Painful {Aizawa/Izuku Platonic story}

Chapter 22

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"-and if you do adopt him, with me as his dad- doesn't that kind of make us his parents? You're like- his dad number one and I'll be dad number two-"

"For the last fucking time, Midoriya Hisashi, I'm not gay."

Hisashi literally downed his Jasmine tea- herbs included. "I know, neither am I," he proceeded to ignore Aizawa's incredulous stare. "Neither am I. But like. Technically-"

"You know, for a demon, you really fucking suck." Aizawa said in a matter-of-fact tone, lifting his cup and pressing the rim against his bottom lip- currently in deep thought.

The Demon- man, whatever you want to call him- was understandably upset over the privy knowledge of his own son getting adopted into someone else's hands. But, it was.. Less bloody and gory..? You see, Aizawa had been expecting the inevitable discovery of Izuku and their father-son relationship by Izuku's actual father (who is technically not live enough to suffice as a guardian). He had expected fighting tooth-and-nail against a ridiculously overpowered Hell (bent) Being who he can't even comprehend with his own mortal mind.

But here they were, cups of Jasmine tea in hand and fluffy Mochi treats laid out in neat three-by-three rows on a striped-pink porcelain platter.

What the actual fuck, am I right?

Izuku- the poor kid- had dazedly excused himself to his room, probably stunned at the sudden tame personality of his father. He had been there for thirty minutes, and Aizawa was mildly worried if the kid had drowned himself by accident.

Izuku, he realizes, takes a lot from his father- including the vibrant green eyes with power lurking in it's murky depths. The way they smile too, was alike- always showing two faint dimples right beside the crease. Hisashi up close had a smooth, chiseled complexion- like some kind of doll, and if Aizawa was honest, he could definitely pass as a store mannequin if he wanted to. His skin was smooth, like the surface of a polished mirror, a faint trail of freckles lining the bridge of his nose. It was a feature not as prominent as Izuku's, but it was there all the same.

The only feature he didn't get was the fiery, blood-red hair, and the two coal horns curling from his forehead in a wicked fashion.

Hisashi Midoriya was, admittedly, slightly more pleasant than the first time they met- and Aizawa loathes to admit that the man had charisma, and if they had met in the right circumstances, they maybe would've been somewhat friends. The man had good humor- but at the same time he was cold and calculating, as if he was being funny on purpose to read how you react. He adapts quickly in different situations, and shapes his personality according to the limited information he gathers about you.

Aizawa felt like a rat under a microscope, getting examined with sharp piercing eyes that reached all the way into his bones. It wasn't necessarily frightening- but it felt like ants were just crawling under his skin. Least to say, it was disturbing.

"But on a serious note, Shouta," His voice was deep and grave, the light mood shifting drastically. Aizawa lowered his cup warily when he ran his fingers through his hair- as if he were thinking. His nose scrunched up like how Izuku's did when he was deep in thought. "Humans, they are full of terror of the unknown. I have watched from the underground how all of you quickly took advantage of the powers gifted to you- the whole mortal world slipping into national protests and terrorism within a few years." Hisashi eyed Shouta, as if he were gauging his reaction. "I know about what the human council will do to my child. And Aizawa, you must understand, that even I won't condone or allow him to fall into the corrupt arms of the social justice system."

"What is this about?" Aizawa cut through immediately- suspicious how the man seemed to be prancing around the subject and treading carefully with his words. He felt a chill go up his spine when Hisashi lifted his cold stare at him- a drastic difference between the charismatic man from before.

"You are a smart human, Aizawa Shouta," he dragged out. "Despite what others may say, I love Izuku with all my heart- his mother unfortunately coming second place to that." Hisashi's lips quirked up at the mention of "mother", but quickly hardened his glare. "Izuku is my son- and parents make drastic choices just to keep them safe."

Aizawa's muscles tensed under the table- his tea going cold and the atmosphere chilly. He dug his fingers into the wood to ground himself- afraid of where this conversation was going.

"What I'm trying to say is- that if you fail to protect him against the council," Hisashi pushed himself back, standing from his chair. He had a shadow over his dark eyes- the bags under them growing in a span of seconds. "If you fail to protect Izuku, I'm afraid that I will have to stand up and act from my throne."

"What?" Aizawa's eyes narrowed.

Hisashi sighed in annoyance, as if teaching a clueless eight year old child. It made Aizawa scowl deeply.

"It's simple, Aizawa Shouta."

And at that note, everything went it a second of pure silence- as if someone had pressed the mute button- before a fabric in time and space literally ripped open, the delicate cloth wavering before it's king.

And Shouta is reminded who and what this person was again, and suddenly feeling so small at the reminding of his place and boundary.

The portal behind the Demon swirled in vigor and eager flames, the reality beside the rip fuzzy as if the edges of a torn cloth. Heat spewed out of the gaping maw, and Hisashi withstood it with no issue, eyes of power looking down at Shouta- who had felt himself tremble.

Midoriya Hisashi is the crowned King of the underworld- and there's a reason why he is.

"If you lose the court battle- or whatever little stupid game you people play to hand out punishments- I'll have to resort to- Ah, violence and mass murder."

Hisashi gave a jagged, cold smile.

"So for the sake of everyone's lives, I hope you know what you're doing."