Chapter Text
The first time he recognises a hero out of uniform, Izuku is six years old.
Being an excited elementary school student (and with a correspondingly short attention span), instead of facing the hero and asking for an autograph, he runs back home as fast as he can so he can tell his mother, groceries and dinner forgotten in his haste.
That is where he learns the most important lesson. A lesson which had him looking at all the adults around him with new eyes.
These heroes had a whole other life that Izuku knew nothing about, a life that wasn’t televised! That had never occurred to him before!
Even his teachers had family and a home (they did not, in fact, sleep at school as he had thought).
Miyamoto-san, the grocer they went to most days, had a family. And a home. And a life.
It boggled little Izuku’s mind.
For nearly a month he walked around starry-eyed, looking at all the adults around him with wide, wondering eyes, trying to guess what their secret work-life was like.
His mom thought he was hilarious and kept giggling when Izuku shared his thoughts (sometimes in a rather unwilling mumble-fest).
But by the end of the month, Izuku had cottoned on to the fact that most adults didn’t actually try to hide their personal lives or work lives – it was just the heroes.
From then on it became something of a game. Narrowing down which heroes were active in Musutafu.
Going to different places on weekends – malls, supermarkets, bakeries, coffee shops – trying to figure out who the heroes were in their personal life.
His mother had made sure and held a rather intense lecture to Izuku on this point after the first hero had told the child off for saying his hero name loudly in public when trying to obtain an autograph.
And another facet of hero life little Izuku had never considered suddenly came to the fore; safety. The safety of their family and friends if their identities were revealed to the villains. That heroes had to remain incognito – that the little spy game Izuku had been playing was dangerous and could hurt his heroes.
Little Izuku had been, rather appropriately, horrified when his mum gently explained just how badly this could go.
But that didn’t mean he gave up.
Izuku didn’t know the meaning of the word, not where heroes were concerned.
Because these were his heroes.
But it did mean that little Izuku never asked for another autograph from a hero when they were dressed down and living their private life.
Although he continued to be baffled by how no one did appear to recognise them. Just because he had his hair down and different clothes and didn’t wear glasses, didn’t make Present Mic any less recognisable. Eraserhead, often found in the cat café three blocks down from Izuku’s school, didn’t even bother dressing differently and yet still wasn’t recognised! It boggled his little mind. Although some were notably harder to pin down that others, it wasn’t truly difficult for most of them.
And it meant little Izuku learnt new little details about his heroes most days. Once he even overheard Hizashi Yamada – Present Mic’s real person name – tell Shouta Aizawa – his husband and the person behind pro hero Eraserhead – to please, please, please, Sho, let me plan you an awesome birthday party on Saturday!
Given Aizawa-san’s grumbles and objections, Izuku had noted not only the man’s birthday but also that he was likely an introvert, as his Mum had told him about when he asked her. Izuku still giggled when he thought about how different the two husbands were from each other.
He spent his evenings, after afternoons spent wandering the city for new information on his heroes, diligently adding all the new information to his hero analytics books – none of which he was allowed to take out with him anymore, as his mum had explained to him the first time she’d caught sight of the hero’s real names, families, birthdays and home addresses in the books.
It also meant however that Izuku was one of the only little children in all of Musutafu – or at least one of a very, very small number – who had a special emergency procedure and whom to contact. His mom had spent hours on various forums for the quirkless (and parents) to figure out which heroes were trustworthy. The List ended up being depressingly small; but the closest within reach of little Izuku’s home and school were Aizawa-san’s and Yamada-san’s home. Second in line was Nedzu and UA if he needed something further away (mom had made sure he had an emergency travel card on him, always). And third in line was Sir Nighteye. Best Jeanist and Gang Orca were fourth and fifth. But really, his mom made sure he knew her preference would be Eraserhead.
Nedzu or Nighteye might be interested in Izuku for his analytics and not realise he was a small child (Izuku pouted). Best Jeanist and Gang Orca had been subject to discrimination or were vocally against discrimination, as was Present Mic.
But Eraserhead patrolled at night! He had found more than one quirkless child after jumping and he always made sure the investigation and prosecution of those responsible was carried out – he didn’t stop at finding them, that wasn’t enough. He also tried to talk them off the ledge, to help them find families, support, jobs, whatever they needed to find their feet again.
Eraserhead was safe, was the consensus across all forums.
So he was Izuku’s first emergency contact when his mama didn’t come home for two days. The police could be contacted by Eraserhead, his mother had said, but not by Izuku.
Sniffling, Izuku grabbed the little bag his mother had always made sure he had ready to go with wrapped cereal bars and a water bottle as well as a travel toothbrush, toothpaste and change of clothes including pyjamas. The last thing to add was his hero books.
His mama made him promise that they could only leave the house when she okayed it or, if in an emergency, he needed to look for the heroes.
It was Thursday afternoon now.
Mama hadn’t been home since she dropped him off at school on Tuesday morning.
It also meant that, according to the patrol schedule Izuku had managed to figure out, Eraserhead would not leave for patrol for another 4 ½ hours. Plenty of time to make his way to the man’s house.
Brave face, Izuku reminded himself, wiping away the tears. Mama had told him to always be just a step behind an adult so people would assume he was with them – it would make him less of a target if there were adults with him. He had done it often when going around town for more hero news, but this time was different.
Izuku had never been more acutely aware of the heavy books in his backpack as he locked the door behind him, nervously looking around as he scurried down the stairs as fast as he could. He stumbled at the end, falling down three steps and headbutting the railing but righted himself quickly, ducking his head down after nervously looking around to see if anyone was watching.
He didn’t know if his mama had disappeared because Izuku had important information. Creepy, stalker-ish information, according to Bakugou, but still. Important. Because apparently not everyone could read faces and find patterns like he could.
But that’s okay, his mama had said. And Eraserhead would help. He always helped. Mama had said so.
It took a nerve-wracking one and a half hours to make his way to their home. Three different busses (he’d jumped one the wrong one when a person nearby had made him nervous, just to divert suspicion and make sure they couldn’t follow him. Like a spy!) and one train trip and a lot of walking. The distance wasn’t that far, but he was nervous and took detours because he didn’t want to lead villains to a pro hero’s home, but Mama had said it was okay.
Looking around himself, the sky nearly fully black already and the surroundings seemed ten times as scary as he knocked on the door.
“Finally, that half-hour delivery time was really-“ The man cut himself off, eyes dropping to take in Izuku, still in his school uniform, backpack on his shoulder. “Well, you’re not here to deliver food unless they’ve started hiring in Kindergarten.”
Shouta Aizawa, Izuku recognises even in the dim lighting and his chest deflates like a balloon, breathing easier for the first time in two days. He’s safe now. He’s safe!
“I’m in primary school,” he objects because that needs to be clarified right now. The man looks amused but still concerned, scanning around them.
“Sure you are. So why are you here, kiddo?”
Izuku pouts. The man clearly doesn’t believe him – and it’s not important, shouldn’t be, but it feels important. Eraserhead is even better than All Might for the quirkless, for the deprived, poorer neighbourhoods like the one Izuku leaves close to, and that makes him the number one hero of the Midoriya household. He had wanted his hero to acknowledge how grown-up Izuku is.
But that can come later.
Izuku heaves his backpack down and drops it in the entrance just past the door and beside Aizawa-san’s feet who watches him – and his backpack – with renewed caution.
“My name is Midoriya Izuku. My Mama’s name is Midoriya Inko. And my Mama said if she isn’t home or I’m in danger I should come to you and you would look after me,” Izuku declares, bright-eyed. Yamada-san is already peering over Aizawa-san’s shoulder at him, eyebrows raised before smiling widely and quickly covering Izuku’s ears.
But he can still hear them talking clearly enough and just watches, amused, as the adults hiss at each other.
“What the- Sho, I thought I was your first! Hold on- you would have been what? 15? … We can still press charges, you know!”
“Nothing like that ever happened!” Aizawa-san hisses back, rolling his eyes. “And he’s not mine, ‘Zashi. I don’t know why his Mother sent him here!”
“Are you sure?”
Exasperated, Aizawa-san lifts his hands helplessly in the air. “He said he’s in primary school. I would have been fifteen at the oldest. And I’ve not slept with a woman. Ever.”
“You would have had to have been thirteen and a half when Mama got pregnant although I don’t know if I was born early or late. And Aizawa-san’s not my dad, Yamada-san. My Mama said my dad’s in America.”
Shouta raises an eyebrow and kneels down at face height, easily tugging away Yamada-san’s hands from Izuku’s ears.
“But you don’t think he is?”
Izuku shakes his head quickly.
“Nuh-uh. I’ve seen Dad. He has a new family. Keiko is his new wife’s name and he has two new children through her from her first marriage and a new baby on the way, but Keiko hasn’t told Dad about that yet.”
Yamada-san and Aizawa-san exchange glances.
“And how do you know that then?”
“Oh, I’ve seen him on my walks around town. Mama has, too. But we pretend we don’t, it’s like a game. That’s when Mama explained to me how babies are made. And that’s why I know you can’t be my Dad. And we tell people he’s in America.”
More glances.
“Alright, and what’s in your backpack, there, kiddo? Is that yours? Do you know everything that’s inside that or did you let anyone add anything to that bag at any time?”
This time Izuku really is bemused by the adults.
“That’s my bag. It’s for e-merg-encies,” he pronounces carefully. “Mama put in the cereal bars but I filled my own water. And I put my own clothes in and we change everything in the bag every six months so I have appro-pria-te clothing for the season. Got my toothbrush too – it’s got an All Might handle!” Izuku announces proudly.
“Well done, lil’ listener,” Yamada says warmly and Izuku lights up.
These heroes really are sooo nice.
“And I brought my books because Mama said they are dangerous. So I made sure no one else touched it.”
Another quick glance.
“Could I have a look at these books?”
Izuku nods quickly, delighted. He hasn’t been able to share these in over a year with anyone but Mama and she always looks so pale when she looks through them he doesn’t like sharing anymore.
But this is about them!
“Look, here, this is you,” Izuku says quickly, dragging his book about Eraserhead out. Present Mic is in an earlier book, before he’d found out about Eraserhead (or their marriage), so he hands Present Mic a different book, opened to his own page.
Aizawa’s eyebrows rise and then furrow and he doesn’t even bother flipping the page, before dragging Izuku in.
“Yeah, okay, Problem child. You’ve got my attention now.”
Aizawa-san scans the outdoors before closing and locking the door behind them.
Izuku doesn’t hesitate to take his shoes off. The only slippers they have are adult sized and Izuku didn’t think to pack his own, so he leaves them off.
“Where did you get all this information, sweetheart?” Yamada-san asks, voice concerned as Aizawa-san’s checks windows and blinds, locking and securing their house carefully.
“Oh, just going through town, like always.”
“I’m not sure I understand, lil’ listener, can you tell me a bit more? Does someone tell you this? Or is this your quirk?”
Izuku shakes his head and although his eyes are ostensibly fixed on the couch he watches Yamada-san carefully out of the corner of his eyes. He knows Eraserhead-san is safe, but Present Mic is still uncertain. He’s never treated them badly, but that doesn’t mean anything, necessarily, especially not now they’re in their private lives and out of public view. Eraserhead-san is the same to all, he doesn’t put on a pretence for the media, but Present Mic-san does and that makes him even more uncertain.
But Izuku has learnt how to read people – adults, mostly – since his diagnosis. So he watches, carefully, as he says casually, “oh, no, I don’t have a quirk.”
Yamada-san barely blinks, just nods and then waves the book very gently. “So does someone tell you this information? What do you do on your ‘walks around town’?”
His face doesn’t change, there isn’t the disgust, the anger tightening the skin around his eyes, the grimace, the downward twitch in his mouth.
Safe.
Aizawa-san chose his husband well.
Aizawa-san rejoins them as Izuku clambers onto the couch. He’s tired and his shirt is all sweaty from the stress and carrying a heavy back for so long, but he needs his Mama, so he uses his fist to wipe over his eyes, hides his yawn and then looks at the two men.
“I just walk around. I’ve seen Aizawa-san in the cat café with his scarf and everything. And you both go shopping at Nero-baa-san’s corner store on occasion and I’ve seen you in the grocery store and walking around. And you keep saying listener and just because you have your hair and eyes different, doesn’t make you any less Present Mic. So I hear heroes when they talk. You also walked out of the grocery and ordered food over the phone and gave your address, so that’s how I got that. But people never notice kids so I can listen in and get a lot more data for my analysis. Did you like it? Oh, Kaacchan always says it’s creepy and stalker-ish, but it’s been super-helpful in finding you, hasn’t it? And you can now find Mama, can’t you?”
“My patrol schedule,” Aizawa-san hisses to Yamada-san, finally having flicked through more pages on the information of himself. Yamada-san’s eye twitches but his kind Present-Mic-hero smile remains firmly in place.
“What can you tell us about your Mama then?”
So Izuku rattles off everything he knows. Her height, weight, hair colour, quirk – details about it, suppositions that they’ve never tried but may come in handy against a villain which have Yamada-san paling rapidly even though Izuku doesn’t understand. Mama can attract small things – why wouldn’t skin cells, blood or finger nails work? He then tells them her schedule, usual routes, finance, all the details about his father and his new family, his mother’s family and anything else he could recall.
“I- This is probably the most thorough missing person’s report in all of history, Sho,” Yamada-san whispers to his husband and Izuku looks at them, bemused.
“Of course. I have to tell you everything so you can find Mama.”
He proceeds to tell them of possible stops she might have made, her favourite café, the shop which sells her favourite ice cream (no birthdays near that could account for a larger diversion), the traffic patterns on her normal work route and on Tuesday specifically which he’d looked up two days ago when she was over three hours late and had not answered her phone yet.
“Nedzu will want to meet him,” Shouta says in response, closing the book gently and handing it back to Izuku. “Your mother did the right thing in having these kept secret,” he says firmly and Izuku holds the book to his chest and nods quickly. Mama is the cleverest, he doesn’t know why they’re so surprised.
Aizawa-san’s lips twitch and Izuku realises he’s said the last bit out loud and blushes slightly.
“Alright, how about you have a little nap while we get dinner sorted and we’ll get our Detective friend on the phone and have him drop by for a friendly interview and see where we go from there.”
“And don’t worry,” Aizawa jumps in, head ducked down to make eye contact with Izuku, dark eyes warm and concerned as they look at him. “We will both look for your mother, alright, problem child?”
Izuku lights up when Aizawa pats him carefully on the head; he clearly has no idea how to handle children other than to treat them like a pet, but it’s not like Izuku minds. He’s seen the man do this with the cats in the café, and it’s not the first time he wished the hero would cuddle with him like he does with the cats. Aizawa is just so nice and warm, concerned, comforting.
“Thank you,” he tells him, jumping forward to wrap his arms around the Midoriya family hero and snuggling into the warm arms wrapping carefully around him.
Safe, he thinks. There’s no doubt in little Izuku’s mind that Eraserhead will solve it all, will find his Mama, will keep Izuku and his books safe and will look after him.
He is the best hero, after all.