Chapter Text
Shinso cursed the sound of the alarm clock that shattered his wonderful dream about a certain green-haired boy. He shifted in bed, and somehow, a growl served as a warning that if he wasn't careful, a certain feline would end up biting him. Nothing that really mattered to Hitoshi, who approached the little ball of hatred to bury his face in it and give it an infinity of morning kisses. The cat eventually tolerated him before going back to sleep.
"Damn lucky bastard," he muttered.
A couple of knuckles rapped on his door before it swung open.
"Get up, little listener!" Present Mic encouraged him with an energy that should be illegal at seven in the morning.
Hitoshi responded with a growl. Two minutes later, he was dragging what was left of his will to live into the shower. Elsewhere in the apartment, Present Mic was wrestling with his extra-strong hairspray and hair gel for his hero look, just like every morning. Somewhere in the living room, Aizawa was probably sleeping with the rest of the cats in the house.
It was... weird. Super weird.
Today was his first day of high school, and he was nervous. Unlike every previous year, this time Hitoshi had a hot meal for breakfast with freshly brewed coffee to give him energy. For the first time in a long time, someone cared that he had everything he needed for his first day of classes. His uniform was freshly ironed, he had new backpacks and notebooks, and books he didn't have to borrow from school. Well, not a home-cooked meal. The truth was, neither of his foster parents was good in the kitchen. Quite the opposite. They were a disaster that deserved to be banned from the kitchen.
No, there was enough money in his wallet for him to get whatever he wanted at the cafeteria. At UA's cafeteria because that's where Hitoshi had been accepted.
"Leave some coffee for the mortals," Aizawa's ghostly voice came from the floor.
Hitoshi, halfway dressed after his shower, clung to his coffee mug.
"For that, you should first be alive, and you don't look like it," the teenager replied before pouring a second cup of coffee and handing it to Aizawa.
Mic burst into the room, fully embracing his hero persona.
"Are you still like this? Come on, come on, we'll be late."
The whirlwind of energy that moved them in the morning.
No, Hitoshi had never had such a warm place before. He had only been with them for three months, but it felt like much longer. It had been strange. Very strange. Walking into a place knowing that the room had not been built for him but for his best friend, who was still missing. But that was Izuku, Hitoshi told himself. Was he mad at his friend? Yes, because Izuku was being foolish to think that Hitoshi could replace him.
No, Hitoshi wasn't there to replace Izuku, and Mic and Shota had made that clear the first week he arrived at their home when they noticed Shinso's hesitation to enter his own room. Because that wasn't his room; it was Izuku's.
His now adoptive parents sat him down on the couch in what felt like a strange intervention. In one corner, a cat was vomiting a hairball, and in another, a phone was ringing incessantly. And as important as both of those things might seem, Shota and Hizashi focused solely on Hitoshi.
"We know this has to be weird and difficult, coming to live with two strangers. But we assure you, we want you here, Hitoshi. We want this house to be your home."
Since then, the apartment had slowly been rearranged to accommodate Shinso as one of the family. The new aunt Nemuri had given him an Xbox on the first visit. Apparently, she wanted to compete hard for the title of favorite aunt, even when she had no competition.
Hizashi as an authoritative figure... was terrible. He was too playful and kind to be taken seriously. Shinso soon discovered that the man loved giving affectionate hugs at the slightest opportunity, as if Shota or Hitoshi were his assigned plush toys.
The blonde was a strange mix between a cool dad and a helicopter parent. He became anxious about wanting to do everything right as a father. Maybe it was first-time parent syndrome. He tried to cook and always ended up in a mess, but he tried. He went out of his way to buy anything that seemed to attract Hitoshi. If Hitoshi stared at a cat blanket, Mic got him the blanket without asking. He got him notebooks, clothes... it seemed like he wanted to shower Hitoshi with love and affection.
While initially, Hitoshi was less receptive, the blonde had started to break down the teenager's defenses, especially through ice cream. He cared about the school Shinso was attending, helped him study, and even let slip that the entrance exam for UA consisted of robots. That moment had been quite comical, Shinso remembered, sitting on the couch eating pizza for dinner while Aizawa was on patrol. That night, Hizashi had bribed him with energy drinks so that Shota would never find out the truth.
Then there was the fact that Hizashi was Present Mic. And wow, the man had his own studio at home for when he couldn't make it to the radio station on time. He was a teacher at UA and also worked as a pro hero, albeit fewer hours than a full-time hero, but he still pursued it. Mic was that cool dad that one was proud to call their dad, although it might still be too soon to call him "dad."
On the other hand, there was Shota. Shota was what, at first glance, appeared to be a complete mess. In truth, as a human being, Shinso had never questioned so much whether it was worth existing. Eraser worked longer hours as a pro hero, something Shinso had always known since he was a child and had always admired for it. But he was also a teacher. Well, a teacher without a class. Literally, without students.
But in the rest of his life, he seemed... how should he put it? Barely passing. Hitoshi had seen him sleep on all sorts of surfaces, subsist on the bare minimum to avoid exertion, and spend hours focused on cases. But when something had to do with Hitoshi, the hero seemed to pay special attention.
"Do you want to be a hero? Hmmm... I don't recommend it," Aizawa muttered one night. "It's a crap job where you can easily die."
That hit Hitoshi like a punch.
"So, you don't think I can be a hero..."
The pro hero didn't even flinch.
"I didn't say that. I said the job is crap," he corrected calmly. "Anyone can be a hero if they really try. Have you ever trained?"
And that's how they both started training every evening after Shinso's classes and before Eraser's patrols.
Unfortunately, the training hadn't been enough for his entrance exam at UA. Getting in through the general studies route didn't sit well with him. Well, that was a lie, it did bother him. But this time, he had two parents who supported him and assured him that he could switch to the hero course as soon as the sports festival arrived. Aizawa promised to expel as many students as necessary. Mic repeatedly hit him with a pillow for his initiative.
The festival was a month away from the start of classes. For now, it was still his first day. Shinso was going to work hard to advance his personal training with Eraser by the time the festival arrived.
The family was very excited about the start of the school year, with all the changes. But silently, all three knew that someone was missing. Izuku was missing, with his smile, babbling about all sorts of possibilities.
Izuku had become a strange taboo subject.
What all three were clear about was that one day, Izuku would return. Whether by good terms or bad, he would return.
Three months had passed. Three months since Izuku had left Musutafu and everyone he knew. Well, except for Dabi. Dabi was an ultra-special case. The same one who should now be returning from work to his new home, a small apartment in the dangerous area of Tokyo. But, you see, the rent was cheaper, and well, no one dared to mess with Dabi and his flames. For Izuku... he was untouchable. Literally. That's the good thing about being a ghost; you can choose to be corporeal or not.
It had only been three months since Izuku had promised Dabi that he would blend into the crowd and not stand out, at least until news of his body was forgotten.
Three months... and Izuku was running like a madman with his hood up while a group of a gang members chased him with sticks and bats. The idiots didn't know that Izuku was actually leading them straight into his trap, right in front of one of the heroes patrolling the area and as
far away as possible from the poor victim they had almost beaten up.
Izuku emerged onto the street, followed by the gang of thugs. By the time the hero turned to see what the commotion was about, Izuku was out of sight. Only the stunned gang members remained, and a hero who started lecturing them.
No, Izuku Midoriya was incapable of staying out of danger. There was something in him that made him act without thinking, something that didn't sit well with Dabi. But, as always, it's not like anyone could stop Izuku if he didn't want to be stopped. What a shame.
Izuku resumed his routine patrol route. He couldn't help it; he couldn't just stay at home doing nothing. He had thought it would be easy, he lied to himself. But this time, he was trying to be more inconspicuous, always pulling up his hood when he went outside. He spent more time invisible and tried not to interact too much with people. Keyword: tried.
At the end of his night, Izuku tended to always end up in the same place. Only now, instead of the abandoned beach in Dagobah, it was a posh cemetery in Tokyo.
"Hey, you. It's already dawn," he spoke to Touya Todoroki's grave.
Well, to the supposed grave of Touya Todoroki because without a doubt, the one buried there was his own corpse.
"Today, most of the classes start. I wonder if 'Toshi got into the hero program. I'd love to see him in that uniform with those bags under his eyes. I'm sure he'd be complaining about how big and expensive the facilities are on the inside while internally fangirling," he chuckled at the thought. "It must also be Kacchan's first day. I'm sure he got into UA."
The ghost sighed, sitting in front of the grave.
"I miss them... I miss Eraser... and the detective... Mom. Toshi..."
Izuku couldn't help but break down in tears. He had told himself that this was for the best, that everyone would move on without him. How wrong he could be. Maybe in another universe, on this day, Izuku would also be getting ready to go to UA. But in this one, he was crying by himself at Todoroki Touya's grave.
"Um... What are you doing?" an unexpectedly cold voice interrupted him.
Izuku wiped away his tears and looked up to meet a pair of blue and gray heterochromatic eyes, a scar across one eye, half-white, half-red hair, tall, and wearing a UA uniform.
"Crying," Izuku replied, annoyed by the disrespectful intrusion.
"I can see that. I mean, what are you doing crying here?" the teenager pointed out.
Izuku blinked in confusion.
"It's a cemetery. People come to cry in cemeteries, duh."
The stranger furrowed his brow.
"Do you have to cry over a stranger's grave, or are you some kind of weird and twisted Endeavor’s fan?"
Izuku jumped up indignantly.
"Hey! I haven't insulted you or disrespected you! Don't accuse me of being a fan of that piece of crap!"
Something in the familiar's gaze changed. From coldness to... was that intrigue? Curiosity? Approval? Oh, shit. Wait a minute. Tall. Heterochromatic blue and gray eyes. Blue like Dabi's. White hair like Dabi's when Izuku helped him dye his roots. Roughly around Izuku's age if he hadn't died. And in a UA uniform.
"Oh, shit, you are a Todoroki," Izuku said, entering panic mode.
That seemed to amuse the teenager.
"Yes, yes, I am. And you're at my brother's grave."
Izuku brought his hands to his face, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Coming here to talk calms me. I'm sorry."
The teenager didn't seem to care much about what the green tadpole had to say.
"I don't care," Todoroki said, acting cool. "I just came to tell my brother that I'll become a hero without using that bastard's power. That said, I'm out. I have a class to attend."
Izuku was left speechless as he watched the teenager place an ice flower on the grave before turning and leaving the way he came.
In short, Dabi would kill him if he wasn't already dead.