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It’s a universal truth that children love unconditionally. Izuku Midoriya is no different.
He watches T.V from his place on the couch, snuggled up against his older brother’s side. Shota’s visiting from college, and has thus far indulged Izuku in his need to watch all the pre-quirk superhero movies their father dredged up from….somewhere (dad is always strangely vague when talking about his past).
Izuku loves hanging out with his older brother. Besides the obvious, he likes being near his brother and daddy because of the light they give off (and other people, but daddy rarely lets him see anyone else). The small aura of bright yellow light that he gives off reminds Izuku of warm, sunny days where everyone’s happy and absolutely nothing can go wrong.
“He must have some sort of spidey mut-muta- ability that needed certain things to make it work,” Izuku mutters under his breath. “Could your power work on him?”
“The word you’re looking for is mutation, and maybe,” Shota says, looking down at his brother (who is laser-focused on the T.V despite asking a question). “I think it depends on if his powers truly are a byproduct of a mutation. In which case, no. Erasure wouldn’t work on him.”
Chuckling, Shota nudges his little brother. “Not turning to the darkside are we?”
Izuku shakes his head, green curls mussing with the movement. “No, Nii-San, I was just curious.”
They return to watching the movie.
Near the middle of the movie, Izuku’s eyes become heavy with sleep. Not surprising considering he skipped his daily nap to spend more time with his older brother (“he’s spending the entire weekend with us, Izuku, go rest,” their dad had said, in a fruitless effort to placate him. “After all, tomorrow's your fourth birthday. You need to save your energy for the party.”)
Somehow, someway, Izuku had won that argument. But the consequences of his actions are slowly but surely catching up to him.
He tries to muffle a yawn behind his hand.
“Tired, are we?” Nii-San asks, patting his head.
“No.”
“Okay, sure, Problem Child.”
Izuku scrunches his nose up at the nickname. You break your arm one time falling from a tree (and almost get run over by oncoming traffic, because he forgot to look both ways while out shopping with his dad. And are almost squashed during a hero-villain fight, because their quirks were just so cool! And there was that one time he was almost kidnapped because an older lady said she had an All Might action figure in her van.) and suddenly you’re a “Problem Child.”
“Uh, uh,” he says, petulantly. His eyes keep slipping closed, and he’s only half-listening to his older brother.
“Sleep, Izu, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
When Izuku finally falls asleep, still nestled up to his brother in their living room, he dreams of getting a quirk of his own.
-x-x-x-
Love is not a word many would associate with All for One. And while society as a whole wouldn’t be wrong to assume so, All for One is in fact only human (much as he loathes to admit that).
He loved Yoichi first, as though the boy was his own son.
He loved Ayame Aizawa second, in a vastly different way than he had ever felt before. A young woman with a vision quirk, dark eyes and long, wavy black hair. She insisted she loved him as well, even got engaged to him and bore him a son that resembled her. But luck wasn’t on All for One’s side, and Ayame discovered some of his more minor villainous deeds a few months after Shota was born.
In a rare display, that would surely give his frail brother a heart attack if he was still around, he let her leave. They even shared custody of Shota until the boy was old enough to decide he wanted to live full time with his dad.
All for One took a break from dating for a time. He had a son who was growing more and more everyday, and an underworld to run from the shadows.
And then, he met Inko Midoriya.
A 20-year-old woman who had recently graduated from a nursing program. He met her while waiting on Doctor Garaki in the hallway of Jaku General Hospital. A polite, bright, young woman with a weak telekinesis quirk called, “Attraction.”
That was how Doctor Garaki described her when he brought her up during their meeting.
It took a grand total of ten months, three hundred awkward attempts at flirting with the nurse, and no less than ten dad jokes a week in an effort to break the ice.
She never took the hint.
Not until his son, then nine, fell off his bike and needed his hand stitched up.
Being around his pride and joy, worrying extensively about how Shota was feeling and comforting him when the doctors had to numb the area, made being in the same space as her less nerve wrecking.
“Hey, Shota, I’m afraid for the calendar,” All for One, going by the name of Hisashi, remembers telling his son, whose face was ruddy and wet from crying.
“W-why, dad?”
“Because its days are numbered.”
His son burst out laughing, smiling for the first time since falling from his bike hours earlier.
Next to him, starting to clean up the room for the next patient, Inko chuckles at the lame joke.
They get married on the last Saturday in April. Shota’s their ring bearer and Anyame even attended to wish the new couple good luck (blessedly, she doesn’t divulge why they broke up to Inko). The two women get along swimmingly and are fast friends.
Six-years-later, on July 15th, Izuku Midoriya was born to Hisashi and Inko Midoriya at Jaku General Hospital.
Izuku comes home with his father two days later; Inko doesn’t come with them.
Caring for a newborn and a teenager (who, at the time, was also grieving the loss of a good friend of his) was hard to say the least. He remembers crying for the first time since his brother died, unsure of how to proceed as a single father.
For a time he even considered giving Izuku up for adoption, before Shota knocked some sense into him.
“I’m sad too,” his son had said, holding a six-month-old Izuku close to his chest, “but I think adopting Izuku out is only going to make us hurt worse. He’s family. He’s my brother, and I don’t think I can lose anyone else…dad-dad…I…I can’t lose him.”
All for One holds his sons close for hours afterwards, promising to never leave the two boys.
A promise he hasn’t broken yet.
On the rare occasions he has to leave on business and Shota can’t watch Izuku, Anyame happily takes on the role of babysitter.
They live in a traditional-Japanese style house just outside the city of Mustufu. Close enough to the city that Izuku can get to and from school when he starts in the fall, but far enough away that no one pays them any mind.
Which brings him up to now, standing in the middle of a superhero themed party store.
He glares at an All Might-themed party pack (plates, cups, napkins, balloons, and party hats). Shaking his head, he takes the offending item off the shelf. Kami, the things he does for love.
Izuku is turning four tomorrow. An exciting time in any child’s life. Four seems to be the average age when people are developing a quirk nowadays. Though, considering he himself is a first generation quirk user who knows if Izuku will even get one.
He’s been going over all the possible quirk combinations that his son could have: a stronger form of “Attraction,” one of All for One’s many quirks (maybe even firebreath, as he constantly keeps that one activated just in case), or…..
Or a stronger version of All for One.
He grimaces, picturing the absolute headache that would cause.
“Did you find everything okay?” The cashier asks, scanning the party pack.
“Yes.”
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to worry about his son developing a quirk so similar to his own. But it’s not and no doubt All Might and his little entourage would track him down, break his family apart, if word got out of a child possessing an All for One quirk.
He sighs, thanks the overworked cashier, and heads for the door.
One day at a time, Hisashi. There’s nothing you can do about it today.
-x-x-x-
He arrives home to see his sons cuddling on the couch, fast asleep. Shota’s hair is covering part of his face, and he’s leaning over towards his brother, one arm wrapped around Izuku.
Izuku, meanwhile, is snuggled up. His feet tucked underneath him, and his head nestled against Shota’s side.
A pang of longing hits All for One’s heart. He remembers cuddling up with his brother like that.
Yoichi would have loved them.
Pushing down those feelings, he smiles at the boys. Carefully, so as not to wake either of them up, All for One covers them both with a throw blanket. He brushes Shota’s hair from his face and kisses them both on the head.
He starts for the kitchen. Maybe he can finish dinner before either of them wake up.
-x-x-x-
Dinner is a lively affair. Izuku talks animatedly about anything and everything, while his family listens intently.
“And-and I think Shota’s quirk could work on Spider-Man ‘cause I don’t think it’s a mutation. I think it’s his quirk.”
“Back in my day,” their father starts (to which both boys groan), “we called heroes, like the one in that movie, “Superheroes” and they had superpowers not quirks.”
“But I thought they were called meta-abilities before quirks,” Shota says, taking another bite of his fried rice.
Their dad nods. “In the real world, yes. But in films and comics, people called them superpowers.” He pokes at his rice with a chopstick, face oddly solemn. “Back in those days, before meta-abilities, people wanted powers.”
Someone pats his hand. Looking down, Hisashi sees his youngest son’s tiny hand trying to comfort him.
“It’s okay, daddy.”
“Yes,” All for One agrees. “Everything is fine.” He smiles, wanting to change the subject. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”
Izuku bounces in his seat, nodding. “Mhm! Super-duper excited!”
Shota snorts. “That's all he’s been talking about today. Well, that and those superhero movies we just had to binge watch today.”
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy them as well,” All for One teases his oldest son.
“Because I-”
“Daddy can I go to the park?” Izuku asks, his plate already empty.
Hisashi loves and hates in equal measure that the city put in a playscape just down the street. It’s far from the busy streets and oncoming traffic and the hustle and bustle of city life, but he still doesn’t like his son(s) going there. There’s always a chance of something going wrong, and he’s been around too long to leave things to chance.
But…looking into his youngest’s green eyes, eager and excited, Hisashi can’t bring himself to say, “no.”
“Yes-”
“Yay!” Izuku cheers, hopping off his chair and racing towards the front door.
“Izuku-”
Shota pats his dad on the back. “I got him, dad.” He takes his brother’s and his’ plate to the sink, rinsing them off. “Be back before seven.”
“Of course, be safe.”
Shota shoots his dad an awkward smile and hurries to catch up with his rambunctious little brother.
All for One sighs, contently. What could possibly go wrong?
-x-x-x-
The trip to the park starts off well enough. A few kids around his age are playing in the sandbox. Izuku races over to play with them. He’s seen them here before (whenever he can get his father to take him here, that is). He likes playing with them because they always have such pretty colors connected to them, hovering over their small shoulders like a guardian angel or an extension of themselves. He’s noticed it, the small ball of light, in other people as well. But daddy doesn’t let him interact with other people a lot, so it’s always exciting when he can see lights and colors that differ from his brother and daddy (and Auntie Anyame).
His brother sits next to the other parents, a slight grimace on his face. His brother is kind of funny like that. Other people make him nervous, which isn’t the funny part, but the way his face contorts against his will to show his emotions plain as day, is.
Still, Izuku isn’t cruel and is not nearly as oblivious as daddy thinks he is, so he pats his brother on the arm and offers a small smile before running off to play in the sandbox.
He plays alone for a while, scooping the sand into buckets to make sandcastles, until another boy, probably a few years older than him, wanders over. He has dark blue hair and the aura that follows him is a soothing baby blue.
“What’s your name? Mine’s Tanaka Akio,” the boy, now known as Akio, says, grabbing the other available bucket.
“Midoriya Izuku,” he answers, timidly. Despite his growing excitement at having someone around his age to talk to, he can’t help but feel a little shy.
“Okay, can I call you Izuku-Chan?”
“Mhm,” he agrees.
“And of course, you can call me Akio-Chan, or Akio.” Akio smoothes out the sand in the bucket, packing it down.
“Okay.”
“This isn’t going to work,” he says after flipping over the bucket, only to watch his castle crumble. Izuku follows suit, more out of curiosity than anything else.
It breaks apart and crumbles away.
“Aw,” Izuku whines. “Guess we’ll have to start over again, huh?”
“Yes! But I think my quirk can help us. I can generate water. It’s weak, but it should help wet the sand enough for it to stick together.”
Izuku stares at his new friend with stars in his eyes. “Generate water? Is it sweat? Or does the water come from the water you drink? Do you have to drink a lot of water? If you don't, do you get sick?”
“Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know. Yes. And kind of? Mama makes sure I drink at least one glass per hour.”
Not exactly satisfying answers, but Izuku manages to stop himself from hounding the other boy about his super cool water quirk.
“Do you like heroes?” Akio asks. “I used to live in the city, so I used to see them fight villains all the time.”
Izuku nods, the rest of his nerves slowly dissipating as the other boy starts to jabber on and on about all the different hero fights he’s seen.
As the two boys continue to play together, Shota watches intently. Socializing, no matter how miniscule, stresses him out. Only Hizashi and Nemuri seem to- well, no, they still stress him out, but they’re at least funny. And, at this point, he’s probably stuck with them.
A woman, presumably a relative or babysitter of one of the many children playing in the park, clears her throat. He side-eyes her, but beyond that, he pays her little mind.
“Ahem, sir,” she says.
“Yes?” He asks, warily.
“You look awfully familiar.” She smirks.
“Do I?” Shota thinks of moving to the bench on the other side of the park, but there’s more people over there and it’d be rude to just up and move. His dad taught him better manners than that.
“Yes. I think I saw you on the news. Oh, what was it for?” The woman thinks aloud to herself.
Shota’s mouth suddenly feels strangely dry. He speaks around the lump growing in his throat. “You must be mistaken. I-I’ve never been on the news.”
“No, no, I know I have. Ah, I got it!” She snaps her fingers. “You-”
“Nii-San!”
Shota politely excuses himself, thanking whatever God or deity helped him avoid her next words. He rushes over to the sandbox.
There sits his brother and another little boy, both of which look shocked and horrified. Upon seeing Shota, his little brother sniffles.
“I didn’t mean it. Make him better.”
“Huh?”
“Haru!” The woman from earlier wails, racing over to them.
It’s then that Shota takes notice of the unconscious boy laying on the opposite side of the sandbox.
“What happened?” He asks, trying and failing to keep the worry out of his voice.
Izuku gives a weak shrug of his shoulders. “I-I don’t know. He was being very mean, and I just wanted him to stop so I-”
“You!” The woman yells, startling everyone in the park and even a few babies started crying at her outburst. She gathers her son in her arms. “You hurt him!”
“No, I-I didn’t mean to.”
“He really didn’t. Haru-Kun kicked our sandcastles down and called Izuku-Chan a bunch of really nasty names. And neither of us touched him. We’ve been here the whole time.”
The woman glares at the kids, looking a hairbreadth away from pouncing on them.
Protective big brother instincts engaged, Shota steps in front of both the boys. “I can call emergency services. We can settle this between the adults.”
“Whatever. Just call them.”
-x-x-x-
“Ah, huh, thank you. Thank you, yes, goodbye.” Their dad hangs up the phone, flipping it shut (another relic from his time, whatever that means). “The boy woke up.”
Izuku, who hadn’t stopped crying since the incident at the park, is fast asleep in his bedroom. Safe and sound.
From his place on the couch, Shota breathes a sigh of relief. “Did they figure out what happened?”
“Shota,” his dad starts, sitting down next to him, “you know what my quirk does, correct?”
“You can take and give quirks?”
“Yes.”
“Is- was the incident at the park….can Izuku take and give quirks?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“What else do you wish me to say, Shota? From what you tell me, Izuku might have felt his friend and he were threatened and used his quirk on the boy that was bothering them. Unintentionally, of course.”
He scoffs, standing up quickly. “I also said Izuku never touched him. A few witnesses verified that.”
His dad nods. “Interesting. Did you happen to know what the boy’s quirk is?”
“I think his mom mentioned something about him being able to bend metal? I don’t know, she really wasn’t happy with Izuku or me and made every effort to tell us so.”
“Funny then that I find that exact quirk in Izuku’s possession, isn’t it?” His dad laughs, but it comes out sounding humorless. Suddenly serious, he leans forward. “This stays between us and Izuku. At least until he can control it. Do you understand?”
Wordlessly, nervously, Shota nods.
“Good. Now that that’s settled let’s discuss party plans.”
Getting to his feet, his dad starts rambling on about the food preparations. Shota follows behind him, offering a hum here and superficial comment there. Though he tried to hide it, the fear in his dad’s eyes had been there.
If his dad is frightened, then what chance does he and Izuku have against whatever evil he’s afraid of?
“Shota?” His dad asks, voice soft and brows furrowed. He holds a cookbook that looks several decades old in front of him. “Are you alright?”
He forces a smile. “Yeah, just a little tired. Sorry, go on.”
There’s a knowing look in his dad’s eyes, but it vanishes in the blink of an eye. “What kind of cake do you think Izuku would want?”
“Anything All Might.” Is Shota’s immediate answer.
“Hah, but what flavor?”
“It could be made of only wasabi, as long as it’s All Might themed, the kid won’t care.”
His dad sighs and closes his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then, what about you? What kind of cake do you like?”
“Surprise me,” he says, moving out of the kitchen and towards the bedrooms. “I’m going to bed, I’ll be up early to help decorate.”
“Goodnight, Shota.”
“Night, dad.”
-x-x-x-
The next day is nothing short of chaotic. No one brings up the events of the previous day, instead choosing to focus on the party at hand.
Shota, true to his word and against his body’s protests at getting up earlier than eleven, helps his dad decorate the living room and dining room. Red, yellow, and blue streamers hang from the ceiling. The dining room is set up with each place setting having an All Might plate, cup, and napkin. His dad doesn’t hide his grimace everytime he locks eyes on it.
“Izuku will be happy,” Shota says, casually reminding his dad why they do this song and dance every year (and will probably continue to do so for the next fourteen years).
“Yes, yes he will.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead.
Shota chuckles, gathering bits of plastic and broken streamers to shove into the trash can. His dad checks his watch.
“Well, time to wake the birthday boy. There’s this diner in the city that serves American-style breakfast. I think you boys will like it.”
-x-x-x-
His dad, per usual, was correct in his assumptions. The American 50s-style diner sits in the middle of Musutafu, nestled in between a ramen shop and a discount book store. An overly-friendly woman with neon green hair and wearing a stereotypical waitress uniform leads them to a booth at the back of the diner.
Once they’re all settled in, the waitress starts passing out their menus. “There we are. And one for-”
Izuku grabs her arm, still holding onto the menu. “You have a very pretty quirk. Can I have it?”
The woman gasps, eyes widening.
No one moves.
No one breathes.
Shota looks to their dad, who’s reaching towards both of them. A protective glint in his red eyes.
And then, the bell over the door chimes.
The waitress laughs, ruffling Izuku’s hair. “Kids say the darndest things don’t they?”
Shota and their dad join her in laughing, cheesing it up. “Yep, they sure do. Today’s actually his fourth birthday. You know how kids are with quirks nowadays.”
The waitress nods along. “Yes, yes. Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
-x-x-x-
“Izuku,” daddy starts, voice low, “you can’t just ask people if you can have their quirks.”
They’ve just got home from the diner, and his big brother is trying his best to clean the remaining syrup off Izuku’s face. The cool rag is scrubbed harshly against his skin, an unreadable expression on his brother’s face. Something in Izuku twists, feeling guilty.
He pulls away, bottom lip quivering. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” In all honesty, Izuku has zero idea what he’s apologizing for, but it has to be something pretty bad if even daddy’s upset.
Daddy sighs, bending down. Putting a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder, he tells him, “you didn’t do anything wrong, Izu. Just….sometimes people are weird about their quirks. Most people don’t want to give their quirks away.”
Izuku fidgets with the hem of his All Might t-shirt. The fabric feels nice and the familiarity helps quell some of his growing anxiety. “But All Might says it’s good to share.”
“Yes, and it is. But….” daddy trails off, eyes looking towards the ceiling as if trying to find an explanation.
“Izuku,” his big brother starts, “think of their quirks like a limited-edition All Might action figure. You wouldn’t want anyone touching that, now would you?”
He purses his lips, thinking it over. That makes sense, he supposes, and Nii-San’s right. If anyone touched his limited-edition, tenth anniversary All Might action figure (or any of his merch, really) he’d be extremely upset.
“That…I understand. But everyone has such cool quirks.”
His dad huffs out a laugh, all previous seriousness long gone. He ruffles Izuku’s hair. “They do, don’t they? It’ll be hard, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Together?” Izuku asks, leaning against daddy. He’s warm and Izuku really needs a hug right now. Daddy acquiesces, wrapping his arms around him. He must also motion big brother over, because not a second later, he’s joining in the hug.
“Together,” daddy repeats.
“Yeah, problem child, always and forever.”