Third person pov

Mic had gone through every scenario in his head before Lillian came along. Thousands of possibilities and situations had occurred to him, and he'd prepared for them all. Tissues in case she started crying. Pads in case her period started, because god knows how unpredictable those are. Eye drops in case her eyes were dry. A hair brush in case she got the urge to brush her hair. Food in case she was hungry. A few blankets, because the studio was drafty. Some books, because sometimes the urge to read was overwhelming. Even some movies, should she decide she wanted to watch something. 

This situation was not one he ever could have imagined. 

Mic has made leaps and bounds in his assumptions in the past. It isn't anything new for him to jump to conclusions or create wild scenarios. But right now, he felt like he should be filming for proof. Nobody would believe him otherwise. They'd probably claim the recordings he had of the show were fake from the sheer absurdity of what was happening.

It was nearing two in the morning. Two. In. The. Morning. The show was still going. It had never gone on this long before, nor had it had this many listeners. They'd just capped a 500,000 people listening. That's right. There were 500,000 devices out there, all tuned into his radio show. All at the same time. It had never gone this high. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Lillian had somewhat taken over, and Mic had never been more confused.

Lillian was, personally, freaking out. 500,000 people were listening to her? Her, talk and communicate with other people? Real life people? She'd been struggling to keep her tears at bay for at least an hour now. Her breathing wasn't doing so hot either, and she was pretty sure one wrong move would send her spiraling into a panic attack. She wanted to stop, but she was also enjoying it. But she wasn't. But she was. She was walking this fine line between over enjoyment and complete panic.

"Two bros, chillin' in a hot tub." A voice sung out from the speaker.

"Five feet apart 'cause they're not gay." Lillian finished it easily. Any personal questions sent her stuttering, but there were these clear references, to what, Mic didn't know, that she finished with ease. No visible anxiety. No doubt. Absolutely zero hesitation. Never before had he seen her so self-assured. He would be crying tears of joy were he not so shocked. He'd tried calling Shota to tell him to tune in. Twice. The man simply wasn't picking up. It didn't matter. Mic's shows were all recorded and posted later for everyone to hear anyway, even if he was called a fake. Shota knew he wouldn't, couldn't, fake this.

"You're god." The female on the other end whispered before hanging up. Lillian's face went red with embarrassment as she began to sputter in surprise at the unexpected compliment. She'd been getting ones just like it for the past hour or two now. Mic was losing count, honestly. All he knew was that views were skyrocketing, and that it was all thanks to Lillian. People loved her and her... well, he had no idea what she was referencing, but they loved it. He would need to start making Lillian merch at this rate.

More ringing filled the studio. Mic pressed the answer button almost mechanically, as though out of reflex. Lillian tensed all over again and braced herself.

"I kissed a girl and I liked it! The taste of-" The teen's uneven singing cut off, but Lillian hopped in with her blue eyes alight with recognition.

"Iridocyclitis." The freckled girl said with all seriousness. Mic tried not to grin at the laughter that erupted from the other end of the line, blinking a few times. No, the blonde voice hero hadn't seen this coming at all. That didn't mean it wasn't absolutely brilliant. He'd never seen Lillian put such confidence into something before! If they could somehow channel this into the way she was everyday, then... well, she'd have no issues at all! The boldness was already there. It was just a matter of harnessing it now.

"Literally marry me." The teen on the other end blurted out. "This is amazing."

Lillian went red, and Mic pressed the end call button without having to think long about it. The freckled girl glanced at him awkwardly while he stared, ignoring the ringing that filled the studio. Lillian shifted uncomfortably, offering a nervous smile. He offered a smile back, mulling over all that had happened in the past few hours. He had a lot of information to go over, and a lot of research to do. 

Lillian hadn't expected this to happen. At all. Her first day of interning was bleeding into her second, and the people on the radio show... so far almost everyone who called in was a memer. It was shocking just how many there were out there in the world. Sure, she'd gotten some questioned about school. About what her last name was and if they could adopt her (Mic hung up on those) and some more inquiries about her quirk. Most was simple stuff she stuttered over for a bit, but other than that... it was all vines, for the most part, along with some other memes thrown in.

"Hey, Listeners." Mic turned back to his microphone after a moment of inspecting Lillian's face. "I think we're going to call it a night! Or I suppose I should say morning." 

Lillian felt some of the tension seep from her shoulders. She was exhausted on a physical and emotional level. She could finish and spout off vines and references relating to meme culture all day long. It wasn't hard, especially considering how passionate she was about them. It just... didn't change the fact that she was talking to strangers and mentally screaming the entire time. Memes helped her be more bold, but that didn't necessarily mean her anxiety was gone. It was definitely still there. Hence why she was sweating so much even though it was literally freezing in the studio.

"Catch us both again tomorrow night. Thanks for all your... I'm not sure what that was, actually." Mic laughed, shaking his head and grinning. "Peace out, Listeners!"

Lillian watched with clear relief as the lights on the board switched off, and the "on air" light went from green to dark. Mic grinned widely at her as she sagged into her seat, bringing her hands up to cover her flaming face as Yeet curled around her wrist. She felt like she wanted to scream, cry, and hyperventilate. All at once! She just... she had done that. On Mic's show. Present Mic. Her idol. Her favorite pro. She'd been following his show since... since what, the day it came out? 

"That was amazing!" Mic finally managed to find the words he wanted to say. "You did so well. You didn't tell me you were so charismatic, Little Listener! I mean, everyone loving you was a given of course, but I didn't know you had that in you. I have to tell Shota. And Nemuri. And everyone." Mic just wanted to hug her and never let go. She was like an adorable baby animal you just wanted to protect. 

"Th-Th-Thanks." Lillian squeaked from behind her hands, her eyes clenched shut. Mic grinned wider.

"Why don't you lay down on the couch for a while? I've got some stuff to wrap up, and some ratings to look at." Mic grinned at her. Lillian didn't hesitate to hop up and dart for the couch in the corner, ready to curl up and die. Mic watched her go with a fond smile. It was odd that he'd stopped getting texts from Aizawa. During his first hour of having Lillian, he'd been checking in almost every ten minutes. Mic had sort of forgotten to check in when Lillian, well... revealed her true self to the world and rocked the show, he supposed.

Lillian curled up in the very corner of the couch closest to the wall. Interning with Mr. Mic was exciting. Being on his show was even more so. Unfortunately, most exciting things were also extremely anxiety inducing. Lillian hated that about herself. Her friends were all out enjoying their internships, and all she could think about was how much she probably messed up. Deep down, she knew Mic would have stopped her sooner if she were really doing that bad. But she just... couldn't seem to convince herself of that fact.

She let Yeet sleep back down her shirt. It was another thing she knew was weird about her. Who let a snake sleep in their cleavage? It was just plain odd, and she was well aware of that fact. She just... she didn't know what was right and what she was supposed to do, you know? She was just sort of going through the motions. It was all just... painfully out of control, but also not. 

The freckled girl fell asleep wondering. She wondered if she'd really done as good a job as Mic said she did, and she wondered how Mr. Aizawa was. She wondered what Chad and Bakugo were doing, and where Neito was. She pondered on Hitoshi and his family, and on Shoto was he braved Hawks' Agency in an attempt to de-thrown his father from the Number Two spot. 

And Mic... he fell asleep waiting for Shota to call back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugo drowned Chad's apartment in bleach, essentially. And... yeah, that's what happened. He tore through almost an entire box of heavy duty trash bags, and though he didn't find any dead animals, there were some truly atrocious discoveries made. He was pretty sure an entirely new type of mold had started a colony in the man's closet, he found take out that was at least an entire year old, and he was pretty sure something was living in the couch. The couch he'd been forced to sleep on. He swore he'd felt something moving throughout the night. Chad insisted it was just "The Termination." Whatever the fuck that was.

Now it was the second day of his internship. At five in the morning. If Bakugo weren't already used to getting up at the god awful hour, he'd have been pissed as hell at Chad for waking him up and saying something about needing to get going. Where they were going, Bakugo had no clue. He shot Lillian a quick "morning" before he was slipping his phone into one of his hero costume's pouches and being shoved through the front door.

Bakugo had no idea when this had happened, but Chad's car was perfectly clean. Spotless, even. He had about three pine-tree air fresheners hanging off the rear view mirror, and the floorboards had been clearly vacuumed, and maybe even shampooed. Bakugo didn't even want to know when he'd had time to get the car polished and... was it this shade of red yesterday? He would've thought it to be an entirely different vehicle if not for the license plates and the identifying dent on the left side.

"We've got to get a move on." Chad noted, shoving a loaded magazine into his pistol. Bakugo stared at him for a good, long moment. He briefly wondered if the man was possibly, I don't know, bat shit insane. It fit. He had a six year old girl who was apparently a victim of the mafia who thought her sunglasses had other-worldly powers. Not to mention she knew what "fuckface" meant and seemed to have a wardrobe comprised of solely ugly Hawaiian shirts. The whole couch thing was weird as hell, not to mention his pigsty car had transformed into something that seemed borderline luxury if you squinted.

"And where the fuck are we moving to?" Bakugo raised a brow. He felt his phone vibrate in his pouch and wondered vaguely if it was Lillian. He knew it was probably just the shit hag or his dad. Lillian was never up this early unless she hadn't slept, and there was no way she hadn't passed out from exhaustion yesterday. She'd been so stressed she was practically texting him at the speed of light right at the start of the internship, mentioning a studio, a show, and then vanishing completely. He'd been too caught up with Chad's shit hole apartment to ask questions.

"Dude, we went over this." Chad pulled out another gun. How many did he have? More importantly, where the actual fuck were they coming from? Bakugo was actually a little afraid of the answers to both those questions. "We're going to take out that one Yakuza base in the warehouse."

"You were fucking serious?" Bakugo hissed lowly. This guy had to be insane. He didn't know a lot about the Yakuza's activity in Japan. Or at least, he hadn't until last night when Chad mapped it all out for him. He had information Bakugo was about 100% sure not even the police had. How he'd gotten it, Bakugo didn't really want to know. The gold-eyed man was shady enough as it was, even without the excessive amount of guns. Not to mention him lying to get a hero license. Was his name even Chad? Did Brad exist, and if so, who was he and what exactly did he do for a living?

"I'm always serious." Chad said in all seriousness, putting the car in gear. "Shit, no. I proposed to some Russian man named Tolenka once-- we were both drunk off our asses-- and he said yes. The divorce is still pending. Nice guy, actually. I just really don't think we're ready for that level of commitment, you know what I mean? Having the last name Petrov is sort of badass, but I'm just not ready man." 

"Okay, what the f- no, nevermind. I don't give a shit. Park the damn car. We're going to the police instead." Bakugo fidgeted. He felt weird saying that. He was usually always ready to jump into the fray. Ever since coming to UA, that had changed just a bit. The sludge incident had fucked him up so bad he could barely even look at jello without getting sick, god forbid it be green, and the USJ thing had left him in somewhat of a daze. He'd come scarily close to death. Twice. Shit like that made you think about who you were and what you wanted.

"They've been trying to take out the Yakuza for fucking ages, bro. I ain't got time for that." Chad put more pressure on the gas, and Bakugo groaned. Should he text Lillian his will? His last goodbye? She was the only person he actually texted, excusing the few times he'd been forced into a group chat and had cursed everyone inside out before leaving. Other than that, the most he got was the occasional text from his mother and sometimes his father. Lillian was like... shit, his friend now, he guessed. So-

"So listen, here's the plan." Chad interrupted his train of thought, earning himself a glare and scowl in the process. The man clearly didn't care. Looking at him, he looked like shit. His hair clearly hadn't been combed, he needed to shave, and the bags under his eyes rivaled Aizawa's. Aizawa's. "So you blow shit up and I shoot them."

"Okay, what the fuck? That's not a fucking plan!" Bakugo sputtered, eyes widening incredulously. 

"Yes it is. It even has steps. Step one, you blow shit up. Step two, I shoot them. Well, it's more like one step. We'll say step one, part A.) is you blowing them up. Part B.) can be me shooting them. Wait no, that should actually be step two, because step one should be us sneaking in." Chad tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Bakugo gaped at him. Actually, literally gaped. This man was going to get them both killed. He was literally... he was quirkless and... he wasn't even a... what the fuck?

"Okay, fuck no. We're not doing that shit." Bakugo shook his head. 

"Bro, Eri went through a world of pain. I'm doing this for her, not because I want to prove anything. If you don't want to help, that's your choice. But... well, I'm fucking pissed, and want the kid to be safe." Chad tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "There's a villain named Overhaul, or Kai Chisaki, if you prefer. His quirk... it's damn gruesome as hell. He can reduce people to nothing more than splatters on a wall. It takes seconds. And... fuck, this bastard was using Eri for experiments. I still don't know what her quirk is, but they apparently used her DNA to make some sort of quirk suppressing drugs. He... He took her apart over and over and over again." 

His face was the definition of rage, and despite knowing Chad was quirkless, Bakugo felt like he was suffocating in the anger rolling off him. A newfound respect he never thought he could have for a dumbass with a name like 'Chad' began to take root inside of him. He was vaguely impressed, if not completely freaked out. "He took her apart, and then he'd put her back together and do it all over again."

Bakugo grit his teeth, looking down as he tried to work through his turmoil. He obviously didn't know as much about what Eri went through as Chad, but she had scars. She'd clearly been through some real bad shit, and... well, that pissed him off too. But seeing this quirkless man with no power to his name, excusing all firearms, grit his teeth and resign himself to whatever was to come... well, it sort of fired him up. He was right. Who the fuck were the Yakuza to take children and take them apart? And quirk suppressing drugs sounded serious. Really serious.

"Fuck it." Bakugo sighed. He was strong, and Chad was a good enough shot to trick people into thinking he had a quirk. That was about as good as actually having one, anyway. "Fuck it. Let's do this shit. If we die, we die."

"That's what I want to fucking hear." Chad muttered, flicking his sunglasses down and onto his face. Bakugo watched a grin that was damn near predatory spread across the man's face before he was pressing down on the gas again, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Bakugo was unsure and pretty fucking positive he was about to walk straight into his death, but somehow... well, he found himself grinning too. Because if he was going out, it was sure as hell going to be with a bang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki and Hawks gazed upon the headline with satisfaction, exhaustion, and victory in their eyes. It had taken hours. They'd gone from area to area, snatching villains from beneath the noses of other heroes, and going to even the most remote of locations to answer calls. They widened their radar by at least seven prefectures. Shoto couldn't count the amount of trains they'd hopped, or how many times Hawks had lifted him up into the air and just carried him to the next location, dropping him like he was a paratrooper.

He and Hawks were a terrifyingly effective team. Hawks was transport and cover, while Shoto was the bomb. He had fallen from the sky in a flurry of ice and fire more times than he could count on both hands, and he knew it wouldn't be the last time either. They'd made more progress than he'd expected, but they had a long way to go. Endeavor was bound to notice what they were doing eventually. They had to stay vigilant. 

Shoto was terrifyingly determined, and Hawks hadn't realized that until the half-and-half teen demanded he be dropped into the midst of a raging battle between a minor pro and a destructive villain that had already taken out two apartment buildings and a corner store all by her lonesome. With a foggy chill of an exhale, he'd dropped into the clash with a blast of ice that incapacitated the dangerous enemy immediately. Hawks had already set to work rescuing people from the crumbling buildings and flying them to safety as fast as he could. Their dynamic was freakishly effective. The front of this magazine, fresh off the press, proved that.

Number Three Pro Hawks And New Star Intern Rescue A Total Of Eighty-Five People In One Night

"More coffee?" Hawks asked, throat scratchy. 

"More coffee." Shoto whispered in confirmation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neito was confused to say the least. After his talk with Jay and his overall acceptance that, hey, he was definitely gay and he needed to tell the people he cared about soon, he'd expected them to do some normal hero stuff. Patrols, maybe. He didn't really know. He wasn't as knowledgeable on internships. Hell, he was pretty sure Hitoshi knew more. Hitoshi, who he could now think freely about without feeling like shit. Because Neito Monoma was gay as fuck, and he was low-key in love, and that was fine. Jay had proven that to him.

"Where are we and what are you putting on my face?" Neito's brows shot up as Jay smeared some stuff on his cheeks. He tried getting a better look at what it was, but he'd been swatted at each time. He just hoped it wasn't a lavender-infused face mask. Those always made him break out in hives, and Neito wasn't about that life! Like, at all! Bumpy skin was totally not a look. "Are we going on patrol?"

"No, we're not." Jay snapped the canister he'd been holding closed with a smile and spun Neito around, beginning to sort of drive him forward. "You'll see."

Neito blinked as something was draped over his shoulders, but he was too focused on not running into anyone to really notice. Instead he focused more on not tripping over his own feet. These dress shoes were atrocious. First of all, they were the wrong damn size. Disgusting, yeah, Neito is aware. He wasn't sure who in the support department was in charge of making this, but there was some tea there, and Neito was going to spill it all over their lap for fucking his footwear up. Shoes were serious. 

"Okay, why are there so many people? Because if I actually have a face mask on in public-" Neito was cut of by Jay's laugh.

"I promise it's not a face mask." Jay said as the faint sound of music finally began to waft past their ears. Neito's eyebrows shot up. "Calm down. This'll be fun; I promise."

"Are you taking me to a rave? I can't even drink, so where's the fun in that?" Neito's nose scrunched up. Seriously, he would probably take some shots behind Jay's back, but that was totally besides the point. How was he supposed to live his whole ass life if a pro hero was watching his every move? Seriously, he was too young to party. Being at UA meant he had a reputation to uphold. Not just for himself, but for the school to. But he swore to fuck, if there were male strippers, the school's name could buzz off because he was literally all about thick biceps.

"Monoma." Jay said, snapping him back into reality. The man was next to him now, grinning. "Look."

Neito looked, and his jaw nearly hit the floor from how hard it dropped. Color his wig snatched, because sister, he was shook. There was no way. Was this even a- Weren't internships just a chance for pros to use kids for free labor? He wasn't getting paid for this. He was basically an employee Jay didn't even have to pay, and yet...

"You're taking me to a gay pride parade?" Neito blinked, dumbfounded. 

"I attended one when I first came out to myself and accepted who I was, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. I'll get some Instagram worthy shots: don't worry." Jay pulled out a small mirror and handed it to Neito. The blonde teen, though disoriented, took it and blinked at himself. Rainbow streaks were painted on his cheeks like war paint, and the thing that had been draped over his shoulders? A gay pride flag.

"You're such a real one, like what?" Neito felt tears fill his eyes as Jay carefully took the mirror.

"Don't cry. You'll ruin the paint." Jay patted his shoulder. "Now get out there. I think I saw some floats we could ride on for a while that'll come around soon."

Neito felt like he was going to pass out. Was this real? Was he seriously going to a gay pride parade for his hero internship? What? This shit didn't even happen in movies. And-

"Oh my god, it's a pack of lesbians in tutus!" He took off running. "Ladies, can I get a selfie?!"

Jay snickered to himself and followed. He'd have a lot to tell his husband later at dinner tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hitoshi hadn't really known what to do when Aizawa broke down completely. Seeing your hero unravel before you was something nobody deserved to experience. Unfortunately, Hitoshi was one of the unlucky few who had to witness such a thing. Though he knew Eraserhead the Erasure hero was by no means invincible, it was still hard to watch him sob into his hands as he mourned something he never had any control over in the first place. 

Ironically, Hitoshi had been coming here to ask about Lillian. He was an Eraserhead fanboy through and through, but he knew this wasn't just some dumb theory he'd developed out of admiration or obsession. Shota Aizawa and Lillian bore some crazy similarities. Sitting them side by side, they looked like father and daughter. They shared some of their features, and their uncommon wavy black hair type matched. Even Neito was suspicious, and Shoto certainly wasn't shy about sharing his theories.

"It's not your fault you missed it. You didn't- couldn't have- known. There's no way." Hitoshi said quietly. He'd found tissues, and gotten Mr. Aizawa a glass of water. He'd even found a blanket to drape around his shaking shoulders. The man had mumbled what sounded like a brief thank you each time, but it had been too quiet for him to be sure. He was muttering to himself an awful lot.

"I just..." Aizawa's voice was hoarse. Hoarser than Hitoshi had ever heard it, even when the man had first gotten out of the hospital and was in those bandages. This was the most beat down he'd ever sounded. It made Hitoshi's heart twist and clench and absolutely wrench in all the worst and eeriest ways. He felt shattered. He wanted desperately to help, but what could he do? "I made that. This." Aizawa gestured towards the photos.

"Yeah, that's uh... generally how procreation works." Hitoshi coughed. Aizawa gave him a dry look, his eyes more blood shot than usual, holding a the puffiness that came from crying. Hitoshi winced. "Probably not the right thing to say in this situation. But... I mean, she's still your daughter. She was kidnapped. If her not-parents hadn't done that, taken her, I think they would have figured out her identity and contacted you. It's not your fault or hers."

"I just... wasn't there. I want to be. I want to have been there. I..." Shota trailed off, struggling to find the words he wanted to say. Hitoshi was a student, and talking to him like this wasn't appropriate. Rationally, he knew this. He just couldn't help it. This was his daughter's best friend, and he just... Lillian was his daughter. He'd fallen in love with her and all she was before ever even knowing she was his, and now that he knew she was, his heart ached even more. He had a kid. She was his kid. His flesh and blood. His little girl. His.

"It's not too late to be there, you know. You still can. I think... she needs you. Her life at my house isn't very stable." Hitoshi snorted, leaning back against the couch. He ran his hands through the shag carpet Aizawa had, smiling just a little to himself. "She shares a room with three teenage boys. She doesn't really have her own space. I know she loves us and we love her, but people with anxiety need their own, closed off area to be alone in sometimes. They need stability and a routine. Not people constantly coming and going. Just before the internships, our Uber Eats Driver climbed through our window with a pistol and a large pepperoni pizza and the roof almost caught on fire when Shoto sneezed out of surprise." 

"Your what? And Todoroki?" Aizawa blinked. Hitoshi kept going as though he hadn't heard.

"Mr. Aizawa, this might not be appropriate for me to be telling you, but she sort of adores you." Hitoshi smiled a little. Aizawa froze. "She worries about you, insists you don't eat enough, thinks you don't get enough sleep, stresses over whether or not you've hydrated enough for the day, has wondered if you're stressed and if she can help, and so on and so forth. I think... she's been your daughter for a while now. You're just figuring it out a little late." Hitoshi patted Aizawa leg. The man stared with wide eyes down at his hands as he realized something.

Hitoshi was right.

"She's okay. Here. This will make you feel better, I think." Hitoshi propped his phone up on the coffee table and pressed play before the man could protest. Aizawa's gaze shifted to it as muffled laughter met his ears. The phone raised, seeming to have been face down at first. Todoroki's face appeared. He was squinting.

"Is it working?" The half and half boy asked.

"Yesss, flip it around." Neito's voice excitedly chimed, clapping his hands together. Shoto looked suspicious for some reason, but did it anyway.

 Aizawa almost choked when he saw Lillian sitting there in a set of black pajamas. Only she wasn't just sitting there. Her hair was an absolute mess, not unlike his own, and she had a few layers of toilet paper wrapped loosely around her neck. It was pretty clear she'd been set up to mimic Aizawa himself.

"Hello, team. Today we're here to prove that Lillian is Mr. Aizawa's daughter and uh- wait, Hitoshi. Do you have the goods?" Neito distractedly asked.

The camera panned semi-shakily over to Hitoshi, who looked bored as dirt standing in the open doorway, if not confused. His hair was more disheveled than usual, and he was in pajama bottoms and a cat shirt he probably didn't want anyone to know he owned. The purple-haired boy groggily squinted at Lillian.

"Guys, it's two in the morning. Like, what the fuck?" Hitoshi asked tiredly. 

"I asked you a question." Neito said in all seriousness. Lillian looked into the camera like she was Jim from the office.

Aizawa felt himself smile a little as he watched on. Hitoshi settled back and tried to smooth over his embarrassment. This was a video he never thought anyone but those present would see. But... the contents were something Mr. Aizawa probably needed to see. Maybe not needed, but they seemed like something that might help.

"Here." Hitoshi pulled out a picture of Eraserhead from god knows where, handing it to the blonde before shuffling out of frame. Neito smoothed it out before holding it up. Sloppily, Todoroki zoomed in on it before jerkily zooming out again. Lillian looked amused yet done at the same time, looking between Neito and Shoto like she was wondering if they were really okay.

"Picture for comparison." Neito said as an explanation. "Now Lillian, do the thing."

"I-I don't know..." Lillian trailed off. Shoto gave a thumbs up, and the girl twitched briefly before taking a deep breath. Neito put the photo up against her face as her expression morphed into a shockingly familiar one. A toothy smile that never failed to creep people out stretched from ear to ear. Her eyes went wide and she leaned back ever so slightly, looking right into the camera and sending Neito and Hitoshi into a spiel of hysterical laughter. Even Shoto was wheezing, though it was milder. 

Aizawa knew that smile. He had the same one. He choked out what sounded like a wet laugh, still sort of feeling like he was going to sob, but also feeling warm. How had he not seen it? Was he that dense? Had everyone else found out before him? Mic definitely knew, and Neito and Hitoshi both clearly suspected. Shoto probably did too.

"Pr-Proof, ladies in gentlemen!" Neito tossed the photo over his shoulder, still trying to catch his breath. "She's literally a carbon copy oh my god." 

"I wish." Lillian joked. "Do you think he'd take pity on me and adopt me if I begged him?" 

"I think he'd take you begging or not." Hitoshi called. The camera bobbed, as though moving along with Shoto nodding. Lillian snorted as well, beginning to pull her toilet-paper capture weapon off of herself as she moved her hair out of her face. 

"She... wants me to adopt her?" Aizawa breathed out to himself. Hitoshi looked away to hide his grin as a smile stretched across his tired teacher's face. Such a tender, watery-eyed expression looked a little wrong on a man who was usually so cold and irritated, but it was a raw reminder that even the most composed people were still humans. And humans were capable of catastrophic emotion.

"No but in all seriousness, you should get a DNA test. Like I'm dead fucking serious, you could pass as him if you were older and had a beard." Neito said, hand cradling his chin as though he were inspecting her. Hitoshi let out a wheeze somewhere behind the camera, which zoomed in on Lillian's scrunched up face as she looked at Neito with a scandalized side-eye.

"Mr. Aizawa doesn't have-" A tap silenced Shoto, and they all stilled, beginning to look around for the source almost immediately. Before anyone could do much of anything, the window by Lillian's bed slammed open. It didn't slide. No, it flew open with a bang that caused even Shoto to scream. A man's face appeared out of the stark darkness, and they started screaming louder.

"Y'all want some Taco Bell?" Chad asked, unfazed. The camera seemed to topple from Shoto's grip, cutting off the shrieks and groans directed at the man for scaring them and ending the video. 

Aizawa knew smiling in front of other people was going to ruin his reputation, but he was sure he could swear Hitoshi to secrecy. Seeing Lillian look so much like him and hearing her admit to wishing she could live with him and be adopted, actually adopted, by him... it made him realize something. Something he rationally should have already been aware of. 

Lillian was his daughter, and it was never too late to be there. So long as Lillian was still around, and so long as Aizawa was too... there was always a chance. Simple as that. And he was damn well going to take it.