hizashi's parents never seemed to mind, only made more food to accommodate. Sometimes Shouta caught Hizashi's mother sneaking extra food onto his plate.

They played video games a lot, at Hizashi's house. Sometimes board games. Sometimes they did homework. Sometimes they just sat there in silence, Hizashi playing a mindless game on his phone and Shouta reading a novel.

Hizashi liked to joke that his parents probably thought they were doing ' something else', though he never clarified on what that 'something else' was. Shouta thought he probably meant kissing, though they did do that a lot too.

Exams came and went, and then the school year was over. Shouta spent more time with Hizashi and Nemuri than he had the previous year, Takara joining a lot. They spent a lot of time at the gym, training to control their Quirks or, in Shouta's case, working with weapons. Shouta had only just taken a liking to his capture weapon, which he carried on his person quite a bit now, even though it was a bit heavy. It was sort of like a weighted blanket, and Shouta could appreciate that, since he loved the weighted blankets that Nemuri let him use whenever they slept over at her house.

In July, just like the previous year, Shouta came home to find a letter on the mat from Inko. When he opened the envelope, a photograph fell out onto the floor. Another photo of a baby. The same word, on the bottom of the photograph.

Izuku.

He was quite a bit bigger in this photograph, and a bit more human looking. Shouta supposed that was inevitable. He was smiling at the camera. He had exactly four teeth. Shouta counted. His hair was longer, sticking up around his head in a halo of green and black. He looked like a piece of broccoli, or perhaps a cabbage.

Shouta unpinned all of the photos from the wall. On the back of the ultrasound photo, he wrote 'Kidney Bean'. In the photo of Izuku as a newborn, he wrote 'Creature'. In the newest photo, he wrote 'Cabbage'. He thought it was quite funny, though Izuku might have been offended.

He pinned the photos back onto the wall, in the order that he got them, and stared at them for a while. Yes. Izuku.

Perhaps I should get a sign that says 'The Life Cycle of Izuku'...

~-~

In his third year, he met a boisterous girl named Emi Fukukado. She was funny, he supposed, since everyone else seemed to laugh at her jokes. She had sea green hair, and he liked it, because it reminded him distantly of his sister and, even more distantly, his father. It made it hard to look at her, sometimes.

She seemed to like Shouta, for whatever reason. Always telling jokes to get her to laugh, and seeming to have more and more fun when she failed.

Shouta liked her, so he didn't complain when she was around.

The third year at U.A. was undoubtedly the hardest. There was nothing but work. Interviews. Exams. Training. It kept Shouta busy, and he loved that.

He mastered his capture weapon in that time, as well as his mixed martial arts class and his parkour class, though he still attended to keep his skills sharp, just like how he still did flips around his apartments for gymnastics. He'd knocked over a lot of vases doing that, and his cat hated it, but that just encouraged him to do it more, if he's being honest. He loved it when his cat looked disdainful.

The cat hissed at him from under the couch every time he pulled off a triple back flip.

When he finally finished U.A., he started working as an underground hero. He, Nemuri and Hizashi worked together a lot, especially when a big name villain crossed their paths, but Shouta was always gone before the press could get a hold of him.

Seventeen years old, and already a successful and respected underground hero. Shouta wondered if Inko would be proud of him.

In that time, he sold his apartment and sent Inko his new address. He pinned his pictures up on the wall and shoved his medals from gymnastics contests long forgotten in a box in his closet. Inko still sent him money.

He got a new photo of Izuku. He was smiling at the camera shyly, hugging himself. He was rather chubby, but Shouta supposed that was normal for children at that age. His hair was long, longer than it had been last time, and it looked as if it had never been cut or combed.

Shouta brushed his fingers over the spot behind his ear, remembering the hair cuts his mother had given him, before she'd disappeared. The ever-present cut behind his ear and the prickliness of his scalp. Shouta wondered if she still mailed him groceries ever so often and, if so, if there were bags of rotting food waiting outside of his old apartment for a boy that wasn't coming back home.

Shouta wondered, briefly, if he should send her a letter saying he didn't live there anymore, before dismissing the thought. He hoped she wasted her money.

On the back of the photo, he wrote 'Greenstalk'. He hung it up next to 'Cabbage'.

~-~

His face started getting scruffy and prickly with hair after he turned eighteen, but he didn't like shaving so he didn't do it often. He didn't think Hizashi minded much. He liked running his hands along the sides of his face and kissing his forehead, for whatever reason, but he wasn't about to complain.

Hizashi moved into his apartment right after Shouta turned eighteen. His fridge was filled with groceries, now, rather than just tuna and the occasional half-eaten chocolate bar. He slept in Shouta's bed, and Shouta liked that because Hizashi hugged him and traced the scars he'd gotten from hero work at night. Half of the closet belonged to Hizashi, and half to Shouta, and you could tell because half of the closet was filled with very bright colours and half were muted grays and blacks.

In the bathroom, Hizashi's shampoo sat beside Shouta's, along with his body wash. His hair gel was on the counter. His hair brush too, along with several hair ties that Hizashi put in the same container that Shouta kept his kitten hair clips.

His toothbrush shared a space with Shouta's in the cabinet. His razer sat next to Shouta's.

All of Shouta's space was being shared by Hizashi, but Shouta couldn't find it in himself to mind that much.

Shouta took day shifts and Hizashi night ones, and they hung out in the few hours in between each, either talking or cuddling or something in between. Hizashi patched up Shouta's scrapes and bruises, and Shouta did the same for Hizashi. When Shouta's dry eye was bad after patrol, Hizashi brought him his eye drops, and when Hizashi's throat hurt after using his Quirk too much or his ears ached, Shouta brought him water, throat lozenges and noise cancelling headphones.

It was good.

In the summer of Shouta's eighteenth year, Shouta got two things in the mail. His regular letter from his sister and an official looking envelope. He opened the letter from his sister first.

Izuku. Three years old. He had freckles now. On the back of the photo, he wrote 'Sprout', and pinned it up on the wall next to the other photos. Then he opened the official looking envelope.

It looked a lot like the wedding invitation, but less frilly.

It was an invitation. But not to a wedding.

He put the card on the table, and sat on his couch, staring at it. Hizashi found him like that, hours later. He sat next to him. Opened the envelope. Slowly closed it, and put it back on the coffee table, before wrapping an arm around Shouta and pulling him close. He tucked his head under his chin, a movement that was awkward now that Shouta had finally caught up height-wise and was now only an inch or so shorter than Hizashi's 6"1. Hizashi hummed some pop song he had played on his new radio show, and Shouta stared at the wall blankly.

Hizashi called Nemuri, and she came with a weighted blanket and three movies for them to watch. Shouta accepted the blanket and relaxed under its weight. Hizashi and Nemuri sat on either side, Hizashi with an arm wrapped around his waist and Nemuri leaning against his shoulder. They ate popcorn and skittles, like they always did when they watched movies.

Shouta couldn't quite bring himself to pay attention.

His parents were dead.

His father, who he hadn't seen since he was seven years old. His mother, who he hadn't seen in four years. They were dead.

They had died together.

He had so many questions, and none of them could be answered. Why did they die together? How did they die? Who had invited him to their funeral? Would his parents even want him there, if they were alive? He felt the strong urge to shave his head, just because he thought it might make his mother happy had she been able to see him, and he tugged at the black strands anxiously.

Hizashi took the hand from his hair and entwined their fingers.

A funeral. Because they were dead.

When people died on TV, loved ones always cried.

Why couldn't he cry?

Was he even considered a loved one by these people?

His stomach twisted. He felt ill, and he pushed away the skittles.

Hizashi kissed his temple. Shouta leaned his head against Nemuri's, and fell asleep.

~-~

The funeral was two days later. Shouta hadn't wanted to buy a new suit, since he really didn't have the money, but the suit he'd worn for Inko's wedding really wasn't fitting for a funeral and it was too small.

They bought a new suit. Black pants, black suit jacket, black collared shirt and a blood red lapel. He didn't wear a tie.

He took a razor to his face and shaved his beard, something he usually only did once a month or so, the same schedule his mother had shaved his head, all those years ago.

They didn't own a pair of clippers, now, and Shouta was glad for it, since he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from taking them to his head. Instead, he washed his hair thoroughly, blew it dry and combed out all the tangles before tying it back up into a half knot.

In the minutes before it would be time to leave, he paced the room relentlessly. Adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket, washed his face repeatedly, adjusted his hair. When strands of hair began to fall out of the half-knot down into his face, he pinned them back with the pink hair clips and started pacing again.

Hizashi watched him pace from the couch, looking worried. They'd decided he wasn't going to the funeral, since he had never met the deceased, but…

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" Hizashi asked. Shouta pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He felt like scratching at his skin, felt like clawing his way out. He flexed his fingers instead.

"Could… can... Would you? Would you be comfortable with that?" Hizashi smiled at him softly.

"Of course I would be," he said. "Anything for you, Sho." Shouta's shoulders slumped, and he felt marginally lighter.

"Thank you, 'Zashi." He sat next to him, and Hizashi hooked a finger under his chin, kissing him softly. His other hand held his cheek, and his thumb stroked over smooth skin. Shouta blinked his eyes open when Hizashi pulled away, smiling slightly. Something came to his mind and Shouta, having no filter whatsoever, said it. "I love you, Hizashi."

Hizashi's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Shouta felt a blush creep up his neck, and his ears burned. His heart started thrumming in his chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…!

Hizashi opened his mouth to say something, but the alarm on his phone cut him off. Shouta stood up from the couch quickly.

"Time to go," he said, hurrying out of the house. Hizashi sat there for a moment, stunned, before running after him.

They were halfway to the funeral when they realised Hizashi wasn't wearing a suit and had to drive back.

~-~

The funeral was crowded, filled to the brim with unfamiliar people, and Shouta found himself reaching for Hizashi's hand involuntarily.

They sat in a pew at the back. Hizashi kept a hand on Shouta's leg, and Shouta covered the hand with his own as the funeral's proceedings went on. Almost everyone in the room was crying and Shouta wondered what it meant if all these strangers were crying for his parents but Shouta, their son, couldn't manage a tear.

A woman walked up to tell a speech, and a hush falled over the crowd. Shouta's eyes widened in shock. Hizashi looked utterly confused as Shouta's shoulders began to shake.

Inko Midoriya began her speech.

"My parents were incredible people," she began. "They were kind, and always there for me. I was lucky to have them. My dad taught me to ride a bike, my mom taught me to bake cookies. They worked hard to support me, and..." Her eyes, which had been sweeping across the room of people, met Shouta's. Her speech stalled.

Why does she lie?

She swallowed.

"They had their ups and downs, but they came together again four years ago, and I think they're happy to have died together too. They've been nothing but kind to me, my husband and their grandson these last couple years…." She blinked hard. "I'm sorry..." She wiped at her eyes. A little boy with long, curly green hair suddenly ran forward and hugged her leg.

"Mommy don' cwy!"

Shouta gasped.

The Cabbage….

Inko walked down from the stage. The funeral came to a close. Shouta stood up from the pew abruptly, Hizashi hurrying to follow and apologise to whoever they ran into. Shouta grabbed Inko's wrist and pulled her along, the woman staying quiet as he did, until they were outside.

"What…. Why did… what? "

"I'm so sorry, Shouta," Inko said. "I didn't know you were coming-"

" Fucking tell me what's going on, Inko! " Tears welled in Inko's eyes. Shouta felt nothing but confusion and anger.

"When Mom left you… it was because dad got into contact with her again. I'm so sorry, Shouta… she left for dad."

"But… but why wouldn't she take me with her? What..."

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Shouta knew it was Hizashi.

"Sho, maybe we should-"

"No, no, I want to know," Shouta said. "If she left, why didn't she take me with her? "

"Shouta..." Inko swallowed thickly. "Dad… left because of you. And… and mom missed dad, even though he was barely around to begin with, and when he said he wanted her back she just…. The condition was, he'd take her back… so long as you didn't come with her."

The world cracked down the middle. Puzzle pieces he hadn't known were missing came together to form the entire picture. Why his mother worked so much, why his dad had never been home, why his mother had always been so… distant. Did she blame him for his father leaving?

"Did she want to leave me?" Shouta asked, quietly. Inko looked down at her feet. "Oh."

"You… were always different. Weird," Inko admitted. "Dad didn't really… like that, all that much. And neither did mom. They just… couldn't handle you, I don't think. No one could quite understand how your mind… ticked."

"Is that why you left?" Shouta asked.

"No. I left for Hisashi. He wanted to leave, and he… didn't like you. But I wanted to be with him, and you didn't really like him either, and..."

"When Dad left, where did he go?" His voice sounded empty, even to him.

"No one really knows for sure," Inko said, wringing her hands nervously. "But… I think he went to another woman."

Shouta nodded.

"And you… you've been around them the past few years. You..."

Inko nodded.

"I… think I need to go now," Shouta said. Inko nodded.

"That's probably for the best."

Shouta nodded.

"Thank you," he said. Inko blinked.

"For what?"

"For… believing in me. When you were still with me. I'm a hero now, because of you. Underground. Look up Eraserhead."

"I will," Inko said. "And I never stopped believing in you. I'm sure you're an incredible hero."

"He is," Hizashi said, hand dropping from his shoulder to grasp at Shouta's hand. "One of the best heroes I've ever met. Good day to you, ma'am."

With that, they left.

~-~

Shouta couldn't sleep that night. His mind was too full. The sheets felt too rough, too hot. When he kicked off the blankets, he was too cold. Hizashi lay beside him, an arm across his waist.

He still had so many questions.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked Hizashi. Hizashi stiffened slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why… why did everyone I loved leave me for someone better?"

Hizashi's hold on him tightened.

"They're not better than you, Sho," Hizashi said. "Those people are idiots. If they had any intelligence at all, they would've seen you for how amazing you are."

Shouta sighed.

"Can't be that amazing, if everyone packed up and left. Inko said mom and dad left because I was… different. What's wrong with me?"

" Nothing is wrong with you," Hizashi said vehemently. "If they couldn't love you for you, then they weren't worth it. Alright? They're not worth it. If you ask me, you're perfect. There's nothing wrong with you being you."

"I guess you 'love me for me', then?" Shouta asked sarcastically.

"I do," Hizashi admitted quietly.

"Oh." It felt like his brain was rewiring itself. "Wait, did you just say-"

Hizashi pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Go to sleep, Sho."

"Okay."

~-~

Two pictures of Izuku later, and Shouta was twenty years old. He hadn't gotten any taller, but he'd gotten broader - his chest and arms more defined, the fat from childhood that had remained in his face having melted away to reveal sharp features.

He was twenty years old when there was a knock on his door, and a woman in a police uniform waited outside. There was also a woman in a flowery dress and a cardigan standing beside her with a clipboard and a stack of paperwork. Shouta frowned at the woman.

"Can I help you?" he asked hesitantly.

Hizashi, what did you do now…

"Yes you can," the police officer said. "Can I come in?" Shouta nodded, leading the two women to the couch and - was that a kid?

And not just any kid. A green haired kid.

The Cabbage.

"I'm going to be blunt with you, Mr. Aizawa," the police officer said. "Hisashi Midoriya left his family, giving up custody of Izuku as well, and Inko Midoriya is dead. You're his last living relative."

Shouta felt an odd numbness in his hands as the world around him froze, his body drenched in cold.

What?