Izuku spends the rest of Sunday essentially under house arrest, only allowed out of his bedroom when he needed to use the bathroom or when Inko was calling him for a meal.

It sort of reminded him of the times he'd been put on forced bed rest after getting injured on a mission or patrol, in terms of not being able to do the things he wanted to do, when he wanted to do them. And it'd been sort of funny at the time when Hizashi would jokingly tell him he was 'grounded'... but it wasn't funny now.

Like then, he mostly just lays in bed and dozes to pass the time.

It's not like there was much else to do.

...But he still fills an entire page and a half in his journal complaining about it all to Hizashi and Oboro.

Thankfully he'd been able to change into a clean set of clothes after Inko was done scolding him, though the absence of Yamada's leather jackets sets him on edge. It's not like he was overly attached to it or anything—okay, he was—but he just really would have preferred to have it near him, or at the very least have it somewhere he could see it. Yamada had instructed him to keep it safe, after all. He couldn't do that if he had no idea where it was.

What would Yamada think when he returned for it? Would he be upset? ...Disappointed?

The thought keeps Izuku up that night.

And maybe that's just because he'd spent all day sleeping, or because of the way his ribs and head ached, but he really is worried about this damned jacket. Besides, the pain wasn't so bad he couldn't handle it.

He'd made sure to take the bandages off before he'd gone to sleep for the night, though since he was basically being held prisoner in his room—and because Inko kept the medical supplies hidden from him—there was no way for him to replace them with fresh. He couldn't even get any more bruise cream, or pills to help dull the pain.

So... okay, yeah. It did make sleeping a bit of a hassle.

When he wakes on Monday morning he's still sore as hell, bruises thrumming at the edges of his mind, but he could tell it was finally starting to get better.

Except he has school today, so unfortunately he can't spend all day in bed again.

There's no way Inko would let him take a day off, either. Not unless he was actively dying... or if she was in a good mood. Considering what happened yesterday, that certainly wouldn't be the case this morning.

Groaning, Izuku drags himself from bed.

He stops just short of actually opening his bedroom door, though.

Inko hasn't called for him yet—hasn't said that he's allowed to leave his room—but she knows he has school this morning. There's no way she didn't know. So surely that meant he was allowed to get ready by himself? He needs to go to the bathroom, brush his teeth...

Heart up in his throat, Izuku opens his door and crack and peers out into the living room. There was no smell of pancakes wafting through the air this time.

Good. He doesn't think he could stomach that shit again.

"Oh, there you are, Izuku!"

Izuku startles badly—which, ow, his ribs—and whirls to face Inko, who was staring him down with her hands on her hips. He hadn't even noticed her; she was on his blind side.

"What are you doing just standing around? You should be getting ready for school already!" she says, as though she hadn't spent the entirety of yesterday controlling when he could or couldn't leave his room. "Go on, get going!"

She shoos him off towards the bathroom then and, well, Izuku wasn't exactly about to argue.

So he scampers off into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

He still has no idea what Inko's deal is.

If she could just stick to one set of behaviors—abusive, neglectful, loving; he doesn't care which—then maybe he could figure out how to deal with her, but as things are he constantly feels like he's walking on eggshells around her. Fuck, he's had an easier time dealing with actual villains than dealing with Inko on one of her bad days. At least in those cases it made sense for them to act irrational.

Izuku doesn't have a damn clue what's going to set Inko off from one day to the next.

This morning he makes sure to hurry through the motions of getting himself ready, not wanting to somehow anger her by taking too long in the bathroom.

His All Might-shaped toothbrush fits oddly in the palm of his hand—he hates the thing, but it was the only toothbrush he had—and he stares at himself in the mirror while he goes through the motions of brushing.

He looks like a complete and utter mess.

The bruises on his face were beginning to turn a sickly greenish-yellow at the edges, with more peeking out over the collar of his shirt and dark fingerprint smudges clearly visible all over his arms. There's more bruising and even some scabs littering his knuckles. His hair was more knots than curls.

If he tried, he could almost get his right eye to open a little.

Part of him squirms at the thought of going to school like this, with his depth perception half-gone and the evidence of his loss painted all across his body...

But if he could stare down a classroom full of teens while covered head-to-toe in bandages, then he could handle this.

Izuku spits his mouthful of toothpaste out into the sink, and grimaces at the wad of blood mixed in. With his tongue he prods at the tender spot in his gums where a tooth once was. Thankfully it had only been a baby tooth, but its premature loss was still a major annoyance.

He hopes Isui Arakan fucked up his hand while punching that tooth out.

Heaving a sigh, he dries his face and hops down from his little stool, intent on returning to his room to get dressed before they have to get going.

But when he steps out into the hall, he's stopped by Inko.

There's a familiar white post-op patch in her hand.

"Oh, don't make that face, Izuku," Inko admonishes before he can get a word in. Already she's kneeling down to put the damn thing on him, going on to say, "It's just something to cover your eye while it heals. And I expect you to actually keep it on this time; you don't want to scare your classmates, do you?"

Izuku scowls at that, but for once he allows Inko to place the post-op patch on him. It's not like he could see out of that eye right now anyways. But still, the feeling of the adhesive sticking to his skin, it sets his teeth on edge.

At least it wasn't an eye-patch.

While Inko's busy fussing with his hair to make it lay over the patch, Izuku asks, "When are we getting my quirk registered?"

"Not today," Inko answers without really looking at him. Her lips purse when she does look and actually sees his expression, though. "...Soon– I'll get to it."

"That's what you said last time," Izuku mutters, unable to help himself. "—and the time before that."

"Izuku." Inko sits back on her heels and glowers at him. "I've been busy with work—and dealing with your outbursts. Of course I haven't had the time for something like that."

Which means she has no plans of actually doing it, Izuku thinks.

Great.

It also means he needs to drop this line of questioning now, just like he'd had to do the last several times he'd asked. Unless he wanted to piss her off.

So, holding back a sigh, Izuku instead asks, "What about Present Mic's jacket?"

"You don't need to worry about that," Inko tells him. "It's somewhere safe, that's all you need to know."

Ugh, Izuku hates non-answers.

He especially hates when they're used against him and don't even lead to a nice logical ruse. He might as well just not have asked in the first place.

"Actually, while we're here..." Inko says then, drawing Izuku's attention back to her. "There's something important I need to tell you."

"What's that?" Izuku asks, straightening up a bit. That was unexpected. What could she possibly have to tell him that was so important? Her expression and tone both seemed normal enough, so it probably wasn't bad news... right?

Inko shifts to kneel a bit more comfortably, and says, "You know how we've been on our own for a while now, right?"

"Yes...?"

"Well, sometimes when mommies and daddies stop living together, the mommy starts going by her old name again. The name she went by before she got married."

Oh... huh. That's not at all what he was expecting.

Honestly, Izuku would have preferred if the explanation wasn't dumbed down, but regardless he understands the point Inko is trying to make.

So, he at least tries to play along, tilting his head as he asks, "So... we're not going to be Midoriyas anymore?"

"That's right, honey," Inko says, and she smiles at him. "From now on we'll be going by my maiden name; Aizawa."

And just like that Izuku swears the floor falls out from under him.

What. The. Fuck.

Just... what the entire fuck.

There's no way he heard that correctly. Her maiden name couldn't be Aizawa... could it? He doesn't remember having any siblings when he was Shouta, not even any cousins with the same family name.

No, no, he can't freak out. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation for all this. The surname Aizawa wasn't exactly rare, and though he'd never met anyone that shared his name before, this could still all be a coincidence. He'd only met Inko in his previous life a handful of times, but he knew his Problem Child.

There's no way in hell that Midoriya Izuku was his nephew.

...Right?

Yes, it must be a coincidence. Just one big, weird, illogical coincidence.

Right?!

"I've already discussed the change with your school," Inko's telling him, but he barely hears it; he's still right in the midst of his latest identity crisis. "So you don't have to worry about that. And they already know that Hisashi's not allowed to collect you..."

But then Izuku's thinking about all the other coincidences. The freckles he shares with his—with Shouta's father. The curls in his hair that reminded him so much of his own mother's—his original mother's dark, wavy locks. The way Inko's hair floats when she's angry.

It's... possible.

Fuck, it's possible.

Hizashi would laugh his ass off if he knew. No, fuck—everyone that used to know him would laugh. This is exactly the kind of bullshit that he should expect to happen, but it just kept catching him off guard.

Somehow, some-fucking-how... he's an Aizawa again.

"Alright, you'd better finish getting ready now," Inko says, jolting him from his revelation. "Go on, I'll drop you off before I head in to work."

And then she physically spins him around to face his bedroom, before patting his butt to get him going. Izuku blushes fiercely and hurries to comply. It was nothing more than an innocent touch, something many parents did to their children, but Hizashi used to pat his ass to be a tease and now that's all Izuku can associate it with.

Curse his perverted adult mind and its proclivity towards non-child-friendly thoughts.

Going through puberty a second time was going to be a nightmare.

Shoving the thoughts to the side, he quickly gets dressed and finishes getting ready for the day ahead. Not that he had a choice in the matter. If he could, he would happily spend all day in bed like he did for almost all of yesterday.

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Nemuri tells him that's called depression.

Only a handful of minutes later he's got his shoes on, backpack on his back, and is walking out the front door hand-in-hand with Inko.

Again, not that he had a choice in the matter; Inko grabbed onto him before he could protest.

She keeps hold of his hand the entire walk to the school.

He's not sure if she was walking him there in order to keep an eye on him, or if she was doing it to look like a good, caring mother, or what, but he could honestly do without it.

By the time they arrive at the school there's already plenty of other students who'd either just arrived or were milling around before they had to head inside. Thankfully though they're all too preoccupied with themselves to notice Inko bending down to kiss Izuku's forehead, wishing him a good day in a quiet voice. He forces himself to maintain a neutral expression rather than grimace like he wants to. Then, Inko's straightening up and waving goodbye before she leaves.

Fucking finally.

It's not that he's embarrassed or anything to receive affection from her in public like Katsuki was with his own mom. No, nothing so childish as that. It's just, he... he really doesn't want her to touch him at all. To pretend she's a good mother when she's not.

But he didn't have a choice in that matter, either.

Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Izuku turns and heads for his classroom.

Katsuki's already there when Izuku steps through the sliding door, and he stands to quickly make his way over and greet Izuku.

Only to stop a few feet short, his eyebrows knitting together.

"The hell happened to you?" he asks.

"I punched myself in the face," Izuku deadpans, and when the rest of Katsuki's face scrunches up he tacks on, "Just kidding. I got beat up on Saturday."

"You got beat up?" Katsuki repeats incredulously. "How?"

Izuku just shrugs.

What was he even supposed to say? That, oh yeah, he was ganged up on and overpowered and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it? That the police dropped the case because they thought he was quirkless? That one of his assailants was in the room with them?

He glances towards the flash of blue in his peripheral—he's standing like he used to when he was Shouta, body angled to keep most of the room in his sights—and sees Isui Kano sitting at his desk, glaring at him from across the room.

Izuku frowns, but doesn't say anything.

When Katsuki turns to see what he's looking at though, Izuku speaks up.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says, "The bruises will probably all be gone by next week. I've had worse." Katsuki whirls to face him again, a strange look on his face, and Izuku nudges him. "Come on, let's go take our seats before Tanaka-sensei gets here."

Katsuki sure didn't look happy about that, even looked like he was about to argue, but then another kid was pushing into the room right behind Izuku and they're both forced to move.

Before they could get to their desks though Izuku sees Isui start to push up from his own, looking intent on... something.

Thankfully that's the exact moment Miss Tanaka arrives, and class begins.

After that the day goes by normally... well, other than Isui continually trying to corner him, and Katsuki acting more protective than usual, and everyone else wondering how he'd gotten injured. All of that on top of the confusion over his new family name. So, it wasn't all that normal after all.

But Izuku remains tight-lipped throughout.

He shoulders the stares, the whispers, the teasing remarks.

None of it mattered in the end.

His run-in with the Isuis and their cohorts had served as a painful reminder, however.

Due to his death, his reflexes, strength, dexterity... they had all been brought back down to zero—brought back to that of an average six-year-old child.

It would be incredibly difficult to regain all that he'd lost.

His mind was still aware of his body's limitations, of exactly how far he could push... but that was only for his previous body. He still needed to learn the same for this body.

Good thing he's a trained instructor with years of experience. Oh, he would never actually suggest serious hero training for any child, especially not one as young as six, but his was a special case. If he worked on his physical training and on his quirk now, then he would be prepared for UA's strict regimen well in advance.

Unfortunately the only way he could do that right now was by 'playing.'

Or, working out disguised as playing.

And he could only do that during recess, since he was expected to sit and pay attention to his lessons for the better part of the school day.

It's not like the work was hard; they're still only in kindergarten, after all. Izuku doesn't really need to pay attention. For the most part it was just learning how to read and write, basic math, and, irritatingly enough, learning how to 'get along' with each other.

Yeah, no thanks. Izuku doesn't want anything to do with the vast majority of his classmates. Especially Isui Kano. If only all of them would get with the program and leave him be.

Today during nap time he makes sure to lay on a cot far, far away from Isui.

The little brat obviously wanted to talk to him, but Izuku didn't feel like dealing with his nonsense right now. Or ever, really.

Hopefully the rest of the school year won't be like this.

Either way the day's over soon enough, and Izuku is changing into his outside shoes so he can leave.

He doesn't make it far past the front entrance though when there's a voice calling out to him, and footsteps rapidly approaching. Izuku holds back a sigh.

"What do you want, Isui," he grinds out, turning to stare the kid down. It actually makes him falter, Isui skidding to a stop only a couple feet away, but just as quickly his face was turning red as he worked himself right back up. He probably wasn't happy that Izuku spent the whole day avoiding him.

He watches as Isui puffs his chest out, before he shouts, "My big brother's nose is broken!"

Izuku blinks. "Uh... okay," he says, tilting his head. Had he done that? He doesn't remember. "Don't see what that has to do with me."

"You're the one that did it!"

Huh. Guess he did break the little shit's nose, then.

He should probably feel bad about that, but... he doesn't.

"Well maybe his face shouldn't have collided with my fist," Izuku deadpans, honestly just done with this whole conversation. "Anyways, I don't see why you expect me to care. Your brother and his friends literally held me down and attacked me."

Isui's face grows redder. "Because—"

"Hey!"

Both Izuku and Isui look to see Katsuki stomping his way over to them, glaring at the latter the whole time until he's stood right between the two of them. Isui actually stumbles backwards a couple steps when he's bumped into, while Izuku only has to take half a step back.

Katsuki's still frowning when he turns to look at him. "Izuchan," he says, "I wanna go to the park. Let's play."

His tone is, well, a lot more demanding than usual.

"We're in the middle of something here!" Isui protests, but Katsuki doesn't even look at him.

"Don't care," he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. His eyes flit between Isui and Izuku. "Come on, Izuchan. Let's go play."

Ah, so that was his ploy.

Despite the situation Izuku actually manages a small, genuine smile. "Sorry, Kacchan," he says. "I can't play today—or for a while, actually. I'm grounded."

Katsuki recoils like he'd been slapped. "Grounded? You're...?"

"Yeah." Izuku sighs. "I gotta go home now, sorry."

His smile falls when he turns to regard Isui, then. "As for you, Isui-kun... If you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone."

Then Izuku turns, and offers a small wave over his shoulder. "I'll see you here tomorrow, Kacchan. Bye."

He doesn't look back as he walks away, but he swears he can feel Katsuki's gaze on his back until he turns a corner a short distance away. Izuku almost feels bad about it, but he's in enough trouble with Inko as-is; he needs to follow her rules to a tee.

He's already grounded, after all. He doesn't want to think about what would happen if he disobeyed her now.

So, he heads straight back to their apartment like Inko told him to.

The sunlight was hurting his eyes anyway, and he had a headache from being around shrieking children all day, so he wouldn't mind just going to his room and hiding under the blankets for a while.

It doesn't take him long to get back.

Ready to be done with the day, Izuku trudges up the stairs until he's reached his floor, then heads for his apartment.

Only for the doorknob to stop short when he turns it.

Locked... Of course it is.

Sighing, Izuku lets go and instead drops down into a crouch. Only, when he lifts the welcome mat to search under, there's no spare key in sight. Inko must have moved it again.

Great.

That meant he wasn't getting in unless he found the damn thing, or he would have to climb in through his bedroom window.

...Or he could pick the lock.

Sometimes he wondered if Inko did this shit on purpose just so he'd have to rely on her.

With a huff, he pulls his backpack off to hold in his lap so he can slump against the door, trying to think of what he should do next.

Unlike Saturday night when he was attempting—unknowingly—to get into Aizawa's apartment, he's not so hurt that he couldn't just get in through the window. But to be honest, he still didn't feel like making the trek back down the stairs only to have to clamber up that rickety old fire escape. Then maybe he could pick the lock? Except he didn't have anything on him that he could use to do that, and that ran the risk of someone catching him in the act.

But he doesn't feel like waiting in the hall for who knows how long, either.

Izuku knows that Inko typically gets off work at five, and it was only around three-thirty now, which meant a minimum of a two hour wait providing Inko comes straight home and doesn't make any stops on the way back.

Ugh. Maybe he should just sit here and do his homework, or he could wander aimlessly around the building to kill some time...

"Hey, neighbor," a voice rasps, and for the second time today Izuku nearly jumps out of his damn skin.

He doesn't recognize the voice, and he whirls to see—

...Oh, it was the person who'd been sitting in the stairwell the day he and Inko first moved in. Since then Izuku's seen the guy around, but they've never actually spoken before.

"Sorry," they rasp at him, voice crackling like fire. They still look just the same as they had all those months ago; a gas-mask obscuring their features, fiery eyes smoldering behind the glass lenses and bits of short black hair sticking out at all angles from under the mask's straps. They're still wearing that same tattered trench-coat paired with steel-toed boots, too.

"Didn't mean t' spook ya'. Was just wonderin' if you were alright?"

"If I was alright...?" Izuku echoes.

"Yeah." They gesture at him—his face, specifically. "You're all messed up. Looks painful."

Izuku lifts a hand without thinking to brush his fingers over the post-op patch, and he frowns. Right, injured children are a cause for concern. So with a shrug, he says, "Sure," since he can't exactly deny it. And while he tries not to be one to judge others too quickly, he wonders... "Why do you care?"

"'Cause we're neighbors," they reply. "Neighbors gotta look out for each other, 'specially round these parts.

"I'm Yamamoto Tomoya, by the way. I live just down the hall."

Then they hold out their hand for him to shake.

Izuku stares for maybe a bit too long, but Yamamoto didn't seem to mind. They simply wait with their hand extended until Izuku slowly reaches out to take it—it's warm, their fingers stained black with soot.

"I'm Mi— ...Aizawa Izuku."

"Aizawa Izuku-kun," Yamamoto greets with a nod of their head. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Izuku answers automatically.

He sure as hell isn't fine, but he doesn't need to tell a total stranger that.

Yamamoto is quiet for a moment, head cocked to the side like a bird, before they nod again. "Okay," they say. "That's good. Regardless, I hope you heal quick."

"Thank you," Izuku says, and he takes his hand back.

He's... not actually sure where this conversation was headed. As he'd said, he's never actually spoken with Yamamoto before despite them being neighbors. He's not sure what to think of them.

"I've seen you waitin' out here before," they tell him suddenly, and Izuku blinks up at them. "Here in the hall, I mean. You waiting for your mom?"

"Uh, yeah," Izuku answers, doing his best to keep his uncertainty masked. The paranoid part of him screams to not give away that Inko often left him home alone for hours at a time. "She'll be home soon, I just like to wait for her so I can greet her right away."

Ha. As if.

Yamamoto doesn't question him, just nods and says, "I see. Well, you can wait at my place til' she gets back... if ya' want."

"Uhm," Izuku says. "No thanks."

He's not stupid. There's no way he was gonna let himself get lured into some stranger's house so he can be murdered—or worse. Just, seriously. Who does this guy take him for?

"You're wary of me," Yamamoto deduces.

"No shit, Sherlock," Izuku finds himself answering dryly, which—okay, this was not the time for him to be getting sassy. But Yamamoto only chuckles, the sound popping and crackling through the filters of their gas-mask.

"That's good," they say, shoulders still shaking with their laugh before they sober up. "Not everyone's got the best intentions, it's good for you to be wary of me.

"I promise, though. I don't mean any harm." They sigh then, and shake their head. "I know saying that don't mean much. But like I said, neighbors just gotta look out for each other. Since you're alright though I'll leave you be."

Yamamoto offers a little wave then, adding, "You have a nice day, Aizawa-kun," before they turn and simply walk away. Izuku keeps watching in shock as they walk up to their own apartment door, only one down and on the opposite side of the hall from Izuku's, and just... unlock it, seemingly content with leaving Izuku be.

Well, that was much easier than he'd thought it would be.

Unless Yamamoto was trying to gain his trust, unless Yamamoto was trying to make him let his guard down.

But he won't let himself fall for something so obvious. He keeps his eye on the guy as they open their door and move to step inside.

Only for a creaky meow to stop them both in their tracks.

Izuku freezes as a grey blur darts out from between Yamamoto's legs and straight at him.

It... was a sooty grey cat, with long fur and amber eyes, and he can only watch wide-eyed as it trots right up to him and winds around his legs, purring. Izuku's too stunned to even move.

Yamamoto was quick to hurry over and scoop the cat into their arms.

"Get back in here, you little troublemaker," they rasp softly, so soft that Izuku almost doesn't hear it. Then they look at him with an almost sheepish head tilt, despite the fact he can't see their expression. "Sorry. Cats, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Izuku answers dumbly.

They adjust the cat in their arms, with the cat just continuing to purr away and not even trying to escape. Yamamoto looks between it and Izuku, at the way Izuku's gaze was locked onto said cat.

"...Y'wanna pet her?" they ask after a beat.

He shouldn't, Izuku thinks. The promise of cute, fluffy animals was a classic lure for adults with bad intentions to gain trust...

But they were both already out here in the hall, and the cat was right there.

...Yes, this is how he'll meet his second end; falling for the temptation of a fluffy cat.

So he nods, feeling almost shy as he gets to his feet before reaching out towards the cat. It's still purring, the sound only growing stronger when Izuku pets its head, carding his fingers through its silky fur.

"Her name is Smokey," Yamamoto tells him, rasping voice turned fond. "I found her in a fireplace when she was just a kitten. She's five years old now... 'bout the same age as you."

"I love her," Izuku immediately decides, scritching behind Smokey's ear and smiling when she pushes her entire head up into his palm.

It takes more effort than he's expecting to stop petting Smokey, slowly pulling his hand back until both rest at his sides.

"...I should go now," he says. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Yamamoto answers, waving him off. "If you ever wanna come pet Smokey again or just need a place to crash, my door's always open."

Izuku doesn't think he'll be taking Yamamoto up on that offer—no, not even to pet Smokey—but he just nods and says, "Okay... goodbye, Yamamoto-san."

"See you 'round, kid."

This time when Yamamoto enters their apartment, they're able to get the door closed without Smokey making another break for it. Probably since they had the little troublemaker contained in their arms.

Then Izuku is alone in the hall again.

And he's still stuck with the same dilemma as before; stay in the hall and wait for Inko to get back, or get into the apartment by himself.

...He seriously doesn't feel like sitting here for another hour and a half.

Sighing, he grabs his backpack to sling over his shoulder, and heads for the stairwell.

That fire escape wasn't going to climb itself, after all.