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As much of a contradiction it was, Shouta Aizawa hated silence.
He hated silence with a burning passion and some nights while on patrol, he was forced to listen to the silence in order to hear the cries of help or screams of terror that would ring throughout the night in the area he patrolled. Shouta had heard nothing but silence when that building had been decimated and he stood on the outskirts of the rubble with blood pooling under his best friend’s body as the rain poured against the concrete. There was constantly a ringing noise in his ear that reminded him of his best friend’s speaker that had cheered him on while Shouta had defeated the villain all by himself. Silence seemed to be just as deafening as noise to the man but he preferred loud noises.
Part of that was because of his best friends back in high school. Oboro Shirakumo and Hizashi Yamada were a loud group (Yamada especially, considering his quirk) that had dragged Shouta into their little group when he transferred into Class 1A after winning the Sports Festival. Add a wild Nemuri Kayama from a year above and you had the most rambunctious squad in the whole building of Yuuei. It was semi-calming, a group where he didn’t have to talk as much as the others but his opinions were still valued and appreciated. That might’ve been why now, 10 or so years laters, Shouta had his best friend as his husband.
As much as Shouta liked sounds, there were also times when he hated certain sounds. The sounds of his students crying, the sniffles of a few of his coworkers, the wails of his students and staff members being affected by such a monumental event? Shouta loathed it. It was a sad sound that he related to his professional work and would prefer to keep it there, but these were his kids–his problem children. None of them were supposed to be going through this; sure, they would’ve faced something like this in the future but they were still just kids. They were all still training to be heroes in the future, not mourning over the loss of one of their own.
Midoriya Izuku was known as the sunshine child throughout all of Yuuei; those who knew him well–Shouta, Hizashi, and Hitoshi–knew that it was a semi-blatant lie. He had lost his mother to a villain attack when he was only 9 before living on the streets for two years before Shouta had picked his frail body up from off the streets and brought him home. His emerald green eyes never shone and he did his best to keep to himself, though he tended to hide behind Hitoshi when he began to be officially fostered by Shouta and Hizashi; Shouta was contempt (albeit worried at how little he trusted adult/authority figures) with Izuku wary of him whereas his husband constantly moped when the boy wasn’t in his presence. He was jealous that the ‘green-bean’ had taken a liking to their adopted son over them but he grew to accept it and treaded lightly.
The first time Izuku had voluntarily spoken to Shouta was when he first got sick a few months after residing in the Aizawa-Yamada household. The underground pro figured it was because the boy had realized he was staying in one place for a large amount of time that Izuku had decided to trust him. Shouta had arrived home from patrol in the early hours of the morning, slipping out of his heroics gear and making himself a cup of tea when he heard the extremely light footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Hitoshi learned that it was okay to make noise during the first few months of his stay so the hero had narrowed it down to the other child that lived in his home.
Shouta didn’t turn to look at the kid, instead keeping his gaze on the kettle in front of him as he boiled water for his tea. He waited for Izuku to talk to him first instead of forcing a conversation and by the sounds of shifting clothes, the hero knew it was the right idea when he heard a soft-spoken ‘ sir? ’. Shouta turned to face the boy who looked to be dangerously red and flustered, raising an eyebrow. “No need for formalities, kid,” he spoke softly, losing his gruff demeanor in attempts to keep the kid calm. “Aizawa is fine. What’s up?”
The black haired man could see the hesitance in the kid’s green eyes, shifting on his feet and his eyes roamed to look at everywhere but him. He didn’t mention it, however, turning to take the kettle off of the stove when the whistling sound began to ring. He poured the hot water over the bag of green tea leaves, letting it steep in the warm water before he placed the kettle on the kitchen counter and returning his focus to the boy. Shouta raised an eyebrow when the kid ducked his head before mumbling something he couldn’t quite hear. “What was that?”
“‘m not feelin’ too good,” Izuku mumbled louder for the pro hero to hear him, and Shouta sighed.
“Can I come near?” he had asked the boy, eyes twinkling in amusement as Izuku’s head shot up, his own eyes wide with curiosity. “Your face is all flushed and I’d like to check your forehead, if you’ll allow me to, kid.” Shouta waited patiently for a few moments before Izuku hesitantly nodded and initiated the contact by taking a step towards him. He gave a small smile to the boy before slowly coming closer and placing the back of his hand against his forehead.
“You’re definitely running a fever,” Shouta announced after a couple of seconds. He removed his hand from Izuku’s forehead as he watched the boy slump forward, almost seemingly like he had been defeated. A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he placed his hand on top of the mop of messy green curls and ruffled them lightly, stopping when the boy went rigid. Shouta was about to remove his hand before Izuku relaxed and closed his eyes, the smallest of smiles lining the kid’s lips and the man took it as a sign to continue before removing his hand to get some medicine and water for the kid.
The fever was the first time Shouta had managed to initiate any contact with the boy and both Hizashi and Hitoshi noticed when Izuku started to slowly close the distance between the two. It took a little bit longer for Izuku to warm up to Hizashi but it seemed that Hizashi had said the right thing when the young boy had asked Shouta’s husband if he could be a hero, even if he was quirkless. The family grew tighter in the next couple of months and the months turned into a year before Izuku was officially adopted into the family. The Aizawa-Yamada family grew stronger together in the few years that followed, and with both of their children in the hero course at the same high school they had graduated from, all felt well.
But then Kamino came along; the Kamino Ward incident that dealt with Shouta’s son and a boy that his son knew while growing up. Shouta had left the care of his and Vlad King’s students in the hands of his husband as he rushed towards the battlefield of chaos in Kamino, the only coherent thought he could think of was keeping his students safe–to keep his son safe. When he arrived, the fight seemed to have already ended. The underground hero saw five of his students, not the six that would’ve been there during Bakugou’s rescue. But there; it was dark and the only source of light was the moon shining in the sky. Shouta could see five of his students surrounding someone and in no time, the pro had sprinted to them.
“Todoroki, Iida, what–” the hero’s words were caught in his throat as he moved to a position where he could see all of his students, but laying in Bakugou’s arms was his son.
Izuku’s breathing was extremely slow with practically no rise and fall of his chest. The hero only knew he was still alive due to his and Bakugou’s faint conversation, the blonde threatening to kill him if he didn't stay awake. Blood poured from multiple open wounds (seemingly knife wounds), some trailing down his chin as it left Izuku’s lips. Shouta knelt in front of Bakugou, hands shaking as the blonde screamed at his teacher to let him help–to let him hold Izuku–so that way he had a chance of survival.
“It’s okay, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled through blood-soaked lips. “We’ll meet again…”
Shouta broke as he watched the life leave his son’s eyes, pulling his son into his arms and cradling him like he was the same fragile child he found and saved all those years ago. A guttural cry of anguish left his lips, almost in sync with Bakugou’s cries of rage as he was held back by a tearful Kirishima and Todoroki. The hero wiped the tears from Izuku’s cold cheeks as another cry bubbled in his chest and he screamed in anger; anger at the villain who had done this to his student, to his child. Screams turned into cries before turning into wailing as Shouta kept his son’s body wrapped tightly in his arms, flinching at the hand that was placed on his shoulder.
Shouta’s shoulders bounced as he cried, eyes shut tight as a pair of arms wrapped around him, followed by two more. Through a tear filled gaze, Shouta discovered it was Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki. He noticed that Bakugou was hanging onto Kirishima like he was his lifeline and oh gods above would this hurt to explain. He’d have to explain it to his husband and his son that Izuku wouldn’t be coming home; there would be no more helping a boy grow out of his shell or gentle scolding when he forgot to eat due to his interest and habits of quirk analysis. There would be no more birthdays for the boy who’d made it his life to save others.
There would simply be no more.
Tears pricked the corner of Shouta’s eyes as he watched the casket his son laid in being lowered into the grave. Hizashi leaned most of his body weight against him, head relaxing on his husband’s shoulder and Shouta gave his hand a tight squeeze which was immediately returned. Obsidian black eyes glanced down at his purple-haired son, the usual bags under his eyes increasingly worrying. Shouta gave his hand a squeeze as well before wrapping an arm around the teenage boy’s shoulder. On the other side of the casket, the man watched as silent tears flooded down Katsuki Bakugou’s face, his parents’ arms wrapped around his shoulders in a comforting vice. Before they could get too comfy, Bakugou ripped himself away from them and marched over to where Kirishima was standing with his two moms before slotting himself in between the boy and one of his mothers, holding out a hand down at his side. Kirishima seemingly got the question and answered by slotting one of his hands into Bakugou’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“C’mon, Shou,” Hizashi murmured before standing up straight, fingers still interlocked with his husband’s. The blonde unlocked fingers, albeit hesitantly, before moving towards the mound of dirt that was placed next to the grave. He nodded before nudging Hitoshi slightly, gesturing for him to go before him. The teenager glanced up at him before moving to follow Shouta’s husband. The underground pro stopped just before the dirty mound after Hitoshi and Hizashi said their words and sprinkled the dirt upon the casket.
“Bakugou,” Shouta called out to the abrasive blonde, turning to face him. Wide, crimson eyes met black before he schooled his facial expression and removed his hand from Kirishima’s and walked towards him. When Bakugou stood in front of him, eyes casted towards the soft green earth, Shouta placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Grab a hand,” he murmured, a soft smile lining his lips when the blonde seemed even more surprised.
“No offense, Sensei, but this seems like something you should do with your family,” he grumbled.
Shouta raised an eyebrow before grabbing some dirt. “I’m pretty sure you were the last person he spoke to. You’re family now, kid.” Bakugou didn’t say anything, though his hesitance was clear. He removed his hand from the blonde’s shoulder and pushed him gently in the direction of the dirt. “Grab some. Don’t be an ass at my kid’s funeral.” Shouta chuckled at the wide-eyed glance Bakugou gave him before the blonde relented, a soft smile lining his lips.
“I guess I was an asshole first,” Bakugou mumbled in some sort of fondness.
The two turned towards the grave. Bakugou tossed his handful of dirt in first, mumbling something Shouta couldn’t hear. But that was fine with Shouta, as he spoke clear enough for the blonde boy to hear him when he tossed his fistful of dirt into the ground.
“We’ll meet again.”