Chapter 7 - Welcome Home

Inside was chaos.

The downstairs was a disaster zone. Bookshelves had toppled, their contents strewn across the floor in tattered heaps. Ashtrays spilled over, glass lay shattered across every surface, and the kitchen was in shambles, with broken plates crunching underfoot.

But upstairs was worse.

The air was thick with an unnatural silence, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. The hallway was shrouded in pitch-black darkness, save for one dim light spilling from a half-open door at the end. A thick, coppery scent clung to the walls, seeping through the cracks and crevices, and the unmistakable sight of blood leaked from the threshold.

By the time the authorities arrived, the house had become a crime scene.

Flashes of red, white, and blue illuminated the driveway as police cars and emergency responders pulled up in rapid succession. The Pro Heroes called to the scene—All Might, Endeavor, Eraserhead, and Present Mic—stood in silent readiness, their presence towering amidst the commotion.

Eraserhead, the designated lead for the night, gave a curt nod. "Once we go in, stay quiet. We don't know what's inside."

As they crossed the threshold, a disturbing sight greeted them.

The once lively home now reeks of decay. Footprints tracked dirt across the hardwood, leading deeper inside. Shouta Aizawa, better known as Eraserhead, stepped forward, scanning the living room. His stomach churned, though he kept his expression neutral. The room was a wreck, the damage extensive—this was not just the result of a struggle, but something far worse. He motioned for the others to follow him as they cautiously ascended the stairs.

The closer they got, the more suffocating the air became. The hallway was engulfed in darkness, save for that one solitary, flickering light at the end. The heroes moved as one, treading softly, until they reached the door.

What they found inside was the stuff of nightmares.

Blood painted the walls in violent strokes. Shattered glass and splintered wood littered the ground, and the bodies—half submerged into the very walls—were grotesque, frozen in silent agony.

A woman was lodged in the wall, her torso grotesquely fused into the structure. One eye dangled by a thin thread, her arm reduced to skeletal remains dripping with crimson. Her clothes—what little remained—were soaked through with blood.

The man was no better. Bald, eyeless, his flesh peeled in hanging ribbons. Their wheezing, barely-there breaths were the only proof they were still alive.

Then, in the farthest corner of the room, they saw them.

Three children huddled together.

Each bore unnatural features. The first had long, white hair streaked with silver, his body marked with pale sigils, and his skin black as obsidian. The second had striking blue locks with deep cerulean markings against grey-black skin. The last had a crown of fiery red hair, his skin a jet-black canvas streaked with burning crimson.

When they turned, the heroes saw their eyes—pitch black with glowing golden rings.

Present Mic was the first to approach. His voice, softer than usual, carried a reassuring warmth.

"Hey, little listeners. We're here to help."

The children stared, trembling.

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

The redhead moved first, stepping into his arms, before the other two quickly followed. Hizashi Yamada easily lifted them all, turning back to his colleagues before making his way out of the blood-soaked room.

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Detective Tsukauchi entered the interrogation room, flanked by Present Mic and Eraserhead.

Seated across from them, the triplets sat in silence, their small forms wrapped in blankets. Their faces remained expressionless, though their hands stayed clasped together.

Tsukauchi cleared his throat. "I have your information, but I need to confirm it. If anything is incorrect, please correct me."

The triplets nodded.

He started with the red-haired boy. "Name: Izuku Midoriya. Sex: Male. Age: Fourteen. A set of triplets. Second gender: Omega. Quirk: None. Is this correct?"

Izuku glanced at the blue-haired boy who shook his head softly. Shouta caught the movement but said nothing.

Izuku exhaled. "Not the quirk part. We were quirkless... until today. We don't understand it yet."

Tsukauchi scribbled down the amendment and continued.

"Katsuki Midoriya. Male. Fourteen. Omega. Quirk: Unknown. Correct?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes but nodded.

Finally, "Minoru Midoriya. Male. Fourteen. Omega. Quirk: Unknown?"

Minoru nodded shyly, resting his head on Katsuki's shoulder and gripping Izuku's hand.

Eraserhead leaned back. "Can you tell us what happened? From the beginning?"

The triplets spoke, their voices intertwining.

"We weren't home." "We were staying with friends." "But today, we had to go back." "She—our mother—" "Acted strange." "She fed us." "She drugged us." "Only I woke up," Minoru continued, voice trembling. "She was waiting. There was a man. She said he was here to play with me. I ran—I ran so fast, upstairs to wake them up. But by the time they did, he was already there."

Minoru squeezed his eyes shut. "He unbuckled his belt. And then... then everything went black. The power—it just took over."

Tsukauchi, Eraserhead, and Present Mic were silent. Horror curdled in their stomachs.

Tsukauchi stood. "Your mother and the man are gone. You're safe now."

"There's no family left for them," Tsukauchi said. "Their father disowned them. If no one takes them in, they'll enter the system."

Shouta didn't hesitate. "We're adopting them."

Hizashi gawked. "Shouta, we already have five kids—"

"We have room for three more. This isn't up for debate."

Tsukauchi smiled. "Then it's settled. They'll have a home."

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As they pulled up to their new house, Hizashi grinned. "Welcome home, Izuku, Minoru, and Katsuki."

For the first time in their lives, the triplets felt safe.