Chapter Text
“We have to go pick up Shouta at the police station.”
It was enough to immediately get Hitoshi’s attention.
“Why? Is he hurt?”
The concern had been evident in his voice. It was the same concern that Hitoshi felt every time there was even the slightest bit of bad news related to Aizawa’s hero work. Less than a year ago, Hitoshi would’ve felt excitement at hearing that his childhood hero was going on some sort of mission or had taken on a job to take down some big criminal organization. Now, there was just dread and worry, even if Hitoshi still liked hearing the stories of his patrols.
Yamada had shaken his head, though, offering Hitoshi a smile, “No, no, it’s the end of his patrol. He just wants to be picked up. He said he’s a little sore from the chase the villain he captured gave and from using his quirk so much.”
That’d been enough to lay Hitoshi’s worries to rest. In fact, he’d felt a little excitement. Aizawa was still training him, and while he didn’t officially intern with Aizawa (yet), he’d been showing Hitoshi a little more of the business side of hero work. Hitoshi had always been curious about it, and getting to see what it was like at the precinct after a patrol for Aizawa was something that sounded like a good learning experience. Hitoshi was eager to learn everything he could from Aizawa, this being no exception. So he got up and followed Yamada out of their house, listening to Yamada talk about the villain Aizawa had been set out for tonight as they drove to the precinct.
That excitement turned out to be pretty short-lived.
The precinct was busy, and Hitoshi could see that before they even went inside. The parking lot was nearly full and Yamada had to park in a designated spot for pro heroes. It wasn’t far away, Aizawa having been contracted recently by a precinct and district nearby, and with being closer to the more populated areas of the city came more business, apparently. As Hitoshi walked in with Yamada, he could already see the way it was buzzing inside, with people moving around and the receptionist trying to deal with the influx of people. As they pushed through the doors, Hitoshi gave a silent look up at Yamada, raising an eyebrow, and Yamada returned it with a crooked smile, nonverbally telling Hitoshi that he didn’t know why it was so busy, either.
Inside was no better, and the onslaught of sound hit Hitoshi like a wall. Even in the entryway—it was really more of a waiting room, now—there were people sitting, talking, yelling, and even pacing. The receptionist, a man in uniform, was clearly overwhelmed and trying to deal with them all, though the moment he laid eyes on them, he seemed to brighten a little, turning away from the frantic woman he’d been talking to in order to give them a wave. Hitoshi recognized him as the same desk worker that had been around when Aizawa had taken him here previously, and the man appeared to recognize both of them, as well.
Hitoshi stood slightly behind Yamada as he made small talk with the desk worker officer, glancing around. There was more noise coming from the intake room that Hitoshi knew was down a small hallway behind the desk, and he assumed that was probably where Aizawa was waiting for them. It amused him a little—he knew for a fact that Aizawa didn’t like loud places and that he hated crowds even more. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how annoyed his teacher—and recent adoptive father—was at the busyness of the station.
“—Anyways, Eraser is in the next room. Seems pretty anxious to go home. Usually, we’d let him wait with the detectives but, as you can see, we’re pretty busy tonight,” The man laughed and stood from his desk, walking a few steps and opening the gate that separated the waiting room from the rest of the precinct. Yamada gave him a glance, still smiling, green eyes bright behind his glasses, and Hitoshi followed behind him.
He’d been right. The intake room was even busier than the waiting room had been, and Hitoshi immediately found Aizawa.
Even in a room full of criminals and small-time villains, Aizawa still somehow managed to stick out.
The intake room was huge, though it looked a lot smaller full of people. Benches lined the walls and opposite the door was heavy equipment—cameras for taking the photos of those who were arrested, metal detectors, bins of belongings, as well as quirk-dampening equipment. Bright fluorescent lights shone down on the room, and in the moment before his eyes adjusted, the brightness hurt. The room was full of people and noise, officers in uniform all clearly with their hands full handling criminals of every variety, some of them having full costumes and others in plain clothes—and every single one of the arrested criminals seemed to be in the middle of an argument with someone, whether it was an officer or a fellow criminal. It was loud.
Sitting on the end of one of the benches near the door was Aizawa, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed as he tapped his foot impatiently, looking out into the room with a irritable, sour expression, clearly very unhappy with having to wait in here.
The room just grew louder as Hitoshi actually stepped inside it behind Yamada, closing the small distance between the two of them and Aizawa, who’d turned to look at them, some of the crankiness melting off of his face as he focused on the two of them, replaced by an expression that Hitoshi could only describe as relieved.
“Sensei—” Hitoshi didn’t wait for Yamada to greet his partner, calling out to Aizawa. “—It’s pretty busy today, isn’t it?”
It’d been a few months since moving in with Aizawa and Yamada and by now, Hitoshi had at least gotten used to speaking freely. It wasn’t hard for him to ask questions anymore, and he’d realized that neither of them seemed to care if he spoke his mind. It was nice to be able to speak his opinions and talk about whatever he wanted and because of that, he’d opened up to them a little and had gotten comfortable actually expressing his personality rather than shutting himself off with an air of cynicism and an unwillingness to trust those around him.
“It’s like every minor criminal in the city decided that tonight was the best time to make their debut…” Aizawa commented, voice low and quiet enough that Hitoshi had to focus to hear it. He stood, giving another look around the room and before Hitoshi or Yamada or even Aizawa could say anything, Hitoshi watched Aizawa’s expression harden again, gaze drifting to somewhere behind Hitoshi.
It didn’t take a lot to figure out what he was staring at, but Hitoshi followed his gaze anyways and immediately took a step back, letting out a breath when he bumped into Yamada. Yamada’s hand quickly found Hitoshi’s shoulder, holding onto him.
To his side was someone who was undeniably the villain Aizawa had tracked down tonight. Dressed from head to toe in childlike, whimsical clothing, hair dyed a multitude of rainbow colors, the sleeves of his multicolored jacket adorned with small bells, jingling with every step he took and giving him the appearance of some type of jester-like actor than anything. It wasn’t his clothing or the oddly childlike air he gave off that really got to Hitoshi, though—it was his grin.
Up until now, Hitoshi had truly thought that Yamada had the strangest smile he’d ever seen, but even his wide, showy grins were strange in a heartwarming way. This was just—creepy. It was a crooked smile, showing his sharp teeth, lips pulled back enough that it almost looked like a snarl. Hitoshi could only stare at him, a little relieved that it was Aizawa the criminal was looking at, rather than Hitoshi, though that didn’t make his grin any less unsettling.
The guy had his arms pulled behind him, wrists secured by a pair of handcuffs, a female officer following behind him, holding on tightly to his cuffed wrists. They’d stopped moving, though, the officer barking some order at him that got lost in the noise and Hitoshi glanced to the side, finding that they’d stopped because the rest of the crowd was just too thick to keep moving.
“What’s this, Eraser?” The man’s voice was even worse, high pitched and breaking into a cackle, cracking like a teenager’s would. He kept staring at Aizawa and Hitoshi didn’t move, backed up against Yamada, thankful that Yamada was holding onto him by his shoulder. The criminal cackled again and despite the rest of the noise, the sound seemed to fill the entirety of the room, “Didn’t know you had a kiddo! He looks just like you!”
Before anyone could do anything, he looked at Hitoshi, and Hitoshi just stared back, narrowing his eyes and forcing his expression to remain neutral. It wasn’t hard, his instincts from foster care kicking in and helping him not react. He only hoped that this guy couldn’t somehow smell the fear coming from him or hear the way his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt Yamada’s grip tighten on his shoulder and Hitoshi tensed, breathing out.
The man’s eyes were mismatched, one bright yellow and the other bright red, the red one looking a little unfocused as he turned his gaze and creepy, entirely unsettling smile to Hitoshi.
“Oh, man, you look tired! What a weary boy. Is Eraser not taking care of you right?” Another high giggle. Hitoshi managed to shrink back a little, refusing to react to him.
“Can you not shut him up?!” Aizawa had his voice raised, snapping at the female officer. Hitoshi didn’t look at him—couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t stop staring up at this guy, this criminal. He reached for his quirk, not quite ready to use it, but soothed slightly by the notion that he could if it came to that.
“It’s not like I can muzzle him!” The officer told Aizawa, sounding exasperated, as if she’d already had to listen to this guy for a while.
Still, though, the man focused on Hitoshi, “Weary, weary boy. I think Eraser needs to learn a little lesson about taking care of kids. He was awfully rough with me. Don’t you think it’d be fun to go back to—”
“Quiet!” It was the loudest Hitoshi had ever heard Aizawa yell, full of anger and annoyance. It was enough to make Hitoshi rip his gaze away, looking up to find Aizawa scowling at the criminal, looking more menacing and intimidating than Hitoshi had ever seen him before.
The man didn’t pay any attention to Aizawa, though, “You look like someone who’d like it. Don’t you want to go back to being little? It’s so much fun.”
Around them, the room seemed to grow quiet, the yelling and talking and arguing dying down just slightly, and Hitoshi couldn’t tell if it was actually quieter or if his voice was just so involving that it was making the room close in, making this entire place seem smaller and quieter and like it was only the four of them here—Hitoshi staring up at him, expression neutral; Aizawa, bristling with anger; Yamada, with his hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder, gripping him hard; and this childlike criminal, looking down at Hitoshi with mismatched eyes and crooked, creepy grin written across his face.
“I really don’t,” Hitoshi’s words were quiet and he could barely hear himself over the murmur of the crowd. He focused, narrowing his eyes slightly and reached for his quirk, exhaling a long breath as he searched and searched, readying himself for an opening just in case. It wasn’t like he thought that Aizawa or Yamada wouldn’t protect him. His quirk was a fallback, something that Hitoshi had had throughout most of his life, something that had always been there for him and something that he knew he could use if he got into trouble. He hadn’t often, despite being labelled as dangerous in foster care, but the fact that it was always there, always something he could reach for was in some way comforting.
“Shouta,” Yamada pulled at the material of Hitoshi’s jacket, clearly urging both Hitoshi and Aizawa to move. “Let’s go. This isn’t worth it.”
There was no hesitation. Aizawa snapped out of it immediately, the scowl falling off of his face as he stepped away, moving so he was next to Hitoshi, putting a hand on his back, Hitoshi letting out a breath of relief as he did. He forced himself to relax, realizing that they were about to leave, about to turn from the criminal and prepare to go home, thinking of all the questions he was going to ask Aizawa about this guy on the way home, wanting to learn about his capture and quirk and everything Aizawa would tell him.
That was, until Hitoshi made the mistake of making eye contact with him again.
On the way here, Yamada had talked to him about the criminal Aizawa had been sent out to capture.Yamada hadn’t known his moniker or his name, but he had known that the guy was creepy and oddly childlike, despite being middle-aged. He’d also known about his quirk. Age regression. Yamada hadn’t known how it was activated or how he used it, but he’d known what it did, and that the guy had been terrorizing this district by using it on people he found alone on the street with seemingly no rhyme or reason as to why other than causing a lot of chaos. He was interesting, especially to Hitoshi, who’d always had an interest in quirks, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of this guy.
He’d kept a distance between them, though. Hitoshi knew from years of research that quirks, especially transformation quirks, were more often than not activated by touch in some way or another, and that was what he’d expected.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was when the man’s lazy red eye suddenly focused on him, his smile growing so that Hitoshi could see every one of his impossibly sharp teeth, that one lazy eye brightening, pupil growing in size.
He knew it was happening, and he reached for his quirk.
At the same time, he heard a yell that he quickly identified as Aizawa, followed by a shout from Yamada. It wasn’t enough, though, and nobody was quick enough. Yamada wasn’t quick enough to yell, even if he could in a room full of people. Aizawa had reached for his capture weapon and had activated his Erasure, but the effect had already started. And Hitoshi wasn’t quick enough to find an opening in the guy’s psyche, even if there was one.
They were all too slow, and while Aizawa had the guy on the ground in a second, the damage was already done.
“What did you do?!”
Following his yell, the rest of the room fell quiet. Utterly, almost deadly quiet, officers and criminals alike turning to look at them as Aizawa slammed the villain to the ground, listening to the satisfying crack his head made on the ground as he followed him, bands of his capture weapon wrapping and winding around the other man, holding him tight as Aizawa immediately pinned him, breathing hard and eyes burning with the use of his quirk.
The other man couldn’t move, not with how tightly Aizawa had him wrapped with his weapon, but that didn’t stop him from pinning him down, raising a fist with every intention in the world to punch him and break his nose or his eye socket or whatever part of his face was the most fragile.
Something stopped him, though.
“Shouta, don’t!”
Aizawa froze, fist in the air, arm drawn back, a moment away from hitting the guy with every bit of strength he had, and glanced behind him, the thing he saw making him stop completely.
The crowd of police officers, detectives, and criminals had scattered, leaving a small clearing. Aizawa had tackled the villain, knocking him out of the grasp of the female officer who’d been holding onto him. There were five of them in the little space that had been cleared—Aizawa being on the floor on top of the regression villain he’d attacked, the female officer staring down at the two of them with a shocked gaze, Hizashi, with a worried look on his face, looking down at the toddler at his feet, and… Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa’s son and the toddler who was currently clinging onto Hizashi’s pants.
Aizawa lowered his fist, and the shock of seeing his newly adopted kid like this was enough to get him to drop his quirk, blinking his dry, burning eyes shut and feeling his long hair fall back around his shoulders. He kept his eyes shut for a moment, still straddling the criminal he’d attacked the instant he’d hit Hitoshi with his quirk, and forced himself to try to think rationally about this.
He should’ve been quicker. He shouldn’t have turned away to leave with the other two while Hitoshi had been holding eye contact with this guy. He’d known how he activated his quirk and yet, he’d still let Hitoshi hold eye contact with him. He’d thought that he was still unable to use it, that the hour he had between successful uses of his quirk had still been ticking, and it was his fault that Hitoshi was like this now.
He couldn’t look away from the small child clinging to Hizashi.
Hitoshi had been living with them for a few months, now. While he’d eased up enough to finally start showing his personality and speaking freely, Aizawa had never seen him display this much emotion. It was something that he’d been working on with Hitoshi—while keeping a neutral face was good for hero work and Hitoshi had that down, it wasn’t good at all in someone’s personal life, and Aizawa knew that from personal experience. This, though, had been something he’d never wanted to see, because Hitoshi was staring at Aizawa with wide, terrified violet eyes, and the last thing Aizawa had ever wanted was to see Hitoshi looking at him in fear.
It was enough to knock him out of his panicked, violent mindset. Even though the guy under him had just attacked his kid, Aizawa no longer felt any desire to beat his face in, like he’d been so inclined to do just moments ago. There were more important things and as Aizawa pulled his capture weapon tight enough to snap the part of it that was wrapped around the regression criminal, he decided that he was done with this guy. He’d let the officers take care of him from here. There were much more pressing matters.
There was really nothing more important than the tiny child, whose head didn’t even reach Aizawa’s waist, following him with his scared violet eyes, watching his every movement with puffy cheeks and trembling lips.
Silently, Aizawa got up off of the captured criminal, stepping over him and ignoring the cackle that followed his actions. The room was near-silent and Aizawa knew that everyone else in the room was watching them closely, and in the silence, Aizawa heard a voice that he barely even recognized as Hitoshi’s speak up.
“Scary…”
It was a single world, murmured in a child’s high-pitched, shaking voice, but it brought Aizawa the rest of the way down, grounding him in the horrible reality that Hitoshi had just been attacked and was suddenly a child, most likely without any idea what was going on. It was one of the first times that Aizawa was actually fighting to control himself and just not break apart. He usually had no issues controlling his emotions, but now, looking at his son…
He crouched down to Hitoshi’s height, doing everything he could to look as non-threatening as possible.
Hitoshi still looked like himself, to an extent. He was a lot smaller, his cheeks puffed out with baby fat, his eyes a little wider, his lips a little fuller. The hands that were balled in Hizashi’s pants looked impossibly tiny and for a long moment, Aizawa just stared at them, trying to figure out how fingers could actually be that small and delicate-looking. Hitoshi was also drowning in his clothes, having come here wearing his usual shirt and jacket and jeans, his shirt now looking more like a dress on him than anything. His pants were a different story, having fallen off of him completely, though with how small Hitoshi was, his shirt reached his knees.
“I’m scary?” Aizawa asked quietly, keeping his voice down.
Hitoshi’s eye flickered to him, and slowly, he shook his head, unballing a hand from Hizashi’s pant leg and pointing, hand shaking, at the still-cackling criminal behind him. Aizawa tried not to let it show, but the fact that Hitoshi was afraid of the almost clown-like man behind him rather than Aizawa himself was more than a little relieving.
“Shouta,” Aizawa raised his head at Hizashi’s murmur of his name, finding his partner looking down at him with a worried gaze, his voice an uncharacteristic near-whisper. “We need to get him out of here. Too many people…”
“—I’ll get an office for you three,” The female officer finally spoke up, but Aizawa didn’t turn to look at her.
“I’ll—I’ll have a detective come in and figure out what’s going on. Or… I guess I could call someone from the hero specialist division. Come with me, please.”
At that, Hitoshi finally unwrapped himself from Hizashi’s leg. Aizawa wasn’t sure what he was expecting—maybe for him to want to hold one of their hands as they walked—but it definitely wasn’t for Hitoshi to look pointedly at him and raise his arms in what was a clear request to be picked up. Aizawa just stared at him, trying to decide what was going on. Hitoshi wasn’t one to trust people quickly at all, and he only trusted Aizawa and Hizashi so much because they’d spent months building trust with him. Aizawa had no idea how much he remembered—or if he even remembered anything at all—but Hitoshi immediately wanting Aizawa to hold him told him that he, at the very least, recognized Aizawa.
“You want me to carry you?” He questioned, not making a move towards Hitoshi, just wanting to make sure before he suddenly picked the kid up.
Hitoshi only nodded, though, and raised his arms a little higher.
Aizawa gave a glance behind him, finding the criminal still on the ground, another officer having taken the other’s place. The guy was still grinning at him, in that same ugly, crooked way that he’d had all night. Aizawa shook his head, taking a breath as he reached forward, hands under Hitoshi’s arms, and lifted him up into his hold, kicking the remainder of Hitoshi’s clothes to the side.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t carried Hitoshi around before. He had, mostly when the kid fell asleep on the couch—Aizawa would lift him up and take him to his bed. While he was tall, Hitoshi had always been so light and he was still recovering from being underfed in foster care for so long. This, though was completely different. It felt like this kid, this toddler, weighed nothing against him. Nothing at all, like he was as light as the cats back at home.
Logically, Aizawa knew he was at least a little heavier, but lifting him up was so easy.
Hitoshi didn’t even hesitate to cling onto him, either. Immediately, he wrapped his thin arms around Aizawa’s neck, leaning into his capture weapon as his little fingers tangled in Aizawa’s long hair, clinging onto him hard enough that Aizawa was sure that if he let go of Hitoshi, Hitoshi would hold himself just by the sheer grip he had on Aizawa. He supported the boy, holding him close, feeling Hitoshi bury his face in Aizawa’s weapon.
He had to force himself to tear his gaze away from the toddler holding onto him like his little life depended on it and look back at Hizashi, the other man’s gaze having softened, though his face still held more concern and worry than Aizawa was comfortable with seeing on him. He gaze Hizashi a small nod, the officer waiting for them in the doorway. Around them, the murmur of the room had picked up a little, still quiet and much more subdued than before. He took Hizashi’s lead when he turned and walked out the doorway, following closely behind him, nearly at his side, with Hitoshi in his arms.
He shared another glance with Hizashi, not speaking to him. Aizawa wanted to wait to talk to him, at least until they were somewhere a little more private. He’d worked at this precinct for the last couple months and he knew the way almost by heart, following the officer down the hallway towards what he knew was the large room where the detectives all worked on cases, as well as the place where they could get into a more private office.
An investigation was going to happen.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of information on the quirk Hitoshi had been hit with. Aizawa had been provided with rudimentary information—the man was trying to make a name for himself, and had called himself ‘Golden Age’ today, had an age regression quirk, and his quirk was activated by holding eye contact with him, though it could only successfully be used once an hour. He had a tendency to dress in a bright, technicolor coat, usually had clown-like makeup on—though Aizawa had wound up dumping a bucket of water on him before taking him down just because he couldn’t stand how ridiculous he’d looked—and also usually had bright, multicolor hair. Not much else had been known about his quirk, since he’d targeted people who were out by themselves and his quirk turned them into toddlers.
Aizawa had no idea how old Hitoshi was or what he remembered or how long he’d be like this. There was no telling unless they got a detective to investigate and from the sounds of it, the officer taking care of them now wanted to open an investigation. Aizawa didn’t object to that—wanted to know what had happened to his kid—but part of him just wanted to take Hitoshi home. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for him, suddenly being small and in a crowded, unfamiliar place.
The walk felt too quiet, even for Aizawa. He gave Hizashi another glance and then, without letting himself hesitate, he decided to ask the first thing on his mind, moving a hand to Hitoshi’s shoulder as he spoke, “Hitoshi, do you know who I am?”
Hitoshi pulled away from him, and Aizawa let out a breath at seeing that most of the fear had cleared off of his face. The boy definitely looked nervous, still shaking a little, but at least he was comfortable enough to pull away a little. He still kept his arms around Aizawa’s neck, but he sat back in Aizawa’s arms and wordlessly, he looked from Hizashi to Aizawa.
Slowly, he focused on Aizawa and again, he said one word and one word only, “Dad.”
Aizawa stopped walking entirely. Hizashi did, too, and there was a moment of quiet where none of them said anything, the officer keeping the silence, as well. Then, quietly, the sound creeping into the corners of the short hallway, Hizashi let out a low laugh as Aizawa stared at his adoptive son.
He couldn’t say anything.
Hitoshi had never been comfortable calling him anything other than ‘Sensei’. He’d, on rare occasions, get just ‘Aizawa’, but never his first name or ‘Dad’. That was fine. He really didn’t mind; he didn’t need a title to know what he was to Hitoshi, and he was fine letting Hitoshi call him whatever he felt comfortable with. But hearing it now—despite everything and despite the situation and what had just happened and the fact that Hitoshi was still probably scared and nervous out of his mind—it made him feel strangely warm, creating an odd, warming feeling deep in his chest.
“How about me, Hitoshi?” He didn’t have to talk, because Hizashi did in his place, drawing Hitoshi’s attention away from him. “Do you know who I am?”
The boy looked at Hizashi, expression unchanging, though he untangled a hand from Aizawa’s long hair and pointed again, this time at Hizashi, “Different Dad.”
The coo that Hizashi made momentarily made everything okay, and Aizawa dared to draw his hand through Hitoshi’s wild violet hair, raising an eyebrow when he saw the tears welling in Hizashi’s green eyes. Hizashi was smiling, grinning a little, lips trembling and all Aizawa could do was let out a fake-sigh of exasperation as he watched a couple tears fall down Hizashi’s face.
“No,” Hitoshi spoke before he did, face falling into a heavy frown, sadness dripping into his small voice. “I’m sorry.”
Aizawa brushed his hand through Hitoshi’s hair again, feeling the kid grasp his scarf tightly, clearly a little upset by Hizashi’s crying. He tried soothing him, keeping his voice low and using the comforting, soft tone he usually used with Hitoshi, “It’s alright. He’s happy. He’s just… really emotional, aren’t you, Hizashi?”
“Yes!” Hizashi immediately insisted, still smiling as the three of them and the officer stood in the dim, empty hallway together. “I’m really happy. Um, but we should get you someplace safe, right? Let’s go somewhere better, Hitoshi, and we can all talk more! You must be really confused…”
Hizashi wiped at his eyes, brushing the tears away from his cheeks, and gave Aizawa another nod. Aizawa took the lead this time, the officer getting the hint and leading them further down the hallway, unlocking the door to the next room with her keycard, revealing a large room filled with noise, detectives, desks, and mountains of paperwork.
Hitoshi didn’t stay sitting up for long, throwing himself back against Aizawa’s chest, wrapping both arms tightly around his neck, and it was easy enough to figure out that Hitoshi really didn’t like noise and being around a lot of people. Aizawa could sympathize with that—it was definitely overwhelming and he didn’t want to be here, either, but they had to figure out what had happened to Hitoshi before anything else. All Aizawa could do was hold Hitoshi closely against him as they walked, following the officer through the large, open room, drawing the gazes of many of the detectives as a small hush fell over the room. Aizawa kept his eyes forward, not wanting to look at any of the detectives he’d been working with for the past month or so, let alone talk to them and try to explain why he suddenly had a toddler in his arms and his partner walking at his side when Aizawa had been working a normal patrol today.
The walk felt like it took forever, but they eventually reached an office, the officer leading them unlocking the door and letting them through. Aizawa didn’t hesitate, and Hizashi followed him. It was a small room, looking more like someone’s personal office than the conference room Aizawa had expected to be put in. There was a desk, piled with files and with a computer resting on it, a bookcase full of more files, and an extra chair in the room. It was big enough for the three of them, even if Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to move around too much in here, not that he looked like he wanted to, anyways.
Without a word, Aizawa picked his way over some of the casework resting on the ground, taking the seat behind the desk. He was still sore from the chase the criminal had put up, his muscles aching with the strain he’d put on himself while chasing the guy down and simultaneously trying to avoid his quirk. He ignored the burning in his limbs, though, watching as Hizashi thanked the officer, as she assured him that she’d contact the hero specialist division of the police, people both Hizashi and Aizawa had experience with. Hizashi asked her to see if she could find Hitoshi some clothes, and she had immediately agreed.
With that, she was gone, the door latching shut behind her, drowning out the rest of the noise from the large room and leaving Aizawa in the silence with Hitoshi and Hizashi.
Hizashi was staring at him, a slight frown on his face, and as Aizawa met his gaze, Hizashi let out a sigh, “Shouta, I’m sorry. I should’ve pulled him back or… I don’t know—done something.”
“No,” Aizawa told him, shaking his head slightly. Hizashi was apparently feeling the same guilt he was, and Aizawa was realizing now that sitting here and feeling guilty or trying to figure out what they could’ve done differently wasn’t actually helping any. It wasn’t rational. Hitoshi was like this now, and in this moment, there wasn’t anything they could do about it. He felt a little tremble against him and Hitoshi shifted, somehow managing to climb further up on Aizawa and wrap his small arms tighter around him. “I shouldn’t have let Hitoshi look at him. His quirk takes effect only if someone’s holding eye contact with him. I should’ve been more careful. But it doesn’t matter now.”
“You’re right,” Hizashi breathed, Aizawa watching him as he tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He let him, not saying anything, letting Hizashi have a moment to process this. It was fast—all of the sudden, their fifteen year-old kid, the boy they’d taken in a few months ago and who’d slowly been finding his place in their small family, was a small toddler who clearly had no idea what was going on. Aizawa was still processing it, too.
He pet Hitoshi’s hair again, a little amused, despite himself, that even at this age, his hair was still every bit as wild as it was on him as a teenager. Hitoshi squirmed again, making a little choked noise, and it just reminded Aizawa of how scared he probably still was. He still couldn’t get that expression out of his face, the one of total, complete fear he’d given Aizawa when he’d first looked back at him and saw how tiny Hitoshi was.
“Can I hold him?”
Hizashi’s voice startled him a bit, drawing Aizawa’s attention back to him. Hizashi had sat up again and was leaning forward slightly, looking from Hitoshi to Aizawa.
Aizawa didn’t answer Hizashi. Instead, he tapped Hitoshi’s shoulder, trying to get the boy to look at him, or at least pull back a little. It took a moment, a long moment of waiting to see whether or not Hitoshi actually felt comfortable enough to interact, but slowly, Hitoshi pulled back a little, sitting back in Aizawa’s arms in the same way he had before, peering at Aizawa with big, violet eyes.
“Do you want to go sit with Hizashi?” He asked Hitoshi softly, forcing his voice into what he could only hope was some sort of a soothing tone. He pushed Hitoshi’s hair back, given that part of it was falling into his eyes, and Hitoshi didn’t make much of an expression, continuing to stare at him with those impossibly huge eyes.
Hitoshi said nothing, but he pulled, giving Aizawa the answer he needed. He did his best to help Hitoshi down, letting the boy climb off of his lap and stand on the ground, tiny fingers balling in the pant leg of Aizawa’s jumpsuit. He paused, and Aizawa got a good look at him, able to look him over a little more clearly now that they weren’t in a crowded place and some of Aizawa’s panic had subsided enough to give him clarity.
He couldn’t stop focusing on how small Hitoshi was. He had no idea how old the kid was. He was tiny, but to some extent, he seemed to be able to understand the things Aizawa had asked him so far and had been able to tell Aizawa and Hizashi what had scared him and who they were. He’d also been able to communicate that he’d wanted to be carried. But he was so small that Aizawa genuinely had no clue whether the kid was two at the least or five at the most. It surprised him a little—Hitoshi was tall for a high schooler, only a little shorter than Hizashi and Aizawa. He’d assumed that Hitoshi’s birth parents had been tall and that the kid had been tall for his age his entire life, so seeing him so tiny was a little shocking.
He was so small that the shirt Hitoshi had been wearing hung all the way down to his knees, the bottom of his jacket reaching almost his bare feet. The sleeves of it were impossibly long on him, though he’d pushed them up, presumably to grasp at Aizawa’s hair in the way he had just moments before. Even now, Hitoshi raised a hand to his mouth, sucking at his fingers as he almost hesitantly let go of Aizawa, casting a small glance up at him before shuffling forward, holding onto the desk as he tried to avoid stepping on anything, before he padded over to Hizashi.
Aizawa watched, watching Hizashi give Hitoshi a small, gentle smile, the same smile he’d seen Hizashi give the kid a thousand times before. While Hitoshi never trusted anyone immediately, Hizashi had a knack for getting kids to like him and it really hadn’t taken long for Hitoshi to start to get comfortable with him. Hizashi’s method then had been making conversation with Hitoshi and making him feel like part of the family by telling him stories and conversing with him, but now he was taking a different approach, because Hizashi was silent as he held his arms out, offering his affection to Hitoshi without speaking.
Hitoshi hesitated still, but only for a moment more. Hizashi was patient—had always been patient, especially with kids, as long as Aizawa had known him—and just as Aizawa expected, Hitoshi went to him, putting his hands on Hizashi’s knees, trying to climb up onto him. Hizashi gave him a little laugh, the sound of it filling the room and easing the tension, just as he had in the hallway, and he helped Hitoshi, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him up onto him.
Hitoshi calmed down, then, sitting quietly on Hizashi’s lap. He couldn’t see his eyes, but Aizawa was willing to bet that as Hitoshi stared up at Hizashi, still with his fingers stuck in his mouth, he was probably giving Hizashi the same doe-eyed stare that he’d given Aizawa. Hizashi kept his arms slung around the boy, smiling down at him, and Aizawa let himself relax, thankful that he had Hizashi around. Aizawa didn’t have a lot of experience with younger kids, but Hizashi had had tons of adopted siblings as a kid and had a lot of experience with toddlers and young children.
Something about the fact that he wasn’t going at this alone was comforting.
“Aw, Hitoshi, isn’t it better in here?” Hizashi was using the same tone that Aizawa had heard him use with his baby siblings and nieces and nephews. It was soft and happy, a little higher pitched than it usually was. He continued on, smiling brightly, and Aizawa relaxed further, stretching out his aching legs and slouching forward, listening to Hizashi talk to Hitoshi, “It’s not so loud, right? It’s really overwhelming out there! Must be scary for you. You did good, though. We’re gonna get you some clothes and talk to the detectives a little bit and then we can all go home.”
Hitoshi didn’t respond, but he did throw himself forward and wrap his thin arms around Hizashi’s stomach, and Aizawa smiled, raising an eyebrow at the trembling, happy look Hizashi gave him.
“Don’t cry again,” He teased his partner, and Hizashi shot him a small pout, green eyes a little glassy. Aizawa made a show of rolling his eyes, enough at ease that he could at least poke fun at Hizashi’s tendency to cry easily during emotional times. “Hitoshi was upset when you did it out in the hallway, remember?”
“I’m not gonna cry,” Hizashi gave him one last heavy pout before looking back down at Hitoshi. The boy had wrapped himself around Hizashi as much as he could, even if his small arms couldn’t get all the way around him. His fingers were clutching at Hizashi’s shirt and his head was resting on his chest, letting Aizawa see his face and the way Hitoshi had his eyes shut.
“Hitoshi,” Aizawa prompted, his curiosity getting the best of him. He’d been prepared to wait until whoever was investigating this case to come and talk to them, but there were things he wanted to know now, and Aizawa didn’t want to wait anymore. Hitoshi opened his eyes, gaze finding him, and he raised his head off of Hizashi’s chest. Aizawa just leaned forward further, trying to make himself look nonthreatening, “How old are you?”
He wasn’t even sure that Hitoshi would know. If he was on the younger end of Aizawa’s estimate, there was a good chance that he wouldn’t. If he was on the higher end, he probably would. He was fully prepared to wait for Hitoshi to answer. He was patient, too, and knew that it might take Hitoshi a little to figure out what he was asking, but Hitoshi hardly hesitated, murmuring quietly in the same voice he’d been using all night.
“Four.”
Ah, so he’d been in the middle of Aizawa’s estimate. Hitoshi was a little small for a four year old but—
It took a second, but the realization of what that age meant for Hitoshi hit Aizawa like being punched in the gut.
When Aizawa had first heard of Hitoshi at the school festival, his first reaction had been to find every bit of information on the kid that was available to him. Being a teacher, that was a lot, and Aizawa had very quickly discovered the joint foster care and school file Hitoshi’s had, a file that took up a good amount of space when it was fully printed and put together. He’d read it all and though he’d made the decision to judge Hitoshi only on his experiences with him, Aizawa knew about his history.
Hitoshi had developed his quirk two months before turning four and had subsequently been kicked out of preschool. He’d lost his father a week before his birthday, rendering him an orphan due to his mother’s passing when he’d been an infant, and his aunt had signed him over to the system two days later. Hitoshi had gotten his quirk, lost his only birth parent, been given up by his family, and had entered foster care at this age.
It suddenly made sense why Hitoshi was so quiet, why he was so hesitant and clingy, and why he only responded with one word answers.
“Do you remember coming to live with us?” Aizawa pressed further, his voice betraying some of the worry that had slammed into him the moment he’d made the connection between Hitoshi’s age and his history. He ran a hand through his messy hair, brushing it back from his eyes, tangling his fingers in the back of it, a nervous habit he’d picked up long ago.
Hitoshi shook his head.
“But you know who we are?” Aizawa asked, needing clarification, even though Hitoshi had correctly identified who they were to him.
Hitoshi nodded.
“Shouta, what’s going on?” Hizashi sounded concerned, and Aizawa looked up from Hitoshi to his partner, not trying to hide the worry he was feeling and the dread that had opened a dark pit in his stomach.
Aizawa exhaled hard, trying to think of a way to put it, a way to tell Hizashi exactly why he was worried when Hitoshi was right there and could hear everything they said. Even though he hadn’t been around toddlers much, the last thing Aizawa wanted to do was upset Hitoshi, and he knew without being told that talking about Hitoshi’s father’s death and the events that put him into foster care would probably cause some tears.
“This is… Right around the time Hitoshi was put into foster care,” Aizawa tried, hoping that would be enough. It was, judging from the way Hizashi’s face fell as he immediately dropped his gaze to the boy in his lap. Aizawa turned his attention back to Hitoshi, easily remembering the contents of that file and recalling the placement he’d been given as soon as he entered the system, “Hitoshi, do you remember the group home you lived in before you came here? It was a place with a lot of kids.”
Hitoshi sat up on Hizashi’s lap, fingers pressed into his mouth again. That was a habit that Aizawa didn’t know Hitoshi had ever had, but if it was comforting him now, Aizawa wasn’t about to stop it. He kept his other hand clutching onto Hizashi’s shirt, and softly, he muttered the first full sentence Aizawa had heard from him since getting hit with the quirk, “I don’t like it.”
Hitoshi was frowning, eyes big and almost far-away looking, as if he was remembering the short time he’d spent in that group home. He looked sad, like even though Aizawa had tried to choose his words carefully, he’d still upset Hitoshi. A pang of guilt hit him hard, and Aizawa wished he’d thought over what he’d said more rather than risking upsetting a four year-old child who was scared and even more confused by this situation than Aizawa and Hizashi were.
Aizawa got up, ignoring the aching in his limbs as he did, and carefully walked to where Hitoshi sat with Hizashi, the small child’s eyes following him every step of the way. Hizashi kept up his happy face, smiling down at Hitoshi again and as Hitoshi made a small noise of worry as Aizawa got closer, Hizashi took to bouncing his knees, moving Hitoshi up and down on his lap. That seemed to distract him a little, and Hitoshi gave a gasp in surprise, turning his head up to look at Hizashi, letting Aizawa crouch down in front of them to better talk to Hitoshi.
“You’re not going back there,” Aizawa told him simply when Hitoshi looked back at him, having to look down at Aizawa a little. It was better this way, he thought, since the kid was more on his level now. Aizawa was perfectly aware that he could be intimidating sometimes, that his stare and demeanor could be scary, especially to a small child. He used it to his advantage in school, since he could use his sternness to make the students listen to him a little better, but there was no advantage here. “Do you remember anything else?”
Again, Hitoshi just shook his head.
Aizawa gave Hizashi another glance, “It looks like his memory was regressed, too. I think he only remembers us because we’ve been close to him for the past few months.”
It made sense. Hitoshi’s memory seemed like it was regressed but it was as if he still had small fragments of memory from his more recent life—at least, there was enough to tell him that Hizashi and Aizawa were his parents and safe to cling to. For the most part, though, Hitoshi was four years old in every way, and that included his memory, to the point where he vividly remembered being in his first group home and, more likely than not, the events leading up to his placement, but he didn’t remember coming to live with Aizawa and Hizashi.
With everything that had happened in this kid’s recent memory, it was no mystery why he was so quiet. From his father’s death, to the fact that he’d been surrendered because his birth family hadn’t wanted to deal with his quirk, to the way people in the system had handled a toddler’s inability to control that quirk… it was scarily logical that Hitoshi didn’t want to speak, and there was no doubt in Aizawa’s mind that he’d been conditioned into silence.
Hitoshi had been similar when Aizawa had first met him. Quiet, reserved, and incredibly hesitant to trust anyone around him. It hadn’t taken too long to get Hitoshi to speak more freely around him and part of that, Aizawa thought, was due to Aizawa having the advantage of being Hitoshi’s respected childhood hero, but for the first week or so, Hitoshi had hardly said anything unless it was completely necessary.
“Poor kid,” Hizashi kept bouncing Hitoshi in his lap. Hitoshi turned away from Aizawa, looking back at Hizashi. Hizashi was much better at acting happy and excited than Aizawa was, because Hizashi grinned again without much of a problem, “You don’t have to worry, Hitoshi! You were right earlier—we’re your dads now. It might be confusing, but you’re gonna come home with us. We’ll all have fun for the next few days! Or, until things are back to normal. We’ll take good care of you.”
Hitoshi fixed Hizashi with a long stare, Aizawa waiting and waiting for his response, not expecting what Hitoshi had to say when he finally did talk, “I know.”
If anything, that just confirmed that Hitoshi had some sort of idea as to who they were.
Hitoshi apparently knew to trust them to take care of him. He didn’t ask any questions, and Aizawa didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t or because he didn’t have any. He didn’t press any further, not going back to his seat behind the desk, instead giving a groan as he moved to sit against the wall next to Hizashi. Hitoshi kept quiet, going back to wrapping himself around Hizashi’s chest, Hizashi bouncing him as they sat.
They talked, Aizawa and Hizashi. There was never any question about what to do with Hitoshi. It was just an unspoken agreement that Hitoshi would come home with them. Hitoshi was, after all, their son, no matter what age he was, and Aizawa was more than happy to take care of him, even if he didn’t exactly know what to do with a toddler. He’d learn, figure it out, or just copy whatever Hizashi did. Regardless, he felt the same way about this kid as he felt about normal, teenage Hitoshi—he still loved him as his child, and Aizawa was committed to taking care of him, the two of them deciding to try to make the next few days—or week, or however long Hitoshi would be like this—as stress-free as possible. Hitoshi already had had a bad early childhood. If anything, this was a chance to let him be more of a kid again before he entered adulthood.
Over the next hour or so, they laid out a plan. They’d both come to the conclusion that other detectives were being called in to deal with this, and Aizawa expected to see some familiar faces, given that it had been an attack on the son—and hero in training—of two pros, giving the jurisdiction over to the unit who dealt with more hero-related and bigger villain cases. That was both a relief and a bother—a relief thanks to talking to familiar people, people Aizawa had worked with to help with the incidents at UA, and a bother because it took them longer to get here and that was longer that Hitoshi wasn’t at home. Given the way the kid seemed to be dozing off on Hizashi’s chest, getting him home felt like the priority right now.
It was nearing ten at night. Hitoshi had good discipline and would usually go to bed between ten and eleven on school nights. They’d never given him an official bedtime, given that Hitoshi was a teenager and had trouble sleeping due to nightmares, but Hitoshi reacted well to routine. Usually, teenage Hitoshi would be getting sleepy around this time. He imagined that that tiredness with it being this late at night was ten times worse for a toddler.
It’d be best to get Hitoshi home as quickly as possible. The problem was though, that they had nothing for a toddler. Hitoshi had his own room and everything, but it was fit for a teenager and not a small child. They wouldn’t have any clothes for him or any other necessities. Aizawa had next to no idea what a toddler needed. His personal experiences in his childhood couldn’t count, given that they hadn’t been good and he hadn’t been well provided for. With that out of the question, Aizawa had no idea what they needed. Hizashi, on the other hand, did, listing off a few things until Aizawa suggested that he be the one to do the shopping for them. The plan became, then, that Hizashi would stick around long enough to get a general briefing of the situation, and then would leave. Aizawa would take notes and get a more in-depth idea of what was going on, get someone to escort him and Hitoshi home, and would meet back up with Hizashi.
It was the best way to minimize the amount of time Hitoshi had to wait before going home. As much as Aizawa wanted to stick with Hizashi, them splitting up was best in this situation.
At some point, Hitoshi crawled off of Hizashi’s lap, only to climb onto Aizawa. It’d made Aizawa stop in the middle of his conversation and Hitoshi sat himself down between Aizawa’s legs, not even hesitating before laying down against his chest. Aizawa pulled Hitoshi’s jacket around him like a blanket, trying to make sure that the kid was covered, despite the ill-fitting clothing, before he’d resumed his conversation with Hizashi.
After almost an hour and a half of waiting, there was a knock at the door, and it didn’t surprise Aizawa in the least when it was Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa who walked in.
They’d both been expecting this. The man was someone they’d worked with a lot at UA and it made sense that he was the one who was called. He stepped in with them, a gentle smile on his face, the female officer from before following him. It was after ten and Hitoshi was no doubt fast asleep, lying against Aizawa’s chest as he sat on the floor next to Hizashi. Aizawa was growing tired himself, especially after that criminal had put up such a fight and worn him out a bit, as well as from the panic from having Hitoshi attacked.
“This is little Shinsou?” Detective Tsukauchi asked them, nodding down at Hitoshi. He approached them slowly, leaning against the messy desk, an open file in his hands.
“He’s asleep,” Hizashi told him, voice hushed, and even he sounded a little tired. They’d all benefit from going home. “If you just want to give me the basics and how long Hitoshi’s gonna be stuck like this, I’m going to head out to grab a few things for him. We didn’t really expect to have a toddler at home so we’re… unprepared.”
“Sounds like you two have a good plan. I can give you a rundown, Mic-san,” The detective looked down at the file, looking it over. Aizawa stayed quiet, putting his trust in this guy. He was someone they’d worked with and someone who’d proved himself to be good at his job and someone who clearly cared about his cases. If anyone was going to handle their case, Aizawa would honestly rather it be him than anyone else. “So, we interviewed the villain who did this to Shinsou-san—he’s calling himself Golden Age, I believe—and while he was unwilling, we were able to work out the specifics of his quirk a bit. He’ll obviously be charged with attacking Shinsou-san and everything, but from what we can tell, Shinsou-san is functionally a toddler in every aspect, including mentally, and will be in this state anywhere from two to four days. The villain wasn’t on Trigger, thankfully, so there’s not going to be any more effects and Shinsou-san won’t be like this for a prolonged amount of time.
“In the meantime, we can attempt to help you in any way possible. I know Mic-san is going to pick up a few things for him, but I was able to dig up some spare clothes for Shinsou-san and we can let you borrow a car seat and everything. The precinct here has agreed to take responsibility for what happened, given that, from what I understand, procedure wasn’t being followed due to the influx of arrests tonight, which is why a criminal was able to get to a civilian. Shinsou-san will be alright. He might be a little shaken up when the quirk wears off, but he’ll be fine.”
Aizawa lowered his head, looking at the small boy lying on his chest. Hitoshi was curled up against him, small fingers bunched up in the material of his jumpsuit, his eyes shut and his mouth partially open as he slept. Aizawa could feel every breath he took, every push of his tiny chest as he breathed in and out. For the first time tonight, he looked peaceful, and until now, he hadn’t seen toddler Hitoshi looking relaxed.
He felt bad, remembering the way Hitoshi had greeted him upon coming into the intake room and seeing him. He’d immediately called out to him, asking him why it was so busy, looking interested in what was happening around him and like he was bursting with questions he wanted to ask Aizawa. He would’ve answered anything Hitoshi wanted to know, having gotten into the habit of telling him about his patrols, and it hurt a little that Hitoshi had come into the precinct with genuine interest and had wound up getting attacked because Aizawa hadn’t realized that the refractory period on the villain’s quirk had worn off.
“Thanks,” Aizawa murmured, still looking down at Hitoshi. He heard Hizashi get up from his chair, heard him get down to Aizawa and Hitoshi’s height, and raised his head to see Hizashi reach out and brush a hand through Hitoshi’s wild hair. Hitoshi didn’t stir or startle, remaining fast asleep.
“I’m gonna get going, then, Shouta,” Hizashi told him, still speaking quietly and whether it was in an attempt to comfort Aizawa or not wake Hitoshi, Aizawa didn’t know. He looked Aizawa in the eyes, his gaze warm, “Are you going to be alright with Hitoshi for a little bit? I can always come back if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine,” Aizawa assured him, talking in a similarly low tone. “He’s asleep, anyways. I’ll meet you back at home.”
“Call me if you need me, though,” Hizashi insisted. There was a pause, and then his voice dropped even lower, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”
Before Aizawa could respond or assure him that he’d be alright, Hizashi was already up, thanking Detective Tsukauchi, and then he was gone, leaving Aizawa with a sleeping toddler on his lap and a detective to talk to.
Aizawa took a deep breath in, closing his eyes for a moment and rubbing at the bridge of his nose, his eyes still burning a little from how much he’d used his quirk today. He let himself breathe, telling himself that he just had to get through whatever else the detective had to say. He had to take this one hour at a time. Otherwise, it felt too overwhelming, and Aizawa couldn’t let himself get overwhelmed right now, not when there was a four year-old—his four year-old son—relying on him.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again, focusing on Detective Tsukauchi, “Do you have a notepad so I can write things down?”
“Hizashi? It’s awfully late for you to be calling. Did something happen?”
Hizashi sat on the ground outside the large department store, running a hand through his long hair as he sat on the curb by the road, watching as the cars drove by, parking and pulling out of the store. People were going home to their families and more than anything, that was where Hizashi wanted to be. He was just prolonging it by sitting out here, holding his cellphone to his ear, trying to think of the words to explain himself to the person on the other line. The cold nipped at him, biting at his exposed skin, a dark, moonless sky hanging overhead, and Hizashi pulled his leather jacket tighter around him.
“No—well, yes, something happened, but I’m alright, Mom.”
“Shouta-kun isn’t hurt, is he?”
“No, no, something else.”
He hadn’t even gone into the store, clutching the list that he and Aizawa had made in his hand as he sat on the pavement, trying to get his thoughts to stop racing so much. He wanted desperately to stay calm because really, this wasn’t that big of a deal. It was an effect of a quirk. But Hizashi knew it wasn’t just that. This was his kid. His and Aizawa’s kid. The kid he loved and cared for and would do anything for, and Hizashi couldn’t get the image of that scared, confused toddler out of his head. He knew it was the same kid and he knew it was Hitoshi and he loved that toddler every bit as much as he loved Hitoshi when he was his normal self, but there was something that got to him about how quiet and nervous Hitoshi had been.
His reaction upon being alone had been to call his parents—two women who’d raised Hizashi from the time he was a couple months old until Hizashi had moved out a few months after graduating. They were some of the best people Hizashi knew and even Aizawa liked them a lot, and they were who he trusted for advice and reassurance right now. There were others he could call—Nemuri, Yagi, Emi, to name a few—but Hizashi didn’t want to talk to them. He wanted to talk to his moms.
He’d called Aina, thinking that due to her recent projects, she’d be the most likely to still be awake. He’d been right.
“And Hitoshi-kun…?”
There it was. There were really only three reasons Hizashi would risk waking his busy parents up, and there were really only three reasons why something would worry him enough that he’d want to talk to them. Those reasons were something happening to Aizawa, something happening to Hitoshi, or if Hizashi himself had taken an injury during work. Aina had worked her way through two reasons and hit the third one on the head.
“Yeah,” Hizashi ran a hand through his long hair, shivering a little in the cold. “It’s… Yeah, something happened to him. He’ll be alright, but…”
“What happened?”
Hizashi hesitated, but after a moment, he found the words, “Shouta was out working today. It was… you know, really normal. He called me and asked me to pick him up since he wasn’t feeling like walking home and I took Hitoshi with me. He was really interested in stuff—I thought it might be good to see the inner workings of the station, right? Well, it was really busy and Shouta… he’d captured this guy. He had… this regression quirk. It turns people into little kids again. And this guy—he acted like a kid. Really creepy. Looked like a clown—”
“You were always afraid of those as a baby, Hizashi,” Aina’s voice interjected gently, and Hizashi gave her a small laugh. She returned it, “What a scary villain.”
“Right? I guess he was mad that Shouta took him down. It was busy, so Shouta was waiting for us in the intake room and… that guy showed up. He was handcuffed and everything. He started trying to rile up Shouta and he—he noticed Hitoshi and Hitoshi didn’t really say anything to him or anything. He was good! He acted like he was supposed to and didn’t talk to the guy or provoke him or anything but he… he targeting Hitoshi.”
“Ah,” His mother hummed on the other line. “What I’m gathering from this is that you have a baby version of your son now, don’t you?”
“Not a baby,” Hizashi corrected. When he said it like this, for some reason, it felt far less damning, like it wasn’t as much of his fault as he’d been thinking it was. “He’s four.”
“I see,” There was another laugh on Aina’s end. “He can’t be like that for too long, can he? That boy’s a good kid, Hizashi, and you know how to deal with kids that age. You and Shouta-kun are going to be fine, okay? If you’re having trouble, just let him come over here for a few hours. Hitoshi-kun is always nice to have around and I’m sure he’d get along well with the other kids.”
“Yeah…” They’d be fine. Even Aina had said it, and she was one of the people Hizashi trusted the most in his life. If she had faith in him, then they’d be alright. She was right, anyways. Their family had been a big one, with a bunch of adopted kids. It was the opposite of Hitoshi’s experience—Hizashi had always been well cared for, paid attention to, and given all the love and affection he’d ever asked for. He’d liked growing up with so many other kids, and his mothers still fostered.
“Do you have everything you need?” Aina went on, sounding a little less worried than she had been initially. “He’s going to need a lot, even if he’s just like this for a couple days. Outfits, a couple toys, child cups and silverware. Make sure you get a guard for his bed so he doesn’t accidentally roll out. I’m sure you two don’t want a hospital trip on your hands. I would say to get him some toddler food, but your husband already eats like a child with all those jelly packets he carries around. You’re probably fine on that end.”
“That’s all on my list,” He was a bit proud to be able to tell her that, and she hummed approvingly, and a certain warmth swelled in him. “We’re taking the next few days off. I figured that, you know, Hitoshi didn’t have a great time when he was this age in the first place, so we could maybe let him feel a little better about his early childhood and have some fun with him. We could both use a little break, anyways.”
“Good. You two are always working so hard,” Another short pause. “Hizashi, you can call us any time, or if things get too overwhelming, I’m serious about bringing Hitoshi-kun over. We’d be happy to help you out. This must be very sudden for you and I know the two of you are used to having a teenager around instead of a toddler, but I have confidence in you. If you need anything, we’re just a phone call or a short drive away.”
That, more than anything, made him feel better.
It was easier, after that. Hizashi stood from where he’d been sitting on the curb, said a genuine thanks and a goodbye to his mother, and hung up. It felt less impossible to do what he’d come here to do, and Hizashi pushed down his remaining nerves, took a deep breath, and looked at his shopping list before going into the store and starting to pick out what they needed, only hoping that Aizawa and Hitoshi would be at home when he returned.
Above anything else—above all the schooling and all the hero work and all the teaching Aizawa had ever done—trying to figure out how a car seat worked was by far the hardest thing Aizawa had ever had to do.
In reality, it wasn’t, but as Aizawa tried to remember the way the straps went and how Detective Tsukauchi had showed him, it certainly felt like the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He struggled, Hitoshi half-awake in the seat and Aizawa trying to do everything he could to not further disturb him. The kid had stayed asleep when Aizawa had carried him out here and had woken up a little when the detective had started showing Aizawa how the car seat worked. He hadn’t fussed at all, yawning and letting the two of them pull the straps and buckles over him.
Somehow, Hitoshi looked even smaller in the car seat, riding in the back of the police car that the detective was going to escort them home in. Finally, after what felt like forever, Aizawa finally got the straps onto Hitoshi in a way that resembled the way Detective Tsukauchi had done it and stood back, watching Hitoshi yawn again, still not fussing or making any noise. Aizawa wondered if he was just too tired or if he was still too nervous to put up any sort of a fight.
“Looks good, Eraser,” The detective told him, giving Hitoshi a pat on the head. “I assume we’ll be meeting Mic back at your house?”
“He said he’s on his way back,” Aizawa told the man, not taking his eyes off of Hitoshi. The boy was still gazing at him through half-open eyes, looking like he was about to fall asleep at any second. Aizawa tucked the notes he’d taken under his arm, wanting to go through them with Hizashi later. “I’ll ride in the back with him.”
The detective nodded, giving him a smile. Aizawa gave him his address again, before getting in the back seat, sitting beside the car seat Hitoshi was in, looking over the straps on it again, hoping that he hadn’t gotten anything wrong. The last thing he wanted was to put Hitoshi in any more danger.
Detective Tsukauchi seemed to know better than to talk to Aizawa much, staying quiet as he started the car.
Beside Aizawa, Hitoshi was still awake and still looking at him.
“Hey,” Aizawa tried, talking softly to the tired boy. “We’re going home. You can sleep there.”
The detective had brought Hitoshi some clothing that they’d managed to find, but even it didn’t fit Hitoshi quite right. The shirt was tight on him and the overalls were big and Hitoshi hadn’t seemed to like the material of them, though he hadn’t complained vocally.
“Hizashi got you some better clothes, too,” He went on. Aizawa was usually a quiet person, but part of him knew that even as a teenager, Hitoshi didn’t like the silence. He imagined it was the same now, and it was the least he could do to talk to Hitoshi and try to give him some comfort. “One of us can sleep with you if you want tonight.”
For a moment, it was quiet, aside from the engine in the car and the wind from outside.
“Dad.”
Aizawa realized, then, that he’d taken to looking out the window in the small moment of quiet, and Hitoshi’s voice was soft, but it made Aizawa snap his gaze back to the boy. Hitoshi had his eyes open now, and he was holding out his hand to him, frowning, his bottom lip trembling a little. Aizawa stared at him, at that small hand stretched out to him, at those impossibly tiny fingers, at the boy who’d gotten attacked tonight and had to relive the trauma of being a newly orphaned four year-old again.
He realized what Hitoshi wanted and let the boy wrap his tiny fingers around Aizawa’s hand, another silence falling between them.
This time, though, when Hitoshi broke it, his voice was a little stronger, and he said more than Aizawa had heard him say all night, “That clown man was scary.”
Even with everything else, Aizawa gave a snort of amusement, “He was a little scary, wasn’t he? You won’t have to see him again.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi seemed satisfied with that, sitting back in his car seat, closing his eyes again. “Sleepy.”
“You’ll be able to sleep at home,” Aizawa assured him. “You’ll like it there, I promise.”
With that, Hitoshi either fell back asleep or didn’t want to talk anymore. Aizawa didn’t say anything more either, feeling Hitoshi’s grip relax on him and watching his breathing even out again, no doubt falling back asleep. Aizawa kept watching him, looking at the small kid who’d been a teenager just earlier today.
His only hope was that he could give Hitoshi a better piece of his childhood, something that he hadn’t gotten when he’d actually been four, and he hoped that he wouldn’t let him down.