Chapter Text
Himiko wakes up feeling nice and warm. That’s not very new to her - she shares a room with Dabi at the bar, so she’s woken up warm every day for the last four weeks - but before she joined the League… She spent a lot of nights out on the streets, in nothing but her tattered uniform. She hasn’t forgotten how cold she got a few times, so it’s still a bit striking to wake up feeling actually cozy.
She hums softly in the back of her throat, nuzzling closer into her pillow, and only when she shifts does she notice the bundle of warmth pressed to her chest. Himiko sleepily peeks an eye open and immediately sighs softly, in an adoring kind of way. Because the furry green kitty apparently spent the whole last eight hours or so right where he’d laid down the night before - curled up against her chest as she slept on her side.
“Aw, sweet kitty,” Himiko murmurs softly, getting an ear twitch for her efforts, though the cat doesn’t actually stir. Aizawa-san had explained he wasn’t actually a cat - he’s a person, a teenager just like her - but that just made him even cuter in her opinion. He’s a little cat-shaped person! What’s not to love?
Himiko opens both eyes and then finally moves a little, stretching out her legs and back. It shifts the cat, who lifts his head to yawn widely, before giving his head a little shake and rising to his feet. Izuku leaps to the floor and pads off, Himiko watching him go before sitting up herself. She lifts a hand to yawn as well, then pushes the soft plush blanket off her lap to set her feet to the floor. It wasn’t super thick, but the blanket had still been really warm, and she pauses to admire the softness of it for a moment.
Just as she’s starting to look around the empty living room, wondering what to do with herself, she hears quiet footsteps approaching. She looks over the back of the sofa to see Aizawa-san walking in from the hallway, looking even more haggard than the night before. He notices her immediately, pausing in his steps and offering a small wave. “Do you drink coffee?” he asks and Himiko blinks at him before shaking her head. “Mm. I need to start the machine,” he says, half to himself, before heading into the kitchen.
Himiko sinks her socked toes into the carpet, wriggling them briefly, as she debates following him. She doesn’t feel comfortable enough here to turn on the TV without instruction to do so, so she shrugs before going after the man.
The kitchen is exactly as it was the night before, sans the smell of delicious fish. Himiko hovers for a moment as Aizawa-san messes with his coffee machine, then takes the same seat she’d been directed into the night before. Izuku is there as well, sitting at Aizawa-san’s feet and staring up at him with wide, wide eyes as the man keeps pressing buttons.
Then he pauses, leaning against the counter as the machine starts to hum, and takes a couple breaths, as if trying to wake himself up.
Izuku’s demanding meow doesn’t allow him that time. Aizawa-san opens his eyes to glare down at the cat, then sends Himiko a tired look. “Do you want anything in particular for breakfast?” he asks and she startles, sending him a wide-eyed look. It makes him frown a bit, which makes her feel uneasy, so she shakes her head. Aizawa-san frowns at her for a moment longer, then nods. “Then I’ll make egg and rice - can you wait until it’s done?” Aizawa-san demands, turning his attention to the cat, whose ears go back briefly before he nods curtly. “Then leave me alone,” the man grumbles, before turning to a cabinet and pulling out a pan.
Himiko watches him for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. It felt really weird at times to be here, but she thinks half the weird feeling is because of how nice Aizawa-san and his son are. She met Hitoshi last night during dinner, which had been really tasty and filling, and he’d been friendly to her, too. It had actually been a really nice meal, only briefly disrupted when Hitoshi had asked her what school she went to and she uncomfortably lied by listing off the first high school she could think of. The boy had just nodded at that and moved on, thankfully.
Being invited to stay the night had been a surprise, but a nice one. She’d gotten to snuggle the kitty all night long! She’d never gotten to sleep with a pet before, and she’d really liked it.
Hitoshi trudging into the kitchen interrupts her thoughts, and she watches him drag his feet straight to the coffee machine. She remembers Aizawa-san calling him his foster son, but right now, they look almost identical as they lock zombie-stares on the machine, impatiently waiting as it drips coffee. A soft meow has her looking away from them, down beside her chair, where Izuku is peering at her. “Oh,” Himiko murmurs, reaching down to pick the small kitty up. She sets the cat in her lap, where he proceeds to curl up, so she wraps her arms loosely around his bundled form.
Aizawa-san doesn’t watch the coffee for long, instead turning his attention to cooking. Himiko watches with curious eyes as he pulls leftover rice from the fridge, dumping it into the pan and adding seasonings as he heats it up. It takes very little time for him to get the food ready, setting out four bowls worth (one much smaller than the rest) and grabbing a few eggs. He’s quick to crack them over the rice, then turning to move the dishes to the table. Hitoshi’s already taken his seat by then, staring at his phone as he nurses his cup of coffee, and Himiko pets Izuku one last time before the cat hops out of her lap and onto the table. The littlest bowl goes to him, and Himiko looks down at her own bowl eagerly as she waits.
She waits until Aizawa-san gets his own mug of coffee and finally takes his seat, stirring at his rice before taking a bite. Himiko quickly follows suit, sticking a mouthful of moist rice into her mouth and giving a quiet hum of contentment. It’s good. It was such a simple meal for him to make, five minutes at the most, but it’s really good, probably because she hasn’t had a home cooked meal in… well, a long time, up until the night before.
She chews slowly, savoring the food, and she sees the cat eagerly chowing down his own bowl. Hitoshi is still poking away at his phone, mindlessly stirring his food with his free hand without taking a bite, until Aizawa-san sends him an irritated look. “Eat your food, we have school shortly,” he reminds the boy, who presses his lips together faintly before obeying. He finally turns to his food, murmuring gratitude before taking a bike, and Himiko watches them with interest she knows is probably obvious.
She doesn’t think she’s ever really seen a normal family before. She was never invited to spend time at a friend’s house, even when she was still in school and being good. The only family she ever saw at home was her own, and she never liked it there. She never liked either one of her parents at all.
She doesn’t realize she’s making a face until Aizawa-san draws her attention. “Is something wrong?” he prompts and she quickly straightens, shaking her head.
“No, it’s really good,” she promises, taking a pointed bite of the food, and Aizawa-san frowns slightly, but nods and returns to his own meal. Himiko chews the food extra slowly this time, a small frown starting to tug at her lips. It still tastes really good, but she’s only taken maybe eight bites and it’s already getting hard to eat any more. Her stomach feels a little upset, like it always gets when she hasn’t had blood in a long time. The raccoon yesterday was really nice, but it wasn’t as filling as she’d hoped, and it never took her long to get hungry again anyways…
The memory of the warm raccoon makes her mouth water, but makes the food inside it seem even more unpleasant. She would never dare to spit it out, though, so she forces herself to swallow and then sets her chopsticks down as discreetly as she can. It doesn’t matter, though, when they’re all sitting only a couple feet apart - Aizawa-san immediately frowns at her, and she ducks her head on instinct, bracing for the lecture. Her parents always got so mad at her for wasting food, and she does feel guilty about it, but she doesn’t want to force herself to eat like they always made her.
There’s a short moment where Aizawa-san doesn’t say or do anything, and then he simply returns back to his food. The silence is almost more unnerving than anticipating the lecture had been, because what was that supposed to mean? Was he not mad? Or was he just ignoring her? Himiko bites her lip, anxious, but Aizawa-san finishes off his bowl and pushes himself to his feet before she can think the worst. He takes the bowl from her without a word, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out a small tupperware.
Himiko blinks, her head tilting a bit in curiosity as she watches him put the food in the container, and then turn around and walk back to the table, setting it down in front of her. “Keep it for later,” he says simply, and she stares down at the container in utter confusion for a long minute.
Okay, he definitely wasn’t mad. She supposes that’s another way he’s proven to be nicer than her parents. Feeling reassured now, she lifts her head and offers him a smile that she knows flashes her fangs, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and Dabi says she shouldn’t care what people think anyways. Aizawa-san quirks his lips back at her briefly, then turns to Izuku just as the cat finishes his meal. He takes the bowl as Izuku drops from the table to the floor, padding over to his water.
Aizawa-san busies himself with rinsing off the various dishes, as Hitoshi picks away at the last of his food before scooping his phone back up again. He briefly walks his bowl to the sink, not looking up from the phone, before sitting back down. Himiko watches him curiously, seeing faint amusement on his face. “What are you looking at?” she asks, leaning into his space a bit - but the boy doesn’t seem to mind at all, turning the screen towards her to show a video of a puppy in a grassy area.
The puppy looks maybe fifteen pounds, but he’s dragging a huge stick that’s easily three times the size of him, and Himiko giggles at the proud prance the puppy gives as he approaches the camera.
“Hitoshi, go get dressed,” Aizawa-san interrupts, cutting off the water and drying his hands. Hitoshi makes an annoyed face in his direction, and Aizawa-san narrows his eyes. “Now,” he says, his voice hard, and Himiko stiffens a bit as Hitoshi seems to blanch, just a little. The other teenager drops the attitude and scurries out of the room, which makes Himiko watch after him worriedly, before sending a downright nervous glance Aizawa-san’s way.
The man is frowning deeply, but not in an angry way, and she bites her lip for a moment. That tone he’d used, and Hitoshi’s reaction, reminded her of her home, but the lack of anger on his face now confuses her. She hesitates a moment before deciding to just ask, curious enough to risk being yelled at. She’s closer to the exit, so there’s probably no way he’ll hurt her, so what’s the danger, really?
“Do you hit him?” She asks curiously, watching in surprise at the way Aizawa-san almost drops the towel he’d dried his hands with. He looks at her so sharply she thinks his neck cracks, and startles a bit in response, but he doesn’t approach.
“Why would you think that?” he asks, sounding baffled, and she blinks at him thoughtfully.
“Because you sounded mad and he looked scared,” she explains and Aizawa-san frowns for a long moment, peering at her.
“I don’t hit him, ever. Not even if I was incredibly mad,” he says, his voice slow and careful. “No one should ever hit a child. Not only is it wrong, it’s also illegal, and anyone who hurts a child should absolutely go to prison for it,” he tells her succinctly, and she watches him for a long minute.
That sounds nice and all, but she knows the reality. People hurt their kids all the time. Her parents hurt her all the time. No one ever cared, no one ever stopped them. Even today, she’s living on the streets, alone, and her parents are safe in their new home all the way on the other side of Japan. They left without her, pretended she never existed, and no one ever cared.
Himiko takes a breath, then, and mentally shakes herself. That’s not true - she’s not living on the streets, not anymore, and she’s definitely not alone. She has Dabi, and Twice, and Magne, and even Shigaraki. She has the League, both a home and a family, and she’ll never be alone again.
She returns her attention to Aizawa-san, who is still studying her just as intently as she’d studied him. “But why was he scared?” she presses, just a bit doubtful, and the tired man sighs. He sets the towel down and approaches the table, where she watches warily, but he just takes his seat and picks up his coffee mug again.
“Hitoshi hasn’t been with me for a long time. He’s been in the foster care system almost his entire life.” Aizawa-san explains, taking a short sip before frowning at her. “He’s afraid if he does something wrong, or annoys me too much, I’ll send him away like the rest of them did.” He doesn’t sound happy as he says this. If anything, he sounds a bit angry, and maybe a little sad? Himiko peers at him for a long moment.
“Would you send him away?” she asks, slowly, and she’s not really sure what she wants to hear. Someone to confirm that what her parents did was the right thing? That any parent would be smart enough to send away a horrible child like her?
Or to do the opposite? So far, he’s done the opposite of her parents in a lot of ways, and she’s still not sure what to think about that, but in general she thinks it means he’s a good person, like Dabi is. She still remembers the day they met, when Dabi saved her from two men who were hurting her when she didn’t even have anything to give them. She still remembers their screams, and the smell of what was left of them after. She’d been sure then that Dabi was the nicest man she’d ever meet, but Aizawa-san might be only a small step behind him.
Aizawa-san is frowning at her now, though, his eyes narrowed in a way like he’s trying to look straight into her mind to understand what she’s thinking. “No,” he says, simply but quietly, and Himiko’s brow furrows the slightest bit. “No, I’d never send him away. I was the one who chose to bring him into my home. He’s my responsibility - and more importantly… no one should ever send away a child,” he says, quiet but fierce, and Himiko’s throat feels a bit tight as she holds his gaze.
“Even if…” she starts, but her voice comes out funny, so she swallows thickly and tries again. “Even if they’re really bad?” she asks, meek and ashamed of it. Twice always told her she shouldn’t think she was bad (sure, he’d immediately say the exact opposite, that she was the literal worst, but she knows which one’s the real opinion) and Magne encouraged self-confidence, something she’s failing at right now.
“No child should ever be abandoned,” Aizawa-san says fiercely, and Himiko swallows again, her eyes itching in warning of forming tears.
But before they can form, Hitoshi trudges back into the room, dressed with his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m ready,” he says boredly, running a hand tiredly through his hair. Himiko straightens and looks at him, blinking the ache of tears away as she looks at him critically. His eyebags have eyebags, and Himiko thinks that’s probably pretty unhealthy - and definitely can’t be fun.
Aizawa-san looks at her for a moment longer before turning to Hitoshi as well, pushing to his feet. “We should head out, then,” he says, but pauses and looks at Himiko with a small frown. “Do you…” he starts, and then hesitates for several seconds, during which she stares at him curiously. “Do you want to stay here for the day?” he asks, slowly, and Himiko’s brow furrows slightly because it almost sounds like he’s not-quite-offering something, but she doesn’t fully understand what.
Regardless, the question itself gets a shake of her head. “No, I should go home,” she says, brightening at the thought of returning to the bar. She misses her friends already.
The moment she says the h-word, a tension in Aizawa-san’s shoulders eases, and he exhales a small breath of almost relief. Himiko doesn’t understand, but Hitoshi looks a bit amused as he watches the man. “Alright, let’s go,” the man instructs, shooing at them both, and Himiko hops to her feet and grabs her tupperware, following Hitoshi to the entryway. Aizawa-san’s a step behind, Izuku at his heels, and all of them - except the cat - put their shoes on before heading out into the hall. Aizawa-san locks the door behind them, then leads them down the stairs and out onto the street. When they reach the sidewalk, he and Hitoshi turns to the right, while Himiko takes one step to the left before they all pause and look at one another.
Aizawa-san studies her for a long minute, clearly intending to say something, so she waits for him to start. “If you need anything, you’re welcome here,” he tells her slowly. “A meal, a place to sleep,” he looks her over briefly. “First aid, anything. Alright?” he asks her, his voice softening a bit, and Himiko smiles just a bit shyly - but mostly pleased - at him.
“You’re really nice, Aizawa-san.” She tells him warmly, and he looks a touch taken aback at that - Hitoshi, behind him, snorts quietly - before he looks at her seriously again.
“If you need anything that requires a hero… you can find me at U.A. I’m Eraserhead, alright?” he tells her, and she blinks at that, because Shigaraki’s talked about Eraserhead before.
“Oh. Thank you,” she says, smiling again, and the man watches her a moment longer before he steps back. She immediately bows to him politely, then smiles at him warmly again before turning on her heel and hopping into motion.
Her skips have an extra bounce as they carry her down the sidewalk. She can’t wait to tell Shigaraki she met his favorite hero - and that he’s her favorite, too!
Shota didn’t hesitate to act on his suspicions. The moment he’d gotten homeroom over with, he’d tucked himself into his office and pulled out his phone. Izuku had attached himself to Todoroki for the day - it was Monday, now, so Endeavor would be released from his involuntary state in the infirmary today. Nezu had already arranged a meeting between himself, Shota, Nemuri, and Todoroki about his brief stay with the woman. Hopefully, the kid would be comfortable enough to take the risk of speaking against Endeavor now.
Regardless, it means he’s alone, and has the entire morning free, so he sets to work investigating this mystery - starting with calling Tsukauchi. It’s early, but not so early he isn’t at work, and he answers the phone promptly.
“Eraser,” he greets professionally and Shota sits down at his desk and starts up his computer.
“I had a visitor last night. I think she’s been abandoned, possibly by parents that were physically abusive before that point,” Shota says promptly, then pauses for a moment. “By the way, Izuku escaped his collar last night.”
“God damn-” Tsukauchi starts, but Shota sweeps on.
“I didn’t ask too many questions because I didn’t feel the need to interrogate an obviously mistreated young girl about something Izuku’ll manage to do no matter what we do anyways, but the two incidents were related. Izuku vanished for the majority of yesterday, and when he returned, he was brought back by a young girl, fifteen or sixteen years old. Her name’s Toga Himiko, she’s blonde haired-”
“Wait, wait,” Tsukauchi says urgently, sounding overwhelmed, and Shota pauses. “That’s- hold on, that’s too much. You’re telling me Toga Himiko helped Izuku get free?” he asks, sounding baffled and a touch alarmed, and Shota frowns, zeroing in on his familiar use of her name.
“You recognize her?” He questions sharply and can hear the frown when his friend speaks.
“Unfortunately. She’s a known villain. She has no less than three attempted murders to her name. And recently she’s been spotted with villains we know to be with the League.”
“What?” Shota questions, his turn to sound baffled. “That’s ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but he pauses to think it over. It’s not impossible he misread the girl, but… it’s very doubtful, from the interactions he did have with her, that he was completely off the mark. Still, he's not immune to being tricked, and that makes him frown in consideration. “That doesn’t match my interaction with her even remotely, Tsukauchi. I can't attest to anything regarding the League - she mentioned a home, but that was all - but she hardly behaves like a villain. She came across as little more than a most likely homeless girl who’d never been treated with kindness by an adult before. She almost cried when she ate dinner, Naomasa,” he expresses doubtfully, even as he opens a browser screen and does his own search on the girl. There’s an immediate list of results from various news stations, all the headlines some variation of a villain girl attacking a helpless classmate at a junior high school.
That, alone, is a red flag to him. To so callously label a girl a villain at a junior high school age? He opens the first article and starts to scan it.
“She wasn’t aggressive in any way?” Tsukauchi asks with his own doubt, as Shota reads.
“Not even remotely,” he says distractedly, frowning deeply. The article reports she has a blood related Quirk, reports her sticking a straw in a boy’s neck and drinking it…
It reports she had previously been a model student, popular and well-liked, but is now on the run after escaping police custody. “What’s her Quirk, exactly?” he asks slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“Mm. She can transform and take on the exact appearance and voice, and even clothing, of someone whose blood she’s drunk.”
Near the tail end of the article, there’s a quote from Toga Hinaka, her mother, decrying her as a ‘demon child’, claiming she’d been ‘born evil’. His lips thin, jaw clenching before he forces it to relax. He reads about the police searching for her to take her into custody, warning that she's very dangerous, and shakes his head. “Did anyone attempt to help her in the aftermath of the first incident?” Shota asks, his eyes narrowed in anger as he grips the phone a little too tight.
“I’m not sure. She only recently became part of my jurisdiction, when she was spotted walking out with a villain named Magne. She’s known to be in the League, which brought Toga into my purview. What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure,” Shota admits, turning over the article in his head. The part about her drinking the kid’s blood is sticking out to him, as is his memory that she couldn’t eat the breakfast he’d made her. At least, not very much of it. And yet, she’d eaten dinner just fine. And this article - it describes her as having been a perfectly normal child before this by everyone at school, yet her mother claimed she was ‘always’ evil. From the people at school, it sounded like a switch was flipped in the girl’s head, suddenly completely changing her behavior.
She couldn’t eat all of her breakfast, which was rice and egg. She could eat all of the fish, though.
“Tsukauchi,” he starts slowly, anger bubbling in his chest. “Does she need to drink blood?” he asks, and the man pauses to consider that. He's aware that Vlad King, with his blood-related Quirk, requires a regular, and somewhat large, supply of blood to keep himself agreeable. Within days of him stretching it thin, he was well known to become incredibly... temperamental.
“...Maybe? I… suppose it’s possible. All of her attacks seemed to be very random and unplanned, and all of them involved her drinking the victim’s blood nearly to the point of their death,” Tsukauchi says slowly and thoughtfully. “Hold on…” Shota hears the tapping of a keyboard and waits, thinking things over in his head.
She ate the fish, something incredibly rich in iron, with ease, but struggled with the rice and egg. Eggs are also rich in iron, he knows that much, but less so than fish, and when mixed with the rice to thin it out even more… she’d only been able to eat a third of that dish before she stopped.
“Her Quirk registration doesn’t reflect that, but I’m looking over a transcript from an interview with the girl’s mother. It… damn,” Tsukauchi sighs heavily. “Looks like it might be a case of Quirk prejudice, this woman sounds horrible,” he says in a disgusted tone.
“Where are they now? Can you pull her and her husband in for an interview? If this girl needs blood and she isn’t getting it, it could explain the pattern of unexpected and unplanned attacks. She’s only able to keep it together for so long before she needs more, and then she gets it and calms down for a while, restarting the cycle.”
He waits a moment before he hears Tsukauchi give an irritated scoff. “They moved all the way to Okinawa.”
“So she really was abandoned,” Shota determines grimly, thinking back on the conversation he’d had with her. “She was abused before that. I don’t want them to get away with it, not if they drove this girl to villainy out of necessity.”
“Yeah,” Tsukauchi agrees grimly. “I’ll call some colleagues down there, see what we can’t get worked out. What about the girl herself? You saw her - what was her state, where did she go?”
“I don’t know where she went other than east of my apartment,” Shota explains shortly, “but her state was… perfectly normal, if traumatized and painfully neglected. I saw nothing to indicate any violent tendencies. She seemed calm, composed. She was happier more often than not, but almost cried a few times. There was…” Shota grimaces a bit at the memory, “a brief incident where she asked me if I was intending to hurt Hitoshi, and then seemed confused when I told her no one should ever hurt a child.”
He can admit, in the safety of his own mind, that that had shaken him a bit. He hadn’t expected the… not an accusation, rather, but… the expectation that that was what was happening? That had unnerved him. Watching her that evening and morning… it had been like looking at himself, fifteen years ago. When he first visited Oboro in his home, first saw what a normal family was like, and felt utterly lost in the face of it.
He frowns, then, thinking suddenly about Tsukauchi’s mention of the League. “If Himiko’s with the League, and she was the one to return Izuku… did someone in the League get him free?” He wonders slowly, and is met with an intense silence from Tsukauchi’s end.
After a long minute, the detective makes a soft, disgusted noise. “I should just recycle all these collars, shouldn’t I?” he asks, sounding quite tired suddenly, and Shota snorts.
“I did say you underestimated him… then again, I didn’t expect him to turn to the League, so maybe I did as well. Should we be concerned?”
“No, it’s great that you’re insanely over-Quirked cat is apparently buddy buddy with the guys trying to take down hero society,” Tsukauchi reassures sarcastically before he heaves a heavy sigh. “Well, maybe it is a good thing. Say what you will, your cat’s never been a villain. Maybe he’ll knock some sense into them.”
“I think we should stop referring to him as my cat,” Shota says mildly. “Given that he’s a human teenager who exists very much independently of me.”
“Mm. You’ll never be independent of him.” Tsukauchi says bluntly, sending ice down his spine, and Shota stares at the far wall. “What’s he going to do, get a cat apartment?” his former friend asks, and Shota scowls, pushing away his dawning horror for the moment.
“Back to Toga,” Shota redirects irritably, “I think the girl needs help, not to be hunted by heroes.”
“Well, we’ve been on the hunt for her unsuccessfully this entire time, so I wouldn’t be too worried about her actually being caught. But, still… if nothing else, I can lower her threat level, though I can’t reduce it too much. Even if it is the fault of a Quirk, she’s lashing out and hurting people unprompted and unexpectedly. People need to be aware she’s a danger to them,” Tsukauchi says apologetically, and Shota exhales a small breath.
“I understand that. I mostly just want to find her before she can get into further trouble, with the law or otherwise.”
“Alright. Well, I can put you down as the hero in charge of her case. She doesn’t currently have one assigned. Any sightings of her, any arrests or anything else, you’ll be the first to be notified.”
“That works,” Shota agrees immediately, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Thank you, Tsukauchi,” he says gruffly and the man sighs.
“Yeah, thanks for the headache,” he returns blandly. “I’ll keep you updated on the Toga case in Okinawa. With any luck, they should be picked up later today.”
“Appreciate it,” Shota says dismissively, and waits to hear a faint farewell before he ends the call. He pockets his phone and frowns at his computer, considering his next move for a long minute.
There’s nothing more to be done about Himiko. He has no idea where she went off to - presumably wherever the League is located - and no way to contact her. The only thing he can do is wait and hope she takes him up on his offer and drops by for dinner sometime.
He considers that for a moment, then determines he needs to investigate the best meals for people with a blood-based Quirk - just to be prepared.
He makes a mental note to interrogate Vlad King later on, but first, he needs to get ready for his next class.
He pushes to his feet and steps out of his office, heading directly into the teacher’s lounge. It’s empty except for Hizashi - whose next class isn’t for another twenty-five minutes, same as him. He grunts hello as he passes on the way to the coffee machine, and Hizashi looks up from his laptop to greet him.
“Hey, Sho. How was your night?” the other man asks curiously as Shota starts up the machine.
“Eventful. I had a visitor,” he says slowly, not turning to look at the man as he speaks. He can feel the curiosity before he hears the ‘oh?’, and exhales a tired breath before readying to speak. He gives a brief breakdown of the dinner with Toga, pouring his coffee into a mug before joining Hizashi on the sofa. He leans back as he drinks it, further explaining the morning events and his following call with Tsukauchi.
“Quirk abuse, huh?” Hizashi reflects quietly, frowning down at his hands, the laptop pushed off to the side for a moment. “That always sucks, but you don’t usually see it that bad, if your suspicions are right and she’s been basically starved. Have you talked to Vlad yet?”
“No, it’s on the agenda,” Shota says, taking another hearty drink of the hot liquid. “But… seeing how she reacted to some things…” Shota trails off, sitting up a bit. He leans forward instead, resting his forearms on his knees, holding his mug carefully with both hands. “I don’t understand how Izuku finds them. First Hitoshi, now Himiko… and even Todoroki,” Shota adds with a touch of exasperation.
“Maybe he has a sense for people who are in shit circumstances.” Hizashi says thoughtfully. “Oboro did,” he reminds, and the words are casual, but the moment they land, a tension comes over them both. Shota stiffens a bit, looking down at the coffee warming his palms. He sees the reflection of his frown, and it deepens slightly as he watches. “Sorry, I know…” Hizashi starts and then trails off, a touch helplessly.
I know we never talk about him, he says, and Shota feels disdain for himself in that moment. It’s his fault they never speak about him - Hizashi wasn’t the type to ever be quiet in his grief, but around Shota, he was. And Shota hates that understanding, the understanding that it’s his fault they act like there was only ever two of them, not three. Four, with Nemuri.
“He shouldn’t be forgotten just because I couldn’t cope,” Shota grits out bitterly and Hizashi sighs softly from beside him.
“None of us could ever forget him,” Hizashi murmurs, a reassurance and commiseration in one, and Shota’s grimace turns bitter.
They fall into a slightly more relaxed silence for a long moment before Shota finds it in him to break it. “I realized something the other day,” he starts, somewhat haltingly, as he turns the mug in his hands.
“What’s that?” Hizashi prompts after a short pause, and Shota braces himself. He’s so very uncomfortable being emotional around anyone, but it’s easier to force himself to be with Hizashi, knowing it’s better than just holding it all inside.
“I realized it could happen to Hitoshi.” Shota states and Hizashi hisses faintly in a pained kind of way.
“Sho, that’s not gonna-”
“And then I realized,” Shota sweeps on firmly, and Hizashi falls silent, “that it could happen to me.”
He doesn’t look at Hizashi, but he still knows the other man startles at that. Shota’s never, ever been one to care for his own wellbeing, above the intention of keeping himself in prime condition to better fight in. So to say this now is understandably startling for his best friend.
“... I realized that that would be just as bad. Because now I have two kids, and what’ll happen to them, then?” He asks, a touch bitterly, and Hizashi makes a soft, indistinct sound. “I can’t trust anyone to take care of Hitoshi. No one but you or Nemuri, and she’s about to have her own hands full. I hope, at least,” Shota adds a touch more quietly. “And Tsukauchi pointed out that Izuku may never be capable of being completely independent. He doesn’t have thumbs, Hizashi,” Shota expresses, finally turning to look at him, and the man’s green eyes are watching him carefully.
“How’s he going to feed himself? Clean up after himself? I don’t…” Shota struggles for a moment, trailing off before sighing, “I don’t know how to keep them safe from the realities of this world.” he confesses regretfully, shaking his head and looking at his coffee again. He lifts the mug to take a drink of the bitter liquid. Again, there’s a brief silence, but this time it’s Hizashi thinking about his response.
“Sho, you’re not alone in this.” He starts after a few long seconds. “You said it yourself. If anything happens, I’ll still be here. I… I’ve thought about it before, too, what might happen if… but you do have friends. You have Nezu, who would never let anything happen to either of them, especially not Izuku. But I promise, your kids aren’t going to get stranded if the worst happens.”
Shota considers his words for a long minute before glancing at him, meeting his gaze. “Zashi,” he says quietly, “if the worst happens, you’ll have died with me.”
He doesn’t mean it to be so heavy. He doesn’t mean it to be so meaningful, and realizes his mistake the moment Hizashi’s eyes water.
Still, when Hizashi abruptly grabs hold of him and wrenches him into a hug, he doesn’t resist - he just tries not to spill his coffee, and sighs heavily. Hizashi just holds him tighter, pressing his face into the crook of Shota’s neck. “Sho, I think that was the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” Hizashi says, sounding quite wet as he does, and Shota glares over his shoulder and at the wall.
After a moment, though, he relaxes a bit and exhales a breath against Hizashi’s shoulder. They sit like that in silence for several seconds, broken by Hizashi’s slightly sniffly breathing, and Shota closes his eyes tiredly and takes a few breaths.
…
“...Please let go of me.”