Chapter Text
“Ichika?”
The woman startled at the sound of his voice, knocking a few papers from her desk. They fluttered softly to the floor at her feet. “Aizawa!” She said, still a bit frazzled. Her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose as she bent over to gather the scattered classwork.
Shouta stepped further into the room, breathing a small sigh. Such a hassle. He knelt down beside her and scooped up the few papers out of reach, setting them down on the corner of her desk.
“Always a treat seeing you out of the hero course hallways.” She gave him a tiny smile and thumbed through the pages he’d gathered, trying to reorganize them. When he didn’t answer with anything more than an uninterested hum, she cleared her throat, scratching nervously at the back of her hand. “Can I help you with something?”
“I need access to one of your student’s personal files.”
“Excuse me?”
Too blunt, dear, Hizashi’s voice sang gently through his head, she needs more information than that.
Shouta held up the ratty grey backpack he had gripped tightly in his left hand. “Shinsou Hitoshi left his bag after his training session this afternoon.” He let his arm drop back down to his side. “The students are on break next week and he’ll need it back to do his homework.” Satisfied? He asked the mini-Hizashi.
Ichika blinked for a moment. “Ah,” She gave him an awkward smile, then her eyebrows pulled together. “Though, training? I’m not sure I understand. Shinsou is in the general studies course, why would he be training with you?” She fiddled with her nail-bitten fingers.
“He’s been training to transfer into the hero course for three months now. You had to sign all of the paperwork as his homeroom teacher.” Shouta shifted his weight. Such a waste of time. His knees were beginning to ache again, he’d spent too much time running around today with both Shinsou and his own hero class. Fuck.
Ichika blinked a few times. “I...he’s-he’s actually pursuing that? I thought you would’ve--” She flushed pink and ducked her head. “Ah, never mind. I can pull up his file, just give me a moment.” Her fingers clicked away at her keyboard for a few moments, while Shouta fought the urge to collapse to the ground.
After an exchange of an email address and the last few remaining pieces of Shouta’s sanity, he had Shinsou’s personal file. Shouta left Ichika with nothing more than a blunt, “Thanks,” and made his way out to the staff parking lot where Hizashi was waiting.
The walk outside was short but still wore heavily on his protesting joints. He managed to stumble over the curb and into the bright yellow car he still pretended to hate even after four years. Shouta slumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind him, nestling deep into his scarf once he was seated.
“It was that bad?” Hizashi asked, amusement clear in his voice.
Shouta closed his eyes. “Worse.” He relaxed into the warmth of the car.
Hizashi’s laugh was bright and loud, pulling an unwilling smile from the corners of Shouta’s mouth. “And I still can’t believe no one believes me when I tell them you’re the dramatic one.”
A dark blush was beginning to creep up the sides of his neck. “Drive.”
“Look at you being all demanding and sexy.”
“Hizashi. ”
Though he wasn’t looking, Shouta knew Hizashi’s mouth was quirked up into a grin as he settled back into his seat. Hizashi pulled up the GPS on his phone and dangled it in front of his face. Sighing, Shouta took the device and typed Shinsou’s address into the search bar. “There.” He handed it back and sunk deeper into the car’s upholstery.
“Fifty-three minutes? He lives almost an hour from the school!” Hizashi fiddled with the screen, eyes wide and unbelieving. “No, Shou, that can’t be right. You must’ve typed it in wrong.”
“I didn’t.” He leaned against the window and closed his eyes.
Hizashi groaned, but after a respectful moment of silence for their sanity, he pushed the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
They drove in silence for a few miles, soft music from Put Your Hands Up Radio playing in the background. Buildings and cars blurred into the quickly greying sky and eventually, fat snowflakes began to blow down onto the windshield. The wind howled against the windows begging to be let in, but Shouta just turned up the heat and snuggled deeper into his capture weapon.
Fifty-three minutes later and they were turning down a street lined with dilapidated houses. Shouta sat up a bit straighter in his seat, looking for the right house number.
“There.” He said quietly, nudging Hizashi’s shoulder. “Seventy-two.”
House number seventy-two was, quite literally, bursting at the seams. Trash and clutter lined the front porch, spilling out onto the sidewalk below. Slush from the falling snow was beginning to pile against the edges of the house, though the dirt and trash had turned it an ugly shade of grey.
“Shou,” Hizashi’s voice was quiet as he pulled the car into park, stopping just along the sidewalk.
“I know ‘zashi.” Shouta closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand into his left temple where a migraine was beginning to build. He hadn’t known it was going to be this bad. Sure he’d heard Shinsou complain now and then about the mess in his foster home. But never, not once had Shouta even considered this.
The Hanos, Chiasa and Kazuto, according to Shinsou’s file, had been his foster parents for the past nine months. Kazuto Hano worked for a local construction company and was registered with a strength-enhancing quirk, while his wife, Chiasa, was currently unemployed and was registered with a weak frost quirk.
After some light digging Shouta hadn’t found anything incriminating about the pair, so he’d left it well enough alone, but staring at the ruins of what his student currently called a home, Shouta wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.
“Maybe…maybe it’s just the lawn upkeep, you know how things can get when you’re busy.” Hizashi’s voice was weak and he could only provide a tiny smile when Shouta turned around to glare at him.
“Lawn upkeep my ass.”
“Yessir.”
“Hizashi, I swear to god. Why are you--” Shouta broke off with an exasperated sigh and pushed his car door open, boots slipping a bit as he stepped onto the freshly fallen snow. He had to force himself to unclench his jaw, teeth grinding, as he stared up at the house. Shinsou’s backpack was still gripped in his fist and he could feel the material biting into his skin as his hands clenched. “Let’s go.” He said at the sound of Hizashi’s door slamming shut.
Glass crunched under his feet and he wrinkled his nose as the smell of rotting garbage got stronger the closer they got to the house, he could only image the stench in the summer heat. Stepping over a pile of overturned Christmas figurines Shouta walked up the stairs of the porch and paused at the front door. The porch lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across the lawn.
He took a glance around him and for the first time noticed the small signs of life scattered throughout the trash. A child’s bike was leaned up against the railing, there were a handful of toy cars lined up in one of the only places he could see the floor, and, he swallowed, a single naked Barbie doll was sitting on the edge of one of the steps. Her hair was tangled and dirty, but Shouta could see the care in which she had been positioned, he had to look away.
Unless his sixteen-year-old student had taken an affinity for children’s toys, Shinsou was not the only child living at this house. And, taking in the few clues he could see from this small view of the Hanos’ life, they were very young children at that.
Shouta squeezed the handle of Shinsou’s backpack again, relishing the burn as it rubbed against his skin. He lifted his free hand and rang the doorbell once, sharing a look with his husband as it echoed through the house. Shouta was not the only one to notice these new developments.
Shouta's gaze lifted once again to the door as a shout was heard from inside. A few moments later the door swung inward revealing a small boy, a baby really, he couldn’t be older than three. Shouta swallowed hard as he traced the bruise on the child’s cheek. Children hurt themselves often, as he and his husband knew very well, but a bruise to the face on a child that young was not something that could be simply overlooked.
“Hello,” Hizashi stepped forward, crouching down as he did so. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The boy blinked owlishly up at the two men, and popped a hand into his mouth, chewing anxiously on his fingers. “Ritsu.” His voice was no more than a whisper and it was hard to understand him around the fingers in his mouth.
“What a wonderful name, little listener.” Hizashi had a bright smile on his face, “Ritsu, would you be able to go and fetch one of the grownups here, me and my friend have a few questions to ask them.”
“‘m not ‘posed to--” Whatever Ritsu was or was not supposed to do in response to that question was cut off by an angry shout from inside the house. The words of whatever had been yelled were of little importance because, Shouta had to force himself to relax his jaw again, the little boy’s eyes filled with tears. Ritsu’s lower lip wobbled dangerously and he began to chew on his fingers in earnest, spit dribbling down his chin.
Shouta watched as Hizashi’s eyes softened and he reached out to the child to offer some form of comfort, but Ritsu pulled away, shaking his head, mumbling something incomprehensible around the hand in his mouth. “It’s okay little listener, you don’t have to cry, what’s--”
Hizashi’s words died out as a large hand grabbed Ritsu’s shoulder and dragged him away. Shouta watched his husband straighten up, fire in his eyes, as the door swung open fully to reveal the form of a large, muscular man. Hano Kazuto. “The fuck do you two want?” The man took up most of the doorway, his form almost fully blocking out the light spilling from the house.
Shouta could see Hizashi’s facial muscles spasm as he fought to keep an easy smile on his mouth, it was strained but Shouta knew it was much kinder than the expression he was currently sporting.
“Hello, sir. Pro Hero Present Mic at your service and this is Pro Hero Eraserhead. We’re here to--”
“Eraserhead?” Hano’s eyes were narrowed on Shouta. “You two here from that fancy school?” Shouta noticed the flush on his cheeks, and suddenly the crushed beer bottles on the sidewalk were beginning to feel much more sinister. “I ain’t paying no money, boy’s got in on the scholarship and that’s all there is to it. No money is comin’ out of my pocket for ‘im to throw his life away.” He huffed loudly, punctuating his statement with a slap to the doorframe.
Shouta grit his teeth, “No, Mr. Hano, we’re here to return this,” he thrust the ragged backpack higher into the air, “to Shinsou Hitoshi. He left it behind while training after school today, and will need it to complete his studies over the break.” The backpack dropped heavily back down again at Shouta’s side.
“Well, I--” The man spluttered for a second before reaching a free hand out, “Well that’s just fine then, I’ll be taking that.”
Hizashi shifted at his side and Shouta paused, faltering for a moment. “I…I’d also like to have a word with Shinsou if he’s home?” He gripped the backpack handle again and made his move. “May we step inside for a moment?”
The flush on Kazuto’s cheeks darkened, though Shouta doubted it was from any sort of embarrassment. “There’ll be no need for that.”
“Oh, but Mr. Hano sir, we really must insist.” Hizashi took over, as Shouta had to pause and recenter himself, pushing back down his anger. “We really do apologize for such short notice, but the school requires a home check-in with both the student and their guardians each year.” Hizashi’s voice was light as he gestured widely. “You know how it is, we just thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? Seeing as we’re already here?”
No such home check-in existed, but if it got them to where they needed to be Shouta was more than willing to falsify a few claims on behalf of U.A., Nezu could take care of the paperwork later.
Kazuto chewed on this for a moment but ultimately seemed to believe them because he pushed the door open another few inches and gestured them in with a grunt. “Mind your footing.”
Hizashi quickly followed behind, probably trying to hurry this along before Kazuto changed his mind, while Shouta took his time, trying to soak in the disaster that was the Hano’s house. Mind your footing was the least of Shouta’s worries as he ducked past the threshold. He had to school his expression less he give too much away, but as a wave of utter rotting garbage attacked his nose it was becoming more and more difficult. Shouta did not usually find himself at a loss for words but the sheer amount of stuff that had been accumulated in the Hano’s household was almost too much to bear.
Hizashi was still jabbering away with Kazuto, both of them leading the charge, weaving in and out of pre-made paths through the hoard. Shouta followed behind and his heart sank when he noticed another small child sitting in what could only be described as a pile of trash. This one was a girl, her hair was a pale blue mass of knots and she was wearing a ratty pink dress with only one sock on. She glanced up at him as they walked by and gave Shouta a shy smile, before ducking her head back down, but not before he saw the scratch that had been raked across her cheek.
He had to take another calming breath.
“Here.” Kazuto had paused in what seemed to be the kitchen, though there was no counter space and Shouta could hardly even see a kitchen table. “Wait here and I’ll go find him. Brat’s probably holed himself up in his room somewhere.” The last part was muttered under his breath but Shouta still caught it.
When Kazuto was out of earshot Hizashi gripped his arm, “Shouta.” His name was nothing more than a frantic whisper.
Shouta licked his lips and reached up to squeeze Hizashi’s shoulder, “I know. Just…just hold on.”
“Did you see her? That little girl?” Tears were welling up in his husband’s eyes and Shouta knew he was thinking of their daughter. “She’s just a baby, Shou, and Ritsu too, I--” He clapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.
Shouta’s throat tightened and he swallowed thickly, “It’s okay, ‘zashi, we’ll--”
“It’s not okay! None of this is okay!” The hiss was full of tears. “They’ve been living--living like--” He shook his head.
“I know.” Shouta squeezed Hizashi’s hand as the sound of footsteps drew near. “But that’s why we’re here.”
Kazuto’s voice rang out as he clambered back to the kitchen. “Found ‘em.” There was the sound of a muted smack. “Hidin’ out as per usual. Typical after the regulate-which-a-ma-call-it’s been put on ‘em. But I’m sure you know all ‘bout that.” Kazuto appeared through the doorway, making a turn around a pile of moldy newspapers. “Seein’ as your his teachers ‘n all.”
“The regulator? I’m not sure what you--” Hizashi’s voice died out as Shinsou’s shock of purple hair stepped into the kitchen behind his foster father.
Because--Shouta was quite literally seeing red--because strapped to his students’ face was an honest to god muzzle. A fucking muzzle.
Shinsou finally lifted his head as he paused just behind Kazuto’s shoulder and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of his two teachers standing before him. Shouta watched as his puffy and red-ringed gaze filled with something that almost, if Shouta didn’t know any better, looked like fear.
The muzzle itself was a horrible metal contraption, locked up and around the bridge of his nose and under the base of his chin. Straps vanished into the mop that Shinsou called hair and Shouta could see blood trickling down one side of his temple.
Shouta still hadn’t managed to lock eyes with his student when Hizashi regained his ability to speak. “What the fuck is on his face?” His husband’s voice was low and dangerous.
Kazuto almost looked confused at the anger directed his way. “Whatchu’ mean? It’s his quirk regulator or whatever fancy name you folks give it up at your school. No big deal. ‘s fer his own good too. Boy can’t control the quirk he’s given, ‘t’s what the agency gave us when we were assigned to ‘em.” Shouta could hardly hear the man over the blood pounding away in his ears. “‘course you gotta practically wrestle ‘em to the ground to get it on. But a smack ‘round the head is good for ‘em every once an’ a while.” He punctuated this statement by whacking Shinsou on the back of the head.
The boy flinched, badly, and stumbled as he was forced forward by the momentum of the hit. Shouta could see tears gathering in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if they were simply reflexive or not. Either way, Shouta had had enough.
“Mic,” It was the only word he could squeeze out from between the tension in his vocal chords.
Hizashi didn’t need to hear anything more. “Already on it. They’ll be here in five.”
“What?” Kazuto looked back and forth between them, brows furrowed. “What’s goin’ on?”
Hizashi stepped forward and grabbed one of Kazuto’s wrists. “You, sir, are under arrest and all of the children in this house are to be taken out of you and your wife’s care immediately.”
As Hizashi fumbled a pair of quirk-suppressant cuffs onto the large man, Shouta turned to his student who had yet to look up from the floor. “Shinsou.” Shouta called softly, “Come here.”
Still refusing to make eye contact, Shinsou shuffled forward until he was only a few inches away. Shouta reached out and cupped the back of Shinsou’s head, ignoring the violent flinch that appeared as soon as he moved. “It’s okay,” Shouta pulled his student closer until he could wrap him up in a hug. “You’re alright.”
Tiny, muted sobs floated up from between them as Shinsou trembled in his mentor’s hold. Shouta ran a hand over his head and pulled him closer as Shinsou continued to cry. He was freezing. Goosebumps were raised up and down his arms, and Shouta could see remnants of snow in his hair
“Have you been outside?” Shouta demanded, pulling the boy away to get a better look at his face.
Shinsou’s eyes were screwed up so tightly Shouta was surprised the tears on his face had even been able to slip past them. He wildly shook his head and a muffled sound floated out from behind the muzzle. Shouta was met with large teary eyes when his student finally looked up. A shaking hand reached up to meet the straps of the muzzle locked around his jaw. Shouta could see him swallow thickly as he tapped the material. Please. Shouta couldn’t hear his voice but he could see it in his eyes.
“Okay,” Shouta made his movements slow and steady, “Let me see it Shinsou.” A small flinch still jerked through him as Shouta’s fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. The purple strands were greasy and tangled as he felt around for the clasp. Finally, his fingers brushed something and Shouta lifted the hair around it to reveal the metal fastening. Two buckles were threaded through the leather strap, locked in place by what looked to be a small keyhole.
“Mic,” He called, not looking away from the lock, “I need a key.”
Hizashi’s voice was low and threatening as he questioned Kazuto for the whereabouts of the muzzle’s key, but Shouta only had eyes for his student. Many times before Shouta had seen a bruise or a scratch marring Shinsou’s skin, but the boy always had some reason or other to explain it away. And there was nothing that ever jumped out at him as anything more than the regular bumps from a happy, healthy childhood. But now…now as he traced his eyes over a dark bruise on the juncture of Shinsou’s neck he knew he’d been wrong. He should have pushed harder for answers, he should have done more.
Scratches lined the muzzle’s edges where metal met skin, there was a small bald patch on the back of his head from where the clasp lay against his scalp, his eyes were swollen and red and Shouta could hear him sniffling. He just looked so exhausted. Big black circles lined his under eyes. “It’s okay.” Shouta cupped the side of Shinsou’s head and a deep-seated shudder ran through his body. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks and Shouta winced at the ragged sob torn from his chest.
Then finally, “Here.” Hizashi was behind him holding out a small silver key. Shouta grabbed it, not meeting his husband’s eyes. “Thanks,” He breathed before turning back to the clasp.
“I’m going to unlock it now, alright?” Tears were still pooling at the lip of the muzzle but Shinsou managed a small nod so Shouta slipped a finger under the clasp and set to work. It took a few moments of struggling, but soon there were two small clicks and the straps fell away, though the muzzle did not.
Shouta circled Shinsou until he met his student’s gaze. “Okay?” There was a second tiny nod. “Okay.” Shouta swallowed, reaching out slowly again to grip both sides of the muzzle. He gave a few gentle tugs and the metal was finally peeled away from Shinsou’s face, leaving deep bloody lines behind. As soon as the horrible contraption was off, Shouta tossed it to the side, proud when he heard a crack as it hit whatever heap of junk was on his right.
Shinsou’s face crumpled when Shouta met his gaze, bottom lip wavering. “I’m sorry,” His voice, god his voice was so dry and cracked it sounded as if he’d been screaming for hours. “I’m so sorry, Sensei. I--” And then Shinsou was gone, he was crying so hard that no sound escaped him. He pulled into himself, squeezing his own arms around his waist as if he were seeking some kind of comfort, but couldn’t possibly fathom that it would come from anywhere else but himself.
Well, that simply wasn’t the case anymore, not if Shouta could help it. So he grabbed Shinsou by the shoulders and wrapped him up in his arms, tucking his head under his chin. “You have no reason to be sorry. If anyone here is to blame it is me. Myself and all the other adults in your life who have failed you, you have done nothing wrong.” He ran a hand up and down Shinsou’s back as there was a bang at the door and a horde of policemen swarmed inside.
The flinch that rippled through his student at the sound had Shouta swallowing back a mouthful of bile, just how long had this been going on?
“The police are here,” Shouta answered the silent question once he’d gotten control of himself again, “They’re going to be taking your foster parents away from the house, would you like to wait here or go out to my car?” He provided a simple, two-answer choice to give Shinsou some semblance of control in this impossible situation.
There was no response for a moment and Shouta rubbed a hand up and down his student’s back, watching as two policemen emerged through the hoard and into the kitchen.
A small whisper emerged from the depths of his shirt. “Here.”
“Okay,” Shouta murmured, hoping he was heard over Kazuto’s angry protests as the man was dragged out of the room, “we’ll wait right here.”
Shinsou was shaking, badly. There was still snow in his hair, Shouta noticed, clumping the strands together. He brushed the frost away, keeping a warm palm cupping the back of his head.
Two minutes later and Hano Kazuto had been removed from the residence, the police chief had informed him.
“My men have headed upstairs to retrieve Hano Chiasa, and we have contacted the children's social workers.” Chief Aoki Keiko explained, “They should be arriving within the next few minutes. Present Mic is currently watching over the two children we found in the living room.” Her eyes flickered down to Shinsou, “Do you believe medical attention is needed for any of the children? How many are living in the home?”
Shouta shook his head, “I am only aware of three, my student Shinsou Hitoshi, a young boy who introduced himself as Ritsu, and another young girl. I believe it would be for the best that medical services are contacted, just to ensure that everything is alright.”
Aoki nodded, “Thank you, Eraserhead, an ambulance should be arriving shortly. I also--”
“Yaeko.” Shinsou’s small voice interrupted Aoki’s next sentence. “She’s upstairs. With--with her.” He didn’t pull his face away from where it was buried in Shouta’s chest, but both adults had heard him clearly.
Shouta swallowed thickly, dropping the hand that had been resting on Shinsou’s head. “There’s another child in the house?”
Aoki had already pulled out her radio and began to shout orders at her men. A crackling voice one moment later confirmed the presence of the last child who had been hidden upstairs with Hano Chiasa.
“Shinsou, there are four children living here?” Shouta crouched down, placing his hands on Shinsou’s shoulders. Just how many fucking kids had these monsters been abusing? “Counting yourself, there are four of you?”
The emptiness in Shinsou’s eyes betrayed his disassociation from the situation at hand, but still, he pushed through the clear terror he was feeling and answered Shouta’s question, shaking his head. “There’s five, Katashi is here too. I don’t know where he is, though.” He was beginning to well up with tears. “I--I don’t know, Sensei, I haven’t seen him I promise,” Shinsou glanced back at Officer Aoki and Shouta knew he had to get the situation back under control or Shinsou was going to run. “I-I’m not lying I--” His breaths were coming out faster now and Shouta watched as the life sprung back to his eyes and then the panic overtook him.
Shouta tried to meet his student’s gaze, keeping his voice calm though he felt anything but. “Shinsou, it’s--”
And then, as Shouta took a step forward to pull him back into his arms, Aoki shattered a stray ceramic figurine under her boot and that’s all it took. Shinsou let out a strangled whine and bolted, almost falling as he slipped on a tattered magazine.
Shouta knew that chasing him would only make the situation worse, but he had no choice, not in this house with these people. So Shouta did what he did best, he pursued. It really only took a few seconds before he had grabbed Shinsou’s arm, the house was too crowded, Shinsou was too scared, and Shouta was too experienced.
“Shinsou,” Shouta said calmly, as his student froze, eyes wide and teary, “can you take a deep breath for me?”
As he watched the boy work himself up to something that could almost be considered hyperventilation Shouta decided that Shinsou could not take a deep breath under these conditions. So, with a few gentle tugs, Shouta pulled Shinsou out of the disgusting house and onto the front porch.
Unfortunately, that was currently where Hano Chiasa was being arrested. Of course. Shouta closed his eyes and forced himself to take a slow breath. Why? Why can I not have one moment of peace in my life?
Trying his best to ignore the screaming woman, Shouta dragged Shinsou off of the snowy porch and into his hideous yellow car. He sat them both down in the back seat and slammed the door behind them, muffling Hano’s shouts and keeping out the cold winter wind.
The frantic breathing of his student hadn’t gotten much better so Shouta put a gentle hand on his forearm. “Shinsou.” Shouta made sure to keep his voice calm and quiet. “I need you to take a deep breath for me.”
Shinsou’s eyes were wild and full of tears. “I-I’m trying Sensei, I just--I-I--” He threaded his fingers through his hair, taking gasping panicked breaths. “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry.” A few of the cuts around his mouth were still slowly bleeding, dripping onto the blue of his jeans. “I-I-I’m--”
“It’s okay,” Shouta said slowly, trying to keep the situation from escalating. “It’s okay, I know you’re trying.” He swallowed thickly, ignoring the burning starting to swell behind his eyes. “It's over. It’s done, everything’s okay now.”
“No!” The sob was guttural and full of pain. “No, no it’s not.” Shinsou swiped blindly at his face, smearing the blood and tears into a sticky red mess.
“Shinsou--”
“It’s not okay!” He was curled up in a ball, head almost down to his knees, fingers still tangled up in strands of hair. “I--you, you don’t understand! Ueno, she--she’s going to--” He broke off in a choked whine. There were a few moments of silence only broken by Shinsou’s harsh breathing and then finally he spoke in a voice that was so quiet that Shouta could barely hear him. “She said this was my last chance.”
Shouta ran a hand gently up and down his student’s back. The other one was braced against his forehead in an attempt to keep himself together. Hano Chiasa was still screaming her head off somewhere in the front yard. The muffled sound reverberated through the car’s interior, breaking up Shinsou’s sniffles.
Shouta pressed his lips together and took a slow breath. “Who is Ueno?”
“My social worker.”
“What do you mean she told you this was your last chance?”
Shouta physically saw a shudder run through Shinsou’s body. “It--the Hano’s, they…they were my last chance.” The hands nestled on his head squeezed tighter. “I-I tried to make it work, I really really did. But now--” He broke off for a moment. “Now I have to go to, to the group home.”
Shouta closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. “Your social worker told you this?” He had to take a moment to breathe.
Shinsou sniffled wetly, tears still evident in his voice. “Yeah.” He sat up suddenly then, hands dropping limply into his lap.
Leaning back into the leather of the car, Shinsou rubbed his face again with the back of his arm, smearing more of the mess across his cheeks. He had blood across his face and hands, it was streaked over most of his arms too.
Shouta felt something crack in his own chest at the sight. He looked so tired. Shouta reached to the front of the car, painfully aware that Shinsou was tracking each of his movements, no matter how small. He opened the center console and pulled out one of the many packs of tissues Hizashi kept stored there. “Here.” He handed the unopened package to Shinsou.
“Thanks,” He murmured.
While Shinsou was cleaning his face, Shouta gave him a few moments of privacy and turned to his phone which had been buzzing in his pocket for the past two minutes.
Hizashi <3: The social workers are here
Hizashi <3: Where are you?
Hizashi <3: Shoutaaaa
Hizashi <3: And prepare yourself
Hizashi <3: Shinsou’s social worker is a total bitch
Hizashi <3: Probably shouldn’t say that
Shouta: We’re in the car. Shinsou needed a minute
Hizashi <3: I’m heading to you now
Shouta pocketed his phone and glanced over at Shinsou. He was staring blankly at his shoes, used tissues crumpled one of his shaking hands while the other was fisted in the bottom of his tee-shirt. Tee-shirt, Shouta looked to the ceiling of the car, a fucking tee-shirt in the middle of a snowstorm. Blood was still stained across his face and arms, it would take more than a few dry tissues to clean him up properly, but still, it had helped.
Shouta sighed quietly, shifting to face Shinsou. His student looked up sharply at the movement, eyes wide and puffy.
“Shinsou.” Shouta began gently, “Your social worker has arrived at the house, and at the moment, we’re going to…” He trailed off when Shinsou’s face crumpled and more tears sprang to his eyes.
He wiped his face with the used ball of tissues. “Please, Aizawa-Sensei, please don’t let her take me to the group home.” He hiccuped quietly, face red and blotchy. “They won’t let me come to U.A. anymore if I go there. I can’t lose U.A. Aizawa-Sensei, I-I can’t I worked so h-hard!” He was crying again in earnest now.
Shouta was speechless for a moment, “I--”
Then the car door behind Shouta flew open, bringing with it a gust of freezing air and two loud voices.
“--Ueno-San I am asking you please, for the third time, to calm--”
“Where is he?”
Shouta watched as Shinsou went horrifically still, only his tears continued to drip down his face. His pupils contracted to pinpricks and he was as white as a sheet, Shinsou turned his gaze to the woman now breathing heavily down Shouta’s back.
“Shinsou Hitoshi, you get out of this car right now. Do not make me say it again.” The voice was sharp and furious, leaving no room for argument.
When Shinsou, visibly shaking, began to reach for the door handle, Shouta saw red. He turned around, quirk pulsing and dragging his hair into the air. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
The woman standing before him was short and as thin as a needle. Her blue hair was blowing wildly in the wind, being dappled with snowflakes. Shouta stood from the car and out onto the sidewalk while the woman spluttered out her offense at his tone.
“Excuse me--I, I well if you must know I am Shinsou Histoshi’s social worker.” She seemed to get her voice back under control halfway through her sentence. “Well and just who exactly are you, sir?”
Hizashi, who was standing just behind the woman’s shoulder, choked back a laugh.
Shouta drew himself to his full height, quirk still in effect. “I am Pro Hero Eraserhead,” Her facade faltered for a moment at this, eyes wide.
“Well--” She cleared her throat, “--be that as it may. As his social worker, Shinsou Hitoshi is now under my care and seeing as you have no claim to him, he will be coming with me. Now, Shinsou.” She directed her last statement to his student, who was still frozen in the backseat of the car.
“Shinsou is not going anywhere with you.”
“Excuse me, but you cannot--”
“As a Pro Hero I am invoking my right as an emergency foster guardian.”
“Sir-- you,” She was bright red in the face, “there is paperwork--”
Shouta dropped his quirk. “Email me.”
Ueno physically gasped and Shouta watched his husband lose the battle with his laughter. Amidst Hizashi’s giggles and Ueno’s outrage Shouta slipped back into his car and shut the door firmly behind him. Hizashi would take care of all the legal jargon, Shouta was more concerned with the frightened, traumatized teenager still frozen in a ball in the backseat of his car.
Shouta carefully smoothed the anger from his features as his student looked up at him. There were a few moments of quiet broken by the Hizashi and Ueno’s muffled voices. Then Shinsou spoke in a timid voice, “Emergency foster guardian.”
The phrase was carefully spoken without a questioning inflection, but it was clear what he was trying to ask. However, the fact that Shinsou wouldn’t freely voice a simple question forced Shouta to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from once again growing furious with the adults in his life.
He took a breath before answering, looking carefully at his student’s face. “Pro Heros are given the right to become an emergency foster guardian in the cases they handle if the need arises. I thought that, at least for tonight, it would be best that you come home with Hizashi and I.”
Shinsou’s mouth was gaping a bit and he asked another question-statement. “Hizashi.”
Shouta muffled a smile in his scarf. “Present Mic. My husband.”
“You’re lying.” Shinsou laughed. “There’s no way you’re married to Present Mic. He’s so…”
“Loud?”
“I was gonna say annoying but that works too.”
Shouta grinned. “Be that as it may. If you want, Hizashi and I would be happy to have you come home with us tonight.” He then sobered for a moment. “But I know that this is a lot right now, I know you’re tired, and I don’t want you to feel like you are being forced to go somewhere you don’t want to go. If there’s another place you would like to stay, somewhere that will support you, I will gladly help you get there.”
“No,” Shinsou began quickly, eyes wide. “No, there’s no one else.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, tissues crumpling into a smaller ball in his other fist. “I mean, as long as you…you don’t mind.”
Shouta huffed, “Of course not.”