Disclaimer: I don't own My Hero Academia or any characters/plotlines that you recognize from it. I'm just playing with the dollhouse.

Updated: July 05, 2020 (rewording)

Chapter One: Coming Home

"Welcome home, Koharu."

A young girl, hair pitch black with eyes to match, took her first tentative step into the apartment. She shuffled off her red rainboots to replace them with the small slippers that had been laid out to her next to Shouta's much, much larger pair.

Shouta watched. He took in the bright yellow of her sweater, his eyes tracing the pattern of the duck sewn into the back for the hundredth time. She had chosen green pants to match, and of course, red rain boots. Shouta couldn't remember ever wearing such garish things, but he knew that the boots used to be his. The hunch of her shoulders kept him from saying anything.

He couldn't remember ever being so small.

Shouta remained at her heels as she stepped through the kitchen, unsure whether he felt more like a steady presence or an annoyance. He only needed to take one step for every three of hers. Koharu stopped in the door frame that seperated the kitchen from the living room.

Two sets of matching black eyes peered into a room devoid of life. The walls were a bare white, and the floor a dull grey. A futon was shoved up against the far wall, a stained coffee table hosting a small television across from it. Shouta may have moved in two years prior, but he had never bothered to purchase more than what he deemed essential. Work took up most of his time. It was pointless to bother making his house a home.

Now, as he stood behind the walking rainbow that was Koharu, he found himself desperately regretting having forgotten to invest in a throw pillow. Koharu's hands were fisted in the sleeves of her sweater as her eyes swept the room.

He had never seen her look so uncertain. It made his skin itch.

Shouta cleared his throat, and placed a gentle hand at the top of the girl's back. "Your room is this way," he said quietly. He ushered her to their right, and opened up the lone door that they found there.

She let out a small gasp at her bedroom's reveal. A week ago, Shouta might have smiled. That day, his lips could only muster a small wobble as Koharu wandered into her new bedroom with those small, shuffling feet.

The room had once been his seldom-used office, hosting nothing more than a sad desk and a couple pens that he had shoved into his bedroom to make room for Koharu. Now, her bedroom was decorated with a horrendous mural of wall decals, ranging from cute to ridiculous. They included childhood wonders such as rainbows, superheroes, and trains, and covered much of the white walls beneath them.

Her furniture was much too large for a five-year-old girl, but she would grow into it. All of her furniture had been his before he moved out, and he knew that she would recognize it. The dresser still had a messy stain along the drawers from one of Koharu's first adventures in finger-painting. The bed-frame was still scratched from stray cats brought home and hidden from disapproving parents. He could still picture them, Koharu swaddled against his chest, napping after school or before school or, really, anytime at all.

He had hoped that he made the right choice in taking his furniture rather than hers. When her reverent hands ran down the bed-frame, little face filled with awe, he knew that he had.

Her fingers suddenly froze against the wood and fell away. Those eyes were suddenly empty again, and Shouta could have cried.

"Hizashi did the stickers," he blurted.

Koharu stood in the centre of the room to take in the walls. With her back to him, Shouta could see little more than tense shoulders and elbows raised as Koharu fidgeted with the strings of her sweater. She looked… lost, he thought, and he hated it.

A small sniffle sounded from beneath Koharu's yellow hood. "It's pretty."

Shouta's heart was both frozen and in his ass, and his stomach was screaming. Was she crying? "...thanks," he said, hoping he wasn't about to have to comfort her.

She was quiet then, standing still and looking hard at the floor. Shouta didn't know what to say. Was he supposed to leave now? He certainly wanted to.

"Shouta?"

He was across the room in a heartbeat, hands hovering towards Koharu with uncertainty. He shoved those traitors back into his pockets. "Yeah?"

Koharu was hunched in on herself, looking somehow even smaller than before. "Mom isn't gonna come back?"

Shouta didn't know how to do this. His mouth felt as dry as his eyes. "I don't know," he said, and it was the truth, even if his heart didn't believe it.

"Oh," she whispered, and Shouta heard her sniffle again. "Shouta?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Yeah."

He took his hand out of his pocket, offered it to the girl, and held her hand tight. Her body wobbled as she cried, fat tears running unobstructed down her face. With each droplet that fell to the floor, Shouta felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, and trusted that Koharu wouldn't tell anyone when he started to cry along with her. They had no one else, after all.

What could Shouta do? How had anyone thought it was a good idea to put this baby into his care? She had only just learned how to ride a bike. Her knees were still skinned. She hadn't even lost a tooth yet.

Encased in his grip, her hand was so small that he feared he might shatter it.