Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and BNHA or any of its characters.

AN: Hello everyone! It's been a while. Happy reading, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Against the lightly scorched surface of grey concrete, Izuku's Thestral brain can only comprehend the blinding blue light from the police cars, blending in seamlessly with the sirens of hastily called ambulances parked at the bottom of the stairs.

Though he can see its contrasting colour while human, reds will simply be grey to him as long as he stays as some variant of a horse. But never mind that, the way the flashers seem to spin endlessly, glare sweeping over the floor, going round and round and round –

The sound of several blaring alarms is one form of torture to his triangular ears that are stiffly pointed forward. There's just too stimulation ringing inside his elongated skull all at once. Too much from earlier as well; too much of everything, really. From smoke to action to fear that Izuku barely processes on an empty stomach.

The image of Hitocchan's minute break down would be a terrible addition to his mental library and Izuku stifles a sound of distress knowing how the dreadful memory won't be leaving him anytime soon.

He can't do this, he can't. Isn't he only a mere fawn who's just learned to fly? But you have to, several better parts of him remind. The part that inspires to be a Hero like All Might, taking great leaps to banish evil wherever evil appears. Slightly quieter, the animalistic part that had warned him about the funeral attended here prior.

The reason why he's even here in the first place, actually. As a Thestral, Izuku's sixth sense is abnormally wacky. A ping inside his head goes off when the earth's plates slide over each other, for one. He can see ghosts, secondly. He can get the ghosts to ride on his back as he leads them to an invisible tear way above the clouds, sometimes manned by a grim-faced man with emerald green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

(The person who gives the best head and chin scratches always disappears before Izuku can ask for a name.)

Said sixth sense hadn't said anything about a villain attack!

Izuku sticks himself to the trembling Hitocchan like the stubborn daffodil flowers on fabric. He takes a deep breath in, feeling for the sound of Hitocchan's heart beating slowly. The repetition is rather calming, contrasting greatly with the chaos they'd experienced earlier.

He needs to call his mother who'll call Aunty Mitsuki about their situation. Let both know that they're alright, and dinner will be off the table for Izuku because although a bowl of Katsudon sounds lovely, he's the most exhausted he's ever been in his short life.

A man in a uniform rushes past. Izuku's gaze follows him.

"I'll send this guy back to the station." He hears the man speak to his companion, pointing into the distance. "Have you interviewed the children yet? Someone will have to bring them home after contacting their guardians about what happened here."

Everyone's busy. Either taking statements or forcing the bad guy into handcuffs and a van that looks too big for him. The medics are plenty occupied as well, disappearing off briefly after having given them a shock blanket each; Izuku can still smell her bitter scent of stress and anxiety linger in the air, it had clung to her sweat-soaked skin like bad deodorant.

She knows Death, he thinks fleetingly. She's seen Death more in Their worse than Their best so much it makes Izuku depressed just thinking about it.

Fortunately, nobody has died or is going to die today. Those mentally scarred, on the other hand, are many. Izuku knows these kind of things like an itch he can't explain.

He nudges his snout into Katsuki's stomach, flinching slightly when he feels the blond's sweaty fingers tighten further on his messy mane. Chortling, Izuku then nips Katsuki's pant pocket, finding for the phone lodged somewhere there. His friend seems to get it, thankfully, and nods when he shoves a hand inside to dig for it.

He contemplates changing back into human Izuku. Communication is much easier when one has the vocal chords for it.

Katsuki eventually moves to the side, sombrely murmuring into the speaker not very far away. Close enough to sprint back to Izuku and Hitocchan in a second or five, anyway. The ID on his phone screen says: MOM.

Voice subdued, Hitocchan suddenly speaks up. "W-Where's that man?"

What man? Izuku tilts his head in minute confusion. The medic's just returned, a lady with golden eyes and very pretty hair, shimmering silver like mercury.

Does he mean Hitocchan's self-proclaimed uncle?

"I'm sorry, Shinsou-kun, but Aizawa-san is busy right now. We'll have to get you children back first, okay? Thankfully, your injuries were light. It'd be bad if you all get caught up by the press. They can be a bit much. May I have your addresses, please?" She catches a policewoman by the elbow, "Officer, if you would please fetch them home. They have the okay."

"Understood, Ashido-san. We'll get them back as safe as can be."

Ashido-san's smile is as bright as her golden eyes. "Thank you." She says, and Izuku thinks he'll write an entry in his journal about her tomorrow.

"I'll do it." A low voice interrupts, making Hitocchan's head spins immediately. When Izuku finds for a face to match the soothing timbre, he recognises the scruffy person wearing an old-looking suit. Aizawa, huh, the name of Hitocchan's long lost – not to mention, late – relative.

/

They learn that his full name is Aizawa Shouta, brother to Hitocchan's mother and yes, actually blood related to Hitocchan. He lives with his husband, Yamada Hizashi and Hero Present Mic, near Yuuei High School. The couple has been planning to cut down their Hero work in favour of teaching there soon. Hizashi wants to keep up his radio station still, though.

He doesn't drop by his sister's house because he'd cut ties with their family a long time ago. It's unelaborated, but the man offers a sort of dead-eyed look to explain everything.

Aizawa-san had not known about his sister's (arranged) marriage. He had not known about Hitocchan until very recently.

"I'm sorry." He tells Hitocchan plainly once he pulls up at a curb right before a red traffic light. The time is late in after work hours, traffic has mostly cleared though a line piles occasionally due to the infamous potholes around this area.

Aizawa's gaze is steady and his words are genuine; Izuku senses truth even though he doubts a horse's sixth sense works for a lie detector.

Doused in a sheen of scarlet rays glaring through the windscreen, a backdrop of a sky filled with stars, Izuku pretends he can't see the darkening tinges at the corner of Aizawa-san's eyes, the whitening knuckles on the steering wheel. He pretends he can't smell salt on skin.

Unlike Izuku, Hitocchan is no pretender.

"So what are you going to do about it?" He asks, almost frostily.

"I –"

Aizawa-san's posture relaxes as his eyes glaze over, taken captive by Hitocchan's Brainwashing. "What are going to do about it?" His friend straightens and repeats the question. None of them want coaxes glazed with honey.

Hitoshi isn't sorry, doesn't feel guilty for using his Quirk like this.

Confusion flickers past Aizawa-san's eyes, a flash of determination as he seems to understand what's going on. He resigns himself to the Quirk, Hitocchan's expression softening when he feels the marionette hold of his Quirk strain less.

He's not resisting. Therefore, his truth should be good news for both of them or Aizawa-san may just be a plain old asshole to feel nothing of leaving Hitoshi's guardianship under his awful parents. He hasn't seen them for ages, if Hitoshi's even being honest. At this point, their faces may as well be that of familiar strangers – but he'll forever remember what it feels like to cower when the dishes break loudly, insults hurled at one another, the pang of hunger when pocket money is occasionally forgotten.

How had he felt, eavesdropping on the mere suggestion of 'adoption'? Why couldn't they be satisfied leaving him under the care of the Midoriyas and Bakugous?

It has never registered to Hitoshi that he has blood outside his parent's apartment. Aizawa Shouta, who resembles him more than he resembles his mother or father. His hair had risen when he activated his quirk, hadn't it? Hitoshi's own violet strands are always standing.

They may share the same smile too. They already have the nearly identical scowls down. Despite sitting in the middle of the back seat, air conditioning blowing right into his face and making his nose cold and eyes dry, Hitoshi has to feel Katsuki's and Izu's fingers entwine with his to maintain a semblance of composure.

Tension forms in his temples, the familiar pressure of his Quirk thrumming like a washing machine on silent.

He's holding his breath waiting for Aizawa-san's closing answer. Home is only three right turns away. "We wanted to become teachers to make time for you."

Hitoshi chokes on nothing, "What?!"

"I'd contacted your parents. Around April. They agreed, but my contract doesn't allow me take you in yet. We wanted to meet you and ask if you'd live with us next week."

"I haven't seen my parents for weeks." Hitoshi spits like an accusation.

Aizawa-san manages to look crestfallen even while Brainwashed. "I didn't know that."

"Of course you don't." Why is he acting like this? Why is he so angry? It's not Aizawa-san's fault he didn't know. Hitoshi should be glad – he should be ecstatic his parents can't drag him out of Izu's room to throw him into some random orphanage like an abandoned and inconveniently pregnant cat. But he isn't – why? Hitoshi pales at the knowledge. From what he can see, his uncle is a good man. He recognised Hitoshi in a glance and protected him without hesitation.

He's also a Hero. It's their job to protect people like you. He recognises your face because he sees the same one in the mirror every day.

"Hitocchan…"

"I… I don't–"

"Eggplant, we aren't gonna fuck off to Disneyland anytime soon." Katsuki roughly takes Hitoshi's chin in his fingers. Using one hand, he signs, everything.

Once upon a time, the word meant Izuku. But they're older now, closer and unhealthily attached at the hip to the point Aunty Mitsuki, Uncle Masaru, and Aunty Inko had suggested seeing a nice doctor to help them learn how to grow up properly. Away from each other, she hadn't said out loud.

Everything is each other now.

Hitoshi leans on Katsuki's shoulder because he's second tallest. "Can I answer next week? You can find me at Izu's house." He then pushes Aizawa-san lightly, who snaps out of his Quirk with a jerk.

Aizawa-san opens his mouth – reprimand likely at the tip of his tongue. He closes it, then opens it again. He ends up sighing, long and tired and a summary of the entire day. The man settles for a nod oozing with finality, "I'll drop by with lunch and Hizashi."

Handbrake clicking, the car engine's steady hum grows louder.

Aizawa-san makes the first right turn.