#wilds fics

Aizawa had always been rather neutral about the Christmas season. Growing up in the environment that he did, his family didn’t really celebrate the season much -- nor did their broken family really have much to celebrate. Throughout the years he’d played along with the normal Christmas traditions for Hizashi’s sake; trading gifts, helping the blonde decorate, enjoying a piece of candy or two. But, he’d never felt any passion about the season, not the way he saw it in Yamada’s eyes. He enjoyed making those close to him happy, sure, but all the trees, the gifts, the decor, the songs, they hadn’t really done much for him. 

Not until Hitoshi came along. 

Mic had, as he was wont to do, made Hitoshi’s first Christmas a big deal. At the time, Shouta had just gone along with it again -- his child was a baby who didn’t understand what was going on. They’d had a small, fake tree in their tiny apartment, with little gifts for Hitoshi under its glossy branches, tinsel and decor hanging just out of a small child-who’d-just-learned-to-walk’s reach. But, seeing “Santa” or opening a gift, it didn’t mean anything to a child that small. He got a little more into it the next year, Hitoshi giggling with glee as the paper shredded in his tiny hands -- a colorful toy hiding beneath. Again, Hizashi made sure it was well-documented; a picture of a beaming Shinsou and a reluctantly smiling Aizawa hidden away in a small photo album in his bedside table. 

By the time Hitoshi was three, he’d gotten a little more grasp on Christmas. He was beginning to understand who Santa was, thanks to Hizashi. Shouta bought Christmas-themed books to read to his son, who fell asleep too many times to count to stories of Santa delivering gifts and Rudolph proving his worth to the other reindeer to save the day. 

It was the first year Shouta felt it. The Christmas spirit. When he woke Hitoshi up that morning, and watched the look of awe, surprise, and glee on his son’s face when he’d noticed the gifts that had magically appeared under the tree overnight ( “Looks like Santa paid us a visit, Hitoshi. He brings gifts to all the little kids who’ve been good all year long, remember?”), it finally warmed his heart to the idea of Christmas. 

That single look of magic in Hitoshi’s eyes. 

The following year, Aizawa got more into the festive spirit. He played Christmas music occasionally in the house. He and Hitoshi built a gingerbread house together -- somewhat, anyway, as parts of it definitely disappeared into Hitoshi’s stomach. That year, he taught Shinsou about buying gifts for others -- like Uncle Beebee. While he still didn’t bother with buying a real tree (there was no way it would fit into the apartment), he at least bought a few new, flashier decorations for their plastic one, and a couple of stockings to hang up as well. He helped his son write a letter to Santa, detailing all the good things he’d done that year, and asking for an innocent gift;

“What would you like to ask Santa for, Hitoshi?” 

“To be a hero!!” 

“Hmm, how about something a little smaller for now? I don’t think Santa has enough room in his sleigh for a hero’s education this year.” 

 “ ... A mustache!” 

“Alright, kiddo, a mustache. How about a friend for Beans, too? Don’t you think he could use another kitty friend?”

“Yeah! A new kitty!” 

When Christmas morning came, Shouta felt his heart melt once again. Hitoshi, giggling with pure and innocent happiness, thanking Santa as he opened a gift and showed it off. He couldn’t help but smile as his son cuddled his new stuffed kitty close, as he marveled at the milk and cookies that Santa had “enjoyed” the night before, as he babbled about how much he loved Christmas. Hitoshi was more than excited to show off his new kitty, and booklet of fake stick-on mustaches, to Yamada’s family at Christmas Dinner later that day. 

Aizawa spent two decades of his life not really feeling much of a thing for Christmas. Not until his son came along. 

Now that Hitoshi was five, he was asking more questions that Shouta was having to defer to Yamada about. How did Santa deliver all those gifts? How did he keep track of everyone? Why does everyone celebrate Christmas? Could they stay up and try and catch Santa? Was Santa a hero? His son, however adorable, was a questions machine. 

Aizawa managed to stem the flow of endless Christmas-related questions by reminding Hitoshi that they needed to go pick something up for Hizashi. His son completely switched gears, grinning ear to ear with his bright, gap-toothed smile, purple eyes shining with delight. Shouta bundled Hitoshi up in his warm coat, wrestling a warm cap over his unruly mop of indigo locks, and hurried them off to the mall to look for something Hizashi would enjoy. 

Hitoshi’s hand clung hard to his own as they walked through the crowded mall, two sets of perpetually-tired eyes glancing over stores, over all the shining toys and gifts on display, over all the Christmas-themed clothing, reds and greens abound. Aizawa had to hoist Hitoshi into his arms so they could discuss what they thought Hizashi might enjoy, the noise of the crowd making drowning out Shinsou’s naturally quiet tone. Shouta carried his son down the walkway, holding him close, taking a moment every now and again to look at see that endless, joyful emotion reflecting in Hitoshi’s eyes. 

However, they didn’t quite make it to the store they’d been headed to. Instead, Shinsou let out a loud gasp, hands flying into the air and nearly smacking his father in the face, his little voice ringing out, “Daddy, daddy! It’s Santa Claus!” 

There in the distance was the mall Santa -- a surprisingly well done version, proudly plump, with red-dusted cheeks, a full white beard, and a genuine, kind smile. There was a small line to see him; children waiting impatiently, some bouncing on the balls of their feet while others stared forward, obviously a little terrified. Shouta knew it could go either way with Hitoshi -- he tended to be a little guarded with strangers -- but there was no harm in asking his son what he’d like to do. 

“Would you like to talk to Santa, Hitoshi?”

Shinsou’s innocent eyes fell wide with surprise, his mouth falling slack, “I-- I can talk to Santa?” 

Shouta chuckled, patting his young son’s back, “Only if you want to, kiddo. We could always write him a letter instead. He’ll understand.” 

Hitoshi chewed on the thought for a moment, his violet eyes turning skyward as he pondered. Finally, he nodded, “I wanna talk to Santa. I know what I wanna ask for this year.” 

Aizawa smiled and set Hitoshi down on his feet, leading him over to the line, “Alright. You wait for you turn in line, and I’ll be right over there with the other parents, okay?” 

There was a little reluctance in the way Hitoshi let go of his hand, but Shouta kept a close eye on his son as he stepped away, giving the nervous child a small, reassuring smile and wave every time he glanced over. Aizawa was proud, oh so proud of Hitoshi for being brave enough to stand in the line, alone, to talk to Santa on his own. Ever since his quirk had developed, Hitoshi had been a little nervous to speak to others; always shy and quiet with his eyes and head bowed. But, now, he was facing forward with determination, his little hands curled at his sides, violet hair poking out from underneath his stocking cap. 

What was so important, Aizawa pondered to himself, that Hitoshi would have such determination to tell Santa?

Ten minutes passed before it was Hitoshi’s turn to visit with Santa Claus. His steps were a little shaky as he marveled at Kris Kringle with awe in his eyes, filled with surprise and giddy energy. He was set on Santa’s knee, and Aizawa stood close by on the other side of the small gate with the other parents, listening in for a clue as to what Hitoshi could possibly want that had been so important. 

“And what’s your name, son?” Santa asked heartily, smiling dearly at the young boy. 

“H-Hitoshi,” Shinsou stammered back, clearly a little intimidated despite the joy he’d been feeling only a moment ago. 

“Now now, Hitoshi,” Santa rumbled a laugh, “No need to be frightened! Please, tell Santa what you’d like for Christmas. I know you’ve been a very good kiddo this year.” 

Shouta watched as his young son steeled his nerves, taking a deep breath and relaxing. He brought his little hands together in his lap, looking up to Santa for a moment, before turning his eyes to the ground. 

“ ... I wanna ask for something for my Dad,” Hitoshi mumbled as he fidgeted with his hands, finally turning his eyes back to Santa’s jolly face, “My daddy works really hard. He has two jobs, and he still always takes care of me -- and sometimes Uncle Beebee too, and he never asks for anything. I wanna ask you to give my daddy a present this year, cause I know he would be so happy to see one, like me. Please, Santa? Bring something for my dad too?” 

Aizawa wasn’t sure what reaction was on his face -- surprise, heartbreak, absolute adoration? His heart felt like it was going to melt out of his chest and drip into his boots. He pulled his scarf up around his face, turning his eyes away so that Hitoshi wouldn’t assume he’d been listening in. He heard Santa agree with another booming laugh, and glanced back only to see Hitoshi hug the man in red and thank him. Shouta needed more time to collect himself -- his face felt warm, and the ends of his eyelashes just a little damp. As Hitoshi rounded the corner, fast little footsteps quickly making their way towards him, Shouta reached out a hand for him, keeping his mouth hidden away. 

“Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas this year?”

“Uh huh. Now we gotta find Beebee’s present!” 

“Right. Let’s get back to looking.” 

A week later, as Hitoshi woke up and ran to the tree in the morning, beating Aizawa to it, Shouta heard his son’s happy squealing voice. He rounded the corner into their small living area, rubbing the lack of sleep from his dark eyes as Shinsou bounded over to him, a box in his arms. 

“Daddy, Daddy! Santa brought you a present!!” Hitoshi grinned bigger than he ever had before, his violet eyes glistening, “Open it!” 

Shouta chuckled, taking the box from his son and setting it next to him, pulling off a big, surprised smile for Hitoshi’s sake, “Did he now? That’s quite the surprise. Let me have some coffee first, okay? You go ahead and open one of yours, and I’ll let Uncle Beebee know you’re up so he can join us.” 

Hitoshi bounced back over to the tree, crawling around to peer through his small pile of gifts. He sat on the floor, fingers tracing over the bow on one present -- and Shouta only barely heard the little whisper he gave. 

“Thank you, Santa, for making daddy so happy.” 

It was a moment Shouta would never forget, even as Christmas’s continued to pass by later in life and lose that magical spark they once held. 

Thank you, Hitoshi. Every time I think I couldn’t be happier or more proud to call you my son, you prove me wrong. 

Shouta arrived at the pre-school as quickly as he could after finishing up class at UA. He hurriedly changed clothes before he left the school, not wanting to be potentially recognized by anyone, even if the chances were quite low. Dressed in comfortable dark pants and a button up, he looked like an average teacher, not one that had just spent an hour barking orders at future-pro-hero students to complete their objectives in field training. It felt stiff and tight and wrong, but that meant that he was dressed right for the occasion.

Hizashi, who’d been watching Hitoshi for the day, was already there -- dressed casually, his long hair pulled into a messy bun, chatting away with his son on the bench. Aizawa stopped short of them for a moment, barely out of their gaze, taking in the sight. Hitoshi, his face lit with happiness and laughter, trying to figure out one of his “uncle's” famous tongue twisters. Hizashi’s intense green eyes never left Hitoshi’s face, not even for a split second, as he heartily laughed with the kiddo, locked in a gaze that Aizawa swore he only saw in these short, heartfelt moments.

He hated to interrupt it -- but he felt reassured, after seeing them together, in his decision to have Hizashi tag along for this inspection.

Yamada would be just as critical as he was, if not moreso. Though they were wildly different, night and day, Hizashi would always argue that they completed what the other lacked -- in the working field and beyond.

Aizawa approached the pair quietly, but Hitoshi, always observant, had quickly spotted him before he could even open his mouth.

“Daddy!” the little boy pounced off of the bench, half tackling himself into his father’s leg. Shouta couldn’t help but chuckle, lifting his young son from the ground, letting Hitoshi hug him tightly around the neck. For a brief moment, he felt the tension in his shoulders melt away; comforted by holding his world in his arms.

He returned the hug, patting Hitoshi on the back, “Did you have a good time with Uncle Mic today, kiddo?”

Hitoshi nodded furiously, a bright smile spread across his reddened face, “Uh huh! We went to the park, and we got ice cream, and we had lunch at a diner, and--”.

“And the rest is a secret,” Hizashi interjected with a laugh, imitating the sshh gesture -- ironic though it was for him, “I can’t let your dad know my secret to the Best Day Ever, y’know? Then you’ll never wanna hang out with me!”

Hitoshi stuck his tongue out at Hizashi with a giggle while Shouta rolled his eyes.

“I think your secret is safe, Hizashi,” Aizawa’s lips turned up into a barely warm smile, but it was enough to calm Hizashi down, “Now, Hitoshi. Are you ready to meet your new teacher?”

Shinsou’s expression fell, instantly. His bright, happy smile quickly dropped into a frown, his eyes widening with barely veiled fear. The ball of energy in Shouta’s arms had become dead weight. Hitoshi bowed his head, immediately wringing his hands together nervously, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, eyes on the ground, “ … No.”

Aizawa knew this was coming. Anytime he remotely brought up school or teachers he got a similar response. Everything that happened at his last preschool had clearly had a lasting impact on Hitoshi. The bullies -- Hitoshi was nervous to make friends. The teacher -- Hitoshi shut down at the mere mention of school. Shouta tried to reassure his son, best that he could, but it was something that Shinsou would have to overcome with time and exposure, and heaps of never ending support.

“It’ll be alright, Hitoshi,” Aizawa calmly explained, an attempt at convincing them both, giving his son another quick, tight hug before setting Hitoshi back on his own two feet, “Your Uncle and I are here to make sure that this school is nothing like your last one.”

Hizashi squatted down, ruffling Shinsou’s hair, “Your dad’s right, kiddo. You can always count on us to look out for you, y’know?”

Hitoshi was still quiet, reaching up and grabbing his father’s hand nervously, eyes silently judging the ground beneath his feet. Finally, he gave a little nod in recognition.

When Aizawa arrived at the school, he released the sigh he didn’t even release he was holding in. 

Hitoshi was quick to break away from the crowd of children and teachers, running as fast as his little feet would allow, practically throwing himself at his father. Shouta nearly found himself knocked off balance as Hitoshi tackled his abdomen in a tight hug, a large, happy grin on his face. 

Amused, Aizawa quickly returned the hug, but peeled his son off of himself. It was always a coin flip, whether Hitoshi would be running to him happily, or upset. Whether he’d had a good, fun day learning in class and making friends, or had gotten picked on for his quirk, or hair or shoes or -- well, anything, really. Young children were merciless. However, today was clearly a good day, and Shouta was ready to hear all about it. 

“Tell me about your day, Hitoshi.”

As Aizawa led his son to the train station, Hitoshi was quick to begin babbling about his day. They were learning so much these days, that even Shouta found it difficult to keep up with. How Hitoshi was beginning to learn how to write, how to read complicated sentences far beyond the one’s he’d learned at home, how to add and subtract -- it was mind boggling to believe that all children learned so much, all at once. And to Hitoshi, it seemed like nothing at all -- effortless. His teacher was always happy to report on his impressive progress. 

But, as they took their seats for the quick train ride home, Aizawa could tell that there was something his son wasn’t saying. Hitoshi was quietly excited, still buzzing with pure energy, a big, happy smile on his face and pure, innocent hope in his eyes. 

“Is there something else, kiddo?”

Shinsou eagerly nodded, clearly ready to spill the beans. 

“Tomorrow is Hero Day, and Mrs. Hana said that we can dress up as a hero for class!”

Shouta smiled patiently (why was it that teachers always decided these things last minute? or was it just that kids never told their parents until the last second?), ruffling his son’s wild, purple locks, “Oh? And who do you want to dress up as?”

“You! You’re my favorite hero, dad.”

The conversation was vague enough that Aizawa didn’t worry much about being overheard. However, he waited until they were off the train to continue the conversation, holding his son’s hand as they made their way back home. 

“Are you sure, Hitoshi? Remember, I’m an underground hero. That means that no one really knows who Eraserhead is.” 

Hitoshi shook his head, undeterred, gripping his father’s hand as tightly as he could, “I’m sure! I don’t care if no one knows who I am. I want to be my favorite.” 

Shinsou’s conviction was not one to be tested. After all, this was a child that went back to the same school, day by day, even when he was picked on. He chose to keep going back, to try and make other children see him differently. Aizawa had offered to let him transfer classes again, but Hitoshi had refused. He was stubborn, dead-set on getting people to see him for who he really was. 

Wonder where he got that stubbornness from.

Internally, Aizawa struggled with the situation before him. On one hand, he could let Shinsou do as he pleased, dress up as the relatively-unknown Eraserhead, and potentially be picked on the next day at school, where his peers would definitely be dressed as well known pro heroes. On the other hand, he could encourage his son to choose one of his favorite pro heroes he saw on the news every night. Eraserhead wasn’t the only hero in Hitoshi’s eyes, but he was, obviously, the favorite. 

Being a parent was full of difficult decisions. It always seemed like no option was the best one -- one was simply slightly better than the other.

Though, as Hitoshi chatted on about how to make his hair stand up and if they could make parts for the costume, Shouta  quickly came to the conclusion that there would be no point in fighting it. His son was dead set on this plan. He’d probably been thinking about it all day long.

Well, if tomorrow turned out sour for Hitoshi, they’d take care of it. Together. 

“Alright, alright, slow down,” Aizawa attempted to stem the flow of rambling words falling out of his son’s mouth at an alarming rate -- he’d lost track of their one-sided conversation, “I think we’d better stop at Uncle Mic’s place first. Something tells me he’ll be able to help us out.” 

Yamada was, of course, ecstatic to have his friend and favorite nephew drop by. Once Aizawa explained what they were there for, Hizashi quickly threw himself to work. 

“Right, I’ve got everything we’ll need!” Hizashi nearly screeched, clearly excited to dress Hitoshi up as his favorite hero, “Well, as far as your hair and goggles go! Your dad will have to help us with the rest, little listener.” 

Shinsou’s face lit up at the thought, nearly bouncing off the wall with his unsurpassed energy, “Really!? Thanks Beebee!” 

Aizawa chuckled, clearly amused that Hitoshi had never dropped his odd nickname for Yamada in all his years of learning how to talk. Hizashi, equally, didn’t seem bothered at all, laughing and pulling his young nephew into a tight hug before setting the excited, squirming child back down. 

The trio made their way back to the Aizawa household, where the two adults began to conspire how to make this outfit a reality. Hitoshi, meanwhile, was playing hero on his own, pretending to rescue kitties from a dangerously high tree they’d climbed into. 

“Well, I’ve got the gel for his hair,” Hizashi commented as he pulled out the supplies he was able to gather at his own home, “And remember those stunner shades we were giving out at the station? I kept a pair of yellow ones. I was gonna switch your goggles out with them for fun, but I guess this is a good use for them too.” 

Shouta picked up the pair of cheap, yellow shades, putting them on non-ironically, “They’ll be too big for him. We’ll have to address that, somehow.” 

“We could use some rubber bands, or string!”

“Right. He’s got enough black clothes to make the outfit work,” Shouta mused, taking a mental catalog of Hitoshi’s closet -- he doesn’t claim full responsibility for his son’s enormous amount of black clothing, “I’ve got an old scarf he can use. we just need to make him a belt..”.

To keep Hitoshi sated as they found the rest of the parts for his outfit, Aizawa and Yamada went ahead and fixed up the glasses to give to the rambunctious child. Shinsou was, clearly, beside himself with joy. He quickly put them on, having to constantly adjust them because of their size, and went back to playing hero for the kitties who constantly found themselves in trouble. 

It took a couple of hours, and a break for dinner, but the two adults managed to construct an outfit for Hitoshi to show off at school the next day.

“Alright Hitoshi,” Aizawa calmly called out to his son, urging him to the bathroom so they didn’t make a complete mess with the hair gel, “Let’s put the whole thing together.” 

Shinsou practically shredded his boring, regular clothes for the chance to dress like his favorite hero. Shouta smiled, amused and touched as Hitoshi became even more excited with each piece of the costume that adorned him. A fully black outfit, black shoes, a carefully wrapped scarf, a meticulously crafted utility belt, and the already fixed stunner shades to top it off. Yamada took the hair gel and quickly, expertly used it to make Shinsou’s hair stand completely on end. 

Hitoshi stared in the mirror after all was said and done, completely transfixed by his appearance. His little fingers touched his reflection, briefly, before he turned to his father with a large, toothy smile. 

“I look just like you! Thanks Dad, thanks Beebee!!” 

Hizashi laughed, nudging Hitoshi towards his father, “You’re welcome! Though, to look just like your dad you’ll have to frown more. Now c’mon, it’s picture time!” 

Aizawa, always good-naturedly annoyed by the impromptu picture sessions, picked up his son and put on his typical, I never agreed to this, scowl. Looking to mimic is idol, Hitoshi tried his best to put on the same face -- breaking character more than a few times to giggle and squirm happily. Yamada gleefully snapped a few photos, destined to end up in Aizawa’s treasured photo album, before they let Hitoshi loose to play hero once more -- as a real, bonafide hero. 

“Hitoshi, you’ve got half an hour to play, then it’s bed time,” Aizawa called into the living area, rubbing a reddened eye before cutting off his son’s protests, “No but’s! Even Eraserhead has to sleep sometime.” 

Strict parenting aside, Aizawa took time to relish the moment. Watching his son, decked out head to toe in his image, playing hero. It was Hitoshi’s dream to become a hero, just like his father. And watching him live in that excitement, in that dream, it just --

These were the moments Aizawa Shouta lived for. 

Yamada stayed the night to help re-decorate Hitoshi in the morning. As Aizawa dropped his son off at school that day, Shinsou all put sprinted past the other children, also decked out in creative hero gear, to run inside and show off who and what he was, taking only a moment to turn and wave to his father before disappearing through the doors. 

Aizawa smiled, watching the scene for a moment before turning to walk away, headed towards his own day of teaching would-be heroes.

Guys, seriously, I can't even BEGIN to explain how happy and excited I was to see how much people enjoyed this fic. I never, in my wildest dreams, did I think it would get as much attention as it has. I'm beyond wowed. I don't know what to say. I've mostly just been a mess of tears and screaming.

That being said, this chapter is WAAAAY lamer than the first one. I'm really sorry about that! I kind of wrote and rewrote it several times, which is why it took me so long to even get it up, haha. Even as I'm typing this, it's nearly 6am ... I just wanted to get SOMETHING up, even if I don't feel it's the best.

BUT -- we're out of the boring months after this. The next chapter will follow Shinsou into toddler-hood, where he begins developing a bit of that personality. And I've got tons of ideas for how hilarious that'll be.