Chapter Text
Recovery isn’t a linear process. While Izuku has good days, where he can see his friends, or hang out in the dorms, some days he spends dissociating on his bed. He’s allowed to go back to class part time, although he isn’t allowed in any practical training exercises. He’s in class about two days a week, spending the majority of his time in their apartment.
Eri’s getting used to living with a loving family, something she’s literally never had, and once she gets comfortable with them, she begins having her own issues. Izuku’s problems take the backseat some days, because Eri can’t control her emotions as well as Izuku can. She has screaming and crying fits sometimes, unable to articulate why she’s feeling the way she is. Some days, she hides under her bed and refuses to come out, even with Izuku’s coaxing.
Both she and Izuku have night terrors, and Eri often slips into Izuku’s room in the middle of the night to sleep in his bed with him, calmer when she’s not alone. Hizashi and Aizawa do the best they can, both going back to teaching half the week, so one of them is always home with Eri. Eri gets a wristband like Izuku’s, so she doesn’t have to worry about her quirk all the time while she’s still training it with Nezu.
Izuku continues to go to therapy with Inui, meeting him in the counseling office now. Eri’s seeing a child psychologist as well, and Izuku’s pretty sure his parents are in therapy, too. Hizashi and Aizawa have their own mental scars from the ordeal of the past year, both of them hypervigilant with their children, a little overbearing, and overprotective. Izuku doesn’t call them out on it, though, not when it makes him feel more secure.
Despite the nightmares and the terrible things they’re all processing, Izuku is happier than he’s felt in years. Once it truly sinks in that the Shie Hassaikai have been destroyed, that Overhaul is quirkless, and anyone who ever hurt him is behind bars in Tartarus, a relief like he never felt before rushes through him. After Overhaul’s trial, he’s officially convicted to life in prison with no chance of parole, along with Shigaraki and All For One, and the yakuza members. Izuku’s not sure what happened to the rest of the League, but the relief that he feels about Overhaul being locked up affects him physically.
He sleeps for almost sixteen hours after the conviction, like his body is trying to make up for all the nights he missed out on sleep because of nightmares. When he wakes up, his head is a bit sore, his body aching and tired, but he feels truly rested for the first time in nearly a year. Things aren’t perfect after that, but it’s a catalyst to moving forward, to beginning to move on.
Once Hound Dog clears Izuku for going off campus, Izuku revels in being able to walk around outside UA’s gates without looking over his shoulder for the first time in his entire life. It’s summer, a hot night, and the entire family has dressed up in traditional attire for a nearby summer festival. Hitoshi and Nemuri come along, too, and Izuku can’t help but grin.
“Daddy, Dad, Izu, look!” Eri squeals from Hizashi’s shoulders, pointing at pretty lanterns strung between different booths, “They have cotton candy! Can we get some? Please?”
“Of course,” Hizashi beams, “Alright, time to rev up the dad car.”
Hizashi makes engine noises with his mouth, making Eri giggle.
“Okay,” he grins, “Is the driver ready?”
“Uh-huh!” Eri laughs, “Go daddy, go!”
Hizashi makes more car noises, carefully jogging with Eri shrieking with laughter on his shoulders. Aizawa smiles fondly at the sight, making heart as at his husband while Izuku stays stuck to his side, his heart warm and full.
“Such a sap,” Nemuri laughs, “Shou, stop making googly eyes at him.”
“Never,” Aizawa smirks, making Izuku roll his eyes playfully, “Okay, kids. Nem and I are going to go buy food. Stick together, we’ll meet up in a little bit to eat, okay?”
It’s a testament to how much his dad trusts him and how much more relaxed things are, that he can let Izuku out of his sight. Izuku’s not quite ready to be alone, even if it’s with Hitoshi, so he waves at them before he begins walking towards Hizashi, who’s buying cotton candy for Eri.
“It’s so good!” she squeals eating a bite of it, “Nii-san, Toshi, you have to try, too!”
They both dutifully taste the cotton candy, assuring her that it’s delicious, before she happily keeps eating more, her face getting messy and sticky. While she eats, Hizashi kneels down and carefully ties her hair back, so she doesn’t get any stuck in her hair.
The rest of the night is beautiful, music, fun games, food. They take pictures together, and watch fireworks, which Eri’s never seen before. Izuku feels his heart warm and full, tinged with a bit of melancholy as he looks up at the lights.
Everything’s not perfect, but it’s getting easier. Each day, he can move forward more, can do more, endure more. Explain more. He can be more open, more able to push through. He has less nightmares, and has even begun doing homework again. It’s a slow road, recovery, but Izuku knows he has the best support system possible to get through it.
Two months after Izuku’s rescue, his parents come to him, looking a little uncharacteristically serious. Eri’s in her lessons with Nezu, so it’s just the three of them at home. Izuku looks up from his essay for Cementoss’s class, eyeing them curiously.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
Hizashi sighs, looking a little wary. “It is, but we do have something to talk with you about. Come to the living room?”
Izuku’s stomach twinges with anxiety, but he nods, following them to the couch. He sits down, Hizashi to his right and Aizawa in front of him in a chair.
“Kid, we’ve been doing some digging with the police,” Aizawa says gently, “The yakuza kept shockingly detailed records. They’ve classified everything about what happened to you, but they did share something with us that we think you need to hear.”
“It’s about your birth parents,” Hizashi says gently, Izuku’s eyes widening in surprise, “We know their identities, and we know what happened to them, if you want us to tell you.”
Izuku hadn’t been expecting it. He doesn’t think about his birth parents much. After all, Aizawa and Hizashi were his whole world for many years, and they were excellent parents. It was hard to miss people you never knew, but that doesn’t mean Izuku feels nothing for the people who brought him into this world.
“I want to know,” he says.
It’s the last, greatest mystery of his life. Everything else had been explained, down to the nuances of his quirk. Their family had been through a lot of upheavals lately. Once Izuku had felt better, Tsukauchi asked him and his parents to come out to the villain hospital where they were keeping Kurorigi still, the warp gate villain. It had been discovered that he was a high end nomu, the most sophisticated one the League ever developed, and that he had been created out of the corpse of his parents’ dead best friend, Oboro Shirakumo. Izuku’s quirk hadn’t worked on Kurogiri at the USJ due to the complicated structure of his quirk factor, given the fact that he was dead. It had been emotional for his parents, but almost a relief to learn for Izuku. His parents were the last thing, the last bit he didn’t know.
“You were born Izuku Midoriya,” Aizawa says quietly, “To Inko and Hisashi Midoriya. Your mom, Inko, was a nurse. Her quirk was telekinesis. Your father, Hisashi, could breathe fire. Hisashi Midoriya died when you were two, looks like to a heart attack, leaving your mother, Inko as a single mother.”
“She loved you, sweetheart,” Hizashi says softly, “The yakuza tracked you for two years, once your quirk showed. Your mom was doting on you in every picture. She was walking you home from daycare one day when she was hit by a car. They had been monitoring you, so they took the opportunity to grab you. Using their contacts, they wiped you, and her, from public records so no one was looking for you.”
It’s a lot to take in. Izuku had expected something like that, but it’s different hearing his birth parents’ names, their sacrifices. He absorbs it for a while before nodding, biting his lip.
“Do…do they have graves?” he asks quietly, “I don’t remember them, but I’d like to pay my respects.”
“We’ll find out,” Aizawa says, “But if we can’t find them, we’ll make a shrine in our place, if you want, okay?”
Izuku nods, leaning on Hizashi’s shoulder for support. “Thank you for telling me. It doesn’t change the fact that you two are my parents, but I want to respect them for protecting me and loving me, even if I can’t remember it.”
“That’s good, kiddo,” Hizashi murmurs, “And if you have more questions, you can always ask, okay?”
“Okay,” Izuku says, and they sit for a while together, the three of them. Izuku processes for a few hours, his heart aching the more he thinks about everything that happened in his life. A freak quirk, nothing like his parents’ quirks, caused all of this. Inui may be right, it may have helped save Japan, inadvertently, but all Izuku can think are how many people were deeply hurt by the result of his quirk. The weapons the yakuza made, all built off of him.
He knows he can’t blame himself for that, though, keeping his thoughts mostly to himself. He processes things in his own way, over the next couple of weeks, both in therapy, and with his parents and friends. Eri gets better, her eyes brighter, happier. Eventually, Izuku is allowed to train in class again, able to join his class for the rest of the year. He’s behind, but everyone steps up to help him, and with their support, he quickly regains the weeks of practice he lost.
The weekends are the best time. Izuku still lives at home, not ready to be in the dorms. Despite all the progress he’s made, he still wakes up at least twice a week from terrible nightmares. He also hates being away from Eri for too long. Their bond has strengthened over the months they’ve been at UA together, and Izuku truly loves her like a sister.
Aizawa and Hizashi have both officially stopped patrolling. With two traumatized kids to take care of, it makes sense for them to retire being on the streets and focus on working at UA full time. They’re still on call for emergencies, but their patrol shifts are over. Hizashi still does his radio show, but he does it from a studio inside UA now, so they can be at home when the kids aren’t in school.
One Saturday evening, Eri’s lying on her stomach on the floor with her feet in the air, Socks tucked up under her arm. She’s busy concentrating on drawing something with lots of different colored crayons. Aizawa is curled up in an armchair, reading a book with glasses perched on the end of his nose, something he had gotten recently for reading.
Hizashi’s stretched out on the couch, watching them both fondly while Izuku sits on the floor, back pressed against the couch and texting his friends on the phone. There’s a movie playing on the tv, quiet and calm. It’s an ordinary, average sight, one that looks like any family anywhere in Japan. It’s so achingly normal that Izuku forgets the twinging in his scars for a moment, looking at each of his family members with gratitude in his heart. He’s lucky, so incredibly lucky to live here. He was lucky when he got out, and found Aizawa years ago. Lucky when Hizashi loved him instantly when Aizawa wanted to take him home. He was lucky to find Eri.
With them at his side, Izuku knows he can heal. He can do anything. Eri looks up from her drawing, holding it up proudly.
“Look, I finished!” she says proudly. They all stare at her drawing, and Izuku feels a lump in his throat.
She had drawn all four of them together, at the summer festival. She was still working on her reading and writing, but she had written My Family in clumsy letters on the top. It’s achingly sweet, and their parents clearly aren’t immune.
“That’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Hizashi says, sounding a bit emotional.
“It needs to go right on the fridge,” Aizawa murmurs with a smile, “You want to go pick a magnet, honey?”
“Yeah!” she exclaims, standing up. She’s halfway to the fridge before she turns, looking right at Izuku.
“Do you like the drawing, nii-san?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent.
Izuku looks at her, at his two loving parents, at his home. He thanks whichever force of the universe made it possible for all of this to come together, for someone like him to end up with a family like this.
“Yeah,” he smiles at her, “I love it a lot.”