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Coming home like this was never fun.
Kacchan and his friends had been more aggressive than usual today. They were usually sort of careful to not leave marks in visible places. Regardless, as Izuku limped through the threshold of his apartment, he struggled not to feel the weight of his backpack dig into the seared flesh on his shoulder. A burn just minor enough to not scar once it healed.
The front door creaked as Izuku pushed it open, ruining his attempt to enter unnoticed. God today was really not his day, was it?
“Izuku? Is that you?” Inko called from the living room. Izuku lowered his head as he removed his shoes. He didn’t want to face her, feeling awful that she spent so much energy worrying about him. She’s busy enough as it is. She deserved so much better.
“Izuku?” Inko called again, appearing in the hall and approaching quickly. Maybe it was some kind of 6th sense parents developed, to always know when something was wrong with their kids, but she didn’t hesitate before speeding her steps and coming closer to Izuku.
‘I suppose there’s no avoiding it now.’ Izuku thought, lifting his head. His mother gasped upon seeing the large bruise now residing on his left cheek; his eyebrow cut open and slowly dripping blood down the side of his face.
“Izuku! What happened?!” Inko exclaimed. Grabbing his face in both her hands she gently examined the damage. Izuku’s mind immediately focused on the delicate warmth of his mother's touch. He let out a soft sigh of relief and immediately let his face lean into her hand, reveling in the feeling of the one person who cared cradling his face with a tenderness only she could provide.
Inko wasn’t dumb. She knew how the children at Izuku’s school treated him. The way they would hurt him. Use him as a punching bag and a stress reliever. The cruel words they threw at him. That horrible nickname. He wasn’t as good at hiding his injuries as he seemed to think he was. Inko always knew when he came home from a bad day. Izuku would throw off his shoes and walk straight into his bedroom with not so much as a hello, locking the door and only emerging hours later with a strained smile and smelling suspiciously like disinfectant. He had always shut her out when she had tried, but maybe today was the day he would finally allow her to help him.
“I’m sorry.” Izuku mumbled softly, his eyes staying closed, trying to preserve the feeling of safeness his mom radiated. “I didn’t want you to see.” Silent tears fell down his face and against his mother's hand. Still her touch never wavered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I’m your mother. It’s my job to take care of you when you're hurting.” Inko replied. “Let’s go. We’ll get you all cleaned up and then we can watch a movie. We can even order takeout tonight. Does that sound good?”
Inko felt a swell of pride as she watched a small tearful smile appear on her child’s face. How could anybody look at this wonderful, smart boy and just stomp on him the way they do? So much hatred existed in the world. It made her sick. There was a bright light shining in her little boy and Inko could do nothing but sit by and watch as cruel people beat it out of him. This was the last straw. Tomorrow she was going down to that school and taking Izuku out. They would find alternative schooling options that didn’t involve his being hurt all the time.
“That sounds nice.” He answered, a sliver of light returning to his eyes.
That night, Izuku finally let his mom take care of him. She washed his face, cleaned and bandaged his wounds, all while whispering loving reassurances to him. Telling Izuku how much she loved him. How grateful she was to have such a strong boy. How lucky she was to be his mother.
“I love you mama.” Izuku whispered softly, the soft glow on the television lighting up his frail features as he drifted off to sleep.
Inko stared down at her son's peaceful expression, watching as his breathing steadied from where he was curled up next to her, both of them wrapped in the softest blanket she could find.
“I love you too, Izuku.” She whispered back softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Inko never made it to the school the next day.
***************************
Izuku awoke to the sensation of Obi kneading frantically into his side. He groaned as his emerald eyes reluctantly opened, looking down at the fluffy white cat who’d rudely woken him up from his sleep.
“Okay. I’m up, I’m up. Gimme a minute and I’ll feed you.” Izuku mumbled sleepily as he slowly sat up. As his eyes focused, he rose to his feet. Hefting the cat into his arms he began to make his way to the kitchen.
The months since meeting Aizawa and Yamada had been one roller coaster to the next. It wasn’t hard for the two pros to enact their emergency foster licenses and have him legally living under their care. It was funny, in a weird sadistic type of way, to watch as the childcare system tried to persuade them out of taking him in, only to be reminded that they had knowingly abandoned an orphaned minor and left him homeless. Wouldn’t it be a shame if the good people of Japan found out about that? It was certainly an underhanded tactic, but Izuku had long since learned that his foster dads were willing to play dirty if they needed to.
There was still a small part of Izuku that was afraid to get too attached to these wonderful people, convinced they would eventually tire of all his baggage and leave him alone again. They were only fostering him after all. It’s not like he would be here forever; as much as he wishes he could.
Walking out into the kitchen area Izuku was met with the sight of Aizawa sitting calmly at the table while Hizashi flitted around the area preparing breakfast for everyone. Soft music played from the radio and Hizashi hummed quietly along with it. A small smile rested on Aizawa’s face as he relaxed in the domesticity of it all. A soft grin came to Izuku’s face thinking about sitting in the peaceful environment he had craved for so long.
Hearing Izuku enter the room, Aizawa lifted his head from his tablet and offered a small nod, his smile softening at the sight of his kid.
Both men had gotten to know Izuku fairly well over the four months he had been in their care. Each bit of information he granted them about himself was held on to and treasured. They learned that his favorite food was katsudon and his favorite color was ruby red. They learned that he would rub his thumb and pointer finger together when he got nervous, and how he would never ask for anything he wanted when they went shopping but always let his gaze linger just a moment longer on whatever it was before turning away. They learned that he loved candles but was afraid to light them and that he loved stuffed animals enough to always cuddle up with one when he slept.
They loved everything about him. No matter what it said on paper yet, he was their son; and had been since the first night they brought him home. Aizawa spent every day thanking whatever deity was out there for leading him to that rooftop.
Izuku sat down across from Aizawa, still a tad groggy and sporting one hell of a bed head. Obi was held gently in his lap, back against the nearly 13 year old's chest and paws supported by his arms.
“Mornin’.” Izuku mumbled, moving one arm from its place around Obi to rub his eye in what was probably one of the most adorable things Aizawa had ever seen. “Good morning Izuku.” He replied.
``So kiddo” Hizashi spoke up as he set a bowl of miso soup and rice in front of Izuku before taking a seat next to him. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”
“Huh? What's tomorrow?” Izuku asked, tilting his head curiously to the side.
“Your birthday. Tomorrow is your thirteenth birthday, Izuku.” Aizawa said, slightly amused. It was a big day for another reason as well, but the kid didn’t know that yet.
“It’s wha-? Oh..I guess it is my birthday tomorrow.” A flash of realization appearing on Izuku’s face as he spoke. “I totally forgot,” he said quietly. A sad look crossed Izuku’s face, recalling birthdays of his past spent with his mother. She always had a present for him even during times when it was obvious, they were struggling financially. She always tried to make the day special because she knew that he didn’t seem to have anyone else.
If the world wasn’t going to love her son, then she would love him enough for the world.
Izuku was jolted from his inner spiral by the voice of his (dad) guardian.
“What's wrong little listener? You don’t look too psyched for teenagerhood.” Hizashi spoke, poking Izuku lightly in the side causing the boy to giggle softly.
“No, it's not that. It’s just...I really wish I could celebrate with my mom.” Izuku said. He really hoped they didn’t take that the wrong way. It’s not that he wasn’t excited to celebrate with Shouta and Hizashi, but nothing could ever replace the way it felt to be held by his mom as she cried over how much bigger he’d gotten since the year before, and how proud she was of him for growing so strong.
“That's completely understandable, Izuku. It’s okay to miss her on such a day. If you’d like, we can go visit her tomorrow so you can say hello.” Aizawa replied softly. “I’m sure she’d like to know that you are being well taken care of in her absence.”
A soft smile settled on Izuku’s face at the thoughtfulness of Aizawa’s gesture. He truly dreaded the day he would have to leave the love and comfort of this family. All three were suddenly interrupted from their quiet moment when Obi let out a very loud meow, squirming his way out of Izuku’s hold and trotting over to his food bowl. The fuzzy cat sat down with an audible ‘plonk’, beginning to roll around on the floor as if to say “I’m so hungry, I'm dyinggg!” He was certainly a dramatic little thing.
With a huff of quiet laughter, Aizawa rose from his spot at the table, His knees popping and crackling as he stood. Come on he was only 29, he can’t be that old already.
“You good there Sho?'' Yamada said, trying and failing to hide a snicker behind his hand.
“Not a word Hizashi.” Aizawa replied, fishing the cat food from the cabinet.
“Oh? What are you gonna do? With your frail old man bod, you’ve obviously gotten weak.” His husband snarked back with a smirk.
This motherfucker.
“Weak? That's certainly not what you said last nigh-”
“Shouta!”
************************************************************************
Visiting his mother was emotional for Izuku. He was happy to see her, and even happier to note that someone had been keeping her resting place nice and clean in his own absence. Despite this, Izuku couldn’t help the tears that blurred his eyes as he read the words carved into the stone in front him.
‘Inko Midoriya
1970 - 2012
Beloved by all who knew her’
It didn’t do her the justice she deserved. It didn’t tell people that she was kind and brave. It didn’t show anyone how effortlessly beautiful she had always been. It didn’t tell people that she was the best mom and friend a kid could ask for. Izuku could feel the gentle stares of his two caretakers behind him. He knew Zashi was probably itching to reach out and comfort him, the same way Shouta was most likely holding himself back from running his fingers through Izuku’s mess of curls in a calming gesture of support. But they didn’t, they let him have his moment to feel his feelings and release them in his own time.
“Hi Mama.” Izuku said with a trembling whisper. “I know I haven’t been here in a while. I’m really sorry for that. I wanted to, but things got really crazy for a while, and I wasn’t able to make it to you.”
Izuku took a deep breath, his throat constricting as he tried desperately to hold back the tears he knew would inevitably fall. His inhale hitched as he began to speak again.
“I miss you.” Izuku choked out, his voice only the pitiful whimper of the child he was. Tears fell down his face, dripping from his chin and coating his neck. Izuku raised his arm to cover his face, trying to somewhat hide his misery from the men watching him. “I miss you so much.” Izuku sobbed.
Aizawa and Yamada’s hearts shattered at the echoing sound of Izuku’s cries. Life was cruel and unfair, but they both knew it was just a sad reality that could not always be avoided. Izuku was a child who had been knocked down at every turn. He had experienced pain and abuse in ways no one, especially a child should ever have to. They stood back and watched him stumble to piece his composure back together, knowing the pain of mourning so intensely is simply the price of loving so deeply. They had both known Izuku long enough now to know that even after everything, that boy loved with every inch of himself and more.
Tuning back into reality, it seemed as though Izuku had finally calmed down some, hiccupping through the last of his tears.
“It’s my birthday today. I’m 13. I think if you were still here, I’d be taller than you now.” Izuku said with a small tearful chuckle. “These two really nice heroes have been taking care of me. You remember Present Mic, we used to listen to his radio show together. And Eraserhead. He’s the one who I had that super grainy picture of on my wall.”
The pro’s smiled as Izuku spoke of them, Disregarding the fact that a literal child had somehow gotten a photo of the most elusive underground hero on the scene. Aizawa took a step forward, finally giving into his urge to comfort his kid now that he seemed to be calming down some. Sticking his work worn hand into Izuku’s viridian curls, Aizawa immediately felt some of the tension fall from the boy's frame.
Dropping his hand, Aizawa bowed deeply towards the stone grave “It’s nice to meet you Midoriya-san, my name is Shouta Aizawa. And this is my husband Hizashi Yamada.” Hizashi joined him not a moment later. Both heard Izuku’s breath hitch in surprise at the action.
‘What are they doing?’ Izuku thought as Aizawa’s eyes glanced towards him briefly.
Standing straight again, Izuku watched as they seemed to hold a silent conversation with each other. There were no words spoken, but over the span of seconds they looked to come to an agreement about something. Nodding softly, Aizawa turned his attention back to the grave.
“Izuku has been in our care for a few months now. You’ll be pleased to know that he is well ahead of his age group in his studies and has recently begun to successfully eat more solid foods without issue. Hizashi and I love him very much,” Aizawa paused his words, looking down at Izuku, a brief glimpse of nervousness showing on his face before the man expertly wiped it away. “And with your blessing, we would love to make him a permanent member of our family.”
Izuku stood in shock as his mind processed the words that had just been spoken. They wanted to……what? Blinking his eyes, Izuku felt tears once again stream down his freckled cheeks. A hand rests upon his shoulder, Aizawa and Hizashi suddenly kneeling in front of him. Curling into fists, his small hands raised up to futilely wipe his eyes as his voice finally released a small hiccup.
“Izuku. I understand that this is overwhelming. Hizashi and I have spoken extensively about this and if it is something you want, we would love nothing more than to adopt you.” Aizawa said, his voice as rough as ever but still just as safe and calming as Izuku had always found it. Finally looking up, Izuku’s eyes met the kind patient stares of the two wonderful men who had saved him. Fresh tears welled as a warmth he hadn’t felt in almost two years budded in Izuku’s chest.
They were telling the truth. They loved him and they wanted to be his family just as much as he wanted them. They loved him despite how much work taking care of him took. They loved him even when he couldn’t finish a meal, or when he got stinky because he forgot that he had access to a shower now. They loved him even when he woke them up in the middle of the night with his nightmares and they had to hold him for hours until he finally calmed down from his panic enough to rest again. They loved him even when he mumbled and stimmed, when he berated them with questions and theories about their quirks or accidentally broke a plate while helping with dishes.
They loved him even though he was just the little quirkless boy Eraserhead found on a roof one night. And Izuku loved them back so much he could barely stand it.
“Yes.” Izuku whispered tearfully. “I want that so bad.”
Izuku watched as a huge grin spread across Hizashi’s face, a softer but no less elated one appearing on Shouta’s at the same time. “Yeah?” Hizashi asked softly, tears now welling in his own misty eyes.
“Yeah.” Izuku replied. Suddenly both men surged up and he was enveloped by two sets of strong arms, Hizashi now loudly balling into Izuku’s hair. It seemed his own tears would not be stopping soon, although he couldn’t say he minded much this time around. A soft exhale left his lungs as Aizawa’s forehead pressed gently against his, his own eyes falling closed at the loving gesture.
The gruff man’s hand lifted to softly cradle Izuku’s warm face in his palms. “Thank you Izuku.” Shouta whispered.
Souta had felt a connection to this boy as soon as he first laid eyes on him that fateful night. From the first words spoken, Izuku had somehow broken past his intimidating icy exterior and unknowingly wormed his way into his heart. It didn’t take long for Hizashi to fall in love with him either.
Shouta had known, since night one, that Izuku was meant to be theirs. Ask any normal person and they would tell you Shouta Aizawa was far from an emotional man, his cold hard mask firmly in place to those who had not earned to see what lay underneath. Those who were close though knew that Shouta felt deeply and intensely. It was because of this that he was unable to keep his own few elated tears from falling as he cradled his son close.
Pulling back from the embrace, Izuku offered his own wobbly smile as he reached up to gently wipe Shouta’s tears away. Izuku lowered his hand then, reaching down and firmly squeezing both of their hands, before turning towards his mother. He walked closer to her, his fingers sliding out of their grips.
Izuku reached his hand up, resting his palm against the cold slab of stone. “I love you mama.” He smiled. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m okay.” his voice wavered with emotion as a gust of wind dried his tears.
Izuku may not have his mom with him anymore, but he was loved, and that was enough for him.
And although no one knew it; miles away sitting alone on an old log bridge in the middle of the woods, a boy with ashen blond hair blew out a single green candle and watched as the smoke drifted off into the sky.
“Happy Birthday Izuku.”