#White haired Izuku | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riahlynn101 · 2 years

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"Rose-Tinted Nostalgia.”

Summary: The memories and times of one, Yoichi Shigaraki.

Trigger warning: Implied/referenced sexual activity, terrorist attacks, and childhood trauma.

The loud wailing of a crying baby startles Yoichi awake. He jolts upright in bed, clutching the blankets to his chest. His heart hammers against the confines of his ribcage. Bright green eyes flit over to the empty space in the bed. The comforter is rumpled like someone threw it off in a hurry.

A familiar voice, crackling over the thrift-store-bought baby monitor, helps ease some of his panic. With a fond smile, Yoichi reaches for the monitor to listen in closer.

“You’re okay. Shhhh…nothing’s going to hurt you, not as long as I’m around,” his soon-to-be-husband quietly reassures Izuku. The three-month-old could be very fussy when he wanted to be.

Yoichi lays back down. The monitor remains close by, providing white noise. A static to match the fuzzy feeling buzzing around in his head.

He closes his eyes. For the first time in a long time, Yoichi is safe, content, and happy with nothing to regret.

-x-x-x-

Yoichi is many things: pathetic, weak, frail, oblivious - all of which are things his older brother “lovingly” reminds him of, constantly - but Yoichi Shigaraki is not a quitter!

Which is not a good thing, at least according to his mom (who treats him as if he’s made of glass). He disagrees, but only quietly because no one talks back to mom and gets away unscathed.

“Betcha can’t climb that tree ‘cause you’re scared! ” His obnoxious neighbor, a girl named Asa, taunts. Her hair is plaited into two, dark braids. Her button nose is covered in freckles, spreading across her cheeks.

Yoichi can’t stand her. She’s mean and rude and….she’s the only one who Hisashi can’t scare off. If anything, Asa takes it as a challenge. His older brother’s threats seem to grow in severity everytime they cross paths. But he has yet to act on any of them, key word being: yet .

“Heh, just watch,” he tells her, shouldering off his backpack and letting it drop to the grass. Yoichi glances up, suddenly unsure of his ability to climb a tree. It’s a large cherry blossom tree, planted just outside the playground limits. Sometimes, when the grownups are distracted, kids like to try to sneak away and see how high they can climb before they’re caught. The record, as boasted by Itsuki (another boy in their year), is ten feet.

“Watching,” Asa says.

Yoichi nods, mutely. Today is the day he proves he’s more than his sickness, more than the fragile body he was born into.

“Well,” she urges, impatiently tapping her foot, “get on with it.”

He doesn’t respond to her. Instead, he hoists himself up onto the first branch, bracing his feet against the tree trunk. The short use of strength leaves Yoichi feeling a little breathless. He ignores it in favor of moving higher, intent on proving something to his classmates.

He climbs higher and higher and-

“Alright, Ichi-Chan, you can come down now!” Asa calls up to him.

He rests, leaning his weight against the next branch up. “And, what? Let you best me and beat my record?”

“Ichi-Chan, it’s not safe to be that high up. Please, come down.”

He laughs off her concern. The branches creak under his weight, but Yoichi pays it little mind. He starts to pull himself up to the next level, when the unthinkable happens.

With a loud crack and an even louder thud, the branch he had been standing on breaks and falls out from under him.

Yoichi’s left dangling from the tree branch, stuck between deciding to risk falling on the branch below or pulling himself up (a near impossible task even with the extra support underneath him).

“Yoichi!” Asa screams. “I’ll go get your brother! Just hang on!” He watches her run away. Tears stream down his face. He wriggles, feet a good distance away from the nearest branch.

“No!” He begs. “Don’t leave me!”

But she’s already gone.

He struggles to take in enough air, chest heaving as his sobs intensify. Yoichi’s arms are starting to sting and the earlier adrenaline and dopamine rush has turned into a heart pounding terror. Worse yet, is his sweaty palms, which makes gripping onto his only lifeline that much harder.

Yoichi tightens his hold, digging his nails into the wood. It helps little. The dried wood burns his skin as it slides out of his grip. He sucks in a breath. And that’s when it happens. His grip loosens, and in just the small millisecond it takes to readjust his hold, Yoichi’s falling.

His stomach feels light, like gravity has no effect on it. The thinner branches - the ones that jut out from the strong, sturdy ones - scratch up Yoichi’s back, snapping in half from the sudden weight.

He lands on his back, winded.

“Little brother!”

Weakly, desperately, Yoichi wheezes.

“Oh, no! Yoichi?” Hisashi drops to his knees beside him, eyes wide. “Where’s your inhaler?”

He somehow manages to get out a pathetic-sounding, “in my bag.”

Hisashi scrambles to search through the backpack - still laying in the grass where Yoichi dropped it. “C’mon! C’mon!”

Yoichi listens to his frantic older brother. His chest burns and the littlest movement causes pain to spike up his arms and legs. Did he break them? He hopes not, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

From his place on the ground, Yoichi can see the blue sky. Sometimes he and Hisashi watch the clouds together and tell each other what the fluffy shapes remind them of. It’s rare they get to do that anymore, especially after-

“Here it is!” His older brother carefully supports his head and guides the inhaler to his mouth.

A quick shake followed by one puff. Yoichi coughs, chest still tight but some of the burning is quickly going away. Hisashi gives him one more puff from the inhaler after his coughing fit calms down some.

His older brother pats his arms and legs, gingerly poking and prodding at the limbs to check for broken bones. Yoichi hardly reacts, besides occasionally wincing when his brother pokes a little harder.

“Probably just a couple of cuts and bruises. But we can double check at home.”

Yoichi sighs in relief. He lives to cause trouble another day!

Someone behind them sniffles. “I-I’m really, really sorry, Ichi-Chan,” Asa cries.

Hisashi shifts, turning back. “Go away! You’ve done enough!”

He tugs on his brother’s shirt, urging him to leave her alone. “Onii-Chan, it isn’t her fault. I wanted to climb the tree. It’s my fault. She told me not to.”

Hisashi scoffs. “Yeah, right,” he says under his breath. “Well, we need to go home anyway. So, find someone else to bother.”

Yoichi is pulled to his feet. His brother wraps an arm around him, making sure to keep him close.

Despite his brother trying to block his way, Yoichi manages to wave goodbye to their neighbor, mouthing a quick, ‘thank you.’

-x-x-x-

Everyone’s dancing and drinking and having the time of their lives - a party to celebrate the first (of hopefully, many) laws in favor of meta-users - and all Yoichi can do is stare down at the table in front of him.

It’s been a month since his release from the vault and adjusting to the outside world remains a work-in-progress.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A woman asks.

He looks up. “Asa?” He asks, thoroughly confused. Hisashi had told Yoichi he had disposed of her long ago. What that exactly entails, Yoichi never asked (or wanted to know).

She still has her dark hair and freckles, but she’s grow-up a lot. Everything from her height to the way she carries herself to the way she speaks, hits Yoichi like a slap in the face (a reminder that they aren’t children anymore, and Hisashi took most of his teen years away).

“In the flesh,” she says, smiling brightly. “May I sit here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She sits down, leaning into his space. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yoichi knows she’s flirting with him. He isn’t attracted to her, at least not in the same way he is to Nisuke. But he can admit, smiling and nodding along to her story, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself just this once.

-x-x-x-

They’re hiding in the cellar. Mommy is holding him, and his big brother close to her chest, hushing them. The basement is dark and reeks of mildew.

From their place under the stairs, Yoichi can hear daddy’s muffled voice pleading with their neighbors.

An hour earlier, Hisashi had been teaching him how to play “Hot Cross Buns” on the piano in their living room. Mommy was making lunch, buzzing around the kitchen in her yellow summer dress with the flower designs on the sleeves. And then daddy had burst into the house, slamming the front door shut behind him.

Hisashi played a high note, startling from the sudden noise. “C’mon, ‘Ichi,” he had said, helping Yoichi down from the bench.

From there, he, his brother, and mommy were herded into the cellar. He catches a word here and there - “down the street…kill….need to hide…” - but it isn’t enough to help him understand why mommy, daddy, and Hisashi look so terrified.

Before the door closes behind them, Yoichi turns back. He sees daddy - the strongest, most bravest man he’s ever known - standing at the top, tears streaming down his face.

The door is shut quickly and firmly.

Now, sitting here, in the pitch black with only mommy’s shushing and Hisashi’s hiccuping breaths, Yoichi is starting to worry about daddy.

“Mommy? Why isn’t-”

“Shush,” she tells him, running her thin fingers through his medium-length hair.

“But mo-”

Bang! Bang!

Before he can ask mommy what just happened, her hand is clasped firmly over his mouth. She stiffens, holding them closer. The footsteps and angry voices have quieted down, walking further away from the basement.

The next time he sees daddy, he’s being lowered into the ground.

-x-x-x-

His son is small. Smaller than Yoichi pictured in his head. In the moments between the baby being swaddled and the various tests the nurse (they could only spare a single nurse and a midwife. Many of the base’s residents were injured in an attack, so it’s all the manpower they could lend them) conducts to make sure the baby’s healthy, Yoichi counts ten perfect, little fingers and ten perfect, little toes.

Asa clears her throat, obviously trying to get his attention.

He looks up at her.

“There’s no easy way to say this so I may as well rip the Band-Aid off. I don’t want the baby. I don’t want anything to do with him, and I don’t want to be a part of his life and upbringing.”

Yoichi blinks. He gazes down at the slumbering (is he sleeping or is he awake? He can’t really tell) newborn. The omission isn’t that big of a surprise. Asa’s brought up signing away her rights before, but it still stings in a way it absolutely shouldn’t because the only feeling he holds for her is fleeting childhood nostalgia.

“Why?” He asks her, if only to have something to tell their son when he gets older.

“Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I’ve never wanted to be a mother. I have things I want to do, people I want to meet, and having a baby was never in that plan. Besides,” she smiles at him, tone light, “he’s in good hands.”

“I will protect him until the day I die and then even past that,” he declares, stroking the baby-soft hair on his son’s head.

Asa giggles. “Not exactly what I meant, Ichi-Chan.”

He looks at her, confused.

“Well, yes, I know he’ll be safe with you. You are his father, but I am referring to Nisuke. Oh, don’t give that look. I know you two are dating. I’m not dense.”

Yoichi’s face burns. “Uh, oh, sorry. It’s not-”

“No, don’t apologize. I want you to be happy. I want the baby, you, and Nisuke to be happy. Together. After everything you’ve gone through, it’s the least you deserve. And it’s not like I’m going to be off wallowing in self-despair. I’m studying to become a doctor, which - if this whole experience should have taught you anything - we really need right now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Yoichi nods.

“Good. Now to the more pressing issue: what are you going to name the baby?”

He thinks of his brother, of all people, right then. How, despite his illness and his unruly behavior in his preteen years, Hisashi never stopped loving him. The gentle way he wiped away Yoichi’s tears after each nightmare. The countless hours of his brother reading Captain Hero aloud to distract from the screaming and bloodshed just outside their window. All the sacrifices his big brother made to keep Yoichi alive and well (and then his sanity took a swan dive, and Hisashi turned into the very monster he wanted to protect Yoichi from).

A single name pops in his head. One he’s been deliberating on for literal months now.

When he doesn’t answer, Asa scoffs. “Well, you need to decide-”

“Izuku,” he says, steadfast in his decision. “His name will be Izuku.”

-x-x-x-

In spite of his nerves, Yoichi is the one to ask Nisuke on a date first.

They have a picnic on the roof of the base. Far from any prying eyes. The sun has started to set, and the sky is painted with all shades of pinks, oranges, and purples. The September air is chilly, and even with a long-sleeve shirt and jacket, Yoichi finds himself shivering.

Nisuke chuckles, shrugging off his jacket. He carefully drapes the coat over Yoichi’s shoulders.

The action renders him speechless. All he can do is grasp at the material and mutter a breathy, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It doesn’t take long for Nisuke to get cold. He tries to hide it with funny quips, but at one point he’s shivering worse than Yoichi.

“Here.” He makes to give the coat back. A hand, covered in scars and rough with age, grabs his wrist. Yoichi looks at him, puzzled. “Wha-”

His lips are warm, Yoichi notes, dreamily.

It was their first kiss, but it would most certainly not be their last.

-x-x-x-

Hisashi holds his hand. The doctor is cleaning Yoichi’s arm for another shot. He hates getting shots, and they never seem to end.

His older brother squeezes his hand, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. “Almost done,” he murmurs. This used to be dad’s job, but he isn’t here anymore.

The doctor delivers the vaccine, holding a piece of cotton over the affected area.

“Ow!” He complains, reaching up to rub at the spot the doctor pricked him at.

“‘Ichi,” Hisashi says, grabbing his other hand as well, “don’t.”

“But it hurts,” he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip.

“If you don’t rub at it, I’ll buy you one of those penny comics they have at the corner store.”

From the corner of the room, their mom makes a noise of discontent. “Hisashi-”

His older brother just glares at their mom, which shuts her up pretty quick.

He thinks it over. “Deal!”

That night, Hisashi reads Captain Hero: Volume One aloud to him. It’s the first time he’s ever done so, and it’s the first time Yoichi finds himself wondering if he, as weak as he is, could ever hope to be a hero.

-x-x-x-

They get married on a Monday in December. No one else attends the ceremony save for Sanshirou - who is their witness and babysitter for the night - Izuku, and an officiant.

Neither of them have enough money for a tux - borrowed or otherwise - so they’re both dressed rather casually. Yoichi in a long-sleeve shirt with the ironic labeling of “t-shirt” across the front of it and the nicest pair of pants he could find in his pathetically small wardrobe. Nisuke is dressed in a warm flannel button-up shirt and jeans.

The officiant had given them both a once over when they arrived. Clearly a little taken back by their lack of event-appropriate clothing, but held his tongue nonetheless.

“Do you, Nisuke Harada, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do.”

“I do,” Nisuke says, voice shaking a little with the weight of their future resting on his shoulders.

“And do you, Yoichi Shigaraki, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do.”

“I do,” he answers, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He has to stop himself from giggling - excitement bubbling underneath his skin. It’s all he can do to force himself to stand still and not jump for joy.

Behind them in the pews, Izuku squeals happily.

The officiant smiles at them. “Then, by the power vested in me by the city of Musutafu, and agreed upon by both parties and that adorable baby in the front pew, you may kiss your husband.”

Unlike their first kiss, Yoichi is ready. But the way Nisuke presses his lips against his, firmly and gently, still manages to take his breath away.

-x-x-x-

Izuku giggles, bouncing on his heels. “Look! Look!” He squeals, thrusting a crayoned-drawing towards Yoichi’s chest.

Nisuke chuckles, watching from the sink in the kitchen. Dishes are a chore no one likes, so they take turns washing them after every meal. This morning it’s Nisuke’s turn.

“Let me see,” Yoichi says, gently taking the paper from his son’s outstretched hands.

On the pink construction paper are three blobs. One with hair just above the shoulders, one with spiky hair, and one shorter than the others with curly hair. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what his son is trying to depict.

“Is this-”

“Mhm!” Izuku excitedly points at the drawing. “That’s you, that one’s papa, and this one’s me!” He looks up at Yoichi, eyes shining. “Do you like it?”

A soft smile graces his features. Yoichi gives a curt nod. “I love it, Izu. Can I hang it on the fridge?”

Izuku seems to consider this for a moment, cocking his head to the side. His white curls flopping over his left eye with the sudden movement. He grins, nodding empathically. “Yes, please.” Izuku moves closer, throwing his tiny arms around Yoichi. “I love you, daddy,” he says, genuine in a way only a small child can be.

“I love you too, Izu.”

-x-x-x-

Izuku is two-months-old when he gets confirmation Asa has passed away. They’re living in an apartment in the city of Musutafu, and have long since cut contact with nearly everyone at the base (besides Sanshirou).

A car accident. Black ice and a lack of any guard rails sent her vehicle careening over the edge into the river below.

Though Yoichi doesn’t break down at the news, Nisuke hugs him close and comforts him anyways, probably sensing the conflicting emotions warring in his head.

That night, Yoichi watches his son while he sleeps. Tiny hands furled up into even tinier fists. “I’ll protect you,” he promises, stroking his son’s hair. Peppering the dark strands are bits of white. If this keeps up, he muses, Izuku will have the same color hair as him and-

He cringes back. He hasn’t thought of Hisashi in months, not since his son’s birth.

Hopefully hair color is all Izuku and Hisashi will share.

-x-x-x-

He thinks of all these moments - all blurring together in a blend of beautiful, rose-tinted nostalgia - as he lays dying. The spike attack had been meant for his husband - and even though it hurts (badly) - Yoichi doesn’t regret pushing him out of the way.

Hisashi stands in the middle of all the chaos. Tears are streaming down his face. He’s quiet for once, staring down at Yoichi. He falls to his knees next to Yoichi’s limp form.

“Little bro-ther,” he chokes on a sob. “I-I…it wasn’t meant for you. Why..?” The tears are falling faster now.

Yoichi forces one trembling, blood soaked hand up to his older brother’s face. As gingerly as his brother used to after a bad dream or a horrifying ordeal, he touches Hisashi’s face. His brother has a look of absolute shock. “It’ll be okay,” he says, a small smile on his face. “I’ll be able to see my son again.”

Hisashi’s face crumples. He pulls back, taking Yoichi’s hand into his own. Giving it a small squeeze, he takes a deep breath. “About that,” he starts, noticeably not meeting Yoichi’s eyes, “Izuku…he…I…”

With all the grace of an elephant in a fine china shop, Nisuke stumbles over. His arm extended as if in the process of activating “gear shift.” Yoichi wants to scream at his husband to wait, that he needs to hear what Hisashi’s trying to say. But he can hardly talk without blood spilling from his mouth, and his chest burns with the slightest movement.

He watches helplessly, vision steadily getting blurrier and blurrier, as Nisuke gets closer and Hisashi continues to flounder with his words.

Yoichi wants so badly to reach out again. To scream at his brother and demand answers. But his body - weak as it’s always been - refuses to listen.

His vision goes dark and he can’t feel anymore, but Yoichi can still hear. Though, admitly, the sound is muffled and it’s hard to fully understand anything.

“Izuku is alive,” his brother says, voice strained.

Even as the last of his senses leave him, Yoichi finds himself hoping and praying that his son isn’t under the care of Hisashi. Loved as Yoichi was (and will, undoubtedly, continue to be), his brother’s love can be as wonderful as it can be horribly suffocating. It’s a fate near as frightening as death itself but less avoidable.

A little selfishlessly, as well, he finds himself just a tiny bit upset; he'll have to wait to see Izuku again. It’s a terrible, awful thought to have as a parent. He should be happy, drifting off to nothingness or an afterlife with the knowledge that his baby lives on. But he can’t.

The last few months following the bombing near Izuku’s daycare, have been nothing short of hell.

Every night, he dreamt of holding Izuku in his arms. And every morning, he awoke into the same nightmare.

The grief was bottomless.

And it’s not like it just affected Yoichi. Nisuke also had trouble getting out of bed and continuing his leadership duties.

So, yes, maybe it is a nasty thing to think, but Yoichi is way past caring.

As he’s pulled under, the inky blackness swallowing everything he ever was and ever will be, Yoichi hopes beyond all reason that his son isn’t suffering (wherever he is). That, if Izuku has to live under Hisashi’s roof, he’s safe and happy.

That’s all he’s ever wanted for Izuku, even if they never see each other ever again and all of the memories they shared together are forever erased from his son’s still too-young mind, for Izuku to be as carefree as any child should.

Goodnight, Izu, daddy’s sorry he couldn’t save you, like your papa saved me. I love you, wherever you are. Maybe one day we’ll be a family again, but until that time -

don’t forget I’m always watching over you. No matter what, I will protect you.

#mha my hero academia #mha yoichi #mha fanfiction #mha au #mha izuku #white haired izuku #cross posted on ao3 #dad for all #uncle for one mha

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