Coming Home. Bakugou x Reader x ???

1. A place to stay

SHOTA AIZAWA POV

Finally finished.

I felt myself give a small smile as I sat the last stack of homework sheets to the side of the desk, all covered in red ink and fully graded. 

My first year as a teacher, and I'm already exhausted.

I stretched and sighed before looking over at my sleeping bag in the corner of the living room. It was so much closer than my bed upstairs. I yawned loudly, making my decision, and headed to curl up in the corner. I had one foot in the bag, my eyes already closed, my brain half asleep when a series of soft knocks at my front door made me pause. I looked at my clock, it was 10:30 pm, not too late to be inexcusable, but still awfully damn late. I stomped huffily to the door and threw it open, ready to tell whoever had the balls to postpone my sleep to fuck off. I opened my mouth to do just that, but no one was there.

I swear I heard knocking.

I looked around a bit more before turning around angrily, ready to go back in.

"Eh hm." The sound of someone softly, but clearly, clearing their throat made me turn back.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you Shota Aizawa? I believe I have the correct address." I looked down to where the soft voice was coming from. A small child stood on my doorstep, her head not reaching far above my knees, dressed in all black so she seemed to melt into the surrounding darkness. She couldn't have been more than four by the look of her, but her grey eyes held a maturity I haven't even seen in my college students. She cocked an eyebrow on her small face when I didn't answer, making her look older and making me laugh. She pursed her lips in annoyance, but I have honestly never seen anything so amusing.

"Sorry. You caught me off guard." I said once I was able to control my laughter. "Yes, I'm Shota Aizawa. How can I help you? Clearly you aren't lost since you followed my address..." I trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blanks. Her face showed just the smallest hint of relief that she had come to the correct place, but she quickly converted it back to a stoic expression not often seen on children.

"Wonderful. My name is (y/n) (l/n). I am the daughter of (f/n) (l/n) and (m/n) Aizawa, I believe she was your sister." She paused briefly, apparently waiting for confirmation, which I gave with a nod.

Was my sister?

"Your name was on a list of potential caregivers they prepared in the event of their deaths." Her voice was impassive but her eyes shone a little brighter at this, as though she was holding back tears. 

"My parents have both died. I have come to ask if you would be willing to accept me into your home. I can assure you I do not need much looking after, I am fairly self-sufficient, however, I am aware that I will need the assistance of an adult at various stages in my life. Please do not feel that you must say yes. While you are my first choice, I have more options to choose from the list left by my parents." 

By the time she finishes speaking, my mind has gone completely blank. So many things about what this little girl said are so shocking and so wrong. How can she be talking this casually about her parents' death and her being an orphan? Does she not feel? I noticed that both hands were in the pockets of her long black jacket, obviously clenched into fists and shaking.

She feels, she's just trying to keep it together. 

My heart broke for this little girl. I loved my sister, but I hadn't seen or spoken to her in at least 10 years, I didn't even know she got married, let alone had a kid. A clap of thunder overhead jolted me out of my thoughts and back to the present situation. The little girl, (y/n), was no longer looking at me, but at her tiny black boots, her long (h/c) hair falling down around her face. She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and sighed.