#i feel like i'm gonna start an ao3 series called gran 'quirk bait' torino | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shih-coulda-had-it · 1 year

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Can you do a story where sorahiko gets turned into a baby similar to the one that was made for nana ?

wc: 883

When Nana opens her front door, the last thing she expects to see is a teary-eyed Toshinori brandishing a tiny, chubby-faced and stubby-legged Gran Torino.

“What,” she says, staring down. “Toshinori, work ended like two hours ago!”

“I know, I know,” says Toshinori. “We were picking up dinner, and there was a burglary that no one else was dealing with, so I said that I’d deal with it, but then Gran Torino told me to pay and left on his own! I followed him, though! And--and I couldn’t stop the thief from using his Quirk.”

“Did you already hand him off to the police?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you get the clothes?” They are a little large on Sorahiko, but still fitted for children: a t-shirt trimmed in yellow, a pair of boxy denim shorts, and water-resistant sandals.

“An officer with a son the same age was called in to bring some clothes, because the alternative was to just, um, cover Torino-sensei in his cape.”

“How long will he be…?”

Toshinori looks queasy at the question, so Nana lets it drift into contemplative silence, which is then broken by a childish yawn from the young Torino Sorahiko. A round fist scrubs ineffectively at the scrunched-up eyes, and then it pauses. Blearily, Sorahiko peers at Nana.

She realizes then that Toshinori’s grasp on his deaged mentor is decidedly not a cradle; Toshinori thrusts his arms out, and the stubby legs instinctively kick out with audible weak puffs of Jet.

“Nana!” Sorahiko yelps. The pipsqueaky voice is nothing like his adult-self’s gravelly tones; she’s somewhat shocked at the sound of it, honestly. “Nana, help!”

“Oshishou…!”

“Yeah, yep, I got you, I got him,” Nana babbles, retrieving Sorahiko from the awkward hold. She gets an arm under him to support his legs, and gingerly stabilizes him by the shoulder. Wow. He’s actually a little bigger than Kotarou had been at the nebulous age of four (that had been Jet, right?), but Nana’s still thinking of him in the future. “Ah. Sorahiko, you recognize me?”

He rears back, huffy, and plants his palm at her jaw, right over her mole. “You’re Nana. Just. Older. Right?”

“... Yeah,” she says, and backs up a step to gesture Toshinori inside. Gratefully, he enters her apartment. Her successor’s shoulders slump; the relief at being able to hand over the problem of Gran ‘Quirk Bait’ Torino to Nana must be hitting him hard.

“Oh, and we ate dinner at the station, oshishou.”

“What a shame,” Nana responds, not hiding her amusement. “I guess I’ll have to eat my thrice-crispy nikudon all-l-l-l by myself.” Toshinori mouths ‘thrice-crispy’ to himself but fails to hide the horror in his face.

Understandably, of course. It takes an iron stomach like Nana’s to digest the char-grilled slices of thin pork, and she’d pan-fried her two-day old rice too.

Sorahiko squirms in her arms. “Nana, lemme down,” he demands, and when she obliges, he kicks off his sandals and looks around. “Where’s the kitchen?”

“Just ate, huh?”

“T-Torino-kun, don’t you remember we had dinner…?”

The scowl on Sorahiko’s round face is incredible. He looks hilariously pissed-off at Toshinori for daring to withhold a direct answer, and Toshinori looks terrified. “The kitchen,” he repeats.

“That way, Sorahiko,” Nana intervenes, pointing down one end of her hallway. The other side leads to her bedroom and bathroom. Sorahiko mutters a cursory thanks, sends one more glare at Toshinori, and stomps away.

“Man.” Toshinori blows out a long breath and leans back against the door. “I’m glad he still respects you, oshishou.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts. C’mon, let’s make sure he’s not raiding the cabinets for snacks.”

Toshinori blanches at the thought of a pre-schooler Sorahiko running on a sugar-high and bolts; Nana leisurely makes sure her door is locked and latched, then follows, already anticipating--she laughs out loud.

Clutched tight to Sorahiko’s chest is a box of frozen taiyaki. Her freezer is, coincidentally, not shut all the way, like it’d taken everything in Sorahiko’s Jet to yank it open. He’s locked into a staring contest with Toshinori.

Sorahiko breaks eye-contact first, only to establish it with Nana. His eyes go round and shiny, and his frown lightens into a pleading pout. It is super-effective against her first instinct to deny a child dessert after nine o’clock.

“[Jesus],” says Toshinori in English.

She crosses her arms. “That’s all you want?” she checks. “No ice cream, or hot cocoa?”

An eager nod. Sorahiko’s practically vibrating where he stands, and tongue-tied in spite of that. He holds up the box with unspoken trust.

“Okay,” Nana sighs. “Let’s have dessert. Toshinori, go ahead and close the freezer, please.”

Toshinori complies without complaint, even as Sorahiko lets out a happy shriek of, “Taiyaki!”, and starts bouncing on his heels by the microwave.

With a voice low enough to be hidden by the microwave’s humming, Toshinori murmurs, “The Quirk lasts until he goes to sleep. I really thought he’d gotten to that point at the station, but then, well, they kicked us out. And Torino-sensei is… a huge brat. So that’s why I came here.”

“It’s good that you did,” she assures him. “Even if the taiyaki gives him a hyperactive boost, it won’t be long before he passes out.”

“Ah, I’ll pass out before that point…”

#bnha #yagi toshinori #all might #torino sorahiko #gran torino #shimura nana #shih.txt #asks #anon #short and sweet; just like baby brat torino #i feel like i'm gonna start an ao3 series called gran 'quirk bait' torino #what with how many times he's been affected by quirks hehehehe

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