Izuku hates that his feet don't reach the floor when he sits in normal-sized chairs.

In adult-sized chairs.

He especially hates that fact right now as he sits in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs at the police station, his feet idly swinging beneath him and a juice box in his hands.

What? He's not going to turn down free juice.

And as he sips at his drink, Izuku watches the handful of officers present go about doing their jobs.

It's early enough in the morning that most of them should be nearing the end of their shifts, and Izuku is mature enough to recognize the fatigue in their movements. So, he plays the good little kid and keeps himself quiet. They haven't asked much of him yet besides getting his basic information and Inko's phone number, which to be honest is fine by him. He's too tired to really keep up his 'little kid' act anyways.

Instead, he snuggles further back into Yamada's leather jacket, comforted by the weight and smell of it. It smells vaguely of the cheap cologne that Hizashi always used to wear—er... still wears, and he happily wraps himself up in it until he's barely visible. Despite only being leather and fabric, it feels like it could shield him from the world.

He sort of wishes he could keep it forever.

These days Izuku always feels... exposed; laid bare without the familiar presence of his capture weapon or long hair to hide behind, and with the additional fact that he's become so small, so powerless...

Well, this is the first time in a long time that he's actually felt secure.

And it hurts—yet another reminder that his Hizashi is out of reach—but he takes comfort in his husband's lingering presence.

Even if this Hizashi isn't his Hizashi.

It'd been a while now since Yamada and Aizawa had run off to tend to that emergency alert.

Since then Izuku's been listening restlessly, only able to catch snippets through the police radios each officer carried. Even so, that was only reports. He hadn't been able to hear any explosions or other indications of a big fight, no shouts for back-up... not even a hint of Voice being used.

It's frustrating, but he's unable to do anything but sit and wait.

He's been feeling like that a lot lately. Useless, powerless. It was one thing if he'd decided on his own to retire, another had he been injured and forced to retire for his own well-being—in both cases he still could have taught at UA. In both cases he still could have been useful.

In both cases he still would have been himself.

Which is why this—the fact that he's been reduced to nothing more than a helpless child—is such a hard pill to swallow.

It really fucking sucks, by the way, that he knows the solutions to so many problems but couldn't say anything without giving himself away. Things about All for One, or the Shie Hassaikai, or the shit the Hero Commission's been getting up to. He thinks he remembers, vaguely, what this current fight was all about too, but that was so long ago and he hadn't personally been there. In fact, he'd slept right through it.

Strange to think that his presence here today means this Shouta didn't.

Well, none of the officers were shouting or scrambling to do anything, so it couldn't be all that bad.

Izuku knows he probably should say something to them before Inko arrives, but... he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Every time he opened his mouth to begin, he would end up closing it again without getting so much as a sound out.

So, on top of listening for news of the fight and trying to disappear within Yamada's jacket, he's been mentally arguing with himself—no, assessing his options.

The easiest choice in this situation—the most logical choice—would be to admit that Inko's mistreating him now rather than wait for her to arrive and spin her own tale. Izuku knows full well that what she's doing is wrong, that much was obvious even beyond his hero training and the additional context of being able to look at the situation from an adult's perspective.

Maybe she really does love him like she claims she does, but that still didn't excuse her actions.

So, he should expose her, right? If he'd found a kid in this exact same situation back when he was Shouta, he knows he would have done it in a heartbeat. There are, however, several things holding him back from that simple, logical admission.

One is that he can't tell anyone about the whole 'reincarnation' thing.

Anyone.

And yes, that includes the new Shouta.

The man was only twenty, and he already had enough on his plate without including a traumatized six-year-old who was, technically speaking, an alternate version of him.

Izuku couldn't tell anyone else, either. If the Hero Commission caught so much as a hint about his true identity, then he could kiss his second shot at life goodbye. No, seriously. The current Shouta didn't have a clue, but Izuku knew exactly how corrupt the Hero Commission really was behind closed doors—and hadn't that been a shock for the world to find out. If they got their hands on him, he would never see the light of day again.

That's not to mention the kinds of things a villain might do to him to get ahold of his future knowledge.

He's thinking about a very specific villain when he says that, too. That was worst-case scenario, and yet another reason he couldn't risk telling Aizawa, as it'd put him in much greater danger than he was already in.

The only person that Izuku could even consider telling the entire truth to would be Nedzu. The main problem there was that he had no way of getting close enough to the rat to tell him—not until he got into UA at fifteen, at least. And, well, he did have a way to get in contact with him, but... no. No, he was saving that for something. Something much more important than himself.

So, that was a bust.

His next point is one he'd thought about that very first night, that being that he doesn't want to end up in the foster care system.

Not only is he uncertain how his quirk would be taken—far too many foster kids were abused over having 'villainous' quirks, he knew that all too well—but they might move him to a completely different prefecture, i.e., away from the Bakugous. And that wasn't something that he wanted to risk. Not to be overly sentimental or anything, but he wants to stick around to make sure Katsuki kept to the straight and narrow.

And, well... they're the only people who seemed to give a damn about him.

Thirdly—and this was also connected to the foster care issue—he doesn't want his relative freedom taken from him.

Inko left him alone for the most part when she wasn't smothering him, and he was content with that. Having a guardian that monitored him too closely would be a detriment to what he has planned for the future, not to mention that it would be highly annoying. What if he was forced to share a room with someone else? Or kept on a tight schedule with a curfew?

And as much as Mitsuki and Masaru do care for him, as much as they call him family... there's no guarantee that he would be placed in their care long-term.

Aizawa and Yamada were even less likely to be appointed as his guardians.

Not only because they're young and inexperienced, but because neither of them yet had the qualifications needed to take on a ward. Plus, Izuku knows that Yamada is constantly busy with his schedule and thus wouldn't have time for him, and Aizawa's apartment as it is now wouldn't pass a home inspection in a million years.

Izuku doubts either of them would want him, anyways. They might have been kind to him earlier, might have taken care of him, but that was just them doing their jobs as heroes. The two are still much too young to want to settle down, least of all with some random kid.

So, that was another dead end.

Even when Izuku tries to think of his options beyond that, he keeps coming up empty.

He doesn't know about any relatives beyond Inko or Hisashi. He'd never met any of his grandparents—doesn't even know what their names might be, let alone if they were still alive—and he has no clue whether either of his parents have any siblings...

But even if he does have other family, who's to say that they would be capable or willing to take him in?

There was always his father, but, well... Hisashi's strange behavior aside, he was too busy with work to be an attentive parent. He'd often just left the bulk of the parenting to Inko, in Izuku's memory.

So basically, he's trapped between several rocks and a hard place.

At least with Inko he knows what to expect.

And that's... fine. It's fine. It's not like he actually needs someone to care for him. Mentally, Izuku's an adult, so he can take care of himself well enough. He doesn't need a loving family.

So... there's nothing to be done about that, but he could still get the little shits who'd attacked him into trouble for battery and illegal quirk usage.

...If he knew what all of their names were.

Shit.

Well, he knows Isui Kano and his older brother Arakan were there, so that was a start. The older boys probably all went to the same school together, so if he's shown some pictures then Izuku could likely identify the others. And if they didn't all go to the same school, then, well... he'd figure something out.

He hadn't spent years trawling the underground heroics scene for nothing.

Sure, he doesn't have the same resources at his disposal, but again, he could figure something out.

"Izuku!"

Fuck.

Guess he'll be figuring it out later.

As it is, Izuku only has enough time to lift his head and see Inko bustling her way towards him before he's being enveloped in a much-too-tight hug. His ribs protest but all he's able to get out is a startled squeak.

"Mmf–!" he grunts. Inko just hugs him tighter.

Actually, it might be worth telling the truth if it meant he'd be freed from this.

After a moment that feels like an eternity Inko leans back so she can inspect his face, worried eyes skating over all the bruises. "Oh, my poor baby! Are you alright? Who did this to you?" she blubbers, not letting him get so much as a word in edgewise.

Until finally her gaze latches on the unfamiliar jacket swamping him.

"Eh?" she says, pinching the fabric. "What is this...?"

Part of Izuku wants to swat her hand away—he doesn't want Inko touching Yamada's leather jacket—but he manages to hold himself back; doing something like that was a surefire way of pissing her off. He's distracted by it anyway when he notices movement behind her, and sees Fujinuma, the officer who'd helped Aizawa with the paperwork earlier, approach.

"Midoriya-san, thank you for coming," he says. "I apologize for having to call you out here so early in the morning."

"No, no. I would have worried more had you not called me," Inko replies, and she turns to face Fujinuma but keeps her hands on Izuku's shoulders, keeping him close to her side. "Please, what happened?"

"From what I understand, sometime yesterday evening Izuku-kun got into an altercation with several older boys, one of which was apparently a classmate of his," Fujinuma explains, grabbing the paperwork from before to show Inko. "Luckily two heroes found him early this morning and were able to bring him here."

Inko gasps, raising one hand to cover her mouth while the other presses Izuku tighter against her side. "Oh, that's terrible," she says. Fujinuma nods sympathetically

"Did you want to press charges on those boys, ma'am?"

"I'd like to, but, oh..."

She glances down at Izuku, expression conflicted, before she turns back to Fujinuma and bows lowly.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. Please, excuse my son..." she tells him. "He's... he's been having trouble at school ever since the doctor diagnosed him as quirkless; getting into fights, disrespecting his teachers..."

Izuku swears he can see the exact moment Fujinuma's demeanor shifts; the way he blinks, looking Izuku up and down, at the bruising on his knuckles clutching the leather jacket. Then the way his shoulders square, lips thinning, a new kind of coldness overtaking the quiet concern that had been there mere moments ago. And just like that Izuku knows he's already lost.

Son of a—

"Don't worry, ma'am. I completely understand," Fujinuma says, still in that professional tone. "Children with his condition can be quite a handful. In any case, I just need to get some more information from you and get your statement, then you can be on your way, alright?"

"Yes, thank you," Inko answers with a grateful sigh. She keeps Izuku close to her as she answers the officer's questions, and it doesn't escape his notice that she provides the wrong address—their old address. Other than that, everything was accurate... for the most part.

He does consider calling out her lies—the address, him being quirkless—but, well... at this point he'd sort of committed to going along with it, and he doesn't want to risk things backfiring on him.

Specifically, he's in enough trouble with Inko as is.

Oh, she was acting the perfect worried mother now; keeping him within arm's reach and continuously checking to make sure he was still there, petting a hand 'comfortingly' over his hair, but Izuku knew it was all a façade. Unfortunately for him, Fujinuma was eating it right up.

It's just his luck that the officer helping them had to be a damn quirkist.

The thing is, his 'quirklessness' was easily disproven; all he had to do was flash Erasure and it would be obvious to anyone with eyes he had a quirk, but...

He'd already decided on the path he was going to take before Inko arrived—this is something he's choosing to do to himself, he knows that—but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He doesn't think anyone could be happy in this situation.

They're nearly done with the paperwork when Fujinuma's radio unexpectedly goes off, and it damn near spooks Izuku right out of his skin. His fingers and toes burn with static from the shot of adrenaline while Fujinuma reaches for the radio to answer.

All Izuku's able to catch is that Fujinuma was needed for something, and that he needed to head there ASAP.

"Oh my," Inko says once the radio's gone quiet. "That sounds important."

"Yes..." Fujinuma sighs. "My apologizes for the interruption, Midoriya-san. We can just quickly wrap this up."

"Already? But what about the paperwork?"

"It's fine, I've got all I need here. I don't need your statement."

Inko blinks in surprise, straightening up a tad. "Really? So... I'm free to take my son home?"

"Yes, ma'am." Fujinuma hooks his radio back onto his uniform, and he nods towards Inko and Izuku, saying, "I can see you're just a worried mother with your son's best interests in mind. There's no need to keep you here longer than need be."

Inko dissolves into a litany of tearful 'thank you's, which Fujinuma politely endures.

Before he takes his leave though, he turns to Izuku and adds, "Try to stay out of trouble from now on, young man. People won't always be so understanding."

And then he's gone.

Internally, Izuku's seething. It's not like he got himself beat up on purpose, and he sure as hell didn't ask to be brought here. Honestly, if he'd had his way, he would be in bed by now having never come to this damned police station in the first place, and Inko would be none-the-wiser.

Well, she would have noticed the bruises sooner or later, but he could have come up with some other explanation for that.

Just his luck that Inko didn't want to press charges, either.

Which means that of all the things he'd set out to do—registering his quirk, getting out of that fight without being injured, making sure his attackers didn't get away with it—he had accomplished nothing. Less than nothing, actually.

All he's managed to do is gain several new bruises and one very unhappy mother.

Speaking of, Inko sighs and takes a step away from the chair Izuku's still sat in, pinching the bridge of her nose.

He gets his first real look at her then; sees the way her hair is tied up in a messy bun, a jacket haphazardly thrown over her typical nighttime bathrobe...

Had she just gone to sleep despite him not being in his bed?

"Come on, Izuku," she says, reaching to take his hand to pull him from the chair. Reluctantly he lets her, keeping ahold of Yamada's jacket to make sure it came with him and didn't slip off.

It's only then that Inko seems to remember it's there in the first place.

"Oh," she says. "We don't need to take that with us."

"N-no—!" Izuku yelps, clinging when Inko tries to lift the jacket from his shoulders.

"Izuku," Inko admonishes. "Just because someone let you wear their jacket doesn't mean you get to keep it. We're leaving it here."

Izuku clings harder.

"Present Mic gave it to m-me!" he tells her, voice high-pitched and cracking in the way he hates. "He told me to k-keep it safe; I c-can't just leave it...!"

Like hell was he going to leave Yamada's jacket behind. Sure, maybe it'd be easier for Yamada to retrieve it from the station, but he'd specifically entrusted Izuku to keep it safe. And he knows, he knows, it was just a ploy to keep Izuku from panicking when he had to leave, he knows that, but he's going to keep this damn jacket safe if it kills him.

He watches as Inko draws herself up, the first real embers of frustration beginning to light in her expression, before... her shoulders slump, and she heaves a tired sigh.

"...Okay," she says, "Okay, fine..."

And then Inko lets go, instead stooping down to lift Izuku into her arms, jacket and all. She props him on her hip—a mirror to how Yamada held him earlier, though this time Izuku has to suppress the urge to squirm.

"Let's go home," Inko says.

The sun has only just begun to peer over the surrounding buildings when she carries him out onto the street, several people out and already going about their mornings. Within minutes Inko and Izuku are stepping onto a bus and headed 'home.'

'Home'...

It still didn't feel like that, even months later.

And right this moment, Izuku feels just as uncertain, just as apprehensive as he had that day Inko took him from the Bakugous.

A bus ride has never felt so stifling.

At least time time he has Yamada's jacket to hide in, burying his face in its dark folds rather than in Inko's shoulder or her hair. It's comforting, dulling the sights and sounds of daily life to something more bearable. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of cheap men's cologne rather than flowery shampoo. And to be honest, he's glad that this was Yamada's personal jacket and not his hero one; it would have been annoying dealing with that popped collar.

Either way, with Inko carrying him like this he's hidden almost entirely from sight.

She doesn't even try to put him down at any point during their journey, keeping him held securely in her arms until eventually they're stepping off the bus, walking for only a handful of minutes before entering what he assumes to be their apartment building. Then up the stairs and down the hall, until she's shifting him in her arms to unlock the front door.

Then, only once the door has shut behind them, does she put him down.

She locks the door, lets him get his shoes off...

And then she grabs him by the shoulders.

"Are you incapable of behaving yourself for even one day?" she hisses right in his face, and ah, there it was. "I mean, honestly, the police station? At five in the damn morning? I don't have time for this, Izuku!"

"It wasn't my fault," Izuku tries, "They—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses," Inko snaps, and his jaw clicks shut. "I swear... do you have any idea how these stunts of yours affect me?"

The words 'I'm sorry' are on the tip of his tongue, but Izuku keeps them trapped behind his teeth. Inko doesn't deserve an apology from him; he hasn't done anything wrong.

Inko pinches the bridge of her nose and heaves a sigh.

"Izuku... You knew I was working a late shift—I only got home a couple hours ago! I had to get out of bed to come bail you out. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know. I have to work to put food on the table, to keep a roof over our heads. I can't do that if you're causing problems and making me lose sleep."

She shakes him a little when she says that, and despite how he feels about it she's clearly expecting an apology out of him.

So, Izuku swallows his pride and grits out, "...I'm sorry."

"That's not going to cut it this time," Inko says. "From this moment on you're grounded until I feel you've learned your lesson. That means no TV, no computer time, and no leaving the house other than for school. As soon as school's over you come straight back home and go to your room. Got it?"

That's... really fucking unfair, but Izuku bites his tongue and doesn't protest.

"Got it..." he mutters.

"Speak up, Izuku. You know I don't like it when you mumble." Inko shakes him again, only stopping when he lifts his gaze from his shoes and looks at her. "Do you understand what I'm telling you or not?"

"Yes," he says, forcing himself to speak louder—but not too loud. He doesn't want her to suddenly accuse him of shouting or talking back. "I understand."

"Good."

Only then does Inko let go of his shoulders, straightening up with a sigh.

"Now then," she says. "I'll be taking this—"

She grabs hold of Yamada's leather jacket again, managing to lift it an inch before Izuku snaps into motion and clings to it once more with a shouted, "No!"

"This isn't up for discussion, Izuku."

Inko's much more forceful about it this time around, and he's forced to let go for fear of the jacket ripping. She holds it up out of his reach.

"I don't care if Present Mic gave it to you," she tells him firmly. "He shouldn't have done that in the first place; you're only six, you'll probably just damage it anyways. I'll hold onto it for safe keeping until he comes to retrieve it and that's final."

Izuku can feel tears gathering in his eyes, his hands clenched into tight, shaking fists at his sides. His shoulders feel cold without the weight of Yamada's jacket enveloping him.

He feels exposed.

But it's too late to go back. It's too late to tell the truth.

It's too late.

Still holding the jacket over his head, Inko points with her free hand and says, "Now, go to your room."

All Izuku can do is stare, breaths hitching.

Fucking powerless.

"Room," Inko repeats. "Now."

And once again Izuku runs like the coward he is.

He runs all the way to his bedroom, shutting—but not slamming—the door behind him. Then he collapses against it, sliding down until he's sat on the floor with tears freely streaming down his face.

He's back in the room he hates; back in the 'home' that isn't his. Back with the mother that doesn't love him.

And he'd done it to himself.

Maybe it would've been better had he stayed dead like he was supposed to.