Tsukauchi's point of view:

The quiet hum of my car filled the otherwise silent night as I drove through the empty streets. The city was dark, save for the occasional flicker of a streetlamp or the distant glow of some late-night diner. The world outside seemed so still, but my mind was anything but. Thoughts swirled, relentless and unyielding, as I tried to piece together a future for the kid who called himself Sivax—but whose real name I knew all too well: Izuku Midoriya.

Saving him was the immediate priority, no question about it. But what came after? That was the part that gnawed at me.

Midoriya wasn't just some child you could pluck out of a bad situation and hand over to the authorities. He was too old to re-enter the foster care system—not that I'd trust it to handle him even if he weren't. The system had failed him once already, spectacularly, and I wasn't about to gamble his life on it again.

And then there was the glaring fact that he wasn't just a kid anymore. He was an orphan who'd spent over a decade surviving on his own in a society that dismissed him the moment he was declared quirkless. That kind of life didn't leave you unscathed. The sharp, biting intelligence in his email, the sarcasm, the calculated way he reached out to me—it all pointed to someone who had learned how to fend for himself because no one else would.

How could someone like that fit back into the world? How could I even begin to help him?

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening.

There was no easy answer, but I knew one thing for sure: Izuku couldn't stay in the shadows any longer. He needed stability, someone who could guide him, teach him, and help him figure out how to live in a world that had turned its back on him.

But who?

My first thought was Eraserhead. 

Aizawa had already agreed to help with the operation, and he had a reputation for being blunt but fair. He'd dealt with problem children before—hell, his entire class was a collection of misfits and underdogs. If anyone could handle someone like Midoriya, it was Aizawa.

But Aizawa's plate was already full. He had his students, his patrols, his own life to manage. Adding a traumatized, hyper-intelligent teenager to the mix might be asking too much.

Then there was Endeavor. 

The man had surprised me tonight with his willingness to help, but could I see him taking Midoriya in? Not really. Endeavor was a good man in this version of him, sure, but he thrived on structure and discipline. Midoriya didn't need a drill sergeant—he needed someone who could meet him where he was, someone who wouldn't just see him as a project to fix.

Hawks? 

Yeah, no.

 The kid would probably outwit him within a week.

I sighed, leaning back into the seat as the red glow of a stoplight bathed the car. Who else was there? 

Midnight?

 She'd care, sure, but she wasn't exactly the maternal type. 

Mic? 

Too loud. 

Best Jeanist? 

Too obsessed with appearances. 

Gran Torino? 

Too old.

The light turned green, and I pressed on the gas, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I was running out of options, and the reality was starting to sink in: if we saved Midoriya—and when we saved him, because failure wasn't an option—I might have to take responsibility for him myself.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut.

Could I even do that? I'd dedicated my entire life to my work. My apartment was little more than a place to crash between shifts. I didn't have the first clue about raising a kid, let alone one as complicated as Midoriya.

But what choice did I have?

If I didn't step up, who would?

I pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, sitting there in the dark for a long moment.

The truth was, I owed this kid more than just saving him. I owed him a chance at a future. A real one, not the half-life he'd been living up until now. And if that meant rearranging my entire life to make it happen, then so be it.

But that was all contingent on one thing: getting him out first. Everything else—the logistics, the questions, the sheer weight of what came next—would have to wait.

I stepped out of the car, the cool night air hitting me as I locked up and headed inside.

Me: ....We'll figure it out...

 I murmured to myself, more to convince myself than anything.

Because we had to.

For Izuku, and for the part of me that had never forgiven myself for failing him all those years ago.