Chapter Text
Black eyes stared at the picture the detective had handed him, locking on the viridian eyes he hadn’t seen in years.
“How… how did she die?”
Tsukauchi threw him a sympathetic glance as he leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of his chest. “Headshot. Sniper. She was walking out of the courthouse after the yakuza member was sentenced.”
“So your usual retaliation against the DA?”
“Hm.”
Swallowing thickly Aizawa Shouta put the picture of Midoriya Inko back on the desk, black eyes feeling unusually wet. “I appreciate being told, but I haven’t been in contact with Inko since-“
“Since her brother died, I know.”
“Then why am I here, Tsukauchi?”
“Did you know that she had a son?”
Something twisted in the hero’s gut. “Ok?”
“He’s ten, Eraser.”
He remembers the last study session they had had at Oboro’s place. It wasn’t long before he died. Oboro, Tensei, Nemuri and Hizashi had fallen asleep in the living room, and Shouta had gone out back to get some fresh air.
Viridian eyes like emeralds had met his, an unusually small, shy smile playing at her lips. Then she’d turned them back to the nightsky, bringing the cigarette to her lips. “Night.”
He hadn’t met her that often. He knew she was Oboro’s half-sister – same mother, different fathers – and she was visiting from university during the weekend. He had come to stand next to her. “Why are you up?”
“Taking a break from studying. Want one?” She held out her lighter and pack of cigarettes then, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“I’m a minor.”
“I’m two years too young to smoke too, you know.”
“I’m a hero in training.”
“Jeez, Aizawa, stop being such a grumpus!” She laughed then, and it sounded like music. “Come on, live a little. Do you want to play never have I ever with your friends and be a bore?”
He didn’t know why he’d taken her up on the offer when he never had the slightest interest in smoking, and hadn’t done it since. Maybe it was the eeriness of the silent night, in that weird hour of 2AM that feels like a world of its own. Maybe it was his stupid teenage crush on the pretty, smart sister of his friend. Maybe it was the way her eyes glinted under the light of the moon, large and expressive and shining with mirth.
He didn’t know how they had ended up in her room, and the next day she was gone, back on campus.
And then Oboro died, and he never met her again.
“What are you trying to say, Tsukauchi?”
The detective slid a folder towards him across the desk, and Aizawa opened it with a sigh. He was met with the picture of a child, a splitting image of his mother except for the wild curls, that were too similar to his own for comfort. He’d done the math already, knew what Tsukauchi was implying, but the cold dread in his chest wanted to deny it at all costs.
Then his eyes flickered to the boy’s Quirk, and he felt the blood drain from his face.
He moved to close the file but the detective gestured for him to go to the next page.
It was a letter, paper and ink old with age, and he wondered when Inko had written it.
Hey Aizawa – Shouta? We never really talked about that, did we?
Anyways, I don’t really know how to put this into words.
I – this sounds so cliché – when you read this, I am either dead or Izuku has turned 18, and I sincerely hope it’s the latter, but with my family’s luck, I suppose it will be the former.
Listen, I wanted to tell you back when I found out, but then the thing with Obo-nii happened and
And I couldn’t burden you with that as well. I had my mom and stepdad, and they helped me with Izuku and uni and all that, but you were on your own, fighting against all the world threw at you to become a hero, and I couldn’t burden you like that, not after Obo-nii’s death.
In hindsight, I guess it was unfair, to you and Izuku.
There are many things I regret, now.
I don’t regret you, or Izuku, and I sincerely hope you don’t, either.
I’m sorry.
“Eraser-“
“Are you sure?”
“Eraserhead, have you seen the kid’s Quirk?”
Aizawa threw the file on the desk and leaned forward, face buried in his hands.
“I have a son. I have a son whose mother was sniped just this morning. I have a fucking ten-year-old son I have never met whose mother was assassinated by the yakuza this morning.” He lifted his gaze at the detective. “I need all the drinks. And a fucking Tylenol.”
He wished they hadn’t called him in in the middle of patrol, because he was quite sure that he didn’t look at all approachable in his hero getup. The boy looked up when he heard him approach, and Aizawa wondered where he learned to be attentive enough to detect an underground hero’s footsteps. He had the same viridian eyes as his mother, but they looked more like Aizawa’s right then, red and haunted.
It broke his heart.
Crouching down in front of the little boy he tried to smile, even though he really didn’t feel like it, and it didn’t seem to be any more disarming than his deadpan because the boy just made himself look even smaller, his large yellow backpack clutched in his hands like a lifeline.
“Hey, kiddo. Your name’s Izuku, right?”
A hesitant nod, and inquisitive eyes taking him in. “You’re… Eraserhead, right?”
That made him pause. “Did the officers tell you about me?”
Izuku shook his head, shyly shuffling his feet. “I… I’m a huge fan, b-because your Quirk is so similar t-to mine. And you’re a hero! The… the other children always say I have a v-villain’s Quirk, so… so you really inspire me!”
Fuck, my heart.
“Well, kiddo, you can call me Shouta.” Izuku looked at him in confusion, and Shouta resisted the urge to pat his head. “Did you give the police your mom’s letter?”
“Yes…” He whispered, eyes tearing up again at the mention of his mother.
“Do you know what it said in there?”
Izuku shook his head, and Shouta sighed. “It looks like I’m your dad, so I guess the similarities in Quirks makes sense now, huh?”
The backpack fell to the floor with a loud thud, and green eyes became as big as saucers. “You’re my dad? For real?”
“Apparently.”
He was prepared for a lot of things then, it came with the territory.
He certainly wasn’t prepared for a blur of green child to launch himself into his arms and cry.
Fuck, my heart.
Shouta watches Izuku staring out of the window of the police car, the child’s hands still clutching the backpack tightly. Sansa sat alone in the front, eyes on the road. What am I supposed to say? I never deal with kids this young. What if I fuck this up? Shitshitshi-
“How did you and mom meet?”
The pro hero is startled by the sudden question, green eyes coming to meet his black ones. Izuku’s eyes were still haunted, but there was a curiosity and intelligence in them that reminded him of a cold October night and cigarette smoke. “She was the older sister of a classmate. We… well, uh…” Shouta blushed, not entirely sure how to word this to a child. “The night that… resulted in you, was the last time I saw her, actually. Your uncle… my friend died shortly after, you know?”
Izuku hummed, turning back to the window and watching the streetlights pass them by. “She mentioned you, once.” His hands let go of the yellow backpack, hugging himself. “I… our teacher made us write essays about our family. Mom was easy. My grandparents were sort of easy, too, even though they died when I was six. I… mom never talked about my uncle, so I didn’t mention him.” A deep breath, and the boy’s voice became almost a whisper. “Kacchan – uh, my childhood friend – he was teasing me about not having any real family, since it was just mom and I. I had never asked about you, I didn’t want to upset her, but when she saw me come home in tears I told her, and she told me about you.
“Not a whole lot, just that you went to UA, and that I reminded her of you, but also of my uncle. She listed all the things we had in common, like being blunt, and sort of awkward, that I have a hard time making friends, but that I would do anything for the people I care about. That I have a hard time getting to bed and waking up, my dry humor, my perfect… perfectionism? Yeah, I think that’s the word she used.”
Shouta couldn’t help but snort at that and heard Sansa cover his own chuckle with a fake cough. “The more you say the more I wonder what she saw in me that night.”
Izuku smiled shyly. “She said she liked how serious you were. Said you were good to ground your friends, and you needed a bunch of cheery people to not become a hermit catlady.”
“I take offense to that, brat.”
“It’s ok, I like cats.”
“That’s not, nevermind.” Seeing Izuku’s shy smirk was enough to tell him he was goading him.
“She also said that she has a lot of regrets, that it’s something that comes with growing up. But she said she was very glad she met you, because it meant she’d have me.”
Shouta stared at his son for a while after that, then hummed, looking out of the window. “Inko was smart like that. Regrets are inevitable.”
“Do you regret her?”
“No,” black met green again. “To be honest I’m glad to have met you, kid. Your uncle’s death… really got to me, still does sometimes. And I might have not loved Inko, but I liked her a lot. I’m glad you exist, because it means some of them is still… there, if that makes sense.”
Izuku’s face was unreadable for a moment, and he looked so much like him in that moment that Shouta didn’t even need to know his son’s Quirk to know he was his. The boy turned back to the window, then, his voice quiet.
“I’m glad.”
Izuku freezes as they enter Shouta’s apartment, the two cats zooming towards him and sniffing his legs before rubbing against them. Shouta plops the yellow backpack by the door, smiling slightly. “The white one’s Kuro, the black one’s Shiro.”
His son – man, that will take some getting used to – stares at him in bewilderment, and raises one eyebrow, as if unimpressed. The longer he is around the kid, the more of himself he sees in him, and it’s weird but also not unwelcome. “What? Got a problem with what I name my cats, brat?” Izuku shakes his head, but a small smirk still plays at his lips, and Shouta lets out a huff of laughter. He ruffles the kid’s hair as he passes him, taking off his shoes on the way into the apartment. Izuku looks at the main room of the place, a large open living room, the walls lined from top to bottom with shelves filled with books, DVDs and… what was that?
“Those are called records, kid, they’re a very old way to listen to music. Old even for pre-Quirk era standards,” Shouta explained as he moved towards an odd-looking box on one of the shelves. “This is what you play them with. One of my best friends is into music and got me into this as a hobby.” Izuku nods slowly, not quite sure what to make of that information but vowing to ask his dad – boy, wasn’t that weird? – to show him some time. He followed him through the rest of the living room, comprised of two couches and a comfy-looking armchair, a couch table and a TV stand with a medium-sized flatscreen on top. He could see the kitchen behind a line of counters with bar stools and a small dining table off to the side.
“This is the bathroom,” he motioned to the first door to the right, then pointed at the next one. “That’s the guest room, it’s yours for now and we’ll try to make it more… well, more your room in the next few days, I guess. The door on the left is my office, and the door down the hall is my bedroom.” Shouta turned to him. “Are you hungry?”
Izuku shrugged, feeling both overwhelmed and numb from everything that had happened that day. For how much Kacchan always called him a crybaby and taking his Quirk’s side effects into account, he felt strangely unable to become emotional. He was sure that only meant an even bigger hysteria later, but for now he relished the reprieve from his usual outbursts.
They stared at each other for a bit, and even though Izuku’s Quirk didn’t require him to not blink he was doing quite a good job in the staring contest with his father. Shouta sighed.
“Pizza?”
“Sure.”
They sat next to each other on one of the couches, the pizzas – both Hawaii, it had been fun to bond over the fact that everyone told them their taste in pizza was shit – on the coffee table as they listened to Present Mic’s radio show. Izuku had been quite excited to learn that Shouta was best friends with the radio host and even more excited to learn he’d introduce them soon.
“So,” the pro hero began, taking a sip from his glass of water. “I saw in your file that your Quirk is called Larceny and read the description, but can you explain how it works to me? The registration doesn’t give a very thorough rundown.” He watched attentively as Izuku paused in taking another bite of pizza, slowly putting the slice back in the carton and seemingly shrinking in on himself.
Interesting.
“Um… so, when I activate my Quirk, my, uh, my eyes start glowing green, and if I lock eyes with someone, I erase their Quirk and can use it myself. Uh… it doesn’t work on mutations and uh, well, if I touch the person’s skin with one of my… hands, they get their Quirk back.” Izuku twiddled his hands in his lap. “I know it’s not a very nice Quirk… sorry…”
Shouta frowned. “What are you talking about, kid, that’s a great Quirk. Does it only work on one person or can you use it on multiple people?”
His son’s gaze snapped to his, confusion all over his face. “You don’t think it’s a villain’s Quirk?”
“Kid,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “My Quirk is pretty much the same thing just without letting me use the erased Quirk, and I’m not a villain.”
“Yeah, but you’re a hero!”
“Exactly.”
They were quiet for a moment, before Izuku spoke up again. “Only one.”
Shouta hummed, taking another sip of water. “What happens if you don’t give the Quirk back via skin contact? Can you just stop using your Quirk?”
He shook his head. “No, once I erase a Quirk I can only deactivate my Quirk by giving it back. If I don’t, I eventually get… uh, Quirk exhaustion?” He looked to his father for confirmation that was the right term, and when Shouta nodded he continued. “Right, and then I, uh, go blind for several hours.” His eyes widened when his dad choked on his water, whipping around to look at Izuku with shock.
“You go blind?!”
“Yes?”
“What the f-… fudge.”
Izuku snorted. “You can say fuck, Shouta, I’m 10, not 5.”
“10 is still too young to curse.” He ignored his son’s raised eyebrow and smirk that seemed far too close to his own for comfort. “My Quirk gives me dry eye and makes me tired, but that’s about it, going blind is kind of a strange downside.”
“Oh, that’s only if I get Quirk exhaustion. If I use my Quirk normally I just start crying.”
They look at each other for a bit, and Shouta can’t help but chuckle. “Of course you do, why am I even surprised?” He turned on the couch so he’s fully facing his son, locking eyes with him. “Show me.”
“W-what?”
“Come on, kid, I want a demonstration.”
“Are you sure?”
Shouta rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t, kid.”
Izuku looked unsure but sighed, turning more towards him as well and looking him in the eyes. His dark green eyes glowed almost teal and Shouta could feel a tug behind his eyes. The next he knows Izuku blinks, and teal becomes red, his green hair floating. Shouta tries to activate his Quirk but finds himself unable to, and just blinks some more as he watches his son reach out and take his hand, the glowing eyes returning to their normal forest green and his hair falling back down. Izuku blinks, tears rolling down his cheeks like waterfalls. Just to test Shouta tries to use his Quirk again, and feels his eyes become dry almost instantly. Blinking and deactivating Erasure he can’t help but smile a little.
“That’s pretty cool, kid.”
“R-really?”
Ruffling wild green locks he lets his smile become a little wider. “Yeah.”
The smile and bone crushing hug are well worth his tear-stained shirt.
“Is there anything you want? Like some water in case you get thirsty tonight?”
Izuku shook his head, burying deeper under the blanket and looking younger than he is if possible, and Shouta sighs, switching off the light. “I’ll leave the door open a crack for the cats, ok? They seem to like you.” His son nods once, then settles under the covers, and Shouta leaves the room, finally letting himself lose the tension in his shoulders.
He was a father now.
He had a ten year old son whose mother had died this morning.
How the hell was he supposed to do this?