Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yamada Hizashi was anxious. It was already ten minutes after Shouta would’ve finished patrol and he was usually such a stickler for his relaxing time that he would usually be home by now. But the clock ticked by and his husband was yet to appear, until his phone finally dinged, the ringtone he had set especially for Shouta.

CoffeeCat

02:12    OMW. Prep guest room. A kid. Probably permanent.

LoudCat

02:12    Thank god Sho, I thought you were dead, I was ready to call every one. How old, how bad?”

CoffeeCat

02:13    Ten maybe eleven. Bad.

LoudCat

02:13    See you soon love

CoffeeCat

02:14    <3

It wasn’t the first time either of them had activated their emergency foster licenses and took a kid in. Abusive parents, a rough school, a step-parent with straying hands. The husbands had seen it all and would drop anything to get a kid out of a rough situation. They were never permanent though. A few weeks, months at most. They always kept up to date with their previous fosters, making sure the home they were in was safe and good. They liked having monthly dinners with the six kids, all of them pseudo siblings. They were all finally happy and safe, two of them even heading to college soon. But never permanent. So if Shouta said it, it was most likely true.

Ten year olds were tricky. Stuck somewhere between childlike wonder and growing responsibility. Their lives were a tug of war between youth and the world, the time when you know it’s time to grow up. But it sounded like the little listener had already learnt that decision a while ago. With both of them being Pros and teachers, not to mention Hizashi’s radio job and the needless inheritance Nedzu had handed them, money was never really an issue.

They had a house in the teacher complex of the U.A. dorms, a homely duplex taking up the top two floors of the dorms, with only Nemuri as their neighbour. The open living room housed multiple sofas decorated with throw blankets and pillows for the naps Shouta was always end up taking after patrol, when his body was too weak to go up the stairs. The kitchen was Hizashi’s dream, with a marble countertop and island perfect for his days off when he could finally experiment with the baking recipes he had found in the week. What he was looking for however, was their cupboard of bedding hidden under the stairs. Hizashi pulled out some forest green covers, getting a gut feeling it would suit the little listener.

He headed up the stairs and to the door across from their bedroom. So far the room had been used as a study but they could just combine both of their studies into one room. The spare futon would have to do until they ordered a bed and Hizashi emptied out the drawers and cupboard from the junk the couple had accumulated over the years. Once the room had been cleaned out and dusted, Hizashi stood in front of the box of basic decorations they used to help the rooms feel less dull for their fosters.

He stared back at his own face on one of the posters. Was it narcissistic to put up a Present Mic poster before anything else. No one saw, so there was no proof. He only did a few posters of heroes, never one to assume if their little listener would be a hero worshiper or not. He settled on some safer ones that could cover the bases. Himself for kids who had the hard to control quirks, Gang Orca for those with mutation quirks, and Shota… the poster he and Nem had made themselves. That was the kids who thought their quirks were evil. Hizashi had seen many kids stay with them other than the six main fosters they had had in the past, and each of them gravitated to one of these three posters for some reason or other. He purposefully avoided the likes of All Might and Endeavour. The husbands both had their own thoughts regarding the Number One and Two Heroes, not the mention the Commission holding their leashes. Either way, Hizashi was proud of his choices and moved on to hanging some fairy lights around the ceiling and putting a cream coloured rug down on the floor. He looked around the bare room, a futon with green bedding to the left, a desk below the window on the right, cupboards and bookshelves lining the back wall opposite the door. It wasn’t much but hopefully it would be enough.

The sound of the door rattling broke Hizashi from his activities and he rushed down the stairs in time to see Shouta making hushed conversation with someone behind him.

“SHOUTAaaa,” Hizashi cheered, his quirk dying down when his husband glared at him, not bothering to hide his fond smirk though. “Is the little listener with you?”

“Zashi, meet Izuku,” Shouta said, pulling a tiny boy from behind him, with wide verdant eyes and matching curls growing in every direction.

The boy looked him up and down before squeaking out, “Present Mic!?”

Hizashi just watched as the boy seemingly passed out.

---

Izuku woke up groggily, to something batting his nose incessantly. He cracked an eye open to see Dusk sat in front of his face, peering down at him before batting his nose once more with her paw.

“I’m up,” he groaned, scratching her softly. “Had the strangest dream. Met Eraserhead and Present Mic.”

“Wasn’t a dream little listener.”

Izuku shot up, ignoring the surprised shriek from Dusk, and whipping his head around to see THE PRESENT MIC smiling at him. Two Pros, two of his favourite heroes ever and he got to meet them on his birthday. And then it all came crashing back. The conversation with Eraserhead, the offer to stay the night. He timidly turned and caught Eraserhead’s eye. Izuku’s question was hanging on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Help wasn’t something for Izuku, it was for other kids who deserved it, those who needed help or weren’t… wrong.

“Izuku, can you eat curry?” Shouta asked and Izuku felt his worry break. Of course the hero noticed, he was that good. And he didn’t even worry about giving him an option, already including him in the act. That alone made something warm blossom in Izuku’s chest. He wasn’t used to it, but it felt nice, nicer than he’s felt for a while. So he held on tight to the feeling and nodded to Eraserhead. Maybe staying a night or two with the heroes wouldn’t be so bad.

---

Shinsou Hitoshi was still surprised. The Hero Course, something that had seemed so unattainable and now here he sat, watching his idol shrug out of a horrific yellow sleeping bag and address his class in the glibbest nonchalant way possible. The entrance exam had been, for lack of a better word, rough. A clear display of society’s favour toward powerful ‘heroic’ quirks with mental quirks left at the bottom of the barrel. But spite and a pipe from a robots arm was enough for him to scrap enough points to scrape into the Hero Course. He was finally one step closer to his goal, one step closer to the license that proved all those people wrong. He would be a hero no matter what.

He was pulled from his musings when their Sensei mentioned something about the desk at the front. Honestly Hitoshi couldn’t care less about the idea of a teaching assistant, just another person who would assist him. He didn’t need friends, he needed to achieve his goal and that meant taking in every word teachers said. Unless it was another insult, those would be promptly igored.

“The seat belongs to another… student.” Eraserhead… no Aizawa-sensei, said. A student? It made some sense having a third year come and help out in their class, they would most likely already have their Provisional License and experience working in agencies or with field work. But Hitoshi was admittedly astonished as their teacher continued.

“He technically has no need to be here. He has been learning from Pro Heroes for the last four years and is already training for his provisional license exam in a week or so. Unfortunately, the Hero Commission decided he was undertrained in a few aspects, including socialisation and teamwork. Which makes sense considering he has not been part of a class for the last four years.”

He was stunned. How the hell was something like this possible? Four years of training, more so than the regular student and was even recognised by the Commission. And what did they mean that he is undertrained in socialisation. Is it a solider? Some older person who’d seen hell and was ready to share their ways.

Their teacher grinned and Hitoshi could feel the class quiver beneath the toothy grin. “Yes, he is a private student and will be helping me assist the class. But no he is not your senpai. In fact, he is the same age as all of you. Everyone please welcome, Izuku Yamazawa.”

Hitoshi was silent. A hero brat then, with an all-powerful quirk, one that they probably used to skate through life. Clearly they had the U.A. staff wrapped around their finger, so impressed with what had to be a fantastic quirk, a selfish, entitled di-

 “Nice to meet you all!”

And every thought he had left his brain on account of the green curls and wide grin that seemed to brighten the room. Who could blame him when the boy seemed so small and unassuming but even Hitoshi could see the way the school blazers tightened around his biceps, barely able to contain whatever lay hidden beneath them. Needless to say, Hitoshi had never been more assured that he was gay than in that moment, and of course knowing his luck, he had to find the perfect U.A. golden child attractive.

He was lost in a daze for so long, he didn’t realise what was happening till most of the class were standing and heading toward the pile of gym uniforms on Aizawa- sensei’s desk and followed the rest of the walking class to the changing rooms.

He thumbed the material of the clothes while he thought of emerald eyes and pretty smiles.