The Universe Lies Docile in Your Eyes

Home

Hello, Hello! Welcome to another chapter! Sorry this one's unbeta'd for now, Leafy is unbelievabley busy and couldn't get to it. I'll update it when the editing is done, but for now here's the unedited version of Chapter 15, Home. Thanks for clicking on and reading! 

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Izuku walked behind the heroes as they led him to his home for the time being. On the ride there, Aizawa and Yamada explained to him his current situation. He was without family, and due to that, the police have to register him into the foster system. Luckily for them, Aizawa found a loophole that let Izuku stay with them. The law states that a child in foster care must stay in a facility or in authority's custody. Since Yamada and Aizawa were Pro heroes, the law regarded them as authoritarian figures, and thus Izuku could stay with them until the could legally foster him. Izuku honestly found the process really interesting. It seemed that not even laws were clean cut.

Izuku tapped up to the door, heard one of the heroes unlock it, and walked in. He took off his shoes and tapped around the house, exploring it all. After around ten minutes, he felt like he had a good grasp on the first floor's layout. The carpet in the living room was long and plush and spread throughout the house, the only places without it were the bathroom and the kitchen, which had tile. Izuku wasn't used to carpet. He had only really had carpet once, but that was in another life when his mother was alive. The bar had wood floors and terrible, plaster-like tiles in the bathrooms. The hospital had tile too, even if it was a bit weird and waxy feeling. Hell, even the Bakugou's had wood flooring. Carpet was foreign, meaning it was untrustworthy. It also dulled the taps of his cane, which he didn't like. It took away his 'sight', which wasn't okay. He wouldn't tell Aizawa or Yamada, though. It wasn't his home; it was theirs. They probably liked their carpets so he wouldn't say anything about it.

He made his way back to the couch and sat on the far left, taking up as little space as he could. He was a stranger in someone else's home and thus felt like he didn't belong. The feeling wasn't new, however. He only once truly felt as though he belonged, but that was a long time ago and that feeling had faded from memory. He folded up his cane and sat it on his lap. He stroked the felt of the couch, his quirk making the texture coarse and uncomfortable. Of course, he would never say as such.

Yamada plopped down on the opposite side and flicked on the television. Izuku listened silently to the show, soon he heard a familiar voice that had heard at least a million times. "DO NOT FEAR; FOR I AM HERE!" He simultaneously felt his heart leap in excitement and his stomach lurch in fear. He was still a fanboy at heart, and All Might was... well, All Might. When Izuku was first taken to the bar, he would pray every night to whatever god that would listen that All Might would come and save him from his dad's flames and the scientist's experiments, but he never came. Heroes always failed him. After four months with no sign of being saved anytime soon, he stopped. It had become obvious that he had been forgotten about, and he accepted it as fact that he would never be saved. He chuckled to himself. What would his past self think about his current situation? He had an even better question afterward, what would Dabi think of his situation?

His breath hitched. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit the cassette tape. He didn't have it. Cold dread seeped into his bones and fear filtered through his veins. What if the villains found it? God, he was an idiot. He should have destroyed the damn tape. He sat frozen on the couch, no one the wiser of his internal struggle. He felt stupid, hideous. Dabi's secrets would be revealed all because he was so damn sentimental. Would good was it to keep something that he would end up foolishly leaving in the hands of the goddamn villains. What about Dabi's family? He was Endeavor's child, though the flaming hero apparently wasn't much of a father.