A Gift of Sunshine – My Hero Academia (2019)

Overview: One of my longer commissions this story was written for an AU where Hizashi Yamada is actually a spirit trapped inside a sword, that sword being given to Aizawa Shouta when he’s a teenager.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia  

Relationship: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic & Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Eri, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic & Eri  

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi, Eri, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Iida Tensei | Ingenium

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 35,878

Summary:

It is the worst day of fifteen-year-old Aizawa Shouta’s life when he trudges home after a failed entrance test to U.A. – the school made for heroes. His worst day abruptly turns strange, however, when he gets home to find a beautiful sword on his bed with a scroll attached that is addressed from his grandfather.

It turns out that his entire family was descended from a samurai (unsurprising considering he lived in Japan) and the sword was meant to help him become a hero. Shouta hadn’t been expecting the sword to talk, however, and he especially hadn’t expected the sword to have a voice as warm as sunshine itself.

It’s a long journey to become a hero like he wants, but Shouta has a feeling that he and Hizashi are going to do just fine. (Posted to AO3)

Chapter One

When imagining the different ways in which his dreams could have been crushed and ground down into a fine dust that would never again be thought of, Aizawa Shouta had not bothered to contemplate that his world would end due to robots, yet U.A. had, very firmly, set him straight. 

Shouta mused to himself, as he trudged into his empty home and kicked his shoes off, that he had been prepared for how difficult the written exam would be. U.A. was one of the top hero schools in the country for a reason, after all, and it was logical to assume their entrance exams would be just as rigorous.  

He had also been prepared for the scorn that he would face once his quirk was revealed. An Erasure quirk was rare enough in their world of quirks, but one that could specifically ‘steal’ someone’s quirk when merely looking at them? Shouta had been accused of being a villain-in-the-making more than once, something he took a few bitter seconds to fester over as he trudged to his room, bag thrown somewhere into a corner to rot. 

Shouta truly thought that had been prepared for a lot, including a rigorous physical exam that would test the potential students to their limits, but robots? Erasure could be a powerful quirk if used correctly, but it didn’t do shit against something like robots. There had been a chance, at least, if he had been matched against other students. Then, at least, he could have evened the playing field and won just through taking his opponent off guard. 

There weren’t any ways to take a robot off guard, as Shouta’s bruised, battered, and exhausted body could fully attest to. It was fine, though. It was fine, because his written exam score would, if nothing else, ensure him a place in U.A.’s general studies program. He would still be getting into U.A. even if it wasn’t as a hero. 

Getting into their General Studies department was an achievement all on its own, Shouta knew, but that seemed to do little to stop the frustrated tears that were burning his already dry and aching eyes, forcing him to painfully scrub them away as he stumbled into his room and prepared himself to collapse on his bed and sleep his grief and anger away. 

At least, Shouta had been about to collapse and sleep his grief and anger away until he noticed the sword that had already taken his place with a scroll attached to the hilt. 

The sword was nice enough, Shouta supposed, with a golden sheath that reminded him of days in the sun and a cord that tied the hilt and sheath together that was as red as Shouta’s own eyes when he used his quirk. The hilt, honestly, was both the oddest and nicest part, being made from what looked like jade that was carved with neatly etched swirls that seemed to follow an unnoticeable pattern. 

It was a nice enough sword that Shouta was immediately backing out of his room and looking around the hallways suspiciously, straining his hearing to see if either his parents were about to ‘surprise’ him or if some thief had broken in and put the sword there as an unspoken threat to not interfere with his business. 

When nothing happened except Shouta’s pain making itself known the longer he stood still, he relaxed and stepped into his room, attention turning to the scroll that looked like a real scroll as opposed to something that could be bought in one of the train station novelty shops.

A quick inspection revealed that there was nothing that made it seem as if it were a trap, Shouta carefully wiggling it free from where it was under the sword before he was unrolling it just as carefully, scanning the words of the ‘letter’ before his breath came out of him in a rush at seeing his grandfather’s name elegantly scripted at the bottom. 

“There are phones for a reason, Grandfather,” Shouta muttered to himself, taking the scroll to his desk and finally sitting down, taking a few moments to let his body rest before he was looking at the scroll properly. His grandfather was an eccentric man, but he had never been the type to write his letters as scrolls all while leaving swords on Shouta’s bed. Settling into his seat, Shouta let his eyes trail back to the top, heart sinking as he read the first few lines.

My dearest grandson,

If I’ve timed the arrival of this properly, then you’ve just arrived home from the entrance exam to the hero school you have your heart set on. You have also failed the physical portion of the test, as my quirk informed me that you would.

Shouta’s grandfather had a quirk that was deemed useless by hero standards, but incredible by the family standards. Bloodlines was a quirk that allowed his grandfather to see future moments that would happen to him or anyone within his bloodline – one of the reasons the Aizawa family was as successful as it was today, Shouta mused. Still, for his grandfather to have seen his failure and not told him… He wasn’t expecting it to hurt that much. 

He was half-tempted to put the letter aside, certain that it would be full of platitudes and promises of how his life would be successful even if his dreams of being a hero never worked out. Shouta was tempted, but he was also curious to know why his grandfather wrote to him on a scroll of all things; a scroll that had been attached to a sword.

I don’t need the use of my quirk, however, to know that you no doubt spent minutes debating just now whether you should continue reading this letter or not and suffer through my pointless reassurances, but let me reassure you just once that this letter is not to tell you that you’re better off not being a hero. It’s rather the opposite, in fact. It rather makes sense that of all of our descendants today, it would be you, the little boy who couldn’t stand illogical choices and harmful behavior, to be the one to decide that the world should be more fair than it is cruel. 

The sword on your bed, Shouta? It is a gift to you just as it once was to me. In my great-grandfather’s words, and in his grandfather’s words, and so on back to the beginning, it is “a gift of sunshine” that will light your way. In my own words, however, it is a passing of wills, a hope for the future, and a promise. 

A gift of sunshine? Shouta frowned as the words seemed to batter at something in his chest, aching fiercely as glanced to the bed where the sword still laid. It glinted in the soft afternoon sunlight and looked less like a dangerous weapon and more like something Shouta almost wanted to call soft.

This is a gift to you because I know that you will not lose your dream here, something that again I have no need of my quirk to tell me. You are too stubborn a fool to accept your loss as anything more or less than a setback, and so this gift will inspire you to not give up on your beautiful dream. 

It is also a passing of wills, however, in the way that our family was not always successful with numbers, as in your father’s case. Once, long, long ago, before quirks were ever even dreamed of, our family descended from a samurai.

Shouta couldn’t help his startled snort of laughter that he was sure he would be scolded for if anyone had been in the room with him. His grandfather had always been an eccentric and serious man, but to write on a scroll so seriously that their family was descended from a samurai, well… There were very few families in Japan that didn’t claim such a thing. 

Looking back down to find his place, and seeing the words ‘stop laughing,’ Shouta felt mildly chastised and mostly annoyed. Even when his grandfather lived hours away in the countryside, he could still never get away with anything. 

Stop laughing, young man, I know what you’re thinking! I was rather amused myself when my great-grandfather told me all of this when I was around your age, but the stories are true – and so is our recordkeeping. Aizawa Adachi was born a farmer’s son before he went on to serve the lord of his land at the time, becoming a fearsome and undefeatable opponent. 

He lived and fought with this sword, this sword that he had won through a duel gone wrong and stood by his side afterwards, during the time of the Meiji Restoration and through the end of the Edo period – the end of Feudal Lords, samurai, and the wicked things that crept through the night, or so everyone believed. Wicked things are always good at blending in, as we know even today.

That part, at least, Shouta could believe. There was a reason that heroes had appeared at the start of the age of quirks, and that was because villains had appeared, too. Quirks were beautiful, amazing, and powerful things that defined a person as much as anything else, but they could also be dangerous; they could be deadly. 

That much was true, but Shouta still couldn’t figure out why his grandfather thought to put all of this in a scroll and send it along with a sword, especially when they called every few weeks and visited every few months. Hopefully his grandfather would get to the point soon, but Shouta was doubtful. If it was one thing his grandfather could do, it was talk. 

Adachi refused to leave his ways of protecting others in the past and traveled the land as one of the ronin, a wandering swordsman who always used his sword to help people and keep them safe during the turmoil that followed the Revolution. He used the same sword that now lays upon your bed.

Because that certainly wasn’t creepy, Shouta snorted to himself, glancing over to his bed to see the beautiful sword that certainly didn’t look as if it were hundreds of years old. 

In the old days the Aizawa family kept to Adachi’s oath, protecting Japan from threats both inside and out and keeping the people safe from what lurked in the dark. The times have changed, Shouta, but our wills have not, as proven with you and your desire to protect. You want to be a hero? The names change, but the heart never does.

Quirks may have come into this world, dear boy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the same world that it’s always been. I know you failed your exam, but I also know that this will be nothing more than a setback to make you work even more fiercely than before.

This sword is a hope for the future. I have seen what it will be through the times surrounding you, Shouta, and I wish I could say that you will be safe, but we both know that the path you have chosen will never be safe again. 

You will bleed from the pain that is required for you to follow this path. You will break from the pressure of your dream that is placed upon your shoulders. You will fall apart piece by piece one day and, for a very long time after, you will feel as if you were not put back together right. I have seen all of this, Shouta, and you will know pain and suffering by becoming a hero.

The rest of the words faded away, Shouta jumping at realizing his hands had been shaking enough for the scroll to slip out of them and fall to his desk in a flutter of movement. As much as he wanted to pick the scroll up and keep reading the last few paragraphs, he couldn’t make his heart stop pounding as if it were ready to burst. 

It wasn’t new information for Shouta. Everyone knew how serious it was to be a hero in these days, and everyone knew that it wasn’t an easy life. It was possible for most heroes to die while they were active, and pro heroes who lived to see retirement were rare and few. It wasn’t new information, but Shouta had never seen it stated so bluntly in something addressed to him. 

To know that his grandfather had seen his future and saw the pain he would go through if he stayed on his path to become a hero, it… It was terrifying. He was fifteen and an entire possible future for him had been seen and recorded. That was as terrifying as something could get, and yet- Well. And yet. 

And yet Shouta still wanted to help people with his power. And yet he still wanted to keep people safe the way there were heroes that made him feel safe. And yet, even with his future known, he didn’t want to change his path for anything because his grandfather’s visions meant he did it – they meant he had become a hero. And yet, after the realization that his future would be full of pain, Shouta picked the scroll back up and kept reading. 

And yet you will be the most magnificent hero, my Shouta.

You’re so intent on becoming a hero that even if I told you in detail what I saw, you would not waver. So, since you’re so intent on becoming a hero, on becoming a warrior that will protect Japan and all her people, I knew it was time for this sword to be passed onto you. 

This sword’s name is Hizashi and once you unravel the red cord that binds sword to sheath, you will be bound by our family’s oath to, one way or another, keep these people safe. 

This sword is a gift. It is a passing of wills. It is a hope for the future. It is a promise.

So, if you truly want to be a hero, pick up this sword. 

The letter ended there, his grandfather’s signature following in the space left behind with no further explanations. 

Setting the scroll down carefully on his desk, Shouta pushed himself to his feet with a wince of pain before walking over to his bed, arms crossed as he stared down at the beautiful sword that sat there, looking more decorative than something that had actually been used in battle and had no doubt killed people. 

Uncrossing his arms and leaning over, Shouta trailed his fingers across the sheath, feeling something that he could almost call familiarity before it faded away. “So, your name is Hizashi, huh?” Shouta’s eyes traced the bright golden colors of the sheath, a slip of sunlight falling into his room through the window and hitting a portion of the sheath just so to make it look like it had become sunlight itself. “The perception of sunlight… I suppose it fits for you, doesn’t it?” It was a good name for this sword. 

“Apparently my grandfather thinks I actually know how to fight with swords and that, when I become a hero, I’ll use you. He’s never been wrong before, but, between you and me, he’s going mad in his old age.” Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, and still trailing his fingers over the sheath, Shouta sighed softly to himself as he realized that he was talking to a sword, instead of being sane and merely talking at a sword. 

Glancing back down to the unmoving sword, Shouta shifted and made himself comfortable. “I suppose if you’re just going to sit there, then you can listen.” Gathering his thoughts and making sure to take a moment to be certain that no one was home that could overhear him, Shouta tapped his finger against the sheath of the sword as if trying to get the attention of someone. 

“I failed my school entrance exam today, the one that would teach me how to be a pro hero, because the tests weren’t fair. They were geared towards physical quirks, and mine, Erasure, can only erase quirks. It can’t help me against robots.” Shouta was at too big a disadvantage physically when it was just him on his own. He knew a bit about fighting, but fighting robots with nothing except his hands? It wasn’t logical. His grandfather seemed to think the same. 

“I suppose that could be one reason that you were given to me,” Shouta mumbled softly, feeling his other hand clench hard enough to have his nails digging into his palms. “I don’t have the type of quirk other heroes have. All I can do is level a playing field that I can’t even touch.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he wanted to do nothing except help, and he was instead given a quirk that was seen as a villain’s quirk. 

Leaning forward, Shouta carefully pulled the sword into his lap, eyeing the red cord that kept the sword bound inside its sheath. There was a ‘spell tag’ there for decoration that was dramatic even by his grandfather’s standards. Still, Shouta couldn’t help but to feel something like anticipation. 

“Grandfather said you were a promise,” Shouta said softly, feeling something in the air that made him choose his words carefully. “I need to be stronger than I am now. I need to be strong enough that I can protect others without losing myself.” 

Shouta’s nails dug under the spell tag, removing it and shivering as he felt something like static burst across his fingertips. For the first time since he realized he had failed his entrance exam, Shouta felt something like hope. “I’m not giving up. I won’t.”

With those words clear in his head, Shouta tugged at the red cord until it came undone, falling limp around his hands and wrists as Shouta looked down at the unbound sword, declaration leaving him before he could think it through or take it back. A strong, clear, “I’m going to be a hero.”

There was a burst of something, Shouta feeling as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs the same time pure energy slammed into him, hands tight around the sheath of the sword that almost looked as if it were glowing. 

‘A hero, huh?’ A crystal clear voice spoke brightly from inside him, Shouta staring at the sword and feeling as if it were smiling, of all things. ‘That sounds like it could be fun!’

Chapter Two

Hizashi had been asleep for a very long time; or perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Hizashi had been unaware for a very long time, never fully knowing of how the world grew and changed around him. He was awake now, though, and he finally had a wielder for the first time in, if he were to guess, decades or even centuries. Of course, his wielder had immediately thrown him across the room and into a wall as soon as he had woken up, but Hizashi supposed nobody could be perfect – well, except for him. 

‘Hey! That hurts, yo!’ Hizashi paused in his yelling, reflecting on his choice of words and accent for a moment. He really had managed to come a long way through time if the magic that bound him to the sword had already altered the language that had been his native tongue. It was a worry to think on later, if nothing else. ‘Didn’t your mother teach you to treat guests with some respect?’ 

Hizashi, ready to work his way up into a proper fit, stopped when he ‘felt’ hands wrap around the sheath of the sword – or maybe it was more accurate that he felt the warmth of his new wielder’s hands pick him up, muttering and mumbling under his breath rapidly before Hizashi was able to make out a quiet, “-didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The question, so clearly directed at him, had Hizashi wanting to laugh at the fact he had such a sweet wielder. A wielder who had obviously heard his voice and been taken by surprise, hence his being thrown into a wall– Ah. An Aizawa. Hizashi supposed some things never changed even if everything else did, especially if an Aizawa could pick him up and hear him without any trouble.

‘It’s gonna take a lot more than that to damage me, I’ll have you know!’ Tension drained out of the air and Hizashi did his best to get a look at his new wielder. He wasn’t yet connected with him enough to see through the new Aizawa’s eyes, but he could grasp a few basics, the biggest being that his wielder was young. 

No… young wasn’t quite the right word. His wielder felt old enough to be wielding him – to be using a sword – but there was something soft about him, as if he were a child who hadn’t yet seen the world properly. Hizashi could feel it in the tentative connection that now bound them together, and in the way his own self begun to feel younger and softer around the edges, memories of bloodier battles and days slipping away as if they were never anything except nightmares. 

“Right. Because you’re a sword.” His wielder’s voice displaced the air, sounding as young as he felt. There was fear in his tone, but there was also… excitement. “A sword who’s talking to me in my head, apparently. Is this the work of a quirk?”

‘A quirk?’ Hizashi rolled the new word through his mind, finding no significant meaning to it. ‘No idea, but I can promise that you’re not just imagining all of this! Uh, just to be sure, though, what’s a quirk?’

The surprise cut through the air as sharply as Hizashi’s own blade, ringing out and filling the silence of the room with a heavy disbelief that was thick enough to be felt on the tongue, if he were human. It was no less than an eternity before his wielder spoke, grip on the sheath loosening. “You… don’t know what a quirk is?”

‘Hey, hey, I think we should be impressed we can even understand each other! It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve had someone to talk to – be real with me, yo, how long has it been? I take it I was sealed, yeah?’ 

It was the only thing that made sense, after all. After the wars and battles had settled, there had been littler and littler use for a sword like Hizashi. He may have vowed to never harm his wielder and the man’s descendants, but there was always risk, and sealing was the easiest way to ensure that no harm would come to the Aizawa family. 

It had also made it seem as if he had last been used yesterday, his awareness gone until his new wielder, the latest Aizawa, had touched the sheath of his sword and called his name.

“Um… There was a… ‘seal’ on you, yeah.” The voice was hesitant and uncertain, not that Hizashi could fault him. Poor thing had never spoken to a sword like him before, it seemed. “As for the date, it’s, uh, pretty far from where you were, I think.” 

‘Come on, then! Just give me the year, even, and that’d be a big help!’ When his new wielder mumbled the year, as if speaking it softly enough would soften the blow itself, Hizashi felt his entire being withdraw and quiet immediately. It was the same feeling as a human’s heart sinking and, well… hundreds of years was a very long time to travel through.

“You- My grandfather wrote about you in a letter he gave me and said that it had been a couple centuries for you, or something. Is that… right?” Oh, the sweet thing. Hizashi’s new wielder sounded concerned for him.

‘Pretty spot on, actually!’ Hizashi pitched his voice to be as chipper as possible, deciding to think on his trip through time later. He had plenty of time to spare now that he was ‘awake,’ after all. ‘Ah, man, it sounds like I’ve really missed out on a lot, though, haven’t I? Ah, but not everything’s changed, huh… You want to fight as a hero? Man, it’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to; and even longer since I’ve fought!’

A burst of laughter in the form of snorts shook through the air, Hizashi knowing he would be huffing and puffing if he could because that sounded like very insulting laughter. “You can fight? You’re a sword. Last I was aware, a sword couldn’t fight.” 

‘You think so, huh?’ Hizashi lashed his energy together and threw it at the spider silk thread that connected him to his wielder, latching on and sinking under soft skin that had never seen true battle. Having no desire to cause any amount of true harm, he made sure to keep his control light, allowing his wielder to still see and comprehend what was happening as Hizashi slipped into his body, a soft hand grasping the hilt of his sword before pulling it out of the sheath whip quick. “Surely your grandfather told you just what sort of sword I am, didn’t he?”

Hizashi took a single moment to take in the details of the new world around him, filing away every change and difference to go over when he wasn’t attempting to prove a point as to just how well he could fight. 

A deep breath in, a single shift, and Hizashi was moving his borrowed body through the typical warmups for a sword such as himself, keeping a part of his attention on the way his wielder’s body naturally wanted to move and bend. He was certainly still young, the Aizawa he was now bound to, and his movements reflected that, untrained and uncertain with a bend that showed a spry body that would still mold once trained properly.

It was interesting, though, the sense of power Hizashi felt lurking within the body, somewhere up near the eyes. A reference to the ‘quirks’ that had been mentioned, maybe, but it was another thing Hizashi filed away to examine later, continuing the warmups and feeling something in him relax as he watched the sword cut through the air, the blade polished and sharp and ready for anything. 

“I’m more than just a sword that can talk, you know,” Hizashi chuckled, the voice low and soft and making Hizashi think that one day his wielder would have a pleasant, if not deep voice. “I don’t fight for my wielder just as my wielder doesn’t fight for me. We work together, and with that comes, hm, we’ll call ‘em benefits, yeah?” 

Twirling the sword in his hands, Hizashi slid it back into the sheath smoothly and cleanly, delighted to look up and see a mirror that captured his wielder perfectly. He was young, with tumbling black hair that reminded Hizashi so much of Adachi and soft grey eyes that reminded him of storm clouds on the horizon. The face was young and smooth and, Hizashi had a feeling, usually expressionless. 

He was adorable, Hizashi decided, loosening his control as he talked with his wielder’s voice, words soft, yet sharp as his blade. “I can give you increased strength, when you fight… I can increase your senses, give you all the knowledge you need on how to fight with me in your hand, and I can make sure you have all the power you could want. But I can’t give you the will to fight or the desire to fight for others. That has to come from you.” 

Letting the control slip away completely, Hizashi kept close to that thread that bound them together, speechless in delight and awe for an eternity hidden in a moment as he noticed it was already stronger than it had been. ‘What’s your name, little Aizawa?’

“S… Shouta. My name is Aizawa Shouta.” Aizawa Shouta, hm? It was a good name, Hizashi supposed, but it was an excellent name for a hero. 

‘Well then, Shou-chan! Let’s get to work – we have a lot to do if you want to be a hero, right?’ Hizashi could feel the burst of countless emotions before he heard a quiet laugh. 

“Right- Did you just call me Shou-chan?”

In the end, after many conversations that devolved into senseless debate over topics Hizashi couldn’t remember after they ended, Shouta agreed to officially become his wielder, learning to both fight with him and fight as a hero, which had become the modern version of samurai, as far as Hizashi could tell. 

The names and technology and appearances had changed, of course, but the politics and ideals were the same as they had been in Hizashi’s time, and there were always kids who wanted to grow up and become a hero. Apparently, in this time and age, it was a lot simpler than it used to be; although that hadn’t meant a lack of work to get done. 

It had taken over a month for Hizashi to learn everything he needed to about the modern era, but it had taken far less time for Shouta to latch onto training and push himself more than any of Hizashi’s other wielders. He didn’t just latch onto sword fighting, although it was wonderful that he did, he latched onto all of it. 

Learning how to train and use his body, fighting with different schools until they found the one he was best in, learning how to clean a sword properly and not whatever way Shouta had picked up from those who obviously knew very little about cleaning swords, and even learning how to duel and fight with those who both fought with swords and fought without; although that last one had even Hizashi on a learning curve. Quirks, apparently, were very similar to the humans with supernatural abilities in the past, only now everyone had one. 

It wasn’t only Shouta growing stronger, either, but Hizashi could feel their bond growing stronger the more time they spent talking and training as the days went on. It eventually allowed Hizashi to not only see through Shouta’s eyes – finally – but use some of his more creative abilities, which was how Hizashi found himself in the back corner of a classroom on his own abilities after Shouta had, yet again, left him behind in his bedroom because carrying a sword around in public, these days, was ‘just not done.’

With the sight he was now granted, largely in part focused on where Shouta was looking, but with some leeway into peering around the room in general, it was easy to see when Shouta’s attention drifted away from talkative, cute classmates to Hizashi himself. The look on his face, some mix between impressed and irritated, was a delightful sight that Hizashi promised himself he wouldn’t soon forget. 

As soon as Shouta’s hand was wrapped around his sheath, Hizashi taking a moment to feel the now growing calluses that showed his training was truly paying off, Hizashi chirped out a cheerful, ‘Hello!’ 

“You have two seconds to explain how you got here, why you’re here, and why I shouldn’t throw you out a window,” Shouta grumbled under his breath, quiet enough for no student to hear, but his thoughts echoing loud enough for Hizashi to hear him clearly. 

‘Aw, c’mon, Shou-chan! Just because you “forget” me doesn’t mean I can’t show up when I need to!’ Hizashi could feel the hundreds of questions that popped into Shouta’s mind, broken up by the adult, a teacher no doubt, walking into the classroom and calling for silence. The frustration and mental feeling of this isn’t over yet was too beautiful for words, truly. ‘Pay attention and impress me, Shou-chan, and I’ll tell you how I do it at lunch.’ 

“Hard to pay attention when the teacher is going to notice a sword at my desk, you scrap of metal,” Shouta hissed, trying to tuck Hizashi out of sight under his desk. Hizashi didn’t mind, too concerned with observing the classroom. He hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get out and explore this new world at Shouta’s side, yet, after all. 

‘Hm… Oh! Don’t worry, she won’t notice me unless I want her to. Hey, is school really required of kids these days? Maaan, so much has changed! Back in my time you only went to group schools like this if you had fame or wealth to your name or were a pity case, you know?’

Shouta was quiet for a moment, Hizashi relaxing at the soothing buzz of his thoughts, which was much better than being alone or sealed away again for hundreds of years, before he heard the whispered, “What do you mean she won’t notice you?”

‘I told you, yo, I’m more than just a normal sword! One of my, hm, tricks we’ll call it is that I can only be noticed by my wielder when out in public, you know, for stealth stuff. Your teacher or classmates or whoever else won’t even notice I’m here, whether you’re holding me or not.’ Pausing, Hizashi gave a loud hum that had the bonus of forcing Shouta to make an annoyed face. ‘It only works as long as I’m sheathed, though. The moment my blade is out, that means I can be seen by anyone.’ 

“Huh.” Shouta went quiet again, but his thoughts grew even louder, Hizashi listening to half-thought words and twisted ideas as Shouta thought over the new information quietly and stored it away wherever he kept such things. He really was too cute. “Can you only talk to me or is it with anyone touching you?”

Ooh, that was a good question! ‘Good question, Shou-chan!’ Taking a moment to delight in the irritated huff, Hizashi continued, ‘It’s actually pretty complicated, but I’ll try to keep it simple, okay? While I can talk to anyone touching me, it depends on a few factors!’

“Factors?” Shouta was no doubt frowning, Hizashi experiencing something close to shivering as he felt fingers tap against the sheath. “What do you mean?”

‘Well… Let’s start with you. I can hear you because you’re an Aizawa, and I’m bound to your family line. The Aizawas are the only ones who can pick me up and hear me without any other factors.’ Hizashi waited patiently as Shouta thought over the information, only continuing when he was sure the other wasn’t about to ask any questions – he was no doubt saving them for later.

‘If a person isn’t an Aizawa, then it gets pretty tricky and has to deal a lot with having a clear mind and meditation and all that junk. The short of it? If people touch my sheath, then they can only hear me if we have some sort of bond and they have a clear mind, which means they have to meditate pretty often. I can talk to them directly without all that, but it takes a lot of energy and I can only say short, simple things. Nothing like my wonderful explanations I can give when I’m with you! Why do you ask, anyways?’

“Because, I assume you’re here to annoy me into an early grave, so you can talk to my teachers and let them know why I’ll have a sword around me at all times from now on. The last thing I need is a teacher with a quirk who’ll make it so they can see you even though you say you can’t be seen.” 

Shouta had a good point, loathe as Hizashi was to admit it. There had been a few supernaturally powered beings back in his time that could see him even when he was hidden, so it was foolish to assume in this age of quirks and powers that he would remain perfectly hidden. They would have to be careful what they told to who, but it wasn’t an unreasonable request. 

Of course, Hizashi might not visit Shouta at school every day if it was going to be so boring. The classes about the history of quirks and how they came to be and the modern day, now those were great as they helped Hizashi fill in the gaps in his knowledge that Shouta couldn’t, but everything else? Half of the other classes were boring, Shouta never talked to him, and Shouta never talked to anyone, too busy ‘training.’ 

Ah, but Hizashi couldn’t hate him for that part, at least. Shouta had told him of the upcoming ‘Sports Festival’ that his school put on every year. According to Shouta, it was a chance for students who hadn’t been accepted into the ‘Hero’ Department to work their way up and advance into it. 

Hizashi had seen a few similar things in his own time, mostly in relation to sword dojos and certain classes, but he had never heard about something on such a massive scale. Shouta would do great, Hizashi was certain, and he was dedicated to his training, but that didn’t mean anything if he didn’t take the time to meditate and reflect on it; which is where they were finally stuck. 

‘For the last time, yo, you just close your eyes and think about nothing!’ Hizashi desperately wished he had the ability to use himself to hit Shouta in the head, but, as of yet, there was no luck.

“And I’m telling you that it’s not so easy as to just close my eyes and think of nothing! Everyone thinks of something and the only time you’re not actively thinking is when you’re asleep – and even then you’re dreaming!” 

‘Aah, Shou-chan, why are you so logical?! Where am I even losing you? You close your eyes, you stop thinking, and you just sit there! This isn’t that hard!’ 

“Oh, and I suppose you just love to sit around in silence. Do you even have the ability to shut up for more than two seconds?” That had Hizashi falling silent because, well… Shouta wasn’t wrong in his sarcastic remarks, for once. 

Hizashi had always hated the silence that came from not having a wielder, and there were many times over his ‘life’ that he hadn’t even been properly sealed and instead had been shut away into a dark room to wait for the next time he would be passed down to someone. 

None of this to say the Aizawa family was bad, of course, they had always been decent people and while the family was often quiet and serious and far too logical, traits that persisted even today, they had always seen him as nothing more than a sword after he left Adachi’s side. At least, that had been until Aizawa Shouta. 

“Hizashi?” The touch on Hizashi’s sheath was light and careful, Shouta’s voice just as much so. “I… Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help me.” He had always been seen as a sword first until Shouta, who treated him so human. 

‘No, no, I guess I am kind of a hypocrite this time. Meditation is supposed to be about silence, but, uh, I never really liked that part of it myself. The silence is… That’s probably the worst part of it.’ Hizashi had spent so many years in silence, and now after coming into this world that was so bright and full of life and energy, well… the thought of the day he would have to go back to that silence was heartbreaking.  

“The worst part, huh?” The words were more of an afterthought than an actual question, Hizashi confused as he felt Shouta shift him until he was nestled in the crook of the teen’s arm, tapping around on what he had told Hizashi was a cellphone. The technology, especially, Hizashi was still trying to catch up on, but it seemed cool enough. 

A few minutes passed and Hizashi was about to complain about being ignored before he heard music. It had been so long since he heard anything resembling music in a quiet place like Shouta’s tucked away bedroom, and this song had instruments Hizashi knew, ones that he had been almost certain he would never hear again. 

“I don’t know if it’s really accurate, but I figured it was as close to sounding like home as I could get you, right now.” Oh… Oh, Shouta. “If we’re going to be partners then it’s only logical that we should make concessions for each other depending on what the situation calls for, right? It doesn’t hurt to have music like this playing in the background as long as I can do what I need to.”

‘You, Aizawa Shouta, are going to be the most incredible hero either of our worlds has ever seen.’ Hizashi didn’t need to see to know Shouta was already flustered, the sweet thing, but he felt Shouta’s grip return to his sheath, fingers stroking down the side so softly. The feeling was one that he knew he would only ever be able to describe as taking a breath of clean air after years of drowning. 

‘Meditation isn’t just an excuse to fall asleep, which is something they thought even back in my day. It’s not a way to just shut off your thoughts, either, I suppose. It’s about quieting them.’ Hizashi explained softly, almost feeling Shouta’s own tension drain out of him. ‘Close your eyes and just focus on my voice for now, okay? Don’t think about what’s next after this or what you have left to do or any of your worries or anxieties. That’s not the point of this. 

‘Meditation is about the centering of yourself. You’re logical, right? All you Aizawas were always so logical, really, but think of it like this. Every day you go through you end up getting a piece of yourself wound up, tangled from all your running about. If you don’t take the time to unwind those pieces, then eventually you’ll be so tangled you won’t be able to do anything.’

Hizashi paused to make sure Shouta was both following along and not getting sick of his voice, pleasantly surprised when it seemed the teen’s thoughts had already quieted but were still crystal clear to show he was wide awake. Maybe Shouta was the type to need guided meditation rather than doing it on his own. Odd, considering he was never the most social person, but Hizashi wasn’t about to turn away a gift. 

‘You’ve been pushing yourself more and more each day and that’s not a bad thing, Shou-chan. That’s actually really good! You’re serious about your goals and your dreams and your hopes, and that’s so good, Shouta, but you’re wound up too tightly. You need to relax and unwind the tangles you’ve given yourself.’

Hizashi imitated the feeling of closing his own eyes, his world dark, but not empty. He could hear the music still playing and filling up the room, Shouta’s soft and gentle breathing layering over it in a way that made their small world so perfect for once. It was the easiest meditation he had ever done. 

‘I heard of some people who meditated while standing up and walking in circles, physically unwinding from all their twists and turns. Others would sometimes sing, even if they weren’t good at it. All that mattered was finding a way to lose all of their tangles and tension. Some people, though, see all those tangles in their mind’s eye and start to pick them apart.’

Hizashi could see it clearly in his own mind, not a neat ball of twine, but a mess of knots and tangles that had to be carefully and slowly picked apart, each one carrying a worry or anxiety. He had a feeling that Shouta saw the same. 

‘Each tangle or knot is a worry that’s been bothering you. Right now, though, you’re safe, and it’s quiet.’ Not silent, but quiet, which made all the difference. ‘For each knot you pick apart, you hear the worry, but… now isn’t the time to worry.’

A picked apart knot that screamed at him that one day he would be sealed away again and left in the dark. It was a worry, but not one that applied for today. ‘Think about the worry, truly think about it, and then decide whether there’s anything you can do about it. If it’s not something that has any way of being solved, let it go. Carrying extra weight has never helped anyone.’

Hizashi knew knots and tangles. He had knots about being too annoying and too loud and too dangerous and tangles about what he could never tell anyone and what he didn’t want to tell anyone and so much more, but that was okay. It was as he told Shouta, carrying extra weight never helped anybody, and to have so many tangles only meant one would trip over them. 

Feeling something deep within him click into place and center itself, Hizashi breathed out a soft sigh and opened his eyes in his mental eye, just as he would do if he were human. Hizashi looked up and… he looked up and met Shouta’s wide, startled gaze. 

“You…” Shouta’s voice was splintered with shock, but there was an undercurrent of delight. “You didn’t tell me meditation meant I would be able to see you.”

Startled by seeing so much emotion in Shouta’s face, it took Hizashi a very long time to realize the words and then look down at himself to see that he was, well, himself. His sword was still laying in Shouta’s lap and touching his skin, points of contact that he could still feel, but he was seeing out of a body that looked completely human. 

He was sitting cross legged on the ground and in front of Shouta as if he had truly been meditating, and from what he could see he was wearing the uniform of Shouta’s school. He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know his hair would be a bright golden color, eyes as green as the handle of his sword. 

“Wait, you’re supposed to be hundreds of years old, why do you look like my age?” The gentle current of Shouta’s thoughts had turned into a loud buzz, Hizashi simply staring his fill of Shouta because while he could ‘see,’ it had been so hard to truly see Shouta and his intense, curious gaze. “Hizashi.”

“Sorry,” Hizashi managed to blurt, looking around the room with wide eyes and amazed to see that everything was anchored to his own sight, his spirit, or at least a piece of him, able to leave the sword. It was something he hadn’t been expecting when he and Shouta had only known each other for a few months. “Sorry, this just…” 

“Your voice is clear.” Shouta’s quiet words brought all his attention right back to him, Shouta smiling. “It’s not just a sound in my head anymore, it… sounds like I can hear you as if you were really in front of me.” 

“Okay, yo, that definitely isn’t supposed to happen what the hell?” Hizashi poked at Shouta, equally relieved and disappointed when neither of them seemed to feel a thing. “Meditation lets me be closer to my wielder, yeah, but, Shouta, you shouldn’t be able to see me like this – I shouldn’t be like this – until, like, years from now!”

“It could have something to do with you being sealed for so long,” Shouta suggested, Hizashi immediately ruling the option out. Shouta shouldn’t even be able to hear him clearly for so much longer; Adachi, who had been his closest wielder, hadn’t been able to see or hear him like this until they had been together for six years. “Is it a bad thing?”

“No,” Hizashi blurted out, quickly waving his hands about and surprised he could even do that. “No, it’s just…” Hizashi shook his head, letting the thought go. “Right, uh, so I look like this, young and in your school uniform, because I kind of change depending on the time, and my wielder’s age, and a bunch of boring stuff like that. I mean, you didn’t think I talked like this when I was back in feudal Japan, did you?” 

“Where you’re concerned, I wouldn’t have been surprised,” Shouta said dryly, Hizashi too delighted to be able to see that flat, unamused look on Shouta’s face to bother being offended. “Will other people be able to see and hear you now?”

“No, it’ll still just be you. The only time they can hear me is when touching the sword and having a clear mind, and if you let go you’ll probably stop seeing me like this, too. This is just…” Hizashi trailed off, tilting his head back and forth in thought for a moment. “It’s like an extension of myself, I guess you could call it. Think of it like a little piece of me that can see and talk and junk.”

Shouta nodded, going silent to think over all the information he had been given, Hizashi cupping his hands in his lap like one would when truly meditating and noticing that while he didn’t feel the sensation, it carried with it the remembrance of sensation. No matter what Shouta said about this being the result of Hizashi’s sealment, this was just… them. It was him and Shouta forging a bond that was already so strong. 

“Hizashi.” Shouta’s voice was soft but resolute, Hizashi startling as Shouta looked directly into his eyes before giving a fierce and wild grin. “We’ll make a good team.” 

And they did. 

It was a few weeks of practicing and training and meditating and putting it all together, but it all paid off when they won the Sports Festival, Hizashi feeling Shouta’s grip tight around the sword as Hizashi watched from where he was standing beside him on the first place podium, the crowd around them screaming and cheering. 

Apparently, first place was not meant for a student of Shouta’s background, and Hizashi was more than viciously pleased to see the smug victory in Shouta’s eyes along with the humble gratitude as he accepted his medal, although outwardly he had such a bored expression of distaste at all the fanfare. 

“Looks like that dream of ours isn’t so far off anymore, huh?” Hizashi joked, beaming as Shouta glanced to him and met his gaze before giving a small, honest smile. 

“Our dream, huh?” Shouta looked back out across the crowds, smile growing. “I like the sound of that.” And oh, yes. Their future together was going to be incredible. 

Chapter Three 

This was something he hadn’t prepared for, Shouta thought to himself as he stared at the stacks of papers that were scattered across his desk. While he had been expecting the intense workload that would come from being in the Heroics Department once he transferred, he hadn’t expected so much of it to feel so much like paperwork. He had a feeling that their homeroom teacher, Nezu, was fully aware of the fact, however, and simply used it as a tactic to weed out the weak. 

Hizashi seemed to be of the same mind, groaning loudly and dramatically from where he was ‘on’ Shouta’s bed, trying to help by reading a stack of spread out papers himself. “Shouta, this is hard. Do you know how much written language has changed between our times? I’m only so good, Shouta!”

“This coming from the one who bragged that he could defeat the entire class without my help,” Shouta snorted, shifting the sword he had casually propped up against him. He could still work on his papers as he needed to, but there was always a small part of the sheath pressed up against bare skin so he could hear and see Hizashi clearly. “Maybe I should have just gone without a hero name…”

“Aw, what, no way!” Hizashi cried at once, Shouta trying to remain unaffected and not laugh as Hizashi fluttered around him in distress. “Eraserhead is such a cool name! I worked hard on that you know!”

Alright, Shouta couldn’t stop his snort at that one, shaking his head as he tried to ‘push’ Hizashi away from him. Hizashi, as always, obeyed the gesture even without the touch. “You spent five minutes muttering names under your breath and then shouted about that one until I said it just to shut you up.”

“Yeah, but you must have liked it at least a little if you actually went with it,” Hizashi pouted and huffed, looking dramatically distressed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “What’s all this paper even for? This is more paper than last year when you first transferred and were catching up!”

The sad thing was, Shouta thought to himself, that wasn’t an exaggeration. His request to transfer had been met with approval after the Sports Festival, but that still meant weeks and even months of work to catch up on. He had managed, and he was almost certain a large part of his success was due to Hizashi cheering him on, but it still wasn’t a time he liked to think too heavily on. Second year, though, was starting to prove more difficult than his first year. 

“I already told you and so did Nezu for the last three classes. All of this is for proper internships to get us ready to work within the professional world of heroes. It isn’t about just swinging a sword around and showing off, anymore.”

There was a noise of deep offense, Shouta unable to help his snicker at Hizashi’s screech of, “I have never shown off!” It was the biggest lie Hizashi had ever told with a straight face and it was hilarious. “Oh, shut up! C’mon, you’re supposed to be picking a mentor, aren’t you?”

“So, you were paying attention,” Shouta snorted, dragging a few packets of paper closer to look over them. After his success in the Sports Festival in the last two years, Shouta was in no way short of internship offers from pro heroes. It seemed that many, rightly so, knew how rare and unique Erasure was as an ability; and how powerful it could be in the right circumstances. “There’s a lot of choices is all.”

Too many choices, if Shouta were being honest, and a lot of them came from top name heroes who were often in the public eye and were seen on the news almost every day. Shouta wanted to help people, sure, but he had never put thought into how he would have to be involved in the media circus that surrounded pros. The rising fame that was All Might was only making the spotlight even brighter, as well. 

“What about Swift?” Looking up at Hizashi’s question and the unfamiliar name, Shouta looked to where Hizashi was back on the bed, hunched over one of the papers. When he looked up at Shouta, it was with a serious expression that reminded Shouta of how much the other really did care about Shouta’s future. “Says here he’s an underground hero, primarily, and deals with night patrols and the more local crime rates rather than the whole super villain thing.”

“Underground, huh?” Shouta, if he were being honest, had forgotten that underground heroes were really a thing. They hardly learned about them in school and Nezu was the only teacher to have ever mentioned them in length, and even then the information on them was limited.

Pushing himself away from his desk, and sidestepping a few piles of messes scattered across his room that was mostly abandoned homework, Shouta leaned over to get a better look at whatever hero had caught Hizashi’s eye, scanning the paper with a considering hum because, well, this one did sound perfect. 

An underground hero would be out of the public spotlight and that would mean Shouta would hardly, if ever, need to deal with the irritating force of power that was the media. The pro, Swift, was an established hero who had been working at his own agency for over a couple decades if Shouta’s math was correct. The hero himself didn’t seem all that bad, either. 

Shifting to sit on the bed properly, and idly noticing Hizashi shuffled away to free up more room even though he didn’t need to, Shouta grabbed the packet and started flipping through, scanning for more information about the hero. 

He had a simple quirk that was short range teleportation, it seemed, hence the name Swift. The ability to use it seemed to depend how long he could hold his breath, which, really, it seemed stupid, but most quirks did these days. This Swift, however, seemed to know how to use his quirk well if he had been an underground hero for so long. The part that caught his eye, though, and what had probably caught Hizashi’s eye, was that Swift fought with a sword. 

“Says here he fights with a sword,” Shouta pointed out, mostly to watch Hizashi squirm. “Something about being a trained sword fighter, too.” The squirming was even worse and Shouta was having far too much fun watching Hizashi try not to break. “I don’t know, there was that other hero-”

Hizashi’s whining, loud and pathetic, had Shouta trying to fight off more laughter. “Shouta, this guy is perfect for us! You get to stay out of the spotlight, I get to interact with a sword fighter by your world’s standards, and you get to learn from someone else on how to fight with a sword! You can have a sparring partner!”

“And here I thought you were my sparring partner,” Shouta teased, flipping through the papers again and looking at the address for the agency Swift owned. It would only be a single train ride away from where he lived, which, well, that was a sign if there ever was one, really. “Hm… I’ll think about it.” 

It took another week before Shouta was really able to finalize his choice on who to internship under, but Hizashi had been right in pointing out that Swift would be the best for them and their training; and he really was. 

Swift was strict, had a gallows sense of humor, and smiled like he was planning on how to kill whoever he was talking to. He quickly became Shouta’s favorite hero even if he would never admit it unless he was tortured by the man himself. Hizashi had also been right in how good it was to spar with someone who used a sword, as well. 

There was a difference between practicing repetitions and movements with Hizashi guiding his movements versus actually fighting against someone. It was as thrilling as it was exhausting, and it was more than once that Shouta fell asleep while leaning against a wall waiting for whatever cruel torture he would be shuffled off to next. 

It wasn’t just fighting and the pro hero world that Swift taught him about, either, but the man seemed to know a little bit of everything, gravelly voice pointing out bits of history and knowledge and information that Shouta might have never known otherwise. Even Hizashi was caught off guard with some of what they learned, which made Shouta as satisfied as it did wary.

Swift was an incredible hero, as the countless scars that he had screamed, peeking out from under the edges of black tactical gear and a ridiculously long red scarf, but he was also aged and grizzled, and something in his voice, deep and crackling as if he was always on the verge of entering a coughing fit, had Shouta constantly on edge. It didn’t help whenever the man would quietly stare at Hizashi, the sword part of him, at least, with a look that was less than reassuring.

It was a few months before Shouta realized why the look set him so on edge, and it reflected in his tone as he thought over the latest question he had been asked while hunched over his bag and making sure he had everything before he left for the day. “‘Cursed blades?’”

“So, you don’t know about them, then,” Swift – or rather Shukuchi since he had told Shouta his first day that he hated being called by his hero name – was looking down at him with a look that Shouta couldn’t quite decipher. If he were to guess, it meant he was about to be told something he wasn’t going to like. “Tell me, Aizawa, where did you get that sword that you wear so religiously?”

“Hizashi?” Shouta blinked, glancing to Hizashi who was leaning against the wall while waiting on him, surprised by the dark look on his face. “My grandfather.” Shouta had told Shukuchi of Hizashi on his first day with him since Shouta knew Hizashi was annoying enough that one way or another Shouta would yell at him to shut up. It was only logical to avoid any possible confusion and make sure his mentor knew Shouta wouldn’t be shouting at him. 

“Grandfather, huh…” The man trailed off, gaze going from the sword to Shouta himself. “Cursed blades are just like they sound, although no one these days believes they’re real. They’re said to be swords that gained souls of their own after killing enough people, warping and carving their own soul together with the pieces they stole.”

Shouta forced himself to snort, standing up casually before throwing his bag around his shoulders. “Sounds like a story parents made up so their kids wouldn’t play with sharp objects.” Beside him, he heard Hizashi’s soft snort, something in Shouta slowly relaxing and uncoiling at the sound. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Shukuchi looked like he was smiling, but Shouta could tell it was anything but. “They were said to be able to give people the knowledge and power to wield them, possessing them into giving them all the strength they could ever want before taking over their soul completely.” 

“Scary,” Shouta drawled, trying to sound bored and disinterested even as his heart sped up because that… Hizashi had told him the first day they had met. He could increase his strength and give him the knowledge and instincts on how to fight with him, but that same day he had also proved that he could possess Shouta. He hadn’t done it since that first time, but with how close their bond was, Hizashi could take him over whenever he wanted, couldn’t he?

“They are.” Shukuchi said it so calmly, yet so seriously. It was as if he was telling Shouta that a tsunami could kill him. It was a fact. “Let me guess, when your grandfather gave you that sword there was a sealing tag on it and it was bound with a red cord.”

Shouta felt himself freeze, unable to hide his shocked expression as he blinked at his mentor before glancing to Hizashi. Instead of wide-eyed surprise or shock, Hizashi had gone cold and blank, staring at Shukuchi as if he were a threat instead of the man who had been training them to get stronger. For a moment, a moment he hoped he imagined, Shouta felt heat coming from the sword.

“I… yeah, actually.” There was no point in lying when he knew the other man would be able to tell, and, besides, Shouta wanted to know how he knew. As far as he knew, he had never told anyone about how Hizashi had appeared to him, his sword lying on the bed sealed and bound and unable to be drawn. “How do you know that?”

Shukuchi pushed out a long, slow breath, as if realizing he was right and hating the fact. “Let’s just say cursed blades have their reputation for a reason.” The man turned his back to them, walking towards his office and giving out a half-hearted wave. “Go home and get some rest, kid. Think about getting a different sword while you’re at it, too.”

Shouta barely even realized what he was doing as he adjusted his bag and walked out of the agency, thoughts too overwhelming to even hear as he followed a long-ago memorized route to the train station. He was on a train home before he even knew it, his only clear thought that Hizashi was quiet enough that Shouta could almost forget he was there. It was all the ‘proof’ he needed to know that Shukuchi’s words weren’t just an idle warning that didn’t apply to him. 

He wasn’t quite sure how, but between one second and the next Shouta had made it back to his silent home, everything dark and quiet as he sat on his bed with Hizashi’s sword – with Hizashi – lying across his lap, the physical manifestation of him, if it was even that, sitting in front of him with a small, weak smile. “Told you that Swift was terrifying, didn’t I? Gave me the chills the first day we met him.” 

Shouta didn’t laugh like he would on any other day, only staring at Hizashi as all of his thoughts screamed, but when he finally spoke, he winced at hearing how much his voice sounded like a whisper. “Hizashi.” Shouta paused, swallowed, and took a breath, “Are you a cursed blade?”

There wasn’t even a beat of silence before Hizashi answered, a firm, but reluctant, “Yes, I am.” Which meant that, no matter how many things had been false and how many things had been true, Hizashi was dangerous. “Shouta?” At the soft, hesitant call of his name, Shouta opened his eyes, surprised he had even closed them, to see Hizashi looked scared. 

It was that expression, coupled with the past year of friendship and teamwork, that allowed Shouta to take a calm breath and tighten his grip on the sword in his lap before meeting Hizashi’s sad gaze. “I don’t know what I think yet because I don’t have all the information. It’s not logical to make a decision until I hear your side of the story.”

There was a quiet sniffle, Shouta feeling embarrassment prickle at his skin as it always did when Hizashi was overly emotional. “Shouta,” Hizashi mumbled, looking ready to cry before he was laughing and shaking his head. “You Aizawas and your logic, honestly…”

It took a few minutes before Hizashi seemed to get control of himself and get his thoughts in order, breathing out heavily as he nodded to himself more than Shouta. “Okay. I am a cursed blade, but not in the traditional sense, and definitely not how Swift was tellin’ it. Yo, I’m serious, that dude is terrifying.” 

“So you’ve said,” Shouta responded dryly, trying to dredge up the fear he had felt when he started to realize what Hizashi really was. It was hard to do that when he went around talking like he was a punk. “What is the truth, then?”

“It’s…” Hizashi trailed off, tilting his head side to side as he shifted and squirmed on the bed, trying to ‘get comfortable’ before he was sighing and letting his head drop. “I’m the same as a cursed blade in the way that I can give you strength and knowledge and even possess you and others if I wanted. I, uh, kind of possessed you at first…”

Hizashi trailed off into a guilty silence, Shouta not sure whether to give in to fear or anger. He chose annoyance as a nice alternative option. “You did. Was that supposed to be a test? Find out how easy I’d be to take over if something went wrong?”

“Uh, well, honestly I just wanted to prove a point about how I could fight for myself and junk,” Hizashi admitted, his expression so much like a child who had been caught stealing sweets. It made it hard to hold onto any fear; or anger. “I also just wanted to see how strong you were. Most people at least try to push me out, you just let me in even more, if anything!”

Shouta settled for a neutral response of flipping Hizashi off, trying to keep his expression blank as Hizashi burst into wild laughter. “Shut up, Hizashi.” The words had never worked before, Shouta mused, and he supposed it was only fair they didn’t work now, seeing as Hizashi was laughing even more than before. 

“Sorry, sorry, just- Okay, so!” Hizashi drew himself up, leaning forward so his hands were resting on top of the sword, Hizashi smiling as his hands almost brushed against Shouta’s own. “I am a cursed blade, but… I’m different in that I had a soul from before I was a sword. Swift was right in saying that cursed blades sort of grow their own souls after they kill enough, but I…”

Hizashi was still and silent, Shouta almost scared that Hizashi would disappear from right in front of him before he started talking again. “I was human, once, you know.” The news didn’t come as a shock, exactly, since Shouta had assumed as much, but judging by the way Shukuchi had been talking earlier that night, he had a feeling this was a revelation not common to most cursed blades. 

“Cursed blades grow their own souls, but I already had one from where I had been human – although I don’t really remember what I was like,” Hizashi admitted, voice quiet as he leaned back and dragged a hand through his hair. “Did I look like I do now? Did I sound like I do now? I don’t know. I don’t even remember a family if I ever had one to begin with. I don’t even remember when I lived. I just-” Hizashi cut himself off, closing his eyes as he sighed softly, the sound trembling as much as his shoulders. 

“I was human, and I was always getting into trouble. Too curious.” Hizashi opened his eyes slowly, meeting Shouta’s gaze with such a scared smile. “I have a talent, or maybe in your words a quirk, for attracting and getting into trouble. I was… I was just at the wrong place at the right time, and, well. Here we are.”

Shouta nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. His mentor had been right, then, in saying that Hizashi was dangerous, but with his eyes closed, all Shouta could remember was Hizashi’s soft, awed expression from when they had met each other’s eyes after he had first started meditating. 

Hizashi didn’t try to get his attention or interrupt his thoughts, only staying quiet. It was that quiet that allowed Shouta to stay calm as he opened his eyes with a shuddering breath, managing a soft, “Give me time?”

“Oh, Shouta…” Shouta saw the hand that so gently cupped his cheek, but anything he felt he knew was nothing more than his imagination. “Take all the time you need, Shouta. I’ll wait.”

⁂

In the end it took six days before Shouta managed to get his thoughts and feelings in order. Six days of not meditating, of Hizashi fading from his sight, of Shouta looking into every scrap of information he could find on cursed blades, and six entire days of Hizashi absolutely silent and not saying a word. 

It was the silence that had been the most difficult, Shouta had found, and it was like weight sliding off his shoulders when he managed to clear out a spot in his room to sit and enter into his usual meditative thoughts, sword resting across his lap and one of Hizashi’s favorite songs, so far, playing quietly from his phone. 

When Shouta opened his eyes after he felt like he wouldn’t shake himself apart, it was to see Hizashi looking at him with an expression of what Shouta would only ever call despair. “I take it this is goodbye, then?” Ah. What an idiot. 

“Yes, Hizashi, I put on your favorite song and spent an hour meditating because I wanted to tell you goodbye. Use your brain for once, idiot,” Shouta grumbled, forcing down a smile even as Hizashi’s own smile began to appear again. 

“But- But I’m cursed. Swift was right in saying I was dangerous! Shouta, you’ve felt me during fights, you know I can get…” Bloodthirsty was probably the best way to finish that, but Shouta didn’t see how that mattered as long as Hizashi kept himself in check when he needed to. 

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head to truly prove how much of an idiot Hizashi was being, Shouta relaxed his tense posture and leaned back. “You were cursed the day I met you, too. That doesn’t mean everything you’ve ever told me is a lie, does it?”

“Wha- Of course not!” Ah, back to his usual loud volume. Shouta almost regretted his actions. “I would never lie to you, Shouta! You’re…” Hizashi trailed off, loud voice dropping off into what was almost a whisper, expression as soft as his words. “You’re so important to me, Shouta.” 

“And you’re my best friend,” Shouta said, words slipping off his tongue easily even as he tried to figure out why Hizashi’s own words, a soft declaration of care and trust, had him feeling so off balance. “That makes all the difference, don’t you think?”

There was a moment where Shouta was utterly content and satisfied that everything truly was going to be okay before Hizashi was sobbing his name and trying to hug him, Shouta almost glad that Hizashi could in no way manage the task. It was still good, though. This was their first real ‘fight’ since they had become friends and Shouta had a feeling that it would only bring them closer, in the end. 

He soon regretted that thought, too, however, when not even days later Hizashi possessed his body and then immediately used it to make friends with his classmates. Shouta’s only saving grace was that when he told everyone he had been possessed by his sword, which many of them hadn’t even noticed he had, they had immediately left him alone to his peace and solitude. 

That was not the case for all of them, however, and Shouta soon found himself forced to deal with Iida Tensei and Kayama Nemuri every day of his foreseeable school career. It was only made worse when Kayama managed to get her hands on Hizashi and the two bonded to a worrying degree after Hizashi taught both her and Iida how to meditate, clear their minds, and forge a connection with him. 

His worries were all proven right when Kayama tackled him in a tight, crushing hug not long after he had settled down at his desk a few weeks after his and Hizashi’s conversation about being a cursed blade. The hug was made terrifying when she cried out a delighted, “Shou-chan! You’re so soft!”

Iida, sane person that he was, looked as shocked as Shouta felt, clearing his throat before speaking, “Er, Kayama? Did you just… call him Shou-chan?” The disbelief was more than warranted because Kayama had yet to even call him Shouta, even though Shouta had insisted he didn’t care and he had been badgered to call her Nemuri more than once. 

“Of course, what else would I call him?” Kayama asked, hug tightening as she laughed in a way that he had never heard her laugh before. “Shou-chan is Shou-chan!” With that bright, loud declaration, Shouta felt as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning half a dozen times over. 

“Hizashi?” Shouta squirmed in the tight hug, looking up at Kayama’s face and studying it intently before he saw the spark of mischief and delight and noticed, now that he was fully and completely awake, the sword strapped to her – his – back. “You possessed Kayama?”

“Possessed is such a strong word, Shou-chan,” Hizashi pouted, finally letting go to sit up on Shouta’s desk, bright smile reappearing. “She gave me full permission!” Of course she did. “Especially when she found out we had never even hugged!” Of course she did. 

Iida cleared his throat, Shouta glancing over at him to see he looked nervous, “So, uh, that… You’re Hizashi, then? Right now?”

“Yep! The one and only!” Hizashi chirped, wiggling around in delight. Now that he was looking for it, it was so easy to see Hizashi’s mannerisms shining out of Kayama’s body. “It’s only for a few minutes since Kayama-san and I don’t have too strong of a bond, though.”

“You can only possess people for a few minutes at a time?” Shouta frowned, looking up at Hizashi. “Really?” From the way Hizashi and Shukuchi both had talked, it sounded as if it could have been for much longer.

Hizashi himself blinked, caught off guard before laughing. “Oh, no, I can possess people for days at a time, if I wanted to!” Ah, mildly terrifying, then. “Kayama-san isn’t used to this type of bond, though, and possession like that could hurt her. That’s the last thing I want!” Mildly terrifying, and yet far too kind. 

“Well,” Iida said with a clearing of his throat and a clap of his hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly! Or, er, well, I suppose we did technically already meet, and this is probably stranger than simply holding a sword and talking to you, but-”

Hizashi’s laughter mercifully cut Iida off, his – Kayama’s? – feet kicking back and forth in the air as he used Shouta’s desk as his own personal seat. “I know what you mean, Iida-san. It’s nice to meet you, too!” Hizashi looked to Shouta, staring down at him for a long moment before reaching out and lightly patting at his cheek, beaming when skin touched skin. “I had almost forgotten what that feeling was like…” 

Shouta felt a ridiculous swelling of emotion as he quickly looked away, trying to focus instead on the oddity of hearing Hizashi’s laughter with Kayama’s voice. He was, once again, saved by Iida speaking. “You know, this possession thing… Could you use that on villains in the future?”

All of them fell silent, Shouta looking to Hizashi and sharing a look with him before he felt the smile breaking through, the expression mirrored on Hizashi’s own face, wiggling around again before laughing loudly, “Nezu did tell us to come up with a way we could fight when outnumbered, yeah? I’d say evening the numbers sounds like a good way to do it.” 

“Wouldn’t Aizawa need to find another way to fight, then?” Iida asked, Shouta nodding at once as he leaned back in his seat, already thinking over the possibilities of what the future could bring. 

“I would, since the sword would need physical contact with a villain in order for Hizashi to possess them. Although…” Shouta trailed off, looking to Hizashi. “I think I might have an idea when it comes to fighting without you helping me.”

Hizashi grinned and Shouta suddenly felt a lot more confident in the future that was to come. After all, he knew for certain that he wouldn’t be facing it alone. 

Chapter Four

“Shouta! Can you already believe we’re in our third year!” Hizashi beamed down at a half-asleep Shouta, doing his best not to coo when the teen shoved his face, and his smile, down to hide behind the scarf he had taken to wearing not long after receiving his binding cloth. “One more year and we’ll be out on the streets and defending Japan ourselves!” 

Shouta snorted, closing his eyes and adjusting his position on his desk to where he looked ready to fall into a deep slumber. Hizashi was half prepared for when he would need to possess him later in the day just so Shouta could get some proper notes as he slept through classes. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Aah, it was still so nice to remember that Shouta knew who he was and what he could do and was okay with it and ah, right, Shouta was staring at him. “I, uh… yes?”

This time the laugh was loud enough to really hear, Hizashi delighting in the sound as Shouta shook his head, mumbling out a soft, “Next time, pay attention to people’s responses if you’re going to go around acting so dramatic.” 

“Aw, but Shou-chan I always listen to you,” Hizashi cooed, hopping up to sit on Shouta’s desk and marveling at how strong the bond between them was. While Hizashi still couldn’t ‘feel,’ his body reacted like it would if it were still there. “C’mon, smile. One more year, Shouta!”

“You’re way too excited for the first day of school,” Shouta yawned, as if he hadn’t spent half the night excited and unable to sleep after such a long summer away from everyone. “Go bother Nemuri.” 

“Aw, Shouta, why didn’t you say sooner that you wanted a hug?” Hizashi cooed, delighting in the flush Shouta gave. It was so adorable at how easily Shouta flustered over the idea of physical affection. 

Ready to pick right back up in embarrassing and tormenting his adorable wielder, Hizashi paused and glanced up as he saw Nemuri and Tensei enter the room, both looking to be arguing over something that was, no doubt, utterly pointless. Hizashi half-raised his hand to wave them over, names on the tip of his tongue to shout out before he realized how pointless it would be. 

“Ah, I’m getting far too comfortable,” Hizashi mumbled to himself, glancing down to where Shouta was peacefully resting on his desk, half hidden behind his scarf as he lightly dozed before the start of class. It was an adorable sight and proved only marginally helpful in distracting Hizashi from his thoughts for a few moments. 

It was so easy to forget that he wasn’t human when Shouta always treated him like he was. They had known each other for years, already, and in all that time Shouta had always called him Hizashi or, perhaps more accurately, he had always called him Hizashi. To Shouta, he had never been the sword they used. If anything, Shouta saw it as Hizashi was merely somebody who was attached to the sword! It was as sweet as it was heartbreaking. 

Ah, but those were worries for another time. For now, Hizashi was all too content to watch his sweet wielder get the life scared out of him by a far too cheerful Nemuri and her ‘wake-up call.’ “C’mon, Shouta, wake up and get excited! It’s our last year!”

“You and Hizashi might as well be twins with how you both act,” Shouta scoffed, tossing a glare Hizashi’s way as if it was his fault Nemuri was like she was. It was too great a compliment for Hizashi to accept, really.

“Speaking of our dear little sword spirit, where is he?” Nemuri frowned, looking around the room as if expecting to actually see him. It was sweet and Hizashi made a mental note to try and get Nemuri and Tensei to really focus on their meditation. They might never see him as Shouta did, but it would at least help them hear him clearer than they already did. “Shouta, did you abandon him again? He needs love and care!”

Laughing, Hizashi watched Shouta do his best not to laugh too, instead turning to glare at him for a moment. Hizashi gave him a bright smile just to watch him try to hide his own smile. “Feel free to give it to him yourself, then. And he’s right here and annoying me to death as always.” 

“Aw, you know you love me, Shou-chan,” Hizashi pouted, amusement draining out of him as he saw Nemuri’s frown, corners of her lips down and twisted. It was never good when Nemuri was honestly frowning. 

“I thought you needed to be touching the sword to be able to see and hear him. How can you tell he’s here if you don’t have the sword with you?” Ah, Shouta probably just had the sword tucked against his side again in just the right way that Nemuri couldn’t see it. 

Shouta raised an eyebrow as if realizing the same thing, sitting up properly and looking to his other side where… the sword wasn’t there. Shouta blinked, Hizashi felt something clawing at his chest, and the two met each other’s gaze with the sword nowhere near Shouta’s skin. 

The realization seemed to hit them both at the same time, Hizashi scrambling off the desk and looking around the area at once, not seeing or even feeling the sword nearby. Shouta, meanwhile, sounded dazed, Hizashi hearing him mumble, “I… thought I needed to have the sword with me.”

Turning back around to meet Shouta’s gaze, Hizashi felt utterly lost because Shouta really shouldn’t be able to see or hear him at all without having the sword on him. Oh, it was possible, of course, especially for an Aizawa, but to have a bond be able to do something like that, well… it took years. It took decades. Adachi, Hizashi’s closest wielder and the first Aizawa he had been bound to, had never even managed such a thing until near the end of their partnership. Yet here Shouta was, only two years of knowing him, and he was able to see him without the sword. 

“Oh, great,” Shouta finally sighed, loud and dramatic as he broke the silence that had been tense between their little group. “Now I’ll never have a peaceful moment to myself again.” Even at the harsh words Hizashi could feel the wave of positive and delighted emotions that rushed over Shouta, a smile tugging at his lips that he tried to hide behind his scarf. It did nothing to hide the delight shining out of his eyes, though. 

“Aw, you don’t like my voice, Shou-chan?” Hizashi pouted and whined, trying not to let out the giggles that were building up in the back of his throat because this year, he had a feeling, was going to be their best one yet. 

Although, that feeling came before Hizashi realized just how cruel Nezu could be to the students he liked. 

While a great deal of their classmates slacked off or didn’t uphold the phrase ‘plus ultra’ very well, Hizashi noticed that a few of them, like him and Shouta, Nemuri, and Tensei, were pushed to their limits and far beyond them throughout the following weeks into their third year. 

It was good, in a way, because Hizashi hadn’t realized just how content he had become living Shouta’s life where everything was relaxed and slow and nothing at all like the constant warfare he had come from. It was easy to forget that the world was still a battleground in this time, but with Shouta growing older and Hizashi mirroring him, he was starting to remember how cruel the world could be. He was starting to remember that even back then his power sometimes hadn’t been enough and, well… Plus Ultra, as U.A. seemed to adore saying. 

Although, it was a pleasant surprise when Swift, Shouta’s mentor, started to help them instead of trying to nudge Shouta into pawning Hizashi off on some idiot villain; although he was still annoying as shit. 

“It never told you it was a humming blade?” Swift was staring down at Shouta with crossed arms and an almost baffled expression, Hizashi enjoying the ability to make rude gestures while Shouta stared down Swift with his own arms crossed, scowl on his face. 

“No, he never told me that he was a humming blade.” Shouta, in a delightful move that always served to piss Swift off, turned to look at Hizashi curiously, speaking to him shamelessly even though nobody else could hear or see him. “Explain.”

Taking a moment to bask in Shouta’s attention, Hizashi shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, giving Shouta a smile even he knew showed his embarrassment because, well, it was a bit embarrassing. “Sorry, Shouta, but I don’t even know what a humming blade is.” At Shouta’s look, a mix between exasperation and amusement, Hizashi pursed his lips. “I told you, I wasn’t born or made or whatever like this. There are days where even I don’t know the full range of my abilities.” 

“Huh.” Shouta looked back to Swift, arms still crossed and face half-tucked behind his binding cloth. Hizashi was pretty sure Shouta thought it made him look more intimidating. Hizashi didn’t have the heart to tell him it just made him look cuter. “He says he doesn’t know what a humming blade is.” 

Swift blinked slowly, face neutral before shaking his head, “Kid, your sword is dumb as shit.” Well, that was pretty fucking rude, if Hizashi said so himself. “A humming blade is a type of cursed blade. Their known for entrancing men, driving them mad, or even just fully possessing a person.” 

“Ask him what he means by fully,” Hizashi said quickly, because, for as much as he hated Swift, he did have a lot of knowledge about the subject. Knowledge that, sadly enough, Hizashi didn’t have himself. 

When Shouta parroted the question, Swift rolled his eyes, “I mean that sword of yours could probably possess a person and act completely natural. With a typical blade like that there’s never any complete control. The body jerks, the words don’t come out right, and, even if the person possessed accepts it, you’re always able to tell it’s just a person being controlled.” 

Hizashi shared a look with Shouta, Hizashi sure that Shouta was thinking the same thing he was. Every time he possessed Shouta or one of their friends, there was never any obvious signs of it. Hell, Hizashi had possessed Shouta during school when the other was too tired to handle class that day and no one, except Nezu because Nezu, had even noticed. 

“What else can a humming blade do?” Shouta asked, attention back on Swift. “The possession makes sense and I already figured he can drive me mad with how annoying he is all the time.” 

“Shouta, that’s mean,” Hizashi whined, delighting in the almost pained expression Swift had at Shouta’s casual dismissal at the ‘danger’ that came from having Hizashi as a sword. 

“Depends on the sword, in the end,” Swift finally said. “I’ve known some swords that could shatter glass by sending out high-pitched frequencies. If it’s good enough it could probably short out technology.” Oh, well that seemed rather useful. “Can that sword of yours teleport on its own?”

“He can, yes,” Shouta nodded, eyes narrowing enough to show his displeasure. “Useful enough for getting back to me if we get separated when fighting.” 

“Useful enough that it- Fuck, fine, he could teleport you along with him when you two are fighting.” 

Shouta gave another long, slow blink, turning to look at Hizashi who immediately held his hands up because he could what? “Hey, no, no getting mad, Shou-chan, I don’t even know if that’s a thing I can do.”

“Guess we’ll find out at practice tomorrow,” Shouta threatened, a wide grin taking over his face that had Hizashi groaning because his wielder, above all else, was a sadist, as proven during their following training sessions. 

Hizashi would admit, begrudgingly, that Swift had been helpful in opening their eyes as to what he and Shouta could do when working together. The possession they already had mastered, in Hizashi’s opinion, but the following few weeks were spent pushing themselves as far as they could go. 

They discovered that Hizashi could, when making contact with something, adjust the wavelengths of sound that came out to make high-pitched frequencies that, as Swift said, could shatter glass and short out technology. Their first few sessions with that had ended up with everyone in their class needing a new phone, U.A. needing new security cameras in that building, and a lot of broken glass. Nezu, at least, had seemed delighted. 

The next thing they had discovered was the ability of ‘liminal pathwalking.’ That was the official name Tensei had found for it, at least, after digging it up in old books, but teleporting was a lot easier to think and say, in Hizashi’s opinion. He had never spent much time focusing on just how that ability of his worked, but once he understood the science behind it, it was actually rather simple to take Shouta, safe and sound, from his bedroom to the U.A. entrance – although that first time Shouta had still been in his pajamas. A bit of practice, though, and it was even simpler to teleport Shouta across the battlefield during fights. 

The final thing they discovered during their weeks of training, though, was that Hizashi could get sick. It was something Hizashi had never experienced before and he was finding that he didn’t like it. 

“He’s still sick, huh?” Nemuri’s soft voice broke Hizashi out of his tired reflection, but when he ‘looked’ all he could see was his sword where Shouta was so intensely focused on it. “You don’t have any idea when he’ll be better?”

Shouta’s only response was a short, sharp, “No.” that had Hizashi wishing he could give Shouta a proper scowl. As it was, their pushing in training had ended up with Hizashi once again chained inside the sword, Shouta unable to see him and only able to hear him when in contact with the sword. Hizashi, from his end, felt like he was somewhere between falling asleep and being sealed. Still, though, that was no excuse to be rude. 

“Be kind, Shou-chan, she’s just worried,” Hizashi managed to mutter, wincing at how even he could tell his voice was quiet; too quiet. The worry and fear Shouta felt was all too clear to him, though, especially with Shouta holding the sword so tightly. 

“She can get in line,” Shouta muttered, although Hizashi did manage to make out his quiet apology towards Nemuri, short as it was. It was the best he could hope for, he supposed, with Shouta this worried about everything. “How the hell did you even get like this? You’re supposed to be a spirit. Spirits shouldn’t get hurt.”

“Honestly, Shouta? I have no idea,” Hizashi said as softly as he could, trying to push some form of calm onto Shouta. He half worried that if Shouta gripped the sheath any tighter then there would be cracks. “It might have something to do with how close we are, though.”

Hizashi felt Shouta’s hands flex against the sheath that was accompanied by a spark of surprise and… something. Fear? No, not fear, but wariness, perhaps. “What do you mean by how close we are?”

“Well, think about it, Shouta. You’ve been able to see the physical part of me since first year, yeah? You saw me after our first meditation session together! That’s… Weird would be putting it mildly.” Feeling that pang of wariness and unease, Hizashi was quick to try and soothe it. “That’s not a bad thing, though! It’s part of why we work so well together! It’s because you’ve always seen me.”

Shouta finally gave a soft snort, Hizashi feeling like he would shudder if he could as he felt Shouta’s fingertips swirl against the sheath in some absentminded gesture. “There were those first few months I wasn’t able to manage that, if you’ll recall.”

“What? No- Stop that.” Shouta’s fingers were far too distracting, honestly. “No, I mean that you’ve always seen me. You’ve always called me Hizashi and you’ve always seen me as Hizashi. I was never the sword to you, I was always… myself.”

“Yes, and?” Oh, jeez. For as brilliant and clever as Shouta could be, he was also socially inept some days.

“You’ve always treated me like your friend, Shouta. Ever since you first realized who I was and what I could do, you treated me as Hizashi, as someone you fought alongside and learned together with-” 

“Of course I would just treat you as Hizashi,” Shouta muttered, Hizashi feeling a wave of annoyance from the other that he could only call fond. “It’s hardly logical to treat someone I love so cruelly, after all.”

“Ugh, yeah, yeah, you Aizawas and your logic,” Hizashi grumbled, mentally preparing himself for another fight before he felt a wave of shock from both himself and Shouta who, it seemed, realized the extent of his words the same moment Hizashi did. “Shouta-”

“When you’re better.” Shouta’s words were clipped and stern, but Hizashi could feel the shaking underneath them. Hizashi could feel the… Well. Shouta hadn’t meant those words lightly. “We’ll talk about…” Shouta trailed off into silence, voice gone for what felt like so long before Hizashi felt the twitch of those fingertips. “We’ll talk about it when you’re better.” 

“I hope you know, Shou-chan, with everything in me, that everything you say sounds like a threat.” Taking a single moment to delight in Shouta’s soft, quiet laughter that made him feel more than he ever had, Hizashi took the moment after to quietly realize and tuck away the fact that Shouta’s feelings weren’t one-sided in the slightest. 

Hizashi had become far, far too human in his short time with Shouta, and it showed so clearly; especially when he spent the next few days coming to terms with the fact that it wasn’t only Shouta’s feelings that attributed as to why their bond was so strong and why they were so close. Really, Hizashi supposed he should have realized it when Shouta had been able to see him. 

As it was, it took almost four days since their ‘conversation’ for Hizashi to fully recover from his exhaustion and hold onto his physical form that allowed him some measure of control in the world he was now in. 

It was control he immediately abused by teleporting his sword onto Shouta to startle him awake before teleporting Shouta, and the sword, a foot or two above the floor just to be sure he would wake up. As soon as Shouta’s bleary gaze was on him, Hizashi was speaking at once, words rushing out of him. “You said we’d talk when I was better. I’m better.” 

Shouta blinked, stared at him, and just as Hizashi felt like throwing himself, sword included, off a cliff, Shouta managed to mumble an exhausted string of words that sounded like gibberish. Hizashi was half-certain he was in hell before he truly took in everything around him and realized that not only was it well past three in the morning, but Shouta was half-wrapped up in multiple blankets and Hizashi had teleported him out of his bed in the middle of the night.

“I, uh, well- You know what? We can probably talk about this in the morning instead,” Hizashi rushed out at once, laughing nervously even as Shouta crawl back onto his bed, Hizashi not sure if Shouta was clutching the sword more fiercely or the blankets as Hizashi settled on the end of the bed as well. “I mean, I’ve waited four days, I’m sure we can both wait-”

“No. We’re talking about it now.” Shouta’s voice was calm and even and sounded mildly threatening, but Hizashi could feel the swirl of hope and panic and longing that would have taken his breath away if it were possible. “I’m already awake, anyways.” 

Hizashi cleared his throat, trying to put on a cheerful face before deciding that putting on faces and masks weren’t going to be conducive to the conversation that they needed to have about… everything. Even with four days to think about it, though, Shouta was the one to speak first, something about him seeming to calm and settle as he stared at Hizashi. 

“You’re as nervous about this as I am, aren’t you?” Ah, but, well… it made sense. For as well as Hizashi had come to know Shouta, Shouta had come to know him just as well. “It can’t be that surprising, when you think about it.” 

Silent for a moment, Hizashi sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, head tilted down to avoid Shouta’s gaze as he tried to gather himself. “I don’t think you understand how much I didn’t expect this, Shouta. It’s… This is something that’s so human.” 

Seeing Shouta ready to cut him off, Hizashi spoke quicker, shaking his head, “Shouta. I’m not human.” The other’s mouth shut, a look of surprise flashing across his face before his eyes narrowed in that determined stare that Hizashi had always found so cute. Ah, but he supposed that should have been a clue, as well. 

“You once told me that you were human,” Shouta said quietly, gaze fierce. “Before you became this, you said you were human. Was that a lie?” 

“Wha- Of course not! I wouldn’t lie about something like that!” Hizashi’s memories were scrambled and shredded, yes, but he could remember well enough that this hadn’t always been life for him. “I was human, Shouta, the keyword there being was. I’m just- I’m a sword now! I am literally the sword you are holding! I can’t-”

Hizashi groaned, head bowing over again as his fingers buried their way in his hair, a sensation he could no longer even feel as words spilled out of him. “I can’t even feel, Shouta. I couldn’t even touch you if I tried unless I’m possessing you or someone else! I’m not someone that you can go on dates with, or hold hands with, or even touch. I’m just… I’m just a ghost, Shouta.” 

A deep, heavy silence fell over them and Hizashi was certain that he had broken something he would never be able to repair before he felt warmth. There was the sensation of heavy, living warmth touching the curve of his head, trailing down and around to cup his cheek as Hizashi’s head jerked up to see that it was Shouta who was touching him. 

Shouta, who was holding his gaze and looking completely calm as his pressed a palm against Hizashi’s cheek that Hizashi could feel. “Well… you seem plenty human to me,” Shouta mumbled quietly, thumb sweeping across the curve of Hizashi’s cheek, a choked sob in Hizashi’s throat that he was unable to fully suppress. “You know, you keep giving me all these reasons it won’t work, but you haven’t told me you don’t want me-”

“Of course I want you.” There was no mask to hide behind. There was no way to hide the tears Hizashi knew were on his face, or the way his hands shook as he desperately clutched at Shouta’s wrist, feeling the skin that was so warm beneath Hizashi’s own touch. “God, Shouta, of course I fucking want you. I probably fell in love with you the first time we looked at each other.” 

A red flush crept over Shouta’s face, Hizashi unable to stop himself from reaching out and tracing fingers over Shouta’s own cheeks, another sob creeping up in his throat. They were touching. Hizashi could feel him. He could feel the way his fingers – his fingers – pressed against Shouta’s cheeks before slipping down to cup him behind his ears, almost unaware of how he was crawling into Shouta’s lap and only stopping when he noticed how tightly Shouta was holding onto the sword. 

“It started out that I was only able to hear you when I held the sword, right?” Shouta caught his gaze, giving him a warm smile with flushed cheeks; it was an expression Hizashi promised himself that he would never forget. “I applied the same concept here. Seems like it works.” 

“Aizawa Shouta.” Hizashi could hear the awe in his own voice, but he did nothing to hide it, instead leaning forward until his forehead bumped up against Shouta’s, the two resting against each other and hardly a breath apart. “Ask me.”

He didn’t have to clarify what he meant as Shouta was already flushing even more, looking embarrassed and shy even as he forced himself to meet Hizashi’s gaze, soft words spilling out of him. “Hizashi… I care for you as more than just a friend, and I think… I think I love you. Would you-?”

Hizashi didn’t bother to wait, instead giving his answer by leaning forward just far enough to brush his lips against Shouta’s with a mental promise that, if only for this lifetime, he would let himself feel as human as he could manage.

In the end, not much changed between them besides what had already been changing.

Shouta had made it clear a few days later that the idea of touching touching was not one that he was thrilled about, but he was all too happy to accept Hizashi’s hugs and soft kisses; something Hizashi was all too delighted to give. The two of them had been close before, but it was nothing compared to what it was after. 

Hizashi could only feel and touch Shouta, and only when he was touching the sword, but it was more than enough, especially when Shouta had long since mastered a way to always have bare skin touching the sword in some manner or another. 

Their ‘dates’ were more troublesome to plan, but Nemuri was always far too happy to volunteer her services as a ‘stand-in’ that Hizashi could possess so he and Shouta could spend time at cat cafes and concerts and even just walking around the park holding hands; even Tensei volunteered a time or two. Not to say it was perfect, but the ‘rumors’ about Shouta, Tensei, and Nemuri dating were hilarious enough that Hizashi was all too happy to encourage them whenever he could. 

“You’re lost in your thoughts again, aren’t you?” The accusation, quiet and soft on the edges with exhaustion, had Hizashi snapping out of said thoughts and looking down to where Shouta was leaning up against him and half-asleep, fading sunlight lighting him up as they rested after their latest training session in one of the empty gyms at U.A. “Quit it. They’re too loud.” 

“Ohho! Did you develop a mind reading quirk when I wasn’t paying attention?” Hizashi teased, winding his arms around Shouta’s waist and squeezing him to his side before sneaking in a kiss just under Shouta’s ear. It was far too nice to watch the blush that appeared even as Shouta scowled. “I’m impressed! Go on, tell me what I’m thinking right now.” 

Shouta met his eyes, staring at him with such a serious expression that Hizashi was caught off guard before he felt a quick, swift kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you, too.” The words were as quick and hurried as the kiss, but Hizashi still heard them and tucked them away deep inside his heart. 

“Shouta, what the hell you can’t do that. I have a fragile heart, here!” Hizashi complained, near pulling Shouta into his lap as he hugged him even closer, half wondering what others saw when they saw Shouta ‘alone’ before being moved around and half wondering how he could start to get back at Shouta because his boyfriend was far too sweet, no matter what Tensei and Nemuri thought. 

“Mm, fragile and soft,” Shouta agreed, closing his eyes and relaxing back against Hizashi with a soft sigh. “So? What were you really thinking about?” 

“Just…” Hizashi trailed off, staring down at Shouta, face soft with sleep and eyes already closed. Hizashi couldn’t resist trailing a hand down Shouta’s cheek, tucking him closer. “Just thinkin’ about us, I guess.” 

“Softy,” Shouta teased, Hizashi unable to stop himself from kissing Shouta softly and sweetly even as he conceded that, yes, he was incredibly soft when it came to Shouta. Shouta, and his two friends that could hear him and start to even see him when they focused while holding the sword, and this life where he was learning, all over again, how to be a hero and protect the land and the people that he loved. 

Hizashi couldn’t help but think that maybe there were other worlds where things were different; worlds were quirks didn’t exist, or worlds where he had met Shouta before his curse, or where he had been born a human in the modern era and met Shouta when they both signed up for U.A. He was sure those worlds were out there, somewhere, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate them. 

It was hard to be jealous when he had this world, this world that he loved, where Shouta rested against him quietly, Hizashi secure in the knowledge that they would go home and that tomorrow they would see their friends and their classmates and be one day closer to their dreams. 

There were other worlds, surely, but for now… Hizashi was happy, Shouta was content, and they were both ready for what would come next. 

That was more than enough. 

Chapter Five 

Staring down at the mounds of disorganized paperwork in his lap, Shouta idly bit down on his pen and wondered, if he bit hard enough to break the pen and swallow some of the ink, if that would be enough to relieve him of having to deal with the stress of what would surely be his death. Forget villains and falling buildings, it would be the paperwork that would kill him in his career as a pro-hero. 

“My, my, what a terrifying scowl, Eraserhead!” Twitching at the words that might as well have been purred out, Shouta glanced up to see ‘Midnight’ and ‘Present Mic’ cheerfully waving at him from his doorway, Nemuri holding Hizashi’s sword in one hand and a bag of take-out in the other. He regretted the day he gave his friends keys to where he lived. “Aw, aren’t you happy to see us? See, see, we even brought you back dinner!”

Shouta managed to withhold his growl, instead turning back to his paperwork with a silent vow that he would burn it, his apartment, and everything inside to the ground if the police so much as lost a single piece of paper once he turned it in; hell, he’d burn the police station down, too. Plus Ultra, and all. 

“Shouta, please tell me you’ve actually slept instead of just doing paperwork,” Nemuri was striding over with a very no-nonsense Tensei attitude, dropping Hizashi’s sword into his lap before starting to open and spread out the multiple containers of food that was far too much for two people. “You’re supposed to be resting or else that broken leg of yours is never going to heal!”

“I don’t need rest. I need to get this work done,” Shouta grunted, adjusting the sword to where he was still free to do his paperwork even as he felt Hizashi’s arms curl around his shoulders, a single glance up showing the man smiling down at him. 

Hizashi had ‘changed’ into simple clothing that looked soft and easy to move in and his hair, as well, was down out of its ‘hero style’ and lightly pulled out of his face, glasses low on the bridge of his nose; which was still ridiculous. Why did a spirit need glasses? Right. Shouta was getting distracted. He made sure to refocus by glaring at Hizashi with a muttered, “You don’t even start.”

“Aw, what’s wrong, Starlight?” Instead of Nemuri’s over-the-top and sexual tone that coated her purred out words, Hizashi’s was always so much softer and more genuine, the words near whispered against his cheek. The pressure was never anything that could be mistaken as another person touching him, but it was never devoid of warmth, either. It was also just… Hizashi. “Are you still upset Nem and I had to take over?”

“According to what the police are constantly telling me, you don’t legally exist,” Shouta complained, relaxing into Hizashi’s soft hugs and kisses as Nemuri fluffed his pillows, which had been fine, before starting to shove food at him. “I have a broken leg and an appointment with a healer’s quirk tomorrow. Stop fussing.” 

“I am not fussing,” Nemuri frowned, the lie said as if she truly believed it. “Is that why you’re so wound up? Just say you teamed up with me and Present Mic for this one and be done with it!” 

“You do know that a lot of heroes don’t know if ‘Present Mic’ is even real or not, don’t you?” Shouta felt a swat to his side that made him flinch before he was glaring at Hizashi again, who gestured for him to eat. “You need to stop possessing other pros when they show up on a crime scene.”

“Good luck with that,” Nemuri muttered ‘quietly,’ Shouta throwing her a glare of her own as the woman grabbed her own food and squirmed around on the couch to be able to both touch the sword and not touch his broken leg.

Hizashi, meanwhile, was whining again, “What? No! Shouta, baby, please, it’s not my fault that all of our co-workers are essentially idiots and can’t be bothered to listen to a decent plan without ego getting in the way.” While Nemuri snorted hard enough that it no doubt had hurt, Shouta hid his own laughter with a couple bites of food. “Technically, I do legally exist since I was born in this country. It was just, uh… a long time ago.” 

“Unless you can find a birth or death certificate, I don’t think telling them that will help,” Shouta sighed, unable to help the smile he could feel forming when Hizashi pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. “How was the raid? I assume it went fine since neither of you are complaining about dying.” 

Then again, all of Shouta’s friends were idiots. Tensei had broken an arm and continued to fight for a full two hours before he had even noticed what had happened – the same Tensei who had cried when getting a papercut a few weeks back, as Shouta recalled. All in all, he wouldn’t be surprised if his idiots were actively dying while acting like everything was fine. 

Hizashi, at least, knew him too well as always, already giving a quiet laugh even as he answered. “We’re fine, Shou-chan. Besides, you know I’d forcibly control Nem and take her to the hospital if I thought she needed it.” 

“Hey! You said you’d never possess me without consent unless it was an emergency,” Nemuri accused, dramatic ‘heartbroken’ tone to her words that sounded fake as could be. It was enough to make Hizashi flounder, though, Shouta doing nothing beyond watching his boyfriend make excuses and reassure an ‘inconsolable’ Nemuri. He honestly wasn’t sure if Hizashi bought it, or if he had too much fun playing along to the drama; either one was believable with these two. 

All their dramatics gave Shouta time to focus back on his paperwork, though, managing to finish off another sheet along with another few bites of food as he thought over the problem that was teaming up with ‘Present Mic.’ 

While Hizashi technically had a hero license due to Nezu’s meddling and some very bemused scorers for the actual test they had taken, they were still left with the problem that Present Mic wasn’t ‘real’ to most people. Hizashi’s license kept them from being declared villains-in-the-making due to all the possession that took place during their fights, but, to Shouta’s knowledge, all the police stations in over a dozen prefectures despised their teamwork and methods.  

Getting Hizashi registered as Present Mic had started as Shouta just wanting to make sure Hizashi was given the proper credit he was due, as the two of them really did work as a duo in their careers now, but it had ended up as one large headache; especially with the gaggle of pro-hero children who seemed to think that they were being mind controlled even after their ‘team ups.’ 

“If you keep scowling like that then eventually it’s gonna stick,” Hizashi teased, patting at Shouta’s cheek and laughing when Shouta swatted him off. “C’mon, it’s not that bad! Legally they can’t do shit to us, after all.” 

“Legally they can make my life a living nightmare with the paperwork they give me and then ‘lose,’” Shouta snorted, reaching for another container of food absently and starting in on that one as well, idly wondering if he should ask Nezu if there were any plans to turn the entire system digital once and for all. Then again, his work would probably just be deleted out of spite. “Maybe we should prove a point and burn one of the stations down.”

“You just need to smile through it, Shouta,” Nemuri sighed, as if she wasn’t rising in popularity and already had a devoted following for her hero image. “Oh! That reminds me! Your agency’s publicist contacted me earlier today!” 

“Megumi-san? Why does she have your number?” It wasn’t unheard of for publicists to have some heroes get in contact with others depending on patrol schedules and timing, but that was only if the heroes worked for the same agency. “Is something wrong?”

Nemuri grinned and Shouta felt mildly scared at the same moment Hizashi’s arms tightened around him. “She wanted me to remind you boys that you have an interview tomorrow.”

“Ah. I’m not going.” Shouta took another bite of food, chewing slowly and savoring Nemuri’s shocked and offended expression. Leave it to a media hero to be offended at the idea of avoiding them. “My leg is broken.” 

“That’s why Megumi-san contacted me to let me know that your interview was rescheduled to be after your appointment which, like you said earlier, will heal your leg up the rest of the way.” Humming to show he had heard, Shouta idly wondered if breaking another leg would be considered a sign of madness. “And, since I’m such a good best friend, I’ll even be escorting you from the hospital to the station!”

There was a little snicker from Hizashi and Shouta would have thrown the rest of his food in the spirit’s face if it wouldn’t just go through him and stain the carpet. As it was, Shouta made sure to pinch his side until he earned an unflattering yelp. “Aw, c’mon, Shou-chan! This is a great opportunity to present a better image for underground heroes – you won’t even be on television! It’s just for a magazine!” 

“What part of underground hero do you two still not get? I’m not supposed to be known at all, let alone out and doing interviews like some ranked hero who never learned that this job is about more than just a pretty smile.” His friends, horrible creatures that they were, didn’t even give his speech anything beyond an eyeroll. They could burn when Shouta set fire to the police station, he decided. “It’s a bad idea.”

“Just let Hizashi take over if you’re so worried about it,” Nemuri sighed, waving her chopsticks lazily as if that wasn’t the worst idea in the world. “He, at least, is good at dealing with the media.”

Shouta laughed at that, unable to help himself as he half-grinned at Nemuri, “Are you kidding? Half the time it’s him who’s pushing me to let loose on the media because they’re ‘trespassing on a crime scene.’”

“Well, that is true,” Nemuri admitted. “But he’s better at acting like he likes the media, unlike you, who does nothing whatsoever to hide his disdain.” Shouta hummed, finishing off the last bite of food as spitefully as he could manage. “Look, it’s just one short interview about life as an underground hero. You’ll be in and out in under an hour at most.” 

“It’s a good chance at getting underground heroes seen in a better light,” Hizashi pointed out, a hand running through Shouta’s hair in a gesture that almost had him melting. “I think it’ll be good.” 

Ah, well… If Hizashi wanted to do it then Shouta supposed that was that. “If you’re underground you shouldn’t be in any light,” Shouta complained one last time, knowing that the other two knew he had given in just by their grins. 

Still, an hour talking about underground heroes was something he could handle well enough. Really, Shouta was sure it wouldn’t be that bad. 

⁂

Shouta, with as much hatred, annoyance, and sheer panic as he could muster, clearly and loudly thought the words, This is your fault. 

“If we wanna get technical here, it’d be our publicist’s fault,” Hizashi grumbled, sitting on the arm of the armchair Shouta had been forced into the moment he stepped in the room he had been directed to for his interview.

After everything had been explained, Shouta had expected a frazzled intern with too many things to do and too little time on their hands to bother asking too many questions. Instead his interview was being conducted by someone with over a decade of experience, eyes that felt like they were waiting for him to slip up, and a recording device that had been on since the moment he walked into the room. 

“You think we could get this chick to sign up for recon at the agency,” Hizashi half-mumbled to himself, Shouta taking small solstice in the feeling of Hizashi leaning against his side and arm and staying close by. “She’s fucking ruthless and I feel like half of ‘em would love her.”

The interviewer, Tanaka, was shuffling through what looked like a plan of attack in bullet point format after Shouta had vaguely explained the differences between acceptable risks and levels of violence and how it changed between ‘media’ heroes and those who worked underground. Tanaka had shown no expression and Shouta was half-wondering if he and his entire agency would be sued. 

“So, Aizawa-san, it’s said that you’re officially registered as part of a hero duo with the hero ‘Present Mic,’ but research shows that there’s no record of him beyond a registered hero license dated the same as yours. Care to elaborate?”

Deciding the answer ‘not really’ wouldn’t be sufficient, Shouta tried to relax as he gave a calm answer, “Present Mic and I went to school together at U.A. and formed a duo after we graduated. He’s a more private person than I am, so it’s unsurprising there’s not much information on him.” 

Hizashi, at least, found Shouta’s comment about him being ‘private’ as amusing as Shouta thought it was, laughing where Shouta wasn’t able to. “I’ll remember you said that so I can have you back me up next time Tensei yells at me for oversharing.” 

“And what of the rumors that your partnership is a romantic one and that you two have been together since your school days?” Tanaka remained completely serious and Shouta took a moment to force himself to stay blank and calm even as Hizashi sputtered beside him, Shouta wanting to do much the same. 

“May I ask as to where these rumors originated beyond any base speculation?” Because, yes, alright, every hero fan assumed that all hero duos were romantic at one point or another in their lives if they weren’t siblings, but for an interviewer to just come out and ask? Shouta wasn’t sure if anyone besides Tensei, Nemuri, and possibly Nezu even knew that he and Hizashi were together. Well, Shukuchi might have, but Shouta was sure his former mentor had done his best to pretend they hadn’t been together. 

“It’s been a matter of speculation for quite some time in the pro hero circles, especially those that surround underground heroes. I was wondering if you would be able to confirm any of these rumors or lay them to rest.” Hizashi was right. Tanaka was ruthless. 

“Tell her that you’re dating your sword. She might be freaked out enough to end the interview early so we can finally leave,” Hizashi snickered, Shouta doing his best to not glare at him or give in to the urge to pinch him. 

As it was, he took a moment to center himself before trying to appear as relaxed as possible, leaving his answer at a simple, “No.” 

“I see.” Ah, so no was the wrong answer. Good to know for the future, he supposed. “Continuing on with the subject, do you feel comfortable being in a relationship as a pro hero?” 

“Yes, I feel comfortable with the possibility of being in a relationship, and many other heroes will say the same. While as an underground hero I’m afforded more secrecy and protection, other heroes have been taught and learned how to separate their civilian life and their hero life in order to have normal, healthy      relationships.” 

Hizashi gave a snort of laughter, nudging at Shouta, “I’m sure Nezu will be proud to know his favorite student remembered all of his lectures by heart.” The urge to shove him off the chair was overwhelming. 

“Yet statistics have shown that relationships involving heroes often fail and last no longer than six months to a year, and these numbers only shrink when it comes to underground heroes and the secrecy involving their work. What do you think about this?” 

“Jesus,” Hizashi muttered, no doubt feeling the same disgust Shouta was. “It’s always about the fucking romance angle, isn’t it? Isn’t she supposed to be asking you about, you know, hero work?”

Shouta mumbled a near voiceless, “She’s supposed to.” before speaking normally. “I think that relationships require work and communication no matter the circumstances.” 

A gleam entered Tanaka’s eye and Shouta felt something like ice slide into his veins even as he made a note to yell at Megumi later. “So, you’re saying you condone lying to your partner as that’s what’s required of pro hero relationships.” 

“Shouta,” Hizashi half-sang, something sharp and dangerous in his tone as Shouta felt the man’s hand curl around his wrist. “Shouta, you should let me take over for a few minutes.” Shouta was half-tempted, but he was pretty sure yelling at an interviewer would be better than cutting her open with a sword. 

“In no capacity did I say that lying to one’s partner is required for a relationship in which one party is a pro hero. There are some things that can’t be shared such as case details, yes, but I doubt your partner needs to know about the drug ring you’re tracking in order to feel secure in the relationship.” 

“But at one point or another lying would simply have to come into play. You yourself mentioned in this interview that being an underground hero is dangerous work, and that there’s always the chance that those around you will be in some form of danger.” 

Shouta could feel Hizashi mentally pushing at him, desperately wanting to take over and say his own piece. Shouta calmly brushed the mental presence away, standing up at the same time before catching Tanaka’s gaze and not letting go. 

“As surprising as this might come to someone like you, a relationship can exist without the need for lies and secrecy, as both myself and my partner of five years can testify to. If that will be all, Tanaka-san, I have work to do.” 

Shouta was already out the door and slamming it shut behind him before he had to listen to that woman’s voice for any longer, anger carrying him all the way back to their apartment before Shouta was dropping onto the couch and scrubbing a hand down his face, along with a muttered, “Megumi is going to kill us for this.” 

There was no answering remark or comment and that realization alone had Shouta darting up, hand closing tight around the sheath of the sword as he quickly looked around for Hizashi who… was staring at him. Silently. 

Taking a moment to make sure neither of them were dying and Shouta hadn’t said something worthy of the silent treatment, he finally broke the silence with a quiet, “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Because it was possible that after all of that Hizashi was even more upset than he was.

“No- No, no, it’s nothing bad, I just- I didn’t-” Hizashi floundered, somehow still soft and quiet even as another part of him seemed overwhelmed and manic. “I… I knew you cared I just didn’t know… I never thought you’d admit you cared to anyone who didn’t know, let alone a reporter. I mean, I’m- I’m not exactly, you know- It’s not like it counts.”

Hoping he was wrong about what Hizashi’s fumbling words could mean, Shouta stood up slowly and moved until he was in front of Hizashi, cutting off the man’s panicked pacing. “‘Zashi. I can’t answer any questions you have if you can’t tell me what those questions are. What doesn’t count?”

“Us! We don’t count!” Hizashi looked a few seconds away from crying and Shouta felt as if the air had been stolen from his lungs. “I’m nothing more or less than a ghost, Shouta, whatever happens between us is just- It’s nothing!”

Hizashi’s shout seemed to ring the air for what felt like an eternity, Shouta taking a slow, calm breath before he did something stupid like throw the sword out the closest window. He loved his boyfriend deeply, after all, even if he was the biggest idiot within all of Japan. 

“Alright, then.” Taking another step closer towards Hizashi, Shouta narrowed his eyes when he saw the man take a stumbling step back. That alone, more than anything else, spoke volumes. “Tell me, while looking me in the eye, that our relationship means nothing to you.” 

A flash and, like always, the manic and panicked energy seemed to leave Hizashi all at once, Shouta’s arms opening at once as Hizashi fell into them with a muffled sob that hurt more than anything else. It hurt because they had been together for years and Shouta still hadn’t seen just how unsure Hizashi was in what they were to each other. 

“You’ve been getting caught up in your head, Sunshine,” Shouta said softly, running a hand through Hizashi’s hair and unable to stop the soft joy and awe he felt as it slid through his fingers. So many years of being able to touch and he still wasn’t over it. “Why are you really so upset? Because I mentioned I had a partner?” 

Hizashi managed to cut off what sounded like another forming sob, instead replacing it with a choked off, “Yes.” Shouta felt Hizashi’s nails dig into him, frantic and terrified. “Of course I’m upset, Shouta, because you saying that to someone like her makes it real.” 

Pulling back after a bit of a struggle, Shouta cupped Hizashi’s cheek with his free hand at once, frowning at the tear stains and red-rimmed eyes and shuddering breaths. For as much as he claimed he was nothing more than a ghost, Hizashi was the most human out of all of them. “And? Why does that make you upset? I need you to explain it to me, Hizashi. Why-”

“Because that means it’s only going to hurt more when you’re gone.” The words had Shouta snapping his mouth shut, surprised due to the sheer fact that Hizashi rarely, if ever, talked about what would happen after Shouta was… gone. “I love you so much, Shouta, so much that most days it hurts. I’ve never felt like this before and I know that one day, no matter how far away, I’ll lose this feeling-”

“No.” For once, Shouta’s mouth moved first, logic the furthest thing from his mind. “That’s… No. That’s not how it’s going to work.” Shouta leaned their foreheads together gently, smiling even as he saw Hizashi’s confused expression. “That’s not what’s going to happen because no matter what I’ll never… I’ll never stop loving you.” Emotions were never Shouta’s strong suit, but for Hizashi… He could always be strong for Hizashi. “Will you ever stop loving me-?”

“Of course not!” The enraged squawk had Shouta bursting into laughter, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss Hizashi softly, tasting the reluctant smile more than anything else. 

“Then how are you going to lose this feeling?” Shouta asked softly, feeling embarrassment squirm around inside him as Hizashi’s grief faded for a soft awe that Shouta had only ever seen directed at him. “I’ll be gone one day, and it’s not always going to be easy, but for right now… I’m here. I’m here and I love you.” 

Hizashi gave another choked cry, Shouta feeling the helpless smile on his face as he looked at this man he was so ridiculously in love with. “Do you think that’ll be enough, Sunshine?” 

“What the hell, Shouta, you can’t just do that we’ve talked about this! You know what happens when you get like this! You get emotional and then I get emotional and-” It was impossible to stop his laughter at Hizashi’s complaints, Shouta finally letting him go with one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom.

“Come on, drama queen, let’s get some rest before our next patrol. If we’re lucky we have at least a week before Nemuri finds out what I said in that interview and comes after me.” Nemuri would probably try to make their relationship ‘public,’ nevermind how she would manage to do something like that. Shouta wouldn’t put it past the witch. 

“Excuse you, I am not– Your phone is buzzing.” Pausing to glance back, Shouta looked around before noticing his phone on the couch where it had no doubt fallen out of his pocket, buzzing with text message after text message. 

“So it is.” Shouta would deal with it after his nap. “Come on. Nap time.” There was a snort of laughter that Shouta graciously chose to ignore. 

“Oh! It’s Nem!” Of course it was the witch. She had probably felt Shouta thinking poorly of her. “She’s asking about the… interview…”

Hearing the trailing silence and feeling a jolt of emotion that was almost enough to knock him off his feet, Shouta was spinning around and getting ready for anything, gaze quickly finding Hizashi, who was standing next to the couch with Shouta’s phone in his hand. 

“Hizashi? What’s wrong? What happened?” It was possible Nemuri had been texting about an emergency, but she would typically call, in that case. The emotion had definitely come from Hizashi, but Shouta had no idea what it was about when Hizashi was doing nothing more than standing there and staring down at… at Shouta’s phone that he was holding. “Oh.” 

Shouta scratched at his cheek for a moment, staring at Hizashi holding a physical object which, in their hard-learned experience, should be impossible. Finally, after what felt like too long, Shouta nodded to himself. 

“Come to bed and take a nap with me and I’ll let you pretend to be me when you text her. We’ll see how long it takes her to realize it’s you.” Shouta was once again heading towards the bedroom, smiling as he heard Hizashi’s loud laughter following after him. All in all, Shouta supposed he wouldn’t yell at Megumi too badly.

Chapter Six

It was impossible, Hizashi decided. He could try all he liked, but the task in front of him was one too impossible to ever surpass. Honestly, though, how was he not supposed to coo at all the new first year U.A. students! They were all so young and full of hope and eager, and Hizashi had no doubt that somewhere deep down in Shouta’s heart he felt the same feelings of care and hope for the students that Hizashi did – there was a reason for so many expulsions in such a dangerous school, after all. 

“Look at how cute they are, Shouta, they’re so tiny,” Hizashi grinned, leaning up against Shouta’s back and peering over his shoulder to watch them all scramble to complete Shouta’s frankly insane quirk assessment test that he did at the start of every year. Nezu had yet to stop him, though, and Hizashi was half-certain the principal was thinking of making the assessments mandatory. “I can’t believe that you were that tiny once.” 

“Your memory is going in your old age,” Shouta snorted, stealing a glance at him. “You looked just as young as I did when we met.” Mm, true, but Shouta had been much cuter. “So? What do you think?” 

“Well… you have quite a few supernatural descendants in this class-” Hizashi was unable to finish due to Shouta’s annoyed grunt, Hizashi’s words tripping their way into laughter because, really. For all that he and Shouta had seen, apparently he drew the line at supernatural creatures once being plentiful and real. “Look, say what you want about quirks, but some of these are mutated magical heritages-” 

Shouta tsked loud enough that a student or two looked over, seemingly terrified that they were ‘falling behind.’ It was adorable. Shouta seemed to find it amusing, at least, ‘glaring’ at the students until they were putting in even more effort. 

“Fine, fine, I won’t be mean.” There was plenty of time in the year to torment Shouta later, after all. “I think you have a strong class this year.” Hizashi looked around at the students, so many of them giving it their all already. The one that stuck out, though, was a plain looking boy with bright green hair and a broken finger that didn’t slow him down. “That Midoriya kid, though…” 

“Yeah,” Shouta grinned even as he tucked the smile away behind his binding cloth. “He has potential. Registered as quirkless when he was about five and then updated for a strength enhancement quirk within the last year. Interesting?”

“Very.” Hizashi let go of Shouta and moved to stand beside him, crossing his arms as he inspected the Midoriya kid. There was something… off about him. “Keep an eye on him, yeah? There’s nothing bad about him, and I’m not sure if I’m worried, but… there’s something.” 

Shouta gave a soft grunt, patting at Hizashi’s side for a moment before moving forward to declare the next test, Hizashi unable to help a laugh at all the groaning and complaining. They really were adorable kids. 

Looking back to the school, Hizashi raised his voice. “Yo, Shou! I’m gonna go check on Nem and see if we missed anything!” Hizashi waited until he was sure Shouta had heard him before he was turning on his heel, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to see the inside of the teacher’s lounge, empty beyond the teachers who didn’t have a homeroom – and also empty of Nemuri. 

Taking a moment to call his sword to hand from where it had been with Shouta, Hizashi frowned to himself before snapping his fingers as he remembered that Nemuri actually had a homeroom that year. Turning to leave, Hizashi paused behind Snipe and grinned before delightedly flipping his hat off, grateful for the fact he needed to be either by Shouta or by the sword for his ability to move physical objects instead of needing both.

After the hat fell Snipe’s swears were instant, Hizashi quickly sidestepping the swing, Snipe looking wildly around the room and snapping out a sharp, “Mic!” 

“Ah, so nice to have my work recognized,” Hizashi taunted, giving his sword a little waggle and letting it be seen by the other before he was disappearing just as Snipe’s gun jerked in his direction. It was far too fun to mess with their coworkers, some days, being the ‘elusive underground hero Present Mic.’ Honestly, it wasn’t his fault his social media handles were so popular. 

It was interesting, though, to see the speculation that surrounded his hero persona. The popular running theories were that he was either invisible or he had a possession quirk paired with a ‘frail body.’ Hizashi made sure to never confirm or deny anything, though. It was fun to watch them scramble as Shouta laughed. 

Settling in Nemuri’s classroom, which was 1-C this year, Hizashi made sure to appear behind the desk, sword hidden out of sight but close enough to Nemuri that she would be able to see and hear him as long as she had meditated that morning. Always one good way to check, though, “Honestly, Midnight, collecting conquests before the first day of school? How naughty.” 

Nemuri, bless her, didn’t even falter or startle or look up from the papers she was going through, voice too quiet for her students, but loud enough for him to hear, “Not all of us can be married to a stacked and rugged husband, dear.” 

“Mm, you’re right, I am spoiled,” Hizashi swooned, falling to sit on the edge of Nemuri’s desk as he thought of the golden rings on a chain around Shouta’s neck, always kept close after their, technically completely legal, wedding. Nezu and his ability to create Hizashi an entire legal identity was a delight, truly. The memory was enough to distract him that he almost missed the feeling of being stared at – almost. “Anything good from the new batch of students?” 

Nemuri hummed, looking up to see that most of the class were already on their phones or talking to friends, the classroom relaxed as it typically tended to be on the first day; Shouta’s class not included. “A few who I think have their hearts set on the Hero course, but nothing has really jumped out at me. Why?” 

“No reason,” Hizashi waved off, looking at a student near the back with soft lavender hair, exhausted red eyes, and who was looking in his direction with a small, confused frown. “Shouta is terrifying our new kids, still. We miss anything at announcements?” 

“That would require there being something new to say,” Nemuri laughed softly, Hizashi slipping off the desk and moving around to the other side of her to look over her shoulder, focused less on what she was doing and more on the student who had been looking at him. His gaze didn’t follow Hizashi, instead still staring at where he had been. “No snooping!” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” Hizashi lied, backing up a few feet and noticing there were still no new looks from the kid. “Hey, Nem, fill me in on the kid in the back there. Purple hair and red eyes.” 

Nemuri looked at him before rolling her eyes, muttering a soft, “I knew you were up to something.” She still flicked through her files, finally pulling out a sheet of paper that Hizashi eagerly looked at. “Why? Is something-?”

“No, not wrong. Just curious about something.” Shinsou Hitoshi. It looked like the kid had applied to the General Studies department but had been looking towards Heroics. Ah, but his quirk… Brainwashing. He knew he wouldn’t have passed the entrance exam, but there was always a chance to move up. Smart kid. 

There was also the fact he had a mental quirk that relied on connecting with open minds, it seemed like. No wonder he had been confused, the poor kid had probably felt Hizashi teleport in and had been knocked off guard by it. “Keep an eye on him for me, will ya? I’m curious to see what he does this year.” 

“You and Shouta are so weird,” Nemuri complained, Hizashi laughing as he moved back towards the sword. “Quite the pair you two make. Off to cause trouble?” 

“Oh, Nem,” Hizashi grinned, slow and pleased. “Always.” A brush of his fingers and the sword vanished to appear back with Shouta. Another step forward and Hizashi was back by Shouta’s side himself, the kids looking even more exhausted than before. “Yo! We didn’t miss much.” 

“Yet you look pleased by something anyways,” Shouta mumbled, a soft look in his eyes as he glanced to Hizashi. “What have you been doing now, Sunshine?” 

“Mm, nothing bad, Starlight,” Hizashi said softly, sneaking in a kiss to Shouta’s cheek and smiling at the barest hint of a flush he saw over the bridge of the man’s nose. “Let’s just say the school has some pretty interesting kids this year.” No matter what, the school year was going to be exciting. 

Then villains attacked their kids. 

It was supposed to have been a routine trip to the Unforeseen Simulations Joint to begin training the kids on how to prepare for events such as natural disasters or collapsed buildings, but Shouta hadn’t even managed to explain what they would be doing first before Hizashi felt a bolt of pure energy from behind them, spinning around even as Shouta’s hand snapped to the sword at his waist, words shouted back at the students at once, “Gather together and don’t move! Thirteen! Protect the students!” 

Hizashi pushed a breath out through his teeth, watching as dozens of people began to appear from the portal that had formed in the middle of the building. “I could be wrong,” Hizashi muttered, “But I have a feeling these aren’t teacher aids here to help us out.” 

Behind them Hizashi glimpsed one of the students take a single step forward, Hizashi ready to yell at them to stay put before Shouta beat him to it, barking out a harsh, “Don’t move!” The students scampered back at once, Hizashi hating the fear that flashed over their faces at Shouta’s soft, “Those are villains.” 

“They must have been behind the trespassing at the school the other day,” Hizashi muttered, moving to stand beside Shouta as the man tugged his goggles up to cover his eyes. “To manage to know when we’d be here, though… Dammit.” 

Either these villains were competent enough to get the information they needed in the few short minutes the gates had been down at the school yesterday, or there was a mole inside of U.A. itself. Hizashi wasn’t sure which option was more terrifying at that moment. 

Half listening to the students theorizing and already beginning to think like heroes, Hizashi looked to Shouta, voice soft, “I would need the sword to talk to Nemuri and tell her about this if communications are blocked. Can you last alone until I get back?” 

Shouta was silent for half a second before he was moving forward, binding cloth already beginning to float around him, “Thirteen, start the evacuation. Mic, get to the school and warn Midnight.” 

Hizashi caught the sword as it was tossed to him, letting the perception of the sword itself slip away from view, not listening to anything else before he was slipping away himself, steps stumbling as he landed in the staff room, breath knocked out of him. While pathwalking had always been simple once he mastered the trick, taking both himself and the sword over great distances was never easy. 

“Hizashi? I thought you and Shouta were running the USJ trip today for 1-A?” Nemuri was already half standing, expression twisted into worry before smoothing into seriousness. “What happened?” 

Bless Nemuri and her knowledge of them all. Hizashi took another moment to catch his balance before speaking quickly, “Villains are attacking the USJ.” This time, it was Nemuri who stumbled in her next steps. “Eraserhead has engaged and Thirteen has been ordered to evacuate the students. Communications seem to have been blocked, but I’m sure that one of our students will be attempting to contact you with their quirk, possibly two.” 

“Understood,” Nemuri said, hardly a moment wasted. “Can you get back to Eraserhead and provide backup?” The other teachers in the room were looking up, frowning at Nemuri or uneasily looking around the room; only a few seemed to realize something was horribly wrong. 

“Yes.” Hizashi would be tired as hell, later, but there was no way he was letting his husband fight alone in something like this. “Warn Nezu and gather all the teachers you can. This one isn’t going to be an easy fight, Nem.”

“When is anything ever easy with you two,” Nemuri managed, the tone of the joke falling flat, but Hizashi appreciated the attempt anyways before she was dashing out of the room. 

Hizashi gripped his sword tighter before taking a breath, closing his eyes, and running forward, skidding to a stop in the middle of the USJ and quickly taking in the situation, wishing he could tear his hair out when he saw just how quickly everything seemed to have fallen apart, his heart racing as the first thing he noticed were that his students were gone. 

There were no bodies, but half of them seemed to be gone, Thirteen injured to a possibly grave extent, and a number of unconscious villains on the ground that had no doubt been Shouta’s work. Shouta, standing in the middle of it all with skin missing from his elbow, Hizashi unable to even fully take in the sight before there was movement followed by Shouta’s fear. 

He moved before he could even think, Hizashi slipping through Shouta’s shields and taking over control at once, sword disappearing from his hand into Shouta’s before he was spinning around and blocking the hit before getting distance at once, gritting their teeth at the pain radiating from Shouta’s elbow. It didn’t hurt him like it did Shouta, but for Hizashi to already feel so much pain from it… 

“Oh? Looks like a Player Two entered the fight… You must be Present Mic.” Turning around to face the one who had spoken, Hizashi felt Shouta, frazzled and hurt and shaken, pressing against him, whispering the information he needed softly, information that spoke of a quirk that could disintegrate. A quirk that had caused them harm. This man would pay for that. “I’ve heard about you. Thought you were a myth.” 

Hizashi didn’t bother to respond, instead letting their gaze slip over to the beast that had almost attacked Shouta. It was an attack that would have severely hurt him if not killed him, Hizashi shuddering as he felt something dark. This creature could only be the result of quirks, but looking at it… 

There was something not human about it. There was something wrong about it. Hizashi looked at the creature and he remembered blood-soaked days, merciless decisions, and creatures that had once roamed the land and done nothing but kill. It was an image from his past that he had never wanted to see again, and here it was in front of them and threatening their kids. 

“Oi, oi, it’s no fun when you don’t talk back.” Sliding their gaze to who appeared to be the one behind the army that had attacked them, Hizashi let their lips curl up in disgust. 

“I have no words for a child playing at being king.” Hizashi tightened their grip on their sword, shivering as he felt the backlash of pain between them. Five minutes, if that, and Shouta had already managed to almost lose use of an arm – and possibly the arm itself. These people were too dangerous. These creatures were too dangerous. 

“King, huh?” The villain scratched at his neck, fingers slipping between the preserved hands pressed against his skin. Spirits clung to those hands and Hizashi felt sick at the implications of what this child could have done to have death cling to him like it was nothing. “That sounds like fun… Ah, but you’re not the one I’m after, today. Nomu, get rid of him.” 

The creature – the demon – moved faster than reflexes should ever allow for, Hizashi snapping the sword up to block an attack before fingers could close around their throat, instead letting them curl around the blade of the sword before dodging a shot from the other fist, grinning and taunting with a low, “Is that all you can do?”

“Careful,” Shouta said softly from within his mind, Hizashi fighting back a wave of worry at how weak the connection between them felt – then again, Hizashi would be close to losing consciousness himself if the skin had been distingrated from his elbow. “This isn’t like anything we’ve faced before.” 

“No, this isn’t anything like you’ve faced before,” Hizashi replied simply, tightening their grip before slipping their sword free and catching another fist thrown at them, Hizashi using the moment to make the blade sing, grinning fiercely at the shriek of sound that had even the demon recoiling, stumbling in some broken mirroring of pain. 

“End it quick. The other one has a portal quirk and already sent some of the kids scattering. There’s a possibility there’s more than this main group of villains that arrived, and if that’s true…” Fuck, as if there wasn’t already enough reason to be panicking. 

A tug of his abilities and they slipped from one space to another, falling through the air and bringing their sword down into what would be a fatal blow just shy of the spine. It didn’t work. Instead the demon twisted as if it’s spine wasn’t even there, catching the sword once more and moving faster than a human eye could follow – but not faster than a sword could react. 

For as much as Shouta called him human, Hizashi knew when he wasn’t, and he was thankful for that as he slipped through spaces once more, this time attempting to bring the sword down on the child behind this. Hizashi wasn’t overly surprised when he managed to stop it, but Shouta’s quirk kept any harm from possibly coming to the blade. 

“Oh, you’re dangerous, aren’t you?” Even now there was no fear in that tone of voice or those eyes, only a madness that reminded Hizashi of those early days, trapped in a sword that screamed for blood. Blood, he had a feeling, was going to be easy to get. “Sensei told me about you, you know. A cursed blade, huh?”

“Focus,” Shouta snapped, Hizashi gritting their teeth as some of his bloodlust eked away, Shouta’s voice, as always, keeping him focused on what he needed to do. “This was planned. They know us and what we can do.” 

Their eyes burned from the use of Shouta’s quirk and Hizashi disengaged and forced them away at once, stealing a quick blink and dodging the expected attack that followed. The child had figured out Shouta’s tells, then… dangerous. “If you manage to still breathe after today you should tell your sensei that I’m impressed,” Hizashi grinned, gripping their sword more tightly. “Not many know of cursed blades, these days.” 

“Sensei knows a lot. Sorry, you’re fun, but I don’t have time for this,” the child grinned, that look of madness shining clearly as he tilted his head. “Nomu.” Shouta’s shouted warning came a beat too late. 

This time, Hizashi didn’t see it move, instead staring with wide eyes at the giant fist wrapped around the splintering steel of a sword that had survived for hundreds of years. It was almost funny. Hizashi had long ago stopped thinking about being able to die, and now he was watching as their sword – his sword (him) – shattered beneath a creature that should no longer exist in the world. 

A twist of his world and Hizashi gasped for breath he no longer had, staring into Shouta’s horrified eyes as shards of steel tumbled to the ground with hardly a sound. For the first time in centuries Hizashi remembered what it was to once again feel cold. 

“Hizashi-!” 

Chapter Seven

Shouta had never been good with hospitals. There had never been a particular reason beyond the fact they were nothing more than a waste of time when Shouta, as a pro hero, was registered to receive care from those most often in possession of healing quirks that allowed for him to be completely healthy by the time his next shift began. 

Being confined to a hospital bed when he knew he would be healed the next day was a waste of time, money, and energy he never seemed to have. So, when he had woken up to familiar white lights and white walls, Shouta had been fully prepared to argue his way out of the hospital bed and straight to his one at home; at least, he had. 

Recovery Girl, blunt and honest, had wasted no sympathy in telling him his list of injuries and, to top it all off, had made it explicitly clear that he had flatlined multiple times while being operated on. She had then, right after promising she would kill him herself if he so much as twitched a finger, abandoned him to the mercy of his ‘friends.’

“And here I thought I just imagined how brutal she is,” Tensei muttered quietly, Shouta managing a grunt of agreement that was drowned out by Nemuri’s sobbing – sobbing that hadn’t stopped since she had seen him almost an hour ago. “So, uh, right- Right! Um, like we said when you woke up, all the kids are safe, and all their injuries were taken care of in a few minutes. Thirteen is still under, but Recovery Girl is pretty sure they’ll make a full recovery.” 

Shouta managed what he had hoped came across as a, “Thank god.” He was too tired to try repeating it, instead letting himself lie limp against his pillows, half-contemplating how it hurt to even breathe. The constant darkness from where his eyes were wrapped did little to help matters. “What else?” 

“Well… All Might showed up and managed to defeat that… thing that was there. Nomu? We don’t know much, honestly. If he’s able to speak he’s not saying anything, and the main two managed to escape where one of them had a portal quirk. The school’s been closed for a week while we look into it, but from what I’ve been hearing the parents aren’t exactly happy…” 

“When are they ever,” Shouta mumbled, feeling the burn in his throat and chest that paired with a vague memory of being crushed into the ground. He didn’t bother trying to get the memory into focus, instead having his attention taken up, once again, by Nemuri’s sobbing. “Nemuri. Stop crying like I’m on my fucking death bed.” 

The sound was cut off at once with a strangled noise that could have once been a hiccup, Shouta feeling a stab of guilt as he took a moment to try and focus on anything but the pain. At least he had a lot of practice at that in life if nothing else. “Sorry, just… you need to stop killing me off in your head. It’s starting to get worrying.” 

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m so glad you’re still alive, Shouta.” Unable to see, Shouta was forced to focus on nothing except the wavering words and hitching breaths, something about the tone and emphasis of the words feeling wrong. “You… It was really close.” 

“I’m not going to die,” Shouta muttered, the words turning to a hiss where he had tried to instinctively roll his eyes. The accompanying feeling gave him a very firm reminder of what Recovery Girl had said about not moving anything; especially his eyes. “‘Sides, ‘Zashi would never let me live it down if I died a couple of days into the beginning of the school year. Speaking of, where the hell is he?” 

Shouta had thought he had been rather patient, all things considered, but it had been now over an hour and no one had mentioned his husband once beyond Tensei, after first entering the room and telling him, very quietly, that they had managed to find and save their rings; which had been a relief. 

That relief was waning quickly, though, because for the first time since he was a teenager, it felt like there was a piece of him missing – like a great presence had been taking up space in his head and it was suddenly and abruptly gone. It had been fifteen years since his head had felt so empty. 

“Shouta…” Tensei’s tone sounded strained and wrecked, Shouta feeling his heart stutter as Nemuri sounded like she was already crying again. “Shouta, what do you… Can you tell me what you remember? About that fight?” 

Quiet for a long moment, Shouta finally spoke, tone quiet from hesitance as much as it was from pain. “Not… much. There are bits and pieces, I guess, and I remember Hizashi and I were fighting together after he had gone to warn Nemuri and the staff, but other than that it’s… spotty.” Suppressed might be a better word, but it was best not to worry them even more. “Why? Did something happen? Is that why I can’t hear him?” 

Shouta had half-expected to not be able to feel him considering how much they had both pushed themselves, but he hadn’t thought that Hizashi just wouldn’t be there after something like what they had gone through. The fact that he wasn’t there and that not even Nemuri or Tensei were trying to hide or cover for him was… It wasn’t a good joke. 

“Enough, you two,” Shouta sighed, breathing carefully before managing to push down his irritation. “Leave the jokes to the insane hero who named herself after them and tell me what’s going on. Did he push himself too far again?” It had happened once or twice that Hizashi had overdone it even by their standards, forced away into the sword and unable to appear for days until he recovered his strength. Shouta had no doubt that was the case, now. “Is the sword at least in the room?”

Shouta, even with his muffled hearing from the bandages covering parts of his ears, managed to hear the smothered sob Nemuri tried to hide from him. It was that noise, followed by silence, that had Shouta’s heart feeling like it had stopped. 

“Shouta, it’s… It’s not-” Tensei’s words cut themselves off as if he hadn’t known where to even go with them. “Hizashi-”

“Shattered.” Nemuri’s voice was rough and shaking and it was a testament to Nemuri’s character that Shouta had no image in mind for her to match the shaking of her voice. Then the word she had whispered sunk into him and carved its way down to his spirit. “Shouta, at USJ, that- That thing shattered-”

“No.” Shouta didn’t know if he recognized his voice, unable to hear it over the way the world sounded as if it had suddenly gone silent and that was right, wasn’t it? The room was silent when Hizashi always made sure that some form of music was playing so Shouta knew he wasn’t alone except it was silent. “That sword can’t shatter. It’s survived hundreds of years-”

“Shouta.” Tensei’s shout, loud and frustrated, was almost enough to make Shouta want to copy Nemuri’s renewed sobs. “From what Thirteen and the kids said Hizashi took over after your elbow was disintegrated, fighting back against Nomu and the other villain that was there. Nomu managed to catch the sword with his hand and then…” 

A flash of a remembered feeling that felt like being thrust into a bright room after a comfortable darkness. The unforgettable sensation of shards of metal slicing into his skin as they fell to the ground. The half-erased sight of Hizashi’s surprised face, eyes wide and shocked before he disappeared in front of him, and then nothing except pain. 

The aged and tattered memory of a scroll from fifteen years ago that had accompanied a beautiful sword with words foreseeing that he would be broken. 

“Shouta?” Nemuri’s voice, small and scared, broke through his thoughts. “Shouta, it’s not… It’s not hopeless. We collected all of the pieces of the sword and Power Loader – the head of the Support department? He knows how to forge and re-forge swords. And I got in contact with your old mentor from when we were in school! You told us he knew about cursed blades, so we brought him in to see if he could help, too. So- It’s not hopeless, Shouta.” 

Tensei remained silent through Nemuri’s stumbling words, saying more than Nemuri would ever be able to on the chances of the sword being repaired – and even if it was that didn’t mean shit. Hizashi hadn’t been the sword. Hizashi had been Hizashi. 

The sword had just been a container for his spirit, something to hold onto it after he had gotten in over his head and been too curious for his own good. Oh, Hizashi had fully made the sword his own, but he hadn’t been the sword. Even if it were to be repaired that didn’t mean anything if Hizashi’s spirit… 

It was almost funny enough that Shouta was tempted to laugh. For so long, for over a decade, the two had always known that Hizashi would outlive Shouta by a long, long time, and yet here Shouta was, bruised but alive, while Hizashi wasn’t. 

Shouta’s heart hadn’t stopped at Nemuri’s smothered sob. It had stopped back at USJ when his husband died in front of him. 

Nemuri’s endless babble and Tensei’s unbreakable silence lasted until Recovery Girl chased them out, citing his need for ‘rest’ as if it even mattered anymore. 

Shouta listened to her bustle around the room, mumbling softly to herself before speaking louder, “I have to say, Shouta, you’re the only one I’ve met whose emotions are strong enough to bring down the entire mood of a room.” 

“Oh? I’ll just wait until I’m healed to mourn the death of my husband, shall I?” Shouta snapped out, refusing to acknowledge the waver in his words. 

Recovery Girl stayed silent for a beat too long, which was all he needed to hear. The healer had never been one for pity where there was none, after all, and whatever tasks she had to do she did silently, leaving Shouta to come to terms with the fact that Hizashi… 

It wasn’t until Shouta heard the door start to open that Recovery Girl spoke, tone softened with not pity, perhaps, but empathy, “You know, we found small pieces and flakes of steel buried in your chest during operation. As far as I’m aware they’re still there.” 

“You didn’t remove them?” Shouta frowned to himself at the change in conversation, resisting the urge to move one of his broken arms to feel the front of his chest. “Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“In normal circumstances,” she admitted. “You had already flatlined three times, however, and it took three healing quirks just to keep you alive long enough to stitch you back together. At that point in time we weren’t very worried beyond keeping you alive past the night. It’s interesting, though.” 

There was the sound of ruffling papers, Shouta imaging that she was looking for some x-ray or report. “The pieces are too small and blunt to cause any sort of damage and, after your surgeries, I can safely say that there’s little risk to leaving them in your body as it is now, especially with the scar tissue that will develop and keep them from harming anything vital.” 

“Still sounds dangerous,” Shouta muttered, wondering how something like steel shards could even… A shattered sword and then Shouta being thrown to the ground hard enough for the ground to break. A shattered sword that- “Is…?”

“Sharpened metal stuck inside your body and not causing you even a bit of damage?” Recovery Girl laughed, soft and tired. “That boy couldn’t hurt you if he tried, could he?” 

“No,” Shouta laughed, the sound sudden and wet as his body screamed in pain at his hitching breaths. “No, he never could.” 

⁂

Shouta awoke to the feeling of fingers tangled with his own and tapping out a beat that matched the soft music that filled the hospital room he had started to know better than his own bedroom. The soft mutters in a familiar voice had Shouta’s eyes – recently unbandaged – fluttering back shut from where they had begun to open. He had seen this dream enough times as it was. 

The mutters spiked in volume, Shouta just barely stopping the sob at Hizashi’s remembered voice, complaining about inconsequential things as always as he tapped away on Shouta’s phone, “Jeez, spend a week offline and everyone thinks you’re dead. Almost two hundred followers gone after a week!” 

The soft sounds of music and Hizashi’s voice, paired with the hand tangled with his own, was almost enough to make Shouta just open his eyes and enjoy the dream for once. He would have if he knew it wouldn’t have hurt more in the long run. Besides, it was enough like this. It was enough to just remember the sound of Hizashi’s voice- 

“Shouta?” Ah… but Shouta hadn’t suffered enough, had he? Leave it to him to have nightmares to pick up the slack. “Hey- Hey, you awake there, Shou-chan?” The nickname, softened with time and care, was enough to have one of the sobs slip through, Shouta forcing himself with all his might to keep his eyes closed as he felt a warm hand cup his cheek, rubbing at the skin and tears. “C’mon, Starlight, open your eyes, I know you’re awake-” 

“Awake?” The laugh turned sob ripped it’s way out of him, Shouta squeezing his eyes shut even tighter and focusing on the pain that came from it. “I wish that were true instead of this.” 

Hizashi’s dream self went silent and it was only the soft sounds of music that kept Shouta from thinking he had blessedly woken up. “You… think you’re asleep. Oh- Oh, Shouta, no-”

“You’re dead,” Shouta muttered, feeling as if the words tore into him as they always did when he remembered why it was so quiet and empty. “You’re dead, Hizashi. Of course this is a dream.” 

“Shouta…” Hizashi’s voice stopped before it could continue, Shouta biting back a whine when he felt the hand holding his own let go. A second later and he felt hands on both of his cheeks, tilting his head so carefully towards where the dream Hizashi was no doubt standing. “Shouta, baby, open your eyes for me. Please?” 

“No.” Shouta grit his teeth, the soft pet name making him want nothing more than to obey the request. He couldn’t, though, not when he knew what would come next. “I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be covered in blood and you’ll remind me of how it’s my fault that you died. Don’t… please don’t make me go through that again.” 

There was a beat of silence and then an incredulous laugh that had Shouta frowning before he could stop himself. “Jesus Christ, Sho, I knew you were dramatic, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” 

Shouta’s eyes snapped open by reflex, glaring up at Hizashi with a sharp, “I am not-” The words cut off as quickly as they had begun, Shouta staring with wide eyes at a softly smiling Hizashi. His skin looked paler than it should with a scattering of thin, sharp scars littering his skin in places there had never before been scars, there were bags under his eyes that looked weeks old, and he looked about as well as Shouta felt, but… he wasn’t covered in blood. 

He wasn’t standing there with cracked skin falling apart. He was smiling the smile he only gave to Shouta, eyes soft and warm and so full of love Shouta felt more tears come to his eyes before he could stop them. 

“There we are… They’re really thorough with your eye drops if you’re crying this much,” Hizashi teased, rubbing the tears away and pressing a soft kiss under his eye where Shouta knew there was now a scar, the feeling of the kiss so real. “I know I’m the man of your dreams, baby, but I doubt you can dream me up this well.” 

“‘Zashi…?” Shouta looked up with wide eyes at his husband, rough and exhausted and so pale, but alive. It was really no surprise that his chest shook with his sobs, emotions crashing down on him that he had been pushing back for the better part of a week. “Hizashi-!”

Hizashi didn’t waste a moment, holding him close with a soft, “I’m here, Starlight.” 

It wasn’t until the bright pinks and reds of the early morning sun filtered through the hospital blinds, Hizashi long since dozed off against him, that Shouta realized that he could hear, see, and touch Hizashi. It was enough of revelation that, arms still broken and casted as they were, he instead smacked Hizashi’s forehead with his own. 

“Ow– Jesus Christ, babe, what the fuck, yo? I’m right here it’s not like I was actually asleep next time just-” 

“I can feel you.” Shouta waited for Hizashi to realize the same thing he had, frowning instead when Hizashi looked at him like he had just admitted he didn’t know how social media worked, which, why even would he know that? 

“Yeah, babe, I think we established that a decade ago.” Hizashi pouted at him, the effect utterly ruined with the red bump on his forehead that Shouta felt mildly bad about. “Do I need to get a nurse or something? I mean, I can probably smack your call nurse button, if nothing else-” 

“‘Zashi.” Shouta waited until Hizashi’s attention was back on him before continuing because this was important. “I haven’t mediated in over a week, now. According to you your sword is still at U.A. I can still see you, hear you, and feel you. You were also using my phone, earlier.” 

“Oh. Oh.” Hizashi half moved to sit up before settling back down, staring at Shouta with wide eyes. Shouta couldn’t blame him considering their connection had always relied on meditation and the proximity of the sword. Even as it had evolved and changed, Shouta had always needed to meditate daily, sometimes for hours at a time, for the bond to stay strong as it was. He also always had to have the sword on him or at least nearby for Hizashi to be as physical as he was. Now, though… 

Silent as Hizashi mumbled and ranted to himself, Shouta relaxed back into Hizashi’s hold even as he thought over what could have caused the change. Then he remembered Recovery Girl’s explanation of the small pieces of Hizashi’s sword still inside him. 

Unable to stop his smile, Shouta tucked himself under Hizashi’s chin, kissing at one of the thin scars that he would have to determine the cause behind later. As it was, it was a good way to have Hizashi stumble over his words, Shouta knowing he would see flushed cheeks if he were to glance up. Instead, though, he settled down with a soft, “I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about, Sunshine.” 

In all of his worry and panic and mourning, Shouta had forgotten the most important thing about Hizashi and the sword. After all, for as much as Hizashi’s soul was bound to the sword, it was bound to Shouta just as much. 

“Shouta.” Hizashi’s voice, soft and warm and a sound he would never grow tired of, had Shouta giving a soft hum to show he was listening. “We’ll never lose a fight like that again.” 

“No. We won’t,” Shouta agreed, the promise burning in the heart he had thought gone cold with Hizashi’s death. “We’ll get stronger.” No matter what, Shouta was never going to watch his husband and students suffer like that again. 

The world of heroes and villains weren’t going to know what hit them.

Chapter Eight

Cute, Hizashi decided, was the only word to describe the scrunched up expression of one Shinsou Hitoshi as he stared down at Hizashi’s sword, propped up against the wall of the empty gym they were in that was closer to the outskirts of the U.A. grounds. It was even cuter when the kid pouted before crossing his arms and muttering a soft, “There’s no way a sword possessed by a ghost is real.” 

“Oh, yeah, it sounds completely ridiculous,” Hizashi agreed, having fun in the fact that Shinsou couldn’t hear him as he had found out when Shouta had first begun training him. It was interesting, though, since the other, with his mental quirk, was able to feel that he was there on some level. It led to some interesting mutters whenever Shouta left the room. 

“Ghosts don’t exist, but there’s definitely a Present Mic account,” Shinsou muttered to himself, even going so far as to pull his phone out and look up Hizashi’s hero account as if to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. It was enough that Hizashi couldn’t have stopped his laugh even if he tried. “Definitely not run by Eraserhead…” 

Peeking over Shinsou’s shoulder and looking at the messages that were on the screen, Hizashi gave a wild snort of laughter, “You know, kid, half of those jokes come from ‘Eraserhead.’ You can’t let the whole ‘stern teacher’ thing fool you. He’s actually a big softie with a wicked sense of humor.”

“It has to be some kind of possession quirk.” It was a little disheartening at how quiet the kid was when others could hear, but how talkative he was when he thought he was alone. He was as big a chatterbox as Hizashi from the few sessions he had seen with him where Shouta had to leave and go solve a problem with either their kids or their ‘friends.’

“You know, you should probably be working on your homework like Shouta said,” Hizashi half-scolded, taking a seat against the wall next to his sword and sliding down to sit on the ground as he watched Shinsou, thoughts turning to how they had first begun training the kid. 

Hizashi had mentioned Shinsou to Shouta by the time the Sports Festival had come around, Hizashi gleefully playing announcer by possessing Shouta and a few other teachers throughout the day, but it had been there that they had really noticed the kid. After all, someone shunted off into General Studies with a non physical quirk and a desperate need to prove he could be a hero? It was like looking fifteen years into the past and Shouta had felt exactly the same. 

Then again, Hizashi was also half-certain that Shinsou was his and Shouta’s child from another universe all things considered, but, well… maybe that was just Hizashi’s hopes getting ahead of him – far ahead of him, considering as far as Shinsou was concerned Hizashi didn’t even exist. Present Mic, maybe, but Hizashi? Not so much. 

Hizashi would have to introduce himself soon, which, he had been planning on doing that instead of Shinsou analyzing the sword in paranoia, but then Shouta had run off before the usual after class training session could begin. He had also dropped the sword against the wall and told Shinsou that Hizashi would watch him until he got back and, Hizashi was absolutely certain, delighted in Shinsou’s expression that had been equal parts baffled, insulted, and pitying. 

Honestly, Hizashi would have been much better watching Shinsou in Shouta’s place, who had run off to ‘stop Nemuri from ending all of their careers,’ if Shinsou actually believed he was there. Shouta had even told the kid all about their past and Hizashi being Present Mic and a cursed blade, but the kid had no intentions to believe in the story even if he could tell Hizashi was there – although, maybe that was why he had abandoned his homework to inspect the sword. 

An inspection that looked to be getting out of hand as Shinsou looked nervous, rambling and muttering under his breath before he was picking up the sword. Hizashi wasn’t overly worried considering the kid was way too careful of anything in connection with ‘Eraserhead,’ but he was interested to see what the kid would do next. 

Hizashi was actually feeling nostalgic at the confused little frown Shinsou had on, almost sure that Shouta had no doubt had the same expression when he had first picked up Hizashi’s sword all those years ago. “Hizashi, huh?” Shinsou’s quiet voice drew Hizashi out of his memories as much as it threw him back into them. “I guess it fits.” 

Hizashi couldn’t have helped the soft, helpless laugh he let slip even if he had tried, along with a quiet, “You really are like Shouta, huh?” The amusement quickly flashed to surprise, though, when he watched Shinsou yelp before tossing the sword a good fifteen feet away, scrambling back and staring down at it with wide, surprised eyes. Hizashi was sure the expression was mirrored on his own face because Shinsou had just heard him and, as far as he knew, Shinsou didn’t meditate or even know how – at least not in a way that would allow him to hear Hizashi. 

Shinsou’s surprise and shock lasted a moment more before Hizashi watched the kid pale and rush across the room, quickly picking up the sword with a quiet, weak, “I, uh… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The words were the same as they had been fifteen years ago and Hizashi felt utterly speechless because, really… their kid, indeed. “Hey, hey, it takes a lot more than that to hurt me,” Hizashi finally said, standing up out of habit and circling around to stand in front of Shinsou, even if he couldn’t yet see him. “You can really hear me, huh?” 

“I, uh, yes… sir.” Shinsou’s hesitant little ‘sir’ at the end was enough to have Hizashi bursting out laughing, trying to quiet himself as he saw Shinsou’s embarrassed flush. 

“Sorry, sorry, just not much one for the whole ‘sir’ or teacher thing – although I am technically a teacher employed with the school. Principal Nezu is a little crazy, he taught mine and Shouta’s homeroom class, you know, and has me on file, which, when you think about it, is kind of weird. Oh! Sorry, I’m kind of rambling, aren’t I? I’m Hizashi, or, well, I guess you might know me better as Present Mic. It’s nice to properly meet you, Shinsou!” 

Shinsou blinked, long and slow and so much like Shouta it was hilarious. “Uh… huh.” In his defense, Hizashi mused, that had been a lot of information he had thrown at the kid. “You’re… the one I kept feeling.” The words were flattened as if they started out as a question, Hizashi frowning to himself before he rememberd just how Shinsou’s quirk worked. 

“That would be me! Your quirk is actually pretty amazing, you know! It’s one of the only ones I’ve seen that’s been able to sense me when I show up, although I don’t think it could do anything beyond that. It’s a long story and an even longer explanation, but you wouldn’t be able to use your quirk on me.” 

Just as he suspected, Hizashi watched with a sad smile as tension seemed to drain out of Shinsou in a flash, a mix of gratitude and relief in his eyes as his grip tightened on the sword. Hizashi didn’t even want to begin to imagine what had happened to make someone so afraid of their quirk. 

“I guess that makes sense. So Aizawa-sensei really wasn’t lying about everything, huh?” Shinsou shook his head, looking down at the sword and then seeming to frown as he looked up and around the room. “Should… Should I be able to see you, right now?”

Hizashi gave a loud laugh, shaking his head by habit, “I’d be a lot more concerned if you could, herolet!” The nickname, tacked on at the end, had Shinsou giving a wrinkle of his nose that was adorable. “Typically, no one can hear me unless I’m possessing them or unless they’re touching that sword there after frequently meditating – although the Aizawas were always a little different…” 

As far back as Adachi every Aizawa he had fought with had been able to hear him immediately after touching his sword for the first time. Meditating had been common when learning to use swords, though, and it was really only Shouta who had been able to hear him with no meditation practice; probably that ‘logical’ mind of his, Hizashi thought to himself. 

A look back to Shinsou showed an odd, almost wistful look on his face, Hizashi thinking over what he had last said before he smiled to himself and tucked the words away to discuss with Shouta later. “So!” Hizashi cheerfully chirped, biting back a laugh as Shinsou startled. “We’ll say it might just be your quirk that lets you hear me for now, but we’ll look into it later. For now, any questions?” 

It was a delight that Shinsou only hesitated for a moment before asking question after question, Hizashi doing his best to answer them all as well as he could, just finishing up explaining how cursed blades worked when Shouta walked in with a raised eyebrow, looking between the two of them before grinning at Shinsou, “So, you finally met him, huh?” 

Shinsou looked a little embarrassed that he had been caught holding the sword, looking ready to drop it on instinct before seeming to remember what Hizashi had told him about needing to touch it in order to hear him. “Not sure if it can be called meeting when he’s been here every day since we started training.” Ah, such a sarcastic child. Hizashi loved it. 

Shouta seemed to think the same, giving a little smile that usually showed up when he was trying not to laugh, “Guess so. What do you think?” 

Shinsou blinked, staring at Shouta before looking down at the sword a single moment, gaze back on Shouta before he uttered a flat, “He talks a lot.” 

“Excuse you!” Hizashi scoffed, pushing to make his ‘offense’ as dramatic as he could, pleased when Shinsou gave a quiet huff of laughter in the same moment that Shouta did. Honestly, they might as well have been clones of each other. “I talk just the right amount, thank you very much!”

“Uh huh.” What a brat. It was much better than that quiet, fidgety behavior they had first seen from him. “Sensei, why didn’t you tell me that there was actually a spirit inside the sword.” The words were flattened again, a question without asking, and Hizashi tucked the information away even as Shouta shrugged. 

“I did tell you, you just chose not to believe me.” Which, that wasn’t wrong, but Shouta had also given a very lackluster explanation that had sounded fake by the end of it all. 

Shinsou blinked, blank for a moment before Hizashi saw a spark of wicked humor in his eyes, “It’s important to not contradict insane people, Sensei.” 

Screw alternate universes, Hizashi decided, this kid was definitely theirs. 

⁂

Hizashi made a mental note to defend himself to everyone if they ever questioned him because when he had thought that Shinsou Hitoshi was definitely their child a few months ago, he hadn’t thought it would end up with them actually adopting the kid. Although, Hizashi was finding it hard to feel anything but a fierce protective glee at the fact that he and Shouta would be able to give Hitoshi the childhood he deserved instead of the horrible place he had been trapped in. Honestly, that ‘family’ had been lucky Shouta wouldn’t let Hizashi take over. 

“Are you sure that you both want to… I mean, I’ll be eighteen in a couple of years. It just doesn’t seem very logical to… You can just foster me until I age out.” Hitoshi, Hizashi had found, was even more nervous at the possibility of being adopted than either of them, looking between them as if not sure whether to believe it was all happening or desperately hoping it was all happening. “It’s not that big a deal.” 

It was Shouta to answer first, all possible brush offs or pointless reassurances brushed away as instead he gently set a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder and encouraged him to look Shouta in the eye, uttering a soft, “It doesn’t have to be a ‘big deal,’ but that doesn’t mean we don’t want it to be.” 

“You’re supposed to be the one who doesn’t say things like that,” Hitoshi grumbled, the flush across the bridge of his nose absolutely adorable. “Leave the sappy things to Mic, Sensei.” 

“Aw, but where would the fun in that be?” Hizashi whined, appropriately dramatic as he wrapped Hitoshi up in a tight hug from behind, feeling himself soften as Hitoshi leaned into the touch. Hitoshi couldn’t quite feel his touch as solidly as Shouta could, but the fact the kid could still feel his touch and not need to hold the sword… definitely their kid. “C’mon, ‘Toshi, what’s with the self-sacrificing behavior. You know that’s Shouta’s job.”

There was a muttered swear from Shouta thrown his way that Hizashi gracefully ignored, instead frowning as he noticed that Hitoshi still seemed so nervous even after they had made it clear they wanted to adopt the kid. Shooting a look to Shouta, Hizashi tightened his arms around Hitoshi even as Shouta gave a small nod before sighing in annoyance, “I’m going to go check to see what’s taking so long.” 

“We’re early,” Hitoshi muttered at Shouta’s back, rolling his eyes and absolutely avoiding looking at Hizashi which proved there was something on his mind. “You two aren’t smooth. I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” Hizashi finally let go of Hitoshi, snorting when the kid immediately slumped on one of the benches of the courthouse hallway which was devoid of life beyond them and Shouta, who was lurking around the corner, no doubt. “And what are we doing, herolet?” 

“One of you leaves the room to ‘do something’ and the other prys into my mind to try and figure out ‘what’s wrong,’” Hitoshi grumbled, fixing Hizashi with a look that was so reminiscent of Shouta that it was almost overwhelming to resist the urge to hug the kid again. “Just for once can you believe that nothing is wrong?” 

“Well, we could,” Hizashi drawled out, gracefully flopping into the seat next to Hitoshi and giving him a little nudge. “But then we wouldn’t be very good dads if we ignored our kid when there was something on their mind, yeah?” 

Hizashi was gratified to see that Hitoshi looked flustered at his choice of words; which was good, because Hizashi was just as flustered because he was about to be a dad. A dad who had a kid who looked distressed, though, so Hizashi could get lost in his gleeful thoughts later. For now, he gave Hitoshi another nudge. 

There was a bout of stubborn silence, Hitoshi doing nothing except staring at a half-empty vending machine. The stubborn nature was almost cute enough that Hizashi dropped the matter – almost. 

“You know,” Hizashi hummed, leaning back and getting comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could get on a wooden bench from the dawn of time, “You’re the only one outside of Shouta who can hear, see, and feel me without needing to touch the sword. Even Nem and Tensei, who we’ve known for years, still need to be touching the sword to feel me and they have to meditate just about every day or they go back to square one.” 

Hitoshi was quiet for a moment, no doubt picking apart his thoughts and trying to find the perfect words before answering with a soft, “I thought we agreed that was because of my quirk.” 

“Oh, no doubt that’s a part of it, yeah. You really do have an amazing quirk, Hitoshi, and the fact you were able to sense me the first time I saw you is incredible!” As he had hoped, Hitoshi seemed pleasantly flustered instead of uncomfortable like he used to be when his quirk was complimented. “But I have another explanation as to why you can do all that. Want to hear it?” 

“No.” Hitoshi went quiet, Hizashi waiting patiently with a wide grin before he saw the kid crack, sighing in annoyance as he glanced to Hizashi. “Fine. What’s your theory?” 

“My explanation is that while your quirk plays a huge part, maybe…” Hizashi trailed off for a moment, shifting closer and gently setting a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder, waiting until the other was looking at him. “Maybe being Aizawa Hitoshi has something to do with it, too.”

There was a tense moment where Hizashi was almost sure he had crossed some sort of line before Hitoshi seemed to lose all of that tightly coiled tension he had been holding onto so desperately, body loose and relaxed as he slumped into Hizashi’s side with a soft, “You’re awful.”

“Oh, the absolute worst,” Hizashi agreed easily, wrapping Hitoshi up in a tight hug and delighted when he felt Hitoshi hug him back for a few moments. “And you were right, Shou-chan is hiding just around the corner.” 

“I know, I could tell he was there since he left,” Hitoshi snorted, Hizashi trying not to burst out laughing at the equally offended and proud noise he heard Shouta make further down the hall. 

“Ooh, family bonding already?” Feeling Hitoshi tense back up in his hold, Hizashi rolled his eyes as Nemuri joined them with a cheerful smile and deadly heels, dragging Shouta behind her – no doubt she had been coming up the hall and had seen Shouta lurking and grabbed him just because she could. “I’m offended I’m left out! I come all the way here to witness the adoption of my new nephew, after all, who I am going to spoil rotten, thank you very much, and I don’t even get a hug?” 

“Stop scaring my kid, Nemuri,” Shouta all but growled, Hizashi snickering to himself as he was used as a shield by Hitoshi, which, Hizashi supposed that was fair enough. Nemuri was a force unto herself, and, for the moment, still Hitoshi’s homeroom teacher. “Why are you late, anyway?”

Before Nemuri could answer, the sound of a door opening startled them all, a kindly old lady peeking out from an office and looking around before smiling at them, “You must be the Aizawas? Come on inside I have everything laid out.” 

“Late? Why, I think I’m exactly on time,” Nemuri preened, pushing Shouta into the room gleefully while Hizashi subtly helped Hitoshi into the room, guiding him with a hand on his back. 

“Just let us know if anything gets to be too much today, okay?” Hizashi kept his voice soft, smiling down at Hitoshi. “One of us will distract Nem while you run.” Perfect. Hitoshi’s laugh was much better to hear than any of that nervous tension. 

It didn’t take long for them all to get into their seats and start in on the paperwork, signing where they were supposed to, nodding along to whatever they were told, and making sure it was all in order as Nemuri even signed as a witness in a few places. Hizashi waited until Shouta was on the last page before he was hissing at Nemuri, getting her attention with a sharp grin, “Distract her, yeah?” 

Nemuri blinked at him before narrowing her eyes, grumbling a complaint before clearing her throat and turning to the lady who was overseeing the adoption with a soft, gentle, “Ma’am? I actually had a few questions about the fostering process if you think you’d be able to answer them?”

“Oh! Of course, dear!” As soon as the lady’s attention was elsewhere, Hizashi grinned and draped himself over Shouta’s back. 

Nuzzling at his cheek for a moment before following it up with a sweet kiss, Hizashi whispered a soft, “My turn.” A flash of Shouta’s smirk followed by his amusement and Hizsahi was stretching out their arms and hands a little, wrinkling their nose with a soft, “You need more sleep.”

Seeing Hitoshi giving them a suspicious, narrow-eyed look, Hizashi beamed and held up a finger to their lips, motioning for the kid to be quiet before flipping through the stack of paperwork and quickly co-signing his name of Aizawa Hizashi whenever it was needed. He would need to remember to thank Nezu, again, since now he could legally make Hitoshi his son, as well. 

Signing on the last line and settling back, Hizashi smiled at the lady as she turned around and spotted the neatly organized stack with a cheerful little, “Well! That’s that, then!” She turned to Hitoshi with a soft, “Congratulations, dear.” 

“Oh- Yeah- Thank you.” Hitoshi looked overwhelmed and lost, Hizashi standing up and gently nudging Hitoshi to do the same before they were ruffling the kid’s hair, tilting his head down so Hitoshi had a moment to try and compose himself without having to worry about others seeing. 

“Thank you so much for your time today, ma’am!” Ah, good old Nemuri, the perfect distraction. Letting her chatter on, Hizashi guided Hitoshi out of the room gently before he was back to standing between his two favorite guys, kissing Shouta quickly and fiercely before he was wrapping Hitoshi up in a tight hug, letting himself imagine that it felt just a little bit more real. 

The future, Hizashi decided from between his amazing son and his wonderful husband, was looking brighter than ever before. 

Chapter Nine

Staring at the fitfully sleeping little girl surrounded by nurses and doctors alike, Shouta finally let himself close his eyes and half-collapse against the wall he was up against as he let out a slow, deep breath, exhaustion seeping into him even deeper than before. The last few hours, Shouta decided, had felt far longer than they should have been. 

He didn’t let his eyes stay shut for long, though, prying them over and ignoring the dry itching and burning as he looked back into the room he was watching. Eri would be asleep for hours, if not an entire day, but she was there, at least. A kid with no home, no last name, and, until they had changed it, no future. Now she was free, alone, terrified of the world around, and had no knowledge of how it worked. 

Shouta only glanced away when he felt Hizashi return, something in him relaxing as his husband leaned against him, exhaustion lining every bit of him. For as much as he liked to insist that he didn’t have a ‘body,’ that didn’t stop him from being as exhausted as Shouta after their latest mission. 

“We finally got Togata back to his room,” Hizashi yawned, his usually cheerful voice dampened into something soft and tired. “It took a few good threats, but we finally threw him and his friends in a room together so they’d be a little more at ease after everything. They’re all doing okay and Togata should be fine in a few days, physically.” Physically. There was no telling how this loss was going to affect him mentally. “How’s our little princess?” 

“Resting.” Shouta shifted so Hizashi would be just a bit more comfortable, fingers lacing with his own a moment later. “She’s stable, but they’re debating putting her in a medical coma until they can be sure her body will recover from the strain she put her quirk through.” 

“At least she’s out of that place,” Hizashi said softly, Shouta not needing to look to know the man had his eyes closed and was a few minutes away from falling asleep altogether. “I checked on the other kids. I’m worried about Kirishima, right now, but all of them seem like they’ll be okay with no lasting damage after a few months of taking it easy.” 

Shouta sighed, not sure if he should relax or let his worry grow even more. “They might not have a few months to take it easy.” The world was only growing more dangerous, after all, and this mission proved that heroes were not the unstoppable force the public thought they were. “How’s-”

“Everyone is going to be fine, Starlight.” Hizashi cut him off softly, but with a firm edge to his words that was as sharp as his blade. “They’re in hell right now, but they’re all resting and taking time to process. There’s nothing you or I can do for them in this moment.”

Shouta muttered what he was half-sure was a swear, too tired to argue anymore as his eyes once again strayed to Eri’s face, scrunched up and unhappy even in her sleep. A child that young shouldn’t look so broken from the world around her, and Shouta had little doubt that her life would never be normal like she deserved; not with a quirk like hers. 

Having a quirk like Erasure or Brainwashing, quirks that could be seen as ‘villainous’ but had extraordinary potential and couldn’t, on their own, be dangerous, was one thing. Having a quirk like Eri’s, though… Having a quirk that was powerful enough to rid someone of their quirk or erase them from existence entirely? She would never be allowed to live a normal life. 

“Tensei this time, I think.” Startling at the broken silence as much as the words, Shouta finally looked away from Eri and down to Hizashi, who had his chin resting on Shouta’s shoulder and a fond, indulgent look in his eyes that didn’t fit the mood of the world they were in. “Don’t you think?”

“One day you’ll realize that what you think and what you say are two different conversations,” Shouta finally settled on, squeezing Hizashi’s hand. “What about Tensei?” 

“To act as a witness, of course!” Witness? Why would- Ah. “We could ask Nem, of course, but Tensei already let me know that if we didn’t ask him next time then he would disown us completely, which, yeah, he was pretty pissed to not be there when we adopted Hitoshi.” 

Silent as he stared down at Hizashi, who for all his cheerful joking looked completely serious about the idea of adopting Eri, Shouta finally closed his eyes and released a soft sigh. Hizashi’s words were wrapped up in a joke, but they were as heartfelt as the day he broached the topic of taking in their son. 

Two pro heroes, one of who was a sword that possessed people, and a teenager with enough emotional damage to fill several dozen books was not the typical sort of family a normal little girl would have, but… 

Finally smiling, Shouta leaned forward just enough to press a soft kiss to Hizashi’s forehead, pleased at the delighted hum he got in return. “Tensei works,” Shouta said softly, looking back to the sleeping little girl who deserved so much better. “Besides, Hitoshi seems like he would be a good big brother.”

Days later and Shouta decided that he had been underestimating Hitoshi’s ability to handle small children. 

Almost a week of talking, debating, and arguing had ended with the agreement that Eri, while unable to leave the U.A. campus until they could guarantee her safety and the control of her quirk, would become Shouta and Hizashi’s foster daughter for the foreseeable future. The agreement was finalized on the day Eri was to be released from the hospital and, as such, Shouta had dragged Hitoshi along to meet who would be his new little sister. He hadn’t expected Eri to have the kid wrapped around her finger by the end of the first ten minutes. 

“Is this what I sound like?” Hizashi, far too amused, was near beaming as he looked at where Hitoshi was sitting on Eri’s bed and jabbering on too fast for Shouta to keep up with. Eri, at least, seemed entertained, expression blank even as her eyes were bright and curious.

“When I bother to listen,” Shouta finally replied, trying to hide his smile at Hizashi’s dramatic whine beside him. “Hitoshi, don’t overwhelm her.” 

“Hey, I’m doing my heroic duty by warning her about who she needs to avoid once we’re back on campus.” Of course he was. The kid may have had a neutral expression on his face, but Shouta knew without a doubt that he was grinning like a little shit somewhere deep down inside of him. “Don’t worry, I already warned her which teachers to stay away from – and yes, I warned her about Kayama-sensei first.” 

Pausing for a moment to think about Nemuri’s reaction at Eri not wanting to be anywhere near her until they corrected the misunderstanding, Shouta nodded. As far as he was concerned, his kids making Nemuri’s life a living hell was karmic justice. “Make sure to warn her about Yagi, too.” Loud idiot would probably terrify her unless he had learned volume control since the last time Shouta had talked to him. 

“You’re so mean, Shou-chan. Hey, Hitoshi, kid, don’t forget to warn her about Snipe, too!” Rolling his eyes as Hitoshi finally broke and gave a loud laugh, Shouta was about to add another teacher before he paused because Eri was… looking at Hizashi. 

Wracking his memory for a moment where Eri had so much as touched the sword, and coming up with nothing, Shouta finally whispered a soft, “Hizashi, walk towards the other side of the room.” Hizashi, without even a pause or a question as to why, did so immediately. Eri’s gaze followed him the entire time. “Huh.” That was… unexpected.

“Hitoshi,” Eri’s soft, quiet voice filled the room, Shouta watching as she pointed directly at Hizashi, who looked as shocked as Shouta felt. “Who’s he?”

Hitoshi blinked, looking towards them both before looking back to Eri and recovering quickly with a cheerful, “That’s Aizawa Hizashi, the pro hero Present Mic. He’s going to be taking care of you along with Eraserhead.” 

Hizashi, back by Shouta’s side, made a noise that could have been called a startled laugh. “So that’s what I was feeling from her…” Shouta narrowed his eyes even as Hizashi’s grin grew. “Her blood is pretty strong. She-”

“If you say the words ‘magical heritage’ in relation to my kids one more time then I won’t be responsible for what I do.” Because there were many things that Shouta was willing to accept about the world, but he drew the line at magic. 

“Boo, Shou-chan, you’re no fun,” Hizashi whined, Shouta rolling his eyes before grabbing Hizashi’s hand and pulling him towards the bed, Eri looking at them once again, this time looking curious.

Shouta nudged Hizashi forward with a quiet, “Indulge me.” He was curious as to how Eri would react to someone that could be as energetic as Hizashi.

Hizashi shot him a suspicious look but put on a cheerful smile anyways as he beamed down at Eri. “Hello there, little princess! You can just call me Hizashi, if you want, but I was one of the heroes there when you left that scary place. You probably don’t remember seeing me, but that’s okay. It was a busy day!” 

There was a look on Eri’s face that Shouta would almost call patient indulgence as Hizashi rambled, Hitoshi looking like he was trying not to laugh or fidget nervously as Eri seemed to decide something before she was sticking her hand out with a blunt, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And it’s wonderful to meet you, Eri!” Hizashi reached his hand out with a sad little smile to attempt to wrap it around the girl’s own. “I’m a little different from others, though, sort of like you, so you might not…” Hizashi let his sentence trail off, gaze locked on where his hand looked to be securely wrapped around Eri’s own. It wasn’t until Eri gave the hand a firm shake that Shouta realized that they were touching. 

“You’re warm,” Eri stated simply, looking back to Hitoshi when the teen let out an incredulous laugh, one that Shouta almost mirrored because, well… He hadn’t been expecting that from their newest family member. 

“You know,” Hitoshi said cheerfully, “I always wanted a sister.” Their oldest kid was a brat, Shouta decided, but he would let it pass. Instead he just focused on digging out his phone before holding it out to Hizashi, who snatched it up in an instant, already jabbering on about calling Tensei and Nemuri. 

Eri, looking incredibly confused, looked up at Shouta with a frown. Shouta didn’t waste any time in taking a seat on the bed beside her, gently soothing her hair down, “Don’t worry about him, Eri. He’s silly.”

“That’s okay,” Eri said softly, something like the beginning of a smile flickerinig across her face. “I think I like silly.” 

Eri, Shouta decided, was going to fit into their family just fine. 

⁂

Shoving down the deep sigh that had been building up for at least twenty minutes, Shouta shoved a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes. He had known it when he first started out as ‘Eraserhead’ all those years ago, but now he was absolutely certain that paperwork was going to be what finally ended him. It was even worse with the fact he had stupidly let himself become a teacher which meant more paperwork and grading homework. 

Rubbing at his eyes until he could almost hear Recovery Girl yelling at him, Shouta finally adjusted on the couch he had taken over in their on-campus apartment and squinted back down at the batch of papers he had been grading, halfway through reading a response about the ethics of working with an expired hero license when the soft sound of Hizashi’s singing destroyed any hopes of his attention remaining on the paper. 

If he were being lenient on himself, it was the soft sound of Hizashi’s singing along with the not-so-distant clatter of food being prepared in the kitchen. For as limited as Hizashi’s ability to interact with the world had been, these days he could spend hours cooking in the kitchen and trying every recipe he set his mind to learning. While the food was delicious, the drawbacks included Nemuri and Tensei constantly trying to visit and their kids parroting Hizashi’s instructions of telling people that ‘a ghost made their lunches.’ 

It would be too easy to slink into the kitchen and bother Hizashi until Shouta forgot all about his paperwork and, while it sounded like a much better waste of time, there were only so many times Shouta could delay in finishing his work. His mind, however, seemed to be firmly fixated on finding a distraction because his focus almost immediately settled on his kids when he tried to ignore the kitchen. 

Hitoshi had joined him in his suffering and had been steadily working through his homework, but it seemed he had lost the fight long ago as his papers were scattered around him on the floor and ignored completely, instead focused on the smiling little girl chattering away in his lap as he brushed and braided her hair. 

Eri had long abandoned whatever had caught her interest for the day, it seemed, and had resorted to her favorite activity of listening to Hitoshi tell wild stories that had only the tiniest grain of truth in them – a habit that had Shouta making a mental note to whack Hizashi with his own sword when he found a free moment. 

Finally rallying his strength to look back at the papers in his lap, Shouta listened to the soft sounds of singing and cooking, the bright and happy laughter that was tumbling out of Eri, and Hitoshi’s wild stories that Shouta could only half understand. It all led to Shouta finally releasing the deep sigh he had been staving off before he was setting his work aside, slipping off the couch, and walking straight towards his husband. 

Shouta hadn’t even fully stepped into the kitchen before he heard a cheerful, “Oh? Finally escape the clutches of your work?” Hizashi was grinning softly at him, look warm and fond as Shouta didn’t hesitate to lean up against his back, tension draining out of him as he let Hizashi hold all of his weight. “That bad, huh?”

“I teach an ethics class for fifteen-year-olds,” Shouta responded, thinking of some of the answers from the students in his class alone. “They get stupider every year.” 

“Such a mean teacher,” Hizashi snorted, holding up a wooden spoonful of something that Shouta didn’t hesitate to taste. “Thoughts?” 

Shouta made sure to let the silence draw out until Hizashi started to fidget, immediately calming the man down with a soft kiss to his cheek, “It tastes amazing like everything else you cook, Sunshine.” 

“You’re absolutely awful,” Hizashi snorted, stealing a kiss of his own before going back to what he was doing, Shouta content to continue to lean against Hizashi and listen to the sounds of their kids laughing and talking from the other room. It was a big difference from the silent and cold apartment Shouta had grown up in before Hizashi had come into his life. “So, then? What’s weighing on your mind so heavily that it’s louder than me?”

Shouta gave a soft hum, letting the question linger in the air as he thought back to that one day where everything changed. Shouta, during what had been the worst day of fifteen-year-old life, had failed the U.A. entrance exam and had come home tired, bitter, alone, and with no one to so much as complain to – except then there had been a sword on his bed and a scroll tied to it neatly. 

That cold, empty apartment had practically vanished and instead Shouta had been constantly dragged about by an energetic voice that was as bright as sunshine. It wasn’t hard to see that Shouta’s life had a before and after, and the change of it all was Hizashi, the man who had been there with him every step of the way, getting into the hero course with him, becoming a pro hero with him, fighting by his side, and so much more. His life had been shaped by Hizashi, whether the other was aware of it or not. 

“I suppose… I just never thought I’d be here,” Shouta finally answered, because, well, that was the truth. Shouta, when thinking about his future, had never thought about having a job that he loved even while being constantly tired and frustrated by it. He had never thought that he would have two kids who he adored more than anything else. He had certainly never pictured a husband and a partner that he could no longer imagine his life without. “You know?” 

Hizashi, as with the first day and every day since, seemed to know exactly what he meant, the smile on his husband’s face softening to something that was beautiful to watch as he looked back at Shouta with nothing but content joy. “It’s pretty good, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” The kitchen was a mess of half-finished lunches and a dinner in progress, Hizashi was lightly swaying them in time to the music playing from the phone on the kitchen counter, Eri was near shrieking in laughter that echoed Hitoshi’s own bright laugh, and the world of heroes and villains and danger seemed so far removed from their little apartment with the four of them. “Yeah, it is.” 

His grandfather, as always, had been right. Hizashi had been his gift of sunshine long before he knew what that truly meant and Shouta half-wished that he could go back in time and tell his fifteen-year-old self what he now knew with every bit of him. 

It was a good future.