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It was a quiet affair.
Inko’s funeral.
The sky was bright and blue, mocking him, as the sun beating down on the back of Shouta’s neck. Even in the heat, though, his palms felt clammy and cold. Clammy and cold as he held onto that tiny, tiny hand that clutched him back so strongly.
Shouta glanced down at his nephew, feeling a wash of concern flood over him when he saw the boy had tears in his eyes. Shouta had already explained to him that his mother was gone, that she had died- had left him- and had to explain further, when the boy asked, that she wouldn’t be able to visit him ever again.
Death was a heavy concept for a four-year-old, and Shouta had initially been concerned that Izuku wouldn’t understand.
Seeing the tears in his nephew’s eyes now, Shouta knew that Izuku understood too well.
To his right, Hizashi brushed his elbow against Shouta’s. It was nothing too forceful, just a silent acknowledgement that he was there. It made the dark, vast pit in Shouta’s stomach feel a little less cold.
Not many people had shown up for Inko- merely the Bakugou’s, with Katsuki standing next to his friend holding Izuku’s free hand, and a little old lady who ran the tea shop that Inko frequented.
Had frequented.
And would never frequent again.
Quite a few more people showed up to support Shouta and Izuku. There were Shouta’s friends- Hizashi to his left in a dark black suit, Tensei behind him donning the same, and Nemuri to Tensei’s side, holding onto the man’s arm as she shook with tears. Shouta wasn’t surprised. Nemuri had grown close to Inko- nearly like a sister- through their shopping and tea dates. Nemuri leaned forward, glancing at Izuku and brushing an errant curl out of his face.
The action made a tear fall from Izuku’s eyes, rolling over freckled cheeks still pudgy with baby fat.
Katsuki swatted at Nemuri’s hand, inching closer to Izuku as the green-haired boy’s shoulders shook. Throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder, Katsuki glared at Nemuri and then began to speak in a whisper- as much as a four-year-old could whisper- to Izuku.
Shouta knew he should be the one comforting Izuku. He knew.
But there was something rising in his gut. Something cold and dark and nauseatingly violent.
Instead, he squeezed Izuku’s hand tighter.
Behind his friends, several of Shouta’s colleagues had shown up, as well. There was Snipe, who stood off to the side silently, as well as Cementoss, Thirteen, Ectoplasm, Recovery Girl, and Vlad King. A few more teachers from UA were scattered about. Nedzu stood at a distance, and Shouta knew that his old sensei was trying to offer his own breed of support. Even if Nedzu didn’t quite understand human emotions, he knew that Shouta was suffering. He’d given Shouta the rest of the term off for grievance- two weeks, with their break starting right after- and time to settle Izuku in.
Because Shouta was Izuku’s last living relative.
Besides his bastard of a father- who couldn’t even be bothered to fly back home for his own wife’s funeral- and his uncle, Izuku was alone.
And Shouta was alone, besides Izuku.
His only living family member was this four-year-old child that was now in his care. He would have to offer Izuku guidance and a home and balance, something all children needed and deserved. And, of course, Shouta wasn’t upset about having to bring Izuku home with him, he just…
He didn’t know if he was good enough.
Then, the minister was finally done speaking- Inko hadn’t been a particularly religious woman, but Shouta didn’t know who else to call to run the ceremony- and he gestured towards Shouta and Izuku.
And Shouta shoved it all down, back into the dark pit that was his stomach.
Shouta handed Izuku one of the roses he’d been holding, tossing his own in over the casket in the ground.
The casket that he couldn’t look at too long for fear of throwing up.
Izuku paused with his rose, looking confusedly from the casket to his uncle.
“Toss it in, Izuku,” Shouta said gently.
And then, Izuku- in all the loudness that a four-year-old couldn’t help but possess- asked his uncle, “Is M-Mama in t-there?”
Shouta choked on a breath, feeling his heart skip a beat. He heard murmuring from the small crowd, all of them having heard Izuku, and realized that he had to say something.
Crouching next to his nephew, Shouta tilted Izuku’s chin up so that the child could see him more clearly. “Yes, Izuku. Your Mama-”
“Is gone,” Izuku replied, his voice thick with emotion and the tears that were now falling down his cheeks. “And she can’t c-come v-visit me.”
In that moment, it took every ounce of Shouta’s willpower to not cry.
“No, kiddo,” Shouta croaked back. “She can’t.”
Izuku dropped the rose next to him, in between himself and Shouta. And then, the child stammered, “B-But I w-want her. I- I w-want Mama!”
Shouta swallowed down his dinner- he hadn’t had the stomach for breakfast- and whispered, “I know, Zuzu. I want her, too.”
“But- But I w-want Mama!” the boy called out, stomping his foot and crushing the rose beneath it. “I want Mama! I w-want Mama! I w-want M-Mama!” The child’s voice grew louder, more shrill, with each scream. He was stomping his foot and sobbing, and Shouta felt his face growing hot.
Not from embarrassment at Izuku’s tantrum.
From shame of himself.
Because he was powerless to give Izuku what he wanted.
Because he wasn’t good enough.
As Izuku continued to scream, Shouta quickly lifted the child to his waist, not shushing or telling him to be quiet. He ignored Izuku’s fists slamming into his back, the child’s screams muffled only by his face pressed into his uncle’s shoulder. Turning on his heel, Shouta made quick work of rushing back towards the crowd, desperate to break through them and get Izuku away where the child could process in peace.
Shouta remembered his own mother’s funeral, how he hadn’t been allowed to cry. Inko had held his hand the entire time, but she had shushed his tears and told him to be strong.
Shouta wouldn’t force that sense of responsibility onto his tiny nephew.
He couldn’t.
As Shouta passed by Hizashi, the blonde reached out and grabbed his elbow, face contorted in pain. “Shouta-”
“Not now,” Shouta croaked back, voice cracking halfway through. “Not now, Hizashi, I can’t-”
“Alright,” Hizashi said, retracting his hand and looking horribly sorrowful. “Alright, Sho.”
Shouta sniffled as he ignored the Bakugou’s- Katsuki looking close to his own tantrum- and made his way past his coworkers. To his relief, none of them reached out to stop him like Hizashi had. Instead, they all continued to look forward at Inko’s grave, giving Shouta the privacy he so craved.
Although Shouta could feel Nedzu’s eyes on his back as he made his way towards the parking lot.
Shouta didn’t stop moving until he was at Hizashi’s car- the horribly bright yellow menace of a sportscar that looked so odd with a booster seat in the backseat- going to the opposite side of it and setting Izuku down.
By then, the boy was no longer screaming, but his tears had grown into violent sobs and frighteningly gasping breaths.
“Hey, kiddo, hey,” Shouta murmured, holding onto Izuku’s hands as he crouched in front of the child. “Hey, Zuzu. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
“N-N-No,” the boy sobbed out, shaking his head as best he could while he was panicking. “N-No, don’t- don’t w-w-wanna-”
“Please, Zuzu, just one big, deep breath. I know it’s hard, kiddo, but I need you to take a deep breath. For me. Please, Zuzu.”
To Shouta’s relief, the child managed to take in one breath. It was hardly deep, but it seemed to calm down Izuku a fraction.
“Good job, kiddo. Now one more.”
Further relieving, Izuku didn’t argue again. Instead, the child took another breath- this one slightly deeper- and let it out slowly.
“Good, kiddo. Good job.”
Shouta was hardly a stranger to Izuku’s panic attacks. The poor kid seemed prone to them, and Shouta had learned quickly from Inko how to help him. After all, the child didn’t have a therapist, most of them not taking on Quirkless clients. Shouta had looked far and wide for a child therapist, but there was no one who was willing to take on such a challenging client. Shouta was trying, he was, but…
It wasn’t good enough.
He wasn’t good enough.
Before Shouta could work himself into a panic attack, he held Izuku’s hands to his chest and murmured to the child, “Do you want to go back?”
Frantically, Izuku shook his head, and Shouta continued on before the child could burst out crying again, “Okay, it’s okay. We don’t have to.”
They had been planning on having dinner with the Bakugou’s afterwards, at the family’s apartment, but even in such a private setting, Shouta wasn’t sure Izuku would be comfortable.
“Do you want to go-”
And, well, he couldn’t say home.
Because Shouta’s apartment wasn’t home for Izuku.
The one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment was hardly a home in general. Hell, Shouta didn’t even have a TV.
But he had at least one thing that he knew Izuku loved. Something that might help the child calm down a bit more…
“Do you want to go see Goldfish?”
Goldfish, Shouta’s ragged Maine Coon, was nearly the same size as Izuku. She was bright orange with stripes, and Izuku had been given the honor of naming her when she was a kitten. And, of course, Izuku named her after his favorite snack due to her coloring.
At the mention of his favorite pet- the child hadn’t been allowed a pet due to their apartment’s rules and his mother being allergic, so he thrived off pictures of Goldfish that Shouta sent to Inko’s phone- Izuku paused. Shouta watched the child with bated breath, praying that his offer would work.
And then, slowly, the little boy nodded. “W-Wanna see G-G-Goldfish…”
“Okay,” Shouta murmured to him, picking Izuku back up. “Okay. Let me text Zashi so he can take us-” not home “-to my apartment, okay?”
It was mere moments after Shouta texted Hizashi that the blonde appeared, car keys in hand. Shouta knew Hizashi must have been waiting for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Hey, Bean,” Hizashi spoke quietly to the little boy cuddled up in Shouta’s arms. He reached out, waiting a moment to see if Izuku would flinch backwards, but when the child stayed still, Hizashi’s hand bridged the rest of the gap to brush tear-tracks away from the boy’s cheeks. “You ready to go-” But Hizashi must have realized the same thing-
That it wasn’t home.
That Shouta wasn’t good enough.
- because he said, after a gap of silence, “-ready to go to Uncle Sho’s?”
Izuku sniffled, nodding, and croaked out with his scream-addled voice, “Wanna s-see Goldfish.”
Hizashi’s smile was so warm it could have melted steel. He tilted his head to the side, crooning to the child, “Okay, Bean. Let’s go see Goldfish.”
The drive back was nearly silent. Izuku had cried himself out in the backseat and was half-asleep, head lulling and eyelids flickering as he fought to stay awake. Shouta had decided to sit next to his nephew rather than in the passenger seat, his much larger hand holding onto one of Izuku’s tiny ones, rubbing soothing circles into the boy’s palm. In the driver’s seat was Hizashi, humming a low tune just loud enough to filter through to the backseat. And finally, when they were a few streets down from the apartment, Izuku fell asleep to the sound of Hizashi’s lullaby and the warmth of his uncle next to him.
It was then that Shouta felt the tears.
“Sho-” Hizashi started, then stopped, checking in the rearview mirror to make sure Izuku was actually asleep. “Sho, I… Are you...” Hizashi then sighed heavily, shaking his head and murmuring to himself. Finally, the man settled on: “Do you want me to fix some tea when we get back?”
Shouta gruffly replied, “Coffee.”
Hizashi sighed once more, replying, “Sho, you need sleep. When’s the last time you actually slept? You need-”
“Coffee, Hizashi. I need coffee.”
There was so much left to do. Shouta had to contact the Bakugou’s to tell them they wouldn’t make it to dinner, and then review Inko’s will, and then he had to start filling out the paperwork Tsukauchi had brought him to take guardianship over Izuku, and then he had to find a new apartment that would be big enough to house them both, and then-
“Stop, Shouta. I can see your brain churning.” Hizashi’s voice was softer when he said, “At least take a nap with the little listener. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Shouta wanted to spout a gruff “fuck you” to his friend for weaponizing his nephew, but one look at the child had him faltering. Izuku was all pale with splotchy cheeks and hair in disarray. His little suit was wrinkled and he looked overall horrible.
Shouta wasn’t sure he himself was faring much better.
Maybe a nap would be fine…
“Just an hour,” Shouta replied tersely. “Don’t let me sleep any longer.”
“That’s fine,” Hizashi replied with a lilting voice, clearly trying not to anger his friend by being too tender, but also being a kind person. “That’s fine.”
…
Shouta woke up with a gasp, nearly flinging himself out of bed as sweat popped out on his forehead. “Who-”
Beside the bed, Hizashi had his hands raised placatingly, taking a step back from his friend as he said, “It’s just me, Sho. It’s just me.”
Shouta noticed the familiar room around him, the heavy and warm presence of his nephew and his cat to his left. With a sigh, the man allowed his shoulders to relax, his head slumping downwards as he said, “Fuck.”
“Nightmare?” Hizashi asked, offering him a water bottle.
Shouta took it, nodded his gratefulness, and took a sip. After a few moments, he replied, “M’hmm.”
Hizashi’s eyes softened, and he said, “You can sleep a little longer if you want. It’s been an hour, but I already called Mitsuki and told her you guys wouldn’t make it to dinner.” Tilting his head to the side, Hizashi continued, “I also called Tsukauchi. He said the paperwork can wait another forty-eight hours, but he’s shuffling stuff around to make it seventy-two.” With a small smile, Hizashi encouraged his friend, “You can relax, Sho. You don’t have to do it all today.”
Something in Shouta’s heart clenched, and he shook his head. “Don’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep anyways.”
“Tea, then. In the living room. C’mon.”
With that, Hizashi offered Shouta his hand. The man looked at it for a moment, still feeling unsteady from his nightmare, before taking it and allowing Hizashi to tug him from the comfort of blankets and pillows and his nephew’s warmth.
“What kind of tea do you want?” Hizashi asked as he silently shut the bedroom door behind himself, leaving it open a crack should Izuku awaken.
Inko had been a fan of green tea, even if Shouta could hardly stomach the stuff. It tasted like dirt water, he’d told her one time. He much preferred black or herbal teas, sometimes something fruity.
And so he said, “There’s a mint green tea in the cupboard.”
Hizashi flashed him a small, sad, knowing smile before heading off to the kitchen.
Shouta slumped onto the couch, leaning over with his elbows on his knees, supporting his head with his hands. His hair hid his face with a curtain of dark curls, and he allowed a shudder to wash over his body in the miniscule privacy.
Inko was gone.
His big sister was… was dead.
And he was helpless to do anything about it.
“The HPSC is very sorry for your loss,” the letter had said, “in the wake of the city’s most recent villain attack. A check has been attached to assist with ceremonial proceedings…”
Shouta had hardly read on after that, too bothered by the cold and unceremonious nature of the letter.
When the attack had happened, Izuku had been at daycare on the other side of the city. And Shouta had been at home, happily sleeping in during the absence of a school day. Hell, Shouta hadn’t woken up to a news station or the radio or anything regarding the attack. He’d woken up to a text from Hizashi, asking when “the Green Bean” was coming over for dinner next. It was Shouta’s turn to pick Izuku up from daycare, so he’d replied that evening would be perfect. He’d even texted Inko to invite her…
All night, he’d called and texted Inko, waiting for a reply. It wasn’t until he and Hizashi put Izuku to bed in Hizashi’s guest room that Shouta finally gave into the urge to go out and find his sister. Capture weapon around his neck, goggles on his head, he gave his friend a firm nod when Hizashi said, “Be careful, Sho.”
What he’d found was a letter taped to the Midoriya’s front door. The HPSC worked fast- the villain attack, he’d later learned, had only happened earlier that morning. And the letter and check were tacked onto the door that evening, marring the door worse than a blood splatter.
That had been almost a week ago.
And now, here Shouta was, no longer just a Pro Hero and a teacher, but also a guardian.
To a child.
To Izuku.
His precious baby nephew.
Sure, he’d helped Inko take care of Izuku in Hisashi’s absence, but taking care of Izuku by himself? Forever? Because Izuku was his responsibility now, irrevocably. Not that he’d want to get rid of Izuku, but… But maybe…
Maybe Izuku would be happier somewhere else.
After all, Shouta was pretty incompetent when it came to this “guardian” stuff. He’d hardly been doing it a week, and Izuku had already had over a dozen tantrums, crying fits, and panic attacks in that time frame.
All because Shouta wasn’t good enough for him-
“Hey, stop that.”
Shouta glanced up at his friend through his bangs, seeing Hizashi frowning sadly at him, holding out a cup of steaming tea. “I can see your brain doing that thing again, Sho. Don’t rag on yourself too hard, y’hear?”
Shouta grunted, taking the tea from Hizashi and sipping it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hizashi replied, easily swinging himself down onto the couch next to his friend. Facing the other man, Hizashi tilted his head to the side and asked curiously, calmly, unjudgmentally, “What’s on your mind? Besides the obvious, I mean. I can see those gears churning away.”
“Zashi…” Shouta said, trying to imbue a warning in his voice. As it were, in his exhaustion, he barely managed to add a tinge of annoyance.
“C’mon, you know you’ll feel better if you talk about it, Sho. We’ve been over this.”
Because they had been over this. With Oboro, a mere few months before Izuku had been born. It had been easier to ignore Oboro’s death and his own grief with the distraction of a newborn baby, but Shouta had eventually been forced to seek out help for his depression and anger. Therapy, for one, had been immeasurably helpful. And his friends- Tensei, Nemuri, Hizashi- had been a necessity, as well.
All Izuku had was Katsuki, in the way of friends. Being newly diagnosed as Quirkless was a burden in of itself, ostracizing the little boy from his other classmates. It had nearly done in his relationship with Katsuki, too, but Shouta and Mitsuki had sat Katsuki down and given the little boy a stern talking-to early on that helped rekindle his friendship with Izuku.
As for family…
Inko had been integral to Shouta’s healing from Oboro.
But Inko wasn’t here anymore.
Which was the problem.
Shouta couldn’t do this alone, he couldn’t help Izuku, Izuku needed more than him and he was hardly a functioning adult as it was and Izuku deserved better-
“Woah, woah, Sho- breathe, Shouta.”
Shouta hadn’t even realized his breathing had stopped, but- sure enough- he had to cough out a sharp breath, inhaling deeply to expand his lungs from the panic that had been threatening to squash them.
“S-Sorry,” he coughed out, setting the tea on the coffee table in front of him.
Suddenly, he couldn’t stomach anything.
Hizashi was quiet for a few moments, twirling golden strands of hair around his pointer finger. He stared at his friend, then mumbled to himself, looking down at Shouta’s shaking hands. Shouta quickly twined his fingers together, gripping at his own palms to distract from said shaking.
Leaning forward, Hizashi pressed his fingers into the divots of Shouta’s palms, forcing apart the pale, trembling hands. And then, he took one of Shouta’s hands into his own, twining their fingers together as he squeezed at Shouta’s palm.
“Breathe, Sho.”
“I am, Zashi,” Shouta snapped back. A stab of guilt filled his heart, and- running his free hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face- Shouta quickly said, “Sorry, I- sorry…”
Hizashi’s returning smile was soft and sad. “I know, Sho. I know…”
And they were quiet again.
After several minutes of silence, in which Shouta watched the steam coming from his tea wither away, Hizashi spoke.
“You know you aren’t alone in this, right?”
Shouta scoffed.
“No, Sho, really,” Hizashi protested, scooching closer and peering deeply at his friend who refused to meet his eyes. “You’ve got Ten and Nem and me. We’ll all be here to help. Not to forget our coworkers- they’re all behind you, too, Sho.”
“Zashi, I…what if I fuck it up?” Shouta croaked. “What if- What if I make things worse?”
Hizashi shrugged lightly. “Then you fix it. Isn’t it as simple as that?”
Shouta grew quiet. His thoughts were berating him, cascading over his mind and making everything muddled and confusing.
And yet, one thought still prevailed.
“…I’m not good enough, Zashi.”
Hizashi’s face fell. “Oh, Sho.”
“I’m not. I’m not Inko, I can’t- I can’t ever be Inko. She was perfect, and Izuku- Izuku deserves better-”
“Shouta, don’t. Don’t do that to yourself- you’re doing just fine right now, so what’s got to change about that? Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be fine.”
“Zashi… How do you know?”
Hizashi’s eyes warmed, and his thumb began rubbing circles into the back of Shouta’s hand. “Oh, Sho… Because I don’t think it matters how ‘good enough’ you consider yourself to be. I think it just matters that you care.” Hizashi sighed at his friend’s blatant confusion, continuing on, “Of course it matters that you do a good job, but ‘not being good enough’ has nothing to do with ‘doing a good job’. You can feel down on yourself without actually being a bad parent- and the fact that you care about doing a good job? That in of itself shows just how good you’re doing now. You already care so much, and Izuku’s hardly been here a week.”
Smile growing, Hizashi nudged his shoulder against Shouta’s, staying put and sharing his warmth with his friend. “You care, and Izuku can see that.”
“He’s not happy here, Hizashi.”
“Of course he’s not happy right now, Sho. His mom just died. But ‘right now’ are the operative words. He might never get over Inko’s death, but he can still be happy. He will be happy. Because you’re gonna care for him- you do care for him- and you’re going to do the best you can by him. Because I know you, Aizawa Shouta, and you don’t do things in halves.”
Hizashi’s eyes turned determined, and he grinned at Shouta when he said, “You’re going to do great. You’ve got your team behind you and Izuku in front of you, and you can do this. Shouta, you can do this.”
Choked on a sob, Shouta turned and buried his face in Hizashi’s shoulder, grabbing the blonde’s bicep in a death-grip. It took little maneuvering from Hizashi to tug Shouta into a hug, rocking his friend back and forth gently, murmuring quiet nothings as Shouta sobbed into his dress shirt.
“There you go, Sho. Let it out, sweetheart. Let it out.”
And Shouta cried. He cried out the desperation, the anger, the fear. He cried until his eyes ran dry, his shaking shoulders coming to a slow stop. And then, he slumped into Hizashi’s chest, utterly spent. Hizashi hummed, crooning gently as he ran a hand through Shouta’s hair, “Feeling better, Sho?”
Shouta grunted, and Hizashi chuckled.
“I think it’s time for you to go back to bed.”
Standing up, Hizashi allowed Shouta to lean most of his weight on the taller man, leading his friend towards the bedroom. Shouta slumped, an arm wrapped around Hizashi and barely keeping him upright as they stumbled. When Hizashi finally got them down the short hallway, silently opening the door to the bedroom, Shouta dragged the blonde inside with him. Hizashi let loose a squawk, and Shouta glared at him with his Quirk blaring.
“Sho, what-” Hizashi started in a hiss, only for Shouta to shush him.
“You’re taking a nap with us,” Shouta said shortly, collapsing onto the bed and earning a mewl from Goldfish. Izuku, for his part, hardly made a peep, instead moving towards his uncle’s warmth as Shouta dragged Hizashi onto the too-small bed.
Somehow, they maneuvered until Izuku was between Shouta and Hizashi, the two men facing each other with Goldfish lying between their feet.
Hizashi’s eyes were soft when he stared at Shouta, his smile even more melty than it had been in the living room. “You’ve got this, Sho…” he whispered, brushing a hand through his friend’s hair once more. “I’ll be there for you the whole way.”
Shouta, halfway to sleep, muttered back, “I know…”
And then, Shouta’s brain went blissfully quiet, if not just for a short time.
…