Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your older sister was never really one for long speeches. She’d use her actions more than she ever really used her words. But she was trying, at least, for you. It would be difficult for her to help you with your homework, or take you to buy candy where you were now. Can’t take a dead woman to the movies, nor to the park.

“It’s been 4 months.” She says, forcing the words out. Dr. Fennelly said it might be… good. At least to try. Something about keeping the negative feelings inside causing rot to the heart.

It was sounds like just a load of junk- no, wait. That was the wrong attitude to have. At least, you’d probably say something like that. Something like “stop being such a pouty face and listen to the professional doctor.”

Your sister shook her head, and sighed.

“The kid’s are doing good. Them and their ma are still constantly thanking us. She’s brought food over, so much of it I think I’m getting fat. She’s so grateful.” She rubs at her face quickly, trying to not let any tears fall. “Of course, you’d probably say something sappy about the food being unnecessary, and then ruffle the poor kids hair. What was it you were always repeating? Something about helping others being your best good to give? Sorry, I can’t fully remember it. I’d’ve listened more, had I known….”

She reaches out, only to hesitate. Eventually, when she’s gathered her strength, she places her hand on your headstone. It’s cold, and does nothing to help keep the tears at bay.

“I really really miss you. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy. Maybe you’ve even got some good food, or fine wine with you.” She chuckles wetly. “Not that you’re old enough to drink it, little miss, I hope you keep that in mind. Still have- had 3 more years. 3 years and a day, I guess, if you want to get real specific.”

There’s no reply, though she didn’t really expect one. Your older sister couldn’t say that she believed in a higher power, or even an afterlife. Though, here she was hoping, if only so that you weren’t just… gone.

“Well.” She says, clearing her throat. “I think I’ve got to go, now, bean, before I flood this place with tears. Yeah, I know, I know, your older sister doesn’t cry. She’s awful tempted to, now, though.”

The wind rustles her hair, and she runs her fingers through it, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

The last thing she tells your headstone before she leaves is that she loves you.

Your younger sister always had something to say. Always. She could find the gentlest, the sharpest, the strangest, the whatever-she-needed words. She knew the best way to string them together, and how to use her tone in the most perfect way. Whatever was needed to get quite just the right outcome that she wanted, she could always do it.

But standing here, she couldn’t.

You were… dead.

Her big sister… was dead.

It was different, between you and her and you and your eldest sister and your eldest sister and her. Maybe it was because there was such a big age difference between her and your parent’s eldest daughter. Maybe it was because you were always there, from her earliest memories, no matter what ideas or games she came up with. Maybe it was just because she followed you around, always, no matter what you were doing.

Whatever it was, it left a gaping hole in her heart.

She opened her mouth, trying to say something. She wanted to ask you to show something that proved you were ok. She wanted to ask how you were. She wanted to ask why you left. All that came out was a croak.

She was just a girl. Just a child, hardly even a teenager. She wasn’t supposed to lose her sister this young.

You were supposed to be there for her. You were supposed to teach her how to drive, pretending like you were scared for your life. You were supposed to teach her how to do her makeup, how to talk to boys! You were supposed to be there for her at her wedding, there to hold her first child, there to laugh over inside jokes and share secret smiles when someone was acting foolishly! You were supposed to stand there with her while she figured out who she was! You were supposed to hold her hand when she had her first breakup, walk her through figuring out who was a true friend and who was dangerous and who would stay with her! You were supposed to stay with her!

Why didn’t you stay with her? Why did you leave? How could you?! How dare you?! What gave you the right to leave?! Don’t you know how much she needs you?!

You’re her big sister .

Her shoulders shake, and a low moan comes from the back of her throat. Warm, hot, boiling tears roll down her face as she struggles to keep standing.

She can hear both of your parents moving closer, coming from the car. They’re probably worried. She had asked to talk to you alone, and though they had shared a glance, they had respected it.

“ Please ,” she begs, nails digging into the palm of her hands, “ Please haunt me.”

Four worlds to the left, and three universes back, a baby girl of only four months old looks up at her father, and cries.

Chapter Text

Here is what you know:

Your name is Fukumoto Hikari. You’re five month old, and you live with your dad. You live in a nice apartment, in the middle of the city. Which city, you don’t know. You’re… not sure where your mom is. Your father keeps plants on the balcony. Not just plants, perhaps a better word would be a jungle.

He likes plants, you suppose.

Now. Here is what you believe:

Your name is not Fukumoto Hikari. It’s (Y/N) (L/N). You aren’t 5 months old, you’e 17, almost 18. Your real dad’s awful with plants.

And….

You think you died.

You… can’t remember most of it. Actually, you don’t even know how you died. The last thing you remember is what happened two nights before your 18th birthday.

That night, you were hanging out with your sisters, and joking about what you were planning to do with the rest of your life, just a few months shy of graduating high school.

You hadn’t mentioned to either of them that you wanted to go to the library and check out the next books in the MHA series. You had just finished volume 31, and were excited to see how it would keep going. And as a bonus, you had pretty much managed to avoid spoilers! You were so psyched to get book 32 it wasn’t even funny. 

And that’s all you remember.

And even that didn’t come back until a few weeks ago.

You think you scared this dad when you started crying. You had been so silent, unsure of who you were or where you were. And then all of a sudden, everything came rushing back. It definitely didn’t help that you were finally getting clearer vision, and to go from staring at a blurry ceiling to this father’s face 6 inches away from your own looking shocked was pretty terrifying.

“Shh, shh, why do you keep crying?” This dad seems distressed. But it’s all just so much that you can’t do anything else but cry. “You’re not hungry, you haven’t soiled yourself, you just woke up. What’s the matter?”

You feel bad for him, but you couldn’t even begin to  tell him all that you’re crying over.

“Here, I’ll sing, yeah? Babies love songs. Right?” He clears his throat, almost seeming to regret volunteering to sing. “Little child, be not afraid, Though rain pounds harshly against the glass, Like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger, I am here tonight.”

This father seems desperate, if he’s singing. Not to say his voice is bad, it’s just not… good. And seeing him sing is surprising enough to knock your mind sideways, if only for a second.   

You cough a bit, choking on your spit, and stare up at him, shocked. There’s still warm tears rolling down your face, though, and the second he stops singing your mind reminds you of why you’re crying. Your face screws up, and, open mouthed, you begin wailing again.

“Please, Hikari, I don’t understand.”

Maybe you could start with the fact that you’re not Hikari. You’re (Y/N). And this man is not your father.

It’s been about a week now. You… haven’t accepted your new reality, not really, but you can’t do anything about it. After all, you’re only 6 months old, you’re eating things to explore them and making sounds back at dad.

At least, that’s what the books this dad has been obsessively reading keep telling him.

Currently, you sit in a sling against his front. He’s carried you around on his back, mostly, where you can’t see anything of this world, and so this, being up front, is new and exciting.

Of course he decides to read the most boring books on God’s green Earth instead of going outside when you finally have the opportunity to explore the world.

Maybe it’s your fault, though. You haven’t been acting like a normal baby. You’ve been…honestly pretty quiet as you’ve processed everything. You don’t look at yourself when he holds you up to the mirror, and you mostly just stare at the ceiling or floor when he lays you on your back or stomach for tummy time. You won’t crawl, and you eat with a lackluster look in your eyes, which are always tired and empty.

This dad sighs as he scans the page, looking down at you.

“Hikari,” he murmurs, patting your head. “I wish I could understand what’s going on in there.”

You look up at him, and he smiles. He looks exhausted, and you feel… guilty. He may not be your real father, but he’s still just a man trying his best. And he seems to be doing this alone. You haven't seen hide nor hair of a mother. You study his face, and then smile back up at him, trying to reassure what is obviously an anxious and tired man.

It’s a bit of a nervous smile, and gummy since you don’t have teeth, but your father’s face lights up.

“Hikari Hikari Hikari!” This father repeats, as if that’s the magic word that finally made you happy. He looks so goofy, with a crooked smile on his face, his nose all wrinkled, and his eyes shining, that you can’t help but giggle.

He kisses your head and turns away, trying to swallow back his tears. This was the first time you had smiled, and despite the fact that you might not have been the most normal of children, it still made him feel as though everything would be ok.

The next morning, as was his routine, your father held you up to the mirror. He had been doing this ever since he read that babies were supposed to be able to recognize their faces. You turned away, though, every time, as though you were desperate to see anything but your own face.

But today would be different. At least, he hoped it would be. After all, yesterday, after you had smiled and laughed, you started doing… normal baby things. When he put you on the ground to crawl, you popped up. There was a determination in your face, as though you had made a decision in your heart, and when you crawled over to him, he had to turn away again to keep from crying.

He’s becoming a right proper rain cloud now, isn’t he?

Of course, unbeknownst to him, you had made a decision. You had spent a solid 40 days and 40 nights thinking about your past and what you’ve lost. And you’re never going to let go of your family, your true family. But, you’re not going to get anywhere in this world by languishing thinking about them. Instead, you’re going to get up, and you’re going to make a difference.

(And maybe, just maybe, you can figure out what happened to you, and if there’s any possible way to get home)

At least, you hope you can make a difference. You’re still not quite sure where exactly you’ve been reincarnated.

(You can’t decide if it would be better to be reborn in your old world, and just be stuck with the memories of your past life, or be reborn somewhere new)

Besides that too, you felt bad for this dad. He was trying to hard. Once or twice you’ve woken up in the middle of the night and looked over to see him, harried and exhausted, poring over book after book. Child Psychology, How to Raise a Good Person, Being a Dad for Dummies. These were all titles that you had seen him reading, highlighting key phrases in, and taking notes on. 

It felt almost cruel to not try, and to watch him get more and more worried for you.

Last night, you had laid awake, watching him flip through the books. And then, when he finally gave up and went to bed, you stared up at the mobile above you, stars hanging from it glowing in the dark, and repeated, over and over again in your mind, your name, your sisters name, and your parents name. You repeated every fact that you still held onto from your old world.

(You’re not letting go. But you’re going to try to move forward, in this new world. Wherever you are)

So here you were! You were going to try! You were going to look in the mirror!

(God, should you hope to still be you? Or should you hope to be someone completely different? Should you hope to be Hikari, or should you hope to be (Y/N)? )

Taking a deep breath- for a six month old -you look up.

You… still look pretty much like yourself. Or, at least, the old pictures you saw of the baby version of you. Your eyes were the same color, same shape. Your hair looked to be the same too, though like most babies you certainly didn’t have a full head of hair.

The only real difference is that you have a birthmark under your left eye.

In your last life, you certainly had your fair share of birthmarks and freckles. But not quite like this one. It’s directly under your eye, and it’s not the usual shape of a birthmark. If anything, you had to say it looked like a star.

Weird, you thought, pondering your face. 

Thank God she’s developing normally, the father thought, pondering the pondering look on your face.

You think this dad might be a criminal. Which is strange to consider, especially with how dedicated he is to being a dad. Though… well. Being a good dad doesn’t stop someone from being a criminal. Still.

Sure, this might be a big conclusion to jump to. But consider the evidence:

1. Your dad doesn’t seem to have a job. He sits at his computer typing for about 2 hours a day, and then spends the rest of it following you around the house and encouraging you to… be a baby, pretty much. How are you paying for this apartment?
2. He never goes outside. Like, ever. Maybe once or twice month. And every time, he puts on a face mask, and swaddles you up so much that you honestly don’t know how you keep breathing. You can’t even see when you go out! Why does he keep hiding his face?
3. Everything he has, is ordered, and then when it’s dropped off, he waits until the deliveryman is gone before creeping out, snatching up the box, and bringing it inside. Why doesn’t he interact with.. literally anyone?

Of course, technically your dad could be just a germaphobic introvert. It’s possible even that he’s rich off of banking or stock exchanges or something, and he’s tying to hide his face from the adoring public. Maybe he was even a famous actor who retired when his daughter was born!

(Doubtful, considering where you both lived. While not trashy, or really even bad, it was a one bedroom apartment. You slept in a sizable crib next to your dads bed, and pretty much everywhere else was open, almost like a studio apartment)

It might be you’re just not feeling charitable to him today. But still. Why is he always just wandering around this teeny tiny place? If he really was a germaphobe or an introvert, he could at least take you to the park, right? Then you could finally see people!

(Again, you remind yourself. You could finally see people again. You’ve seen them before, in your past life.)

You have toys to play with, though, and your dad turns on a learning channel while he’s busy doing whatever it is he does on that computer of his, so you’re not too bored. It reminds you of PBS, slightly, but not quite the same. You can’t quite put your finger on what’s different, you just know there’s something.

Other than that, though, your small T.V. stays pretty much off. No news, no soap operas, no nothing. Just learning channels.

(You knew a girl, in your past life, whose parents were so overbearing that she could only watch shows like Little House on the Prairie or documentaries. And not to knock either of those type shows, but if your new father feels the same way, you’re going to have beef. After all, you never got to finish SpyxFamily before your-

Before you came here. And you’d like to. If you can)

You don’t…. know quite how to put it.

The world feels too small, in this home of your fathers. You wish the windows would at least be opened, so you could people watch, but even that is kept carefully maintained. And the balcony with all the plants, you’re not allowed on, being small and tiny and young.

(Trying to compromise with this world is difficult, to say the least, if you can’t even get to know the world. And being inside all the time doesn’t give you respite from your mind.)

You look up from where you’re pushing your toy car back and forth, to study your dad. If he really is a master criminal, good enough to have retired in a paid-for apartment with his infant daughter, then he’d have to have been some sort of hacker criminal. He’s not made for the sneaky fighting life, you can tell that much

He’s reading, but keeps glancing up at you every couple of seconds. He’s not even subtle about it, though maybe that’s just because you’re a baby, and any reasonable adult doesn’t expect a baby to have the mind of an almost adult.

You look down at the toy. He looks back at the book.

“Hikari,” Your dad says, speaking like you can understand him. You can, of course, but he can’t possibly know that. “I got you a toy.”

You stare at him. That’s… nice of him. Very cool. You hope the toy wasn’t stolen.

(You’d prefer getting to go outside)

“I hope you like it.” He says, pulling a box out from under the couch he’s sitting on, and opening it up. “I know you… probably won’t recognize him, and that’s probably my fault. I’ve wanted to keep you from the world, but maybe that was a mistake. The world is just so violent, though, and with what you see on the news every day…”

Your father descends into mumbling to himself, and you stumble over, tapping his knee. He reminds you a bit of one of your favorite anime characters, and as funny as it is, you’re a bit too excited to see the toy to really care.

Though it is funny he thinks the news is too violent. Has he seen some of the documentaries he plays for you, or does he just turn them on and pat your head? How could a weather report be worse than watching an antelope run for its life and then still be devoured? It’s not like the news is regularly playing WWE matches or death battles or anything like that.

“Right, right, sorry.” He shakes his head. “Here.”

Reaching into the box, you’re wondering what it is. It feels soft, almost velvety. Is it a stuffed animal? You have one already on your bed, a tiger you’d promptly named Hobbes. Maybe it’s a doll, or a superhero toy. Oh that would be cool, you hope it’s Spiderman!

Pulling it out, you stop and stare.

“Do you like it?” Your father asks, expecting maybe a smile, if he’s lucky. He’s resigned himself to nothing, like it sometimes is with you, when you finally open your mouth.

“Papa.” You say, and his eyes widen.

“I- Hikari! Say that again!” He exclaims, smiling and laughing, “You said my name! That’s right, I’m Papa! I’m-!”

“Almigt.” You try to say, looking at the doll. It’s a bit hard, what with the fact that you’re literally all of 9 months old.

“I- yeah, All Might.” Huh. Your dad tilts his head. Funny, he didn’t even think you’d really know who he was. He was planning on introducing you to the whole world of heroes and villains with the All Might toy, play back his very first rescue, maybe mention quirks. He was supposed to start bringing that sort of stuff up at this age, according to his books, start a good foundation so you would understand they’re natural and not something to be feared. But… well. All Might is the strongest and best hero in the world. Apparently even kids who only watch NatGeo know of his fame.

Hm. Does he really have to tell you about quirks just yet, though? That’s opening a pretty big can of worms, one that can’t be closed after. And then you’ll start asking questions about his quirk, and then what your quirk will be, and maybe even ask about your mother’s quirk, which will lead to you asking about your mother, which will lead to questions about where she is, which will lead to-

“Almigt!” You repeat, staring at the toy and completely unaware of your dad musings. This is great!! Your dad got you an All Might toy! That means he has to be a fan of MHA, right? That’s awesome, maybe you two can watch it together!! You were only halfway through the sixth season, that’s another show that you… weren’t able to finish.

“Yeah! All Might!” Your dad repeats, this time with a bit more energy. He doesn’t quite get why you’re so excited, but he’s more than willing to go along with it, especially since it’s your second word. “Now, can you say Hikari? Can you say your name, kiddo?”

You look up at him. You really, really don’t want to say Hikari. It’s not your name. You’re (Y/N).

But, it would make your dad happy. And you said you would try and compromise with him. 

(And he is trying. Why can’t you him in the middle?)

“Hi-Car-Ee.” You say.

Your dad laughs, and picks you up, hugging you tight.

“That’s my girl. Hikari.”

You are two years and one month old and you swear to God if you stay inside one more day you’ll kill someone. Slowly, painfully, and you’ll enjoy it.

You tell as much (in not so many words) to your dad, who looks at you with surprise.

“You want to go outside?”

“Mhm.” You pause. Being small is… very annoying. Your mouth doesn’t always move the way you want it to, shaping words with a lisp and a stumble. “Want… mm… outside. Go ousside.”

“We go outside all the time,” he says, adjusting his glasses.

“No. Ouuside. Not…. Want to… want to see.” Curses be on whoever made babies so bad at talking. Was it God? Was God who did this?

Your dad blinks at you, and puts down his book.

“Ok, then, I guess we can… go outside. Do you want to go to the park, or… the library?”

You stare at your dad.

Old man, I’ve been inside for all 25 months of my life. How am I supposed to know what a library is if you haven’t even taken me to one. I do know what a library is, but you can’t expect your infant daughter to know when you’ve never taken her.

“Ya, ya papa.” You say instead.

“Alright then.” Your dad says, standing up from the couch and reaching for your baby carrier.

“No! No carrier!” You shout. If he puts you in that thing again, you won’t be able to see jack.

“No carrier?” Your dad seems baffled. “You actually want to walk?”

“Walk.” And finally see where you’ve ended up.

Your dad gives you a long look, as though he knows that you’ve got secrets. The two of you maintain a staring contest. You smile up at him with all eight of your teeth, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Walk.” You repeat, pulling out the puppy-dog eyes. Your dad sighs.

To get to walk down the street was something you had definitely taken for granted in your past life.

(As well as the fact that you knew who you were, and had no past love or memories to worry about, but right now you’re focused on everything you can see. Oh cool, that lady’s hair is dyed blue! Man you wish you could ask her what her routine is to make it flow like that, it almost looks like actual water haha!)

Your eyes dart around, taking in everything. It’s a beautiful day, not a single cloud in the sky. The sun feels great on your skin, and you smile, closing your eyes and taking in the warmth on your skin.

Your dad grins behind his mask, which, despite your attempt at protesting, he said was a nonnegotiable. He squeezes your hand, which is currently in his own, and you smile up at him. With the mask on, you and him don’t look to similar anymore, though without it you’re basically twins.

Your dads and yours eyes are the only real difference between the two of you.

(Did you get your eyes from this mom? Who is this version of your mother, anyway? Is she like you? You’re not a germaphobic introverted criminal, so you must’ve gotten your personality traits from this world’s mother. Although, you have similar traits to your past life, so maybe-)

Stop stop stop. You don’t wander your mind unless it’s nighttime. That’s the best time to do it, because there’s nothing to take your mind off of it other than the sparkling star mobile above your bed that you’re getting a bit too old for!

Anyway, there’s so much more to see! There’s a billboard there pointing out… hmmm. Actually, what is that?

You try to figure out who, or rather, what exactly is being advertised for on the billboard. Is it.. a fighting movie? Weird, that footage looks super realistic.

“Papa, wha-?” You ask, pointing at the billboard, only for it to have changed to an advertisement for a fragrance.

“Perfume.” Your dad says, rolling his eyes, “Ignore it, the Gabriel brand is super tacky and gross. Overpriced too. And all the smells are fully idiotic ideas, like marshmallows and pine needles.”

You gawk at your dad, baffled. There’s no way he expects his 25 month old daughter to understand half of that. Also, that was.. so much animosity for a perfume brand. What, did they kill his dad or something?

(Wait a minute… that’s another question. Do… you have family in this world other than him?)

“Do you want to go to the park? I think it’s nearby. Down… Karatsu? Or maybe up Arita?” Your dad taps his chin, looking to your left, and then to the right. You sigh, not even surprised by the fact that he doesn’t know his way around his hometown. Oh well.

While your dad is too busy trying to figure out how to get to the playground, you blow a raspberry, and look around. You’ve learned his mumbling can last for a serious amount time, and you don’t want to spend that time staring up at your old man. 

It’s so pretty down here! The trees are swaying in the breeze, and the wind smells fresh. This world is brighter than you’re used to, too. Or maybe it’s just your eyes, unused to not being stuck inside- what the hell is that.

Does.

Wait.

There’s no way that guy has a camel hump.

Maybe he’s just sick.

Yeah.

He’s got the most massive pimple you’ve ever seen in your life on his back.

That’s what it has to be.

And his face, that’s just… a beard.

There’s no way that man is a camel.

Because that’s not natural.

Right?

Not unless…

No.

No.

No.

Not even you’re that unlucky please God say it isn’t so.

“Hikari, don’t stare at people, it’s rude.” Your dad says, squeezing your hand twice.

“But- papa- I- Camel-,” Your thoughts are all over the place. There’s no Goddamn way.

Your dad sighs, like he knew this was coming.

“I’ll explain as soon as we get to the park, ok? Just promise not to stare at anyone else, got it?”

You’re not gonna promise a damn thing, that man was a CAMEL.

Your dad finally uses the phone he’s been carrying this entire time to find directions to the park, and sits you down on a bench when you get in there.

But this point, now that you’re actually looking, you’ve seen several people with… no. You shan’t say it.

“Now Hikari, this might be a lot to understand, ok? So stop me whenever you want. And I’m sure even then you won’t fully get it till you’re older, ok?”

You nod your head rapidly, praying over and over again that what you think isn’t true and that you’ve ended up somewhere different, like somewhere people have animal traits and that’s the only strange thing in this world and nobody has superpowers or-

“That man has something called a quirk.”

Strike me down now, you think miserably. Just do it. Whoever out there that chose to bring me back, you can end it now. It was a nice run, I had a nice dad, I got to go outside and see stuff once, I got to have an All Might toy. Good enough for me.

“Hikari, are you listening to me?” Your dad asks, tapping your forehead. You groan, and he frowns. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy..” You mumble. Your dads eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t push it.

“Hm. Well, most people have something similar to a quirk. Only about… 25% of people don’t.” He says.

20, You think, because you’ve read enough of the books to know that’s not quite right.

“You’ll probably have a quirk as well. Hopefully, mine.” He mumbles the last part, and you glance over to him. He holds up his hand, and a golden glow comes from it. “My quirk is called Heavens Light. Depending on how much sunlight I’ve absorbed, I can heal injuries. Pretty cool, right?”

Your dad dares to smile after that.

What a minute… if he needs sunlight to heal… then why do we spend all our time inside?!

You put your face in your hands, and sigh. Your dad’s smile fades.

“Hikari? Are you ok? I know it’s a lot, but-“

“Fuck.” And you promptly faint into your father’s arms.

“HIKARI-“

Chapter Text

You blink a few times, rubbing your eyes. The room around you is blank, almost subliminal in the wide, vast emptiness. You’re seated at a table that’s covered in a flower-patterned cloth, and the first thing you notice is that all the flowers look exactly the same.

“I’m sure this must come as a shock to you.” The Being seated across the table from you, says. “We’ve only got a little while to talk, though.”

“Why do you sound like Mufasa?” You blurt out, unable to gather your mind into a reasonable response.

“I was told that might bring a bit of peace to your mind. I can change it, if you want.” Was his casual reply. “Is this better?”

You wince, physically recoiling as he spoke with your mother’s voice.

“Please go back to the other one.”

He nods, and is James Earl Jones again.

You study the being across the table from you. You only say him because that’s what he seems to be presenting as, though it’s… hard to even call it that, as you can’t really see them, only the faint golden, green, and blue glow coming off a vaguely humanoid form.

Light dances around him, the same way the traffic lights look with astigmatism. He sits in his chair, perfectly calm. Despite his demeanor, your stomach twists and roils. You rub your thumb against the palm of your hand as silence permeates the room. He’s waiting for you to speak, delicate, as though you’re an easily spooked animal, and yet you don’t know what to say.

Instead you study your hands. The lines in them, the familiar knuckles and nails painted-

Wait. Your nails are painted. You painted your nails with your sisters the night before you died.

(And at that, your mind stands up and begs to know why God let you remember it all and yet pulled you to a world you’ll never see them again in. You don’t open your mouth to ask that. Instead, you ask)

“Am I me, here? Not Hikari?”

“You are Hikari, you know.”

“But I’m not Hikari. I’m ( Y/N) .”

(You know you are because you remember. You make yourself remember. You repeat it to yourself before sleep claims your mind, your whole name. It’s not something you’ll let slip through your fingers)

“And you are Hikari, too.“

“But I don’t want to be Hikari.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

(And he means it, you know he does. That doesn’t make it any better)

“Why’d you make me remember?”

“You… didn’t want to forget your family. You actually got upset when I suggested forgetting.”

“Then why can’t I remember how I died?”

“You specifically asked me not to let you remember the last part, not for a long while, at least.”

(You wish you hadn’t. How did you die? What was so important that it cost you your life?)

“And if I asked you to tell me now?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Once a memory is forgotten, I can’t retrieve it again.”

“Why? Aren’t you all powerful or something?”

“No. Me and my kind can only influence humans. We don’t control you. Every decision you make is of your own choice. You chose to let go till the time was right.”

You frown at him, tired and annoyed. It doesn’t seem like he can do anything but apologize to you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear. I know you probably have more questions, but we don’t have the time. I’m going to run through this information for you quickly, understood?”

You nod, because really, what else can you do? Say no?

“You died helping people. That’s all that I can say. You know, now, that you’re in the world known as My Hero Academia. You-“

“How does that even work, though? My Hero… it’s a fake world. Made up.”

“Mh. Not quite. Many of your artists, the ones who seemingly create new worlds out of nothing, are simply in connection with another world. Almost like…” He pauses, watching you.

“Sure, take your time. Not like you said we don’t have much of it or anything.” You mumble, picking at a loose string in the tablecloth.

“Yes yes, I’m just trying to figure out a way to explain it in a way that won’t harm your mind. Here.” He pulls a string of gold out of nowhere, it seems, and on one end places a beam of blue, and the other green. “Picture the green beam as your former world, and the blue as this one. The author known as Horikoshi has a connection this world, and thus was able to make a story from it. Somewhere in time and space, every world that’s ever been dreamt of actually exists, and every artist that dares to dream has a connection to it. That doesn’t mean that no one has an original idea, but rather that they get the notes from the world, and then continue to build off it.”

An interconnected web appears, above the table, of too many glowing strings of gold connecting worlds of countless colors, some that you couldn’t even begin to dream of.

“It’s.. beautiful…” you whisper, and the Being glows a bit brighter, like he’s proud.

“It is, isn’t it? When someone dies, their essence simply transfers from world to world. At one point, each persons essence has been another. In this one, you’re in the world called My Hero Academia, as a girl called Fukumoto Hikari.”

“So, I’m Hikari now. But I still look pretty much like me.” Your hand traces your face, comparing your current one to the younger form that you’ve been given now.  You brush your left cheek, and frown when you remember the birthmark. “Other than that freckle. I didn’t have it last time.”

“That’s actually from me. It’s a marker for others of my kind, to show that you’re not to be shifted to another world before your time.”

(You didn’t even realize that was an option. That implies that some of these beings would take you before your time. Are not all of them like this one?)

“So…” you say, thinking about it. All of it’s really just giving you a headache, though. “Reincarnation, huh? I guess I gotta be a Hindu, right? Cause they got that part.”

“Everybody’s got something right.”

“Yeah, but which religion is the most right?”

The Being laughs, sounding like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Right.” You say, realizing he’s not going to answer you. “If I remember this go around, then do all the others who get reincarnated here?”

“Most people don’t. Only those who are exceptional, for one reason or another.” The Being pauses. “Exceptional isn’t judged as how you humans consider it, though. And if you want to forget, I can let you now.”

“Of course I’m not going to agree to forget now.” You say, rubbing at your forehead. The more he talks, the worse your headache gets. He nods. “No matter how hard things get, I’m going to want to remember.”

“(Y/N), do not lose your heart. In this world, you will face many challenges. Have courage, be kind, and you will conquer.” The Being sends a beam of gold towards you, brushing up just against your cheek. “Your family will be your support, and your love will be your strength. Never stop hoping.”

You nod, clenching your fist. This really is it, then. You’re in the world, for better or worse.

“I’m going to send you back, now. We most likely won’t meet ever again.”

“Wait!” You blurt, “My real family- or, I guess, my last family. Can you let them know I’m ok? Or at least, not suffering? I… don’t want them to be worried about me.”

The Being nods again, and then your eyes flutter, as you feel yourself fall asleep.

You wake up to your dad looking like he’s only two seconds away from crying, his hands glowing and held against your head. The feel of his quirk is soothing, as though you’re swaddled in a warm blanket and being rocked to sleep.

“Papa…” you mumble, blinking your eyes tiredly. “I wanna go home.”

Your dad nods, obviously relieved and yet still scared for you. You know you’ve made your resolution to live in this world, and you know you’re meant to do your best by the Being, but right now you’re just tired. You swear to try again tomorrow.

And you will.

You just want to rest today.

Late that night, after your father has panicked and almost lost his mental faculties over you fainting, you lay awake calculating.

You truly are in this world. The world of My Hero Academia. You can’t.. go home. So you’ll have to make the best of the world that you have now.

To you, that means helping as many of the people that you can.

With half the characters whose lives you want to change, those you wanted to help, there’s a pretty sizable age difference. In UA, you’d be.. 15. 16, if you were lucky. And if you met them younger… hmm.. difficult to say the least.

You do want to do all you can to save the LOV. If you can stop them from being hurt, you can stop them from hurting others.

And the only one of them near your age was Toga.

She was 17, you think. As far as you remember, at least. She would probably be the easiest to help. You’ve got both elementary and middle school to catch her somewhere along the way. You’ll have to convince her you accept her quirk, but figure out a way to do that that doesn’t accept that she’s… a serial killer who drinks people’s blood. Which means finding a way for her to accept her quirk but not indulge. Or find someone who will let her indulge. But even that’s iffy because it’s blood.

(Hmm. You’ll have to put a pin in that. At least you have time to figure it out, right?)

Dabi… he was… you’re pretty sure he was eight years older than the kids, so even if you were lucky enough to meet him early, he’d still be eight years older than you. And Sekoto peak, when was that? At age 13? Or 14? Even if it was 14, you’ve only got 4 years to reach him. You definitely wouldn’t have listened to some snot-nosed kid if you went through what he did, and you don’t think he would either. Still, maybe you can convince him you’re older than you really are. Or maybe just telling him you hate Endeavor will be enough to get him to listen to what you have to say.

(A girl can hope, can’t she?)

Shigaraki was 20. So, 5 years age difference from the beginning of the series. And then you have even less time to catch him, because he was taken by All for One at… probably four or five, right? And you’re 2 now, so… damn it. You’ve missed your chance. You can’t save him anymore. Even if you had gotten to him the day you were reborn, you still wouldn’t have enough time. You’ll have to see if you can use what knowledge you do have to your advantage, and reach for his heart, if that’s even possible. Is your best case scenario for him really jail for his crimes?

(No, you can’t accept that. You’re still going to try and help him)

Twice was… in his 30’s. A grown man. The best that you can probably do for him is suggest professional help, which really sucks because you’re overly fond of the silly mha version of Deadpool. If you get the chance to meet him, maybe you can call Adult Services?

(Does that… even exist?)

Kurogiri- Oboro was already dead. No matter what you did here, he would remain dead. But, you can try and give Aizawa peace of mind about him, right? Somehow? He’d have wanted that, right?

(So many of them are already out of your hands. Like their fates have been written long ago, and are just moving out across the scene, with you a helpless member of the stage crew, unable to stop the actors from playing their parts)

Mr. Compress, Spinner, and Magne… you know next to nothing about. You can’t.. really do much to save them. Spinner, you don’t know how old or where he was. You’ll just have to keep your eye out for a man with a gecko quirk. Mr. Compress seemed perfectly satisfied to be a gentleman thief. You still remember his face reveal, and how much energy he seemed to have at his “final show”.

(And he killed Midnight. You have to remind yourself that despite what you know of the characters, they’re still truly murderers in this world. You can’t let your memories mess with reality)

Magne was a grown woman who made her own choices, so there’s not much you can do to stop her from committing the murders. You’ll just have to save them all from their fates.

And with thoughts of Magne, lead inevitably to…

Chiskaki Kai.

You will be doing everything in your power to save Eri. There’s nothing on this Earth that will stop you from that.

But do you put in the same effort to help him?

He was an orphan, you remember, with pretty bad abandonment issues. Taken in by the yakuza, a violent organization with little to no love, especially not to a child. He was praised when he protected said organization, and then when he thought he was still protecting them, punished. Pretty much used as a tool. Did Pops even really view him as a son, or was he a ward? Or even worse, a tool? A weapon?

No.

Stop it, (Y/N).

He was a monster.

And you’re not going to defend him. The experimentation he did on Eri is too cruel to even put into words.

But yet…

He was a monster.

If you could get ahead of it… if you could somehow reach his heart, before he made those choices, you could save Eri, too.

You shake your head, trying to clear that thought. Chisaki Kai is 28.

(27? You can’t quite remember)

Either way, he’s at least 12 years older than you. Meaning he’s 14 right now. Already with the yakuza. You cannot save him. You should not try. That energy can be better used elsewhere.

(You sigh. You know you’re going to try. You’re always going to try)

The people he hurt, though, you can certainly try and save. Sir Nighteye doesn’t have to die. In fact, you won’t let him.

(You won’t let any of them die)

Midnight is alright until the raid. You can gently put a pin in that until then.

(She’s going to be alright after the raid too, you’ll have your way if you have to claw and bite for it)

Hawks is 23. Another solid 8 years older than you. Another person that you can’t help, who’s already been taken in by the Hero Commission.

(If you were given to giving up, you’d do it here. So many lives have already been ruined and there’s such a small chance you can help any of the rest of them. You’re not a quitter, though, not till you’ve got no cards left to play)

At least you have both Classes 1-A and  1-B. Not nearly as much trauma in those classes to help, though there’s certainly… Things you could help with.

(Midoriya and Todoroki and Uraraka and Momo and Shinso and-

Well. There’s a lot of people that you can help along the way)

And beyond even that, the people who are hurt in general can be helped. Be saved. Mirko, Tensei, Ragdoll, Mirio, the victims of stain. All of them.

Great. Nice list, (Y/N). More people than you could even begin to know where to start with.

(Maybe you can save them from death, but you can’t keep half the people in your list safe from suffering . You’ve failed them already. Why couldn’t you have been reborn earlier, like in Aizawa or Midnight’s generation? Then you’d have time to plan and save others, not just have this knowledge and be forced to stand by helplessly, watching them all fall)

Look , you tell yourself, it doesn’t matter anymore . What’s lost has been lost. I still have time to help someone, anyone, so I’m going to try my hardest to.

You stretch out your hand to the glowing mobile stars above you, opening and closing it. It feels like it would be easier to grab the real stars than to help all these people .

(But you’re still going to try. Unfortunately, you’re always going to try)

Chapter Text

He’s late again.

The woman who was your mother sits in her rocking chair, sipping a glass of brandy idly. The clock on the mantle is ticking, her youngest daughter has gone to bed, the walls pass back and forth as she rocks, and her husband’s late again.

He’s been coming in late every Friday night. Sometimes he comes in smelling like other people. He always comes in claiming exhaustion, and heading right to bed.

She’s read about this. After your death, she threw herself into learning everything she could about the experiences people go through when they lose their children. She couldn’t stand being inside of their present, and needed to know what was their future. A distance growing in a couples marriage was a common occurrence, and though she never expected it to happen in her own…

Well. Despite all her organizing and studying, you can’t quite prepare for a situation like this, can you?

Your mother knocks back the last of the alcohol in her glass and stands up, walking into the kitchen and dropping the glass in the sink.

“Thank you, for having the courage to join us.” The woman leading the group says. “You all know me, and my story, but I would like to share it with our new friend.”

(It’s anonymous. They meet to talk, and then vanish into the night. They’ve all got other people to be strong for, whether it’s spouses or children. Here, though, they can let out the bitterness, the cruelty, the grief)

“My daughter was… she was a volunteer.” Despite the fact that it’s been years, theres still the strain in her voice. “Now, when I was her age, I took a gap year too. I went to some Western European country, some place close to France and Spain and Portugal. Somewhere I could make a quick trip to civilized country, you know?

“But uh, when- when my girl decided to do the same thing, she didn’t go to Europe, which I thought would be fun, or Africa, which her dad thought would be a learning experience. No, she decided to go somewhere that was… much more dangerous. Somewhere decidedly unfun .” She dabs as her eyes, and sits up straighter. Despite the pain that her loss causes her, she’s clearly proud of the woman her daughter was. “She went to some- some war torn country in Asia. She didn’t work as a solider, didn’t carry a gun. Her weapon of choice was a wrap of gauze and antiseptic.”

(The ones in the group who have been warring with their grief for longer nod along. They know this story)

“One day, as she was helping an older woman- her house had been shot up, you see, and while she wasn’t hurt physically the minds a different thing entirely- an airstrike was called in on her position.”

“She… she died there. Um, the doctors say that it was quick, but she.. she did die. And she wasn’t even supposed to be called in that day!” Her voice raises, bordering on a cry, but she stops and breathes. It’s uneven at first, before she manages to get it back in her lungs. “But she was. And she died. I’m not telling you this story to take away from your pain. I’m telling you that I- that we all can understand that feeling of grief. Of wishing that someone else had been standing there, instead of your baby.” 

The group nods, and turns to their newest member when he inhales sharply.

“But you don’t know who pulled the trigger. I do. I know the name of the man who killed my daughter. I know he’s still alive. And I hate that.”

“Where has dad been?” Your little sister asks.

Your older sister looks up from her phone. The kid’s standing at the edge of her chair, rubbing the back of her hands. Your older sister puts down her phone, and tilts her head. She’s never been very close to her youngest sister, but she’s been trying more. She doesn’t know if they’ll make it through, on their own.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m worried.”

“You shouldn’t be. He’s fine, I’m sure.” She ruffles your little sister’s hair, and tries to force a smile.

“One of the kids at school said that his dad said that he saw dad at the bar. Do you think he’s been…. drinking?”

“That kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Your older sister retorts, rolling her eyes. “Look, dad’s an adult, right? He knows better than to do something stupid. He’s probably just got an extra shift at work or something.”

“You should know that feelings of bitterness, and even longing for revenge, are natural. My kid died in a car accident.” A man from across the room pipes up. “He was out with friends that night, on his way home. Recently, probably a month or so before, he had come out to us, and we- me and my wife, that is- were so happy that he trusted us enough to be able to do that. We wanted to show we trusted him too, some family togetherness thing we’d read about. So when he asked us to go out with friends, we agreed, as long as he was home by 11:30.” The father taps his foot, a speedy motion in an attempt to get his anxious energy out.

“So you can imagine our worry when it hits 11:30, and then 12, and then 1. I was about to burst out the door when we hear a knock.” The father raps on the arm of his chair, “It was a police Officer.”  He changes his voice to gruff, mimicking the man. “I’m sorry sir, there was an accident.’ I… I don’t know why, but my brain didn’t believe it. I thought it was some sort of sick prank.

“The cop said- that cop gave us all the information. For my kid… it wasn’t quick. He suffered. The car… the metal had….” The father’s eyes go distant, and he shakes his head slowly. “The other driver was drunk. Drunk , on a Wednesday night. He left my kid dead, and the other kids in the car… one of them is still in physical therapy.”

The father exhales, hot and furious.

“I hate him. I’ll never stop. But, in the courtroom, I saw his face. He looked like he hated himself more than I ever could.” The father snorts. “Not that that’s ever possible. The judge saw it, too. He based his court ruling on that.”

The man shrugs, offering his empty hands. There’s nothing he can do more.

“I try to accept that. Justice isn’t mine to dole out. I have to trust the court and the law because… well, I don’t like the person I would be if I didn’t.”

“But that man was sorry.” The same man from last time retorts. “He knew he was guilty, and felt that rightly deserved shame. The man who killed my daughter didn’t. He won’t ever feel guilty. And yet he’s alive while she’s dead. How could that ever be fair? How am I supposed to accept that?”

“Dad, where have you been ?” Your sister demands. He’s coming in, past midnight. Again . “Have you been… drinking?”

“ What ?” Your dad looks up, almost slamming his hand in the door in shock. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s a small town,” she shrugs, “People talk. You hear things, whether you want to or not.”

“Honey, I’d never-“ your dad starts, almost indignant, only to be cut off.

“Just- don’t…” she hesitates for words, “Try to remember that you still have two living daughters.”

Your dad’s heart breaks, staring at his child. He reaches out, and she shies away from his hands.

(He pulls back, leaving his fists by his side. Why would she pull away? He’s her father. He loves her dearly. That’s not something that’s going to change. Why is she acting like it has?)

“Sweetheart, I… I love you and your sister, you know this, right?”

She doesn’t say anything, and as the moment drags on longer he can feel the cracks spreading into his soul.

“I know.” She says, finally. “But… you’re never around anymore. You’re either working or out traipsing through the woods like nothing ever happened.”

“Thats not fair.” He rebuffs, frowning, “I’m trying to keep going. It’s been almost a year, she wouldn’t want us to drown in our sorrows-“

“But she couldn’t have wanted us to forget, either!” Her eyes are as red as her face, spitting out her words.

“I’m not forgetting her!” Your dad snaps. “I’d never forget! I’m just trying to keep living for all of you . We can’t all be falling apart!”

She looks away, crossing her arms in front of her body. He sighs, rubbing at his face. He never meant to raise his voice at her. He didn’t want to hurt her.

“I’m sorry.” He says, softly. She doesn’t answer. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No you’re right. You’re right.” She says, and her voice wavers with tears. “I’m going to bed. You should… get to bed.”

He watches her go up the stairs to her room, and can’t help but feel like he’s failing at it all.

“My son…” a small, soft spoken mother from across the room says, “Was a wonderful boy.”

The mother’s hands roll over each other, over and over again, like the waves of the sea. She’s been silent, every time he comes, and he had started to wonder about her.

“He would do anything, to help anyone. He’s give you the shirt off of her back, if you needed it. He never put himself first. And his smile…” the woman closes her eyes, as the corner of her lips upticks. “He would smile at you, and suddenly everything would be ok. You could practically feel your tension ease, because you believed he was with you.

“And he was. Always. Someone would say something, and he’d smile and shake his head but his heart was with you. I don’t know where he got that from. Not from me, and certainly not from his father.” The mother’s smile turns bitter. “He was murdered.”

She says it with no preamble. No introduction, no softening of the blow. She says the truth as it is. Plain and simple, clear as the dawn.

“My son was mugged. He did everything right. He remained calm. He gave the person his money. He kept his hands in the air, showing he wasn’t a threat. He did everything right. And yet he was still killed.” She finally raises her eyes up to the group, and they’re put aback by the flames roiling in them.

“I’m not going to pretend to be some angel. I’m not going to say that I trust in the court systems or justice or anything else that can be claimed. I hate that man and I hate that man and I hate that man. Over and over it runs in my head. He took my boy from me. And I’d kill him if I could.”

For the first time since he started attending the meetings, your father feels like someone might truly understand him. It’s no fault of the others, but he could never reach the point where they held their hands to him, of forgiveness or acceptance. 

“I think about it, sometimes. I think about how it would feel. I think about how I would feel. I know I’d take great pleasure in it. But I also know my son wouldn’t want me to be that kind of person. So I push it away. I think about the way he would want me to live.”

“But how do you do it?” Your dad asks, desperate. He doesn’t want to be cruel, but he can’t help his mind.

“It’s hard. It’s really really hard. You have to wake up every day and decide to make your kid proud. You have to actively pull yourself away from thoughts they wouldn’t want you to entertain. You have to choose not to be that person. To be someone they would still want to claim as their parent.” The woman turns to face the window, watching as the wind makes a branch brush against it. “My son has been gone for longer than I had him. That doesn’t make it any easier. The anger, the grief… it never really goes away. You just manage to grow around it.”

Your dad puts down his bag with a tired sigh, rubbing at his eyes. The meeting went long, and he’s exhausted. He’s being forced to address things he doesn’t want to consider, things he’s tried to bury.

(It really doesn’t stay dead, does it?)

He stumbles to his room, finding his wife asleep in bed. He changes, climbing into bed as silently as he can, to avoid waking her up.

“You’re home.” She says. She’s lying on her side, with her back to him, so he can’t see her face. From her tone, though, he feels accusations.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I had a meeting.”

“Right.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe him, and for a moment, he opens his mouth to defend himself.

(No. He has to be strong for his family. He cannot break in front of them)

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot. Are you, really?”

“Of course. Honey, I’m-“ he reaches for her, gently brushing his knuckles against her shoulder.

“ Don’t. ” She hisses out, almost getting out of the bed. “Don’t.”

Flames lick at the back of his throat in an instant. Everything he’s been pushing down is about to come out, spat like venom. He even goes so far as to open his mouth to let it.

And then headlights from a passing car shine in their room, and he sees the empty box of tissues on her dresser. It’s like he’s been doused in ice-cold water.

(How could one hurt statement have pushed him to this? He almost slung his words at her, and he knows that that would cause a tear they might not be able to mend. All she had said was don’t . One word)

He snaps his jaw shut, and leans back. What is he becoming?

“She was a hero. That is, that’s what they say about my daughter. She did what she had to do to keep them safe. And the police, the paramedics, they say her death was quick. Painless. And that she was a hero.”

The man takes a deep breath. The air stutters before it makes it to his lungs, and he keeps his gaze on his hands. If he’s going to say this, he’s going to have to keep his eyes down.

(He’s ashamed of his feelings. He shouldn’t feel this way)

“I know.. that’s what everyone wants to hear about their kid. Right? That she- she did good. That you raised a good person. That your child was good . But I can’t help….”

He rubs at his throat, keeping his eyes down. He coughs. He clears his throat. The group waits for him, patiently.

“I can’t help but wish it had been someone else.” He says. “I wish someone else had been the hero that day. And I know that’s terrible. I know that means that those kids would be dead. I know that would mean that someone else’s daughter or son would be dead, and they’d be sitting here, and I wish I could say I’d feel bad, but I... I don’t think I would. I don’t think I do. I really don’t care who’d have died. I just wish for once, my daughter hadn’t chosen to help someone. I wish she hadn’t be a hero. I wish my daughter had been a coward that day. I wish (Y/N) was still alive .”

Your dad from your past life spits out the words, like they’re poison in his throat. After his verbal onslaught, he falls back in his chair, as it’s exhausted him to get out.

He’s been holding this in this in since the day you died. He was your father, yes, but he had to be strong for his other daughters. He had to be strong for his wife. He couldn’t fall apart because they needed to rely on him.

But he was falling apart. His wife couldn’t stand to look at him, and his daughters, would watch him stoney-faced. He could barely stand to look at himself.

You and him.. you were very similar. Same bed head, same way of squinting when you were confused, same habit of tapping your lips when deep in thought. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw his daughter smiling back and he…

He couldn’t… he didn’t know what to do. Fathers weren’t supposed to outlive their children. Your kids would be orphans, but you were never meant to lose them .

And it was cruel. It was so cruel, all his thoughts. Sometimes, he was furious at the security, for not stopping the man. Sometimes the police, for not putting him down in time. Always at the man. And sometimes still, at you.

How could you have done it? How could you make that choice? How could it have been so important? You were still just a child. You shouldn’t have even been in a position to do what you had.

Why did you do it? runs in circles in his head.

(Little does he know, four universes left and three to the back, another man who is your father thinks the same thing about a completely different set of circumstances)

The group murmurs their assent and their understating. None of them raise their voices against him, despite the fact that he’s certainly done it plenty to them.

“Thank you.” He whispers. He had kept that inside, fearing the way others would look at him if they knew how much of a monster he was. But instead of the disgust or revulsion he expected, he’s greeting with understanding, even empathy.

“Where are you going?” Your sister asks. Your dad pauses, and straightens up. 

“I’m going to the hovel.” He replies, attempting a smile. “It’s tradition.”

“Yes, but… today? Of all days?”

His smile falls and he rubs at the back of his neck. She’s looking up at him, expectantly, and he’s not certain of his next words.

“Yeah, I.. thought she’d like me to keep it up.” After a moments pause, he makes a decision. “Do you… want to join me?”

Your dad holds out his hand to his daughter. Her eyes flick between it, and him. She reaches out, and he thinks for a moment she’ll take his hand.

And then she pulls back, running her fingers through her hair.

“I don’t know.. hiking was never really my thing.”

“Right.” He says, folding his hand back against the strap of his backpack. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe.”

Your dad sits in his hutch, whittling away at his piece of wood and watching a doe walk through the woods cautiously. He had thought of learning to hunt once but you had put up such a stink that he’d never mentioned it again.

“Dad! Don’t even joke about that! Why would you kill an innocent deer?”

“Hunting is natural. It’s the same as picking up a package of meat from the butcher. What, do you think they just plant and grow the meat they sell?”

“It’s different at the store. Don’t laugh!”

“Really? How’s it different, then?”

“Well… at the store, you’re not killing it! I’m serious, when you kill something, you have to look it in the eye, right? You have to look at the animal. How could you look them in the eyes and still kill them?”

His knife slips and nicks his hand, hissing out a breath. The blood bubbles up, lazy droplets slipping down his wrist. He watches it for a minute, the blood sending his mind back.

You’d been pale. Paler than you’d ever been in life. The mortician said it was caused by the blood-loss.

You had looked like you were just asleep, on that table. The cloth had been pulled up to your chin, your eyes were closed, your hair fanning out around your face. He’d almost could’ve believed that he had just walked in to wake you for school. He could almost pretend you had just overslept, and in a moment you’d open your eyes and laugh up at him and then jump up off the table. He could almost.

(He couldn’t really, though)

He looks up, wrapping his hand in his shirt. The doe is still there, frozen. She stares at him, brown eyes wide, one leg lifted and the other on the ground.

(Had you looked like that? Before you died, had your eyes been wide? Had you watched your killer? How had he looked you in the eye and still pulled the trigger?)

The doe puts down her hoof, leaning onto her back legs. He waits for her to take off, but instead she leans towards the ground, sniffing at some of the clover by her feet. She must decide it’s good enough, because she begins to eat it.

Your dad watches this in silence. His mind casts back, tired. His family has been drawing apart, despite his best efforts of keeping them together. He’s trying so hard. 

(But… he’s trying alone. He needs to be strong for his family. But when you’re strong, you know when you’re weak, too. Should he say something?)

The doe straightens up, satisfied, and wanders back into the deep of the woods. Your dad watches until he can’t see her anymore, and then stands. He’s going home. He has something he needs to do.

Your mother glances up from her book to the door, to where your father comes in. He’s not late, or missing. In fact, she had thought he would stay out later, considering what day it was.

“Hey.” He says, softly. She nods in greeting.

(She really loves him. She does. Just… so much has happened. And he doesn’t seem to be affected by any of it at all)

“Are our girls awake?”

“Yes.” She peers at him, curious, as he walks over and squats down in front of her. He takes her hands, looking down at them as he rubs his thumb in a circular pattern. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we need to talk. All of us.”

Chapter Text

It has been about 24 months since you realized that you were reincarnated/isekaied into another world. It’s been about 4 months since your discussion with… God? Or whatever the Being was. You’re two years and a 5 months old, now, and quickly growing up.

You’ve suffered the indignities of having to rely on someone to change your diaper. You’ve stuff down mashed peas and beans, tomato’s and onions, carrots and potatoes, crushed vegetable combinations of all sorts. You’ve drunken from a milk bottle more than you could ever even imagine. You’ve had to watch countless learning videos that make your brain feel like it’s going to melt from lack of use.

And frustratingly, you haven’t seen anyone that you might recognize.

Oh sure, you’ve seen All Might on the news.

(And man. You can’t even put into words how cool he is. No wonder Deku was going to go by Might Boy, you’re half tempted to go by Lady Might when you get to UA.)

(A goal of which you have not mentioned to your still possibly a criminal father quite yet)

And you’ve seen heroes doing advertisements all over the place.

(When you were watching the show and reading the manga, you didn’t realize how much like famous athletes heroes were in this world. Yeah, you knew about Uwabami doing an ad with poor Kendo and Momo, but you didn’t realize how many heroes actually did do ads. You thought it was a one-off joke)

Once, you even saw Endeavor on the street, though your dad very quickly picked you up and carried you in the opposite direction.

(Another pice of evidence that he was a criminal, absolutely hauling ass to get away from a pro-hero. Suspicious )

Although you can’t really be mad that he ran away from Endeavor, because you pretty much hate him. After everything that happened with his family, you would’ve probably either kicked him or shaken him by his shoulders until he went “Aha! I should go be a better father. Thank you strange and currently quirkless tiny child, you’ve changed my entire worldview and I will go love my family.”

Unfortunately, your dad took you away from him before you could.

Anyway. You’ve been doing your best to be prepared to meet someone. You look for any one to start up a conversation with. You smile at every single person you pass by, and have been practicing your speaking ability, just in case. You don’t want to waddle up to, let’s say, Aizawa, and go “Goo-goo hero.”

That would be embarrassing.

But, to talk to someone, to actually make a difference in the world, you have to meet someone. And you can’t just arrange that by scoping people out. Ignoring even the age differences, these people all live in random places around the country. You can’t just pick up a phone, call an Uber, and show up at their door.

(Sadly)

You’ve been left to just sitting on your porch, when your dad is there with you and allows it, moving plants to watch people, hoping to see a familiar head passing by.

(It’s so weird how your dad’s grown his plants. You can hardly see down to the street, and you know for a fact no one can see up to your apartment. It’s like he’s trying to keep you from seeing anything! Rude)

You sigh, rubbing your forehead exhaustedly. You know it’s going to be difficult to help everyone you want to, but couldn’t you be cut a break? Even a tiny one?

(Please, universe?)

Your dad glances up at you, from where you’re perched on his shoulders. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile at him. All the head shakes and sighs you’re doing are probably baffling him, but you often baffle him even without that strange behavior.

He’s taken you to a picnic in the park, finally getting out. Apparently after all your begging and pleading to be let out of the house, he realized that you wanted to be let out of the house.

(Truly, you come from a genius lineage)

Either that, or he got over his germaphobic introverted hermit life.

(Doubtful, considering he still wears that mask of his)

You’re having enough fun, though. It’s a picnic with a bunch of other single parents, sort of like gathering a support group, and you had been hoping to meet the Midoriya’s. Then you could show off your All Might doll, make a friend, and hopefully save Izuku from a life of loneliness. You haven’t, though, and so you pretended to be tired to have your dad carry you around.

(Though when exactly did Mr. Midoriya head south? Inko might not be a single mom running the show just yet)

It’s still nice, though. You’ve gotten to hang out with a couple of kids, and eavesdrop on the parent’s conversation. There really is so much when it comes to the politics surrounding heroes, so much you hadn’t realized. You’re enjoying that part more than you were messing around in the dirt with toys.

Not to put anything against kids, you’re just… not the age group meant to be playing with them. You’ve got more important things to think about.

Which brings your mind back to the others you want to help. Which makes you sigh again.

(Being reincarnated is… difficult)

“Well, I think this one’s tired. I’m going to head out, it was nice to meet you all.” Your dad says, smiling so that his eyes crinkle behind the mask. The light glints off of his watch, and you squint slightly as you look down at him, tugging his hair a bit. He’s obviously lying right through his teeth, he hated this entire thing. He practically reeked of discomfort, and even faintly killing intent.

The rest of the adults say their goodbyes, and a few of the single mothers eye your dad like a bargain deal that they can’t wait to snatch up, which makes you wrinkle your nose. You stink out your tongue at them, and some frown while others laugh.

“We’ve got to go stop by the store real quick, then we can head home, ok sweetie?” Your dad asks, and you nod, squeezing your All Might toy sadly. You had brought it in hopes of seeing Izuku, but now it’s just dead weight in your hands.

Seems I’m just as unlucky here as I was in my last life, Small Might, you think sadly to the toy.

The worst thing would be for you to make it all the way to UA without meeting a single person. Then, you truly wouldn’t be able to help them, not like how you need to to make sure that everyone survives.

“Hikari?”

Could you talk to someone about your knowledge? Convince them you could see the future? No, then they’d look into your quirk, and when it came in and it didn’t line up, you’d be terribly suspicious.

(That is, if you even get a quirk)

(What if you do, but your quirk isn’t anything that could be used as a heroes quirk? Would you be able to be a vigilante, at 15? Would you even be smart enough to do that?)

“Hikari.”

Maybe you should finally a way to quietly make it know. Like an anonymous blog or posting in the newspaper. But even then, you’d only be able to post things like “Don’t go to the USJ today, someone’s going to break in” and they wouldn’t believe you until after the first tragedy. Additionally, with Nedzu’s super intelligence, you’d be dead in a minute.

(Double addition, that might be the stupidest idea you’ve ever had)

“ Hikari .”

“Ok papa.” You respond, not really paying attention.

Thanks to your distraction, you have no idea what your dad wants when he puts you down in the store, which leaves you gazing up at him in confusion.

“Come right back here in 10 minutes, alright? I just need to grab some groceries for tomorrows breakfast, ok?” Your dad squats down to your level, and snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Listen- listen to me Hikari. No wandering off. No talking to people you don’t know. No smiling at strangers. If someone approaches you, scream as loud as you can. I’m trusting you. Understood?”

“Ok papa.” You say, still having no idea what he’s wanting you to do.

“Ok, good. Go look at the toys now. I expect to see you right back here in Ten. Minutes. Exactly.” Your dad gives you a long, hard Look, and you nod, pulling out your most winning of smiles. That just seems to make him trust you less, because he rubs his hand over his face, mumbling something.

You pat his head, and he nods again, before standing.

“Ten minutes, missy.” He says one last time, before heading off to go find the butter and muffins and other such breakfast foods.

You squeeze your Small Might doll, shrug, and head off to the toy section. You’re not sure why your dad would leave a two and a half year old alone in a store, but assume Anime-Logic and go along with it. After all, Midoriya and Bakugo and their little friends were wandering around the woods at like 3 or 4. You’re just in the back of a store looking at toys. Practically in a safely padded room when compared to them.

Skipping through the store, and distinctly and deliberately disobeying your dad’s order of “don’t smile at anyone please for the love of God”, you head to the back. The toys are mostly boring, though you smirk victorious and viciously when you see that the Endeavor toys are marked down compared to the All Might ones.

Hahaha, yes. Suffer being second best. You think, rather spitefully, to the dolls, who aren’t sentient and have done nothing to earn your ire.

You’re so distracted in the midst of your mental takedown of the Flame Face (of which, if he knew about, would make him totally devastated for sure) that you don’t notice a mother and her son walk up.

The mother is harried, and mentally not there. Her son is quieter, more contained within himself, and looking more down than he is forward. They both seem tired, though, and like they’d rather not be there in the moment, or even where they are in life.

“Here.” She says, snatching up an Endeavor toy and attracting your attention, “He’s good enough, right? All Mights too expensive. I hope you’re strong like this guy when you grow up.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when she speaks, and your eyes follow her hand, the toy held limply in it, to her son. The second you see him, they widen, and you just barely manage to keep yourself from taking a step back. Your spine shivers, and your mouth opens as you inhale sharply through your teeth.

You know him.

Images play through your head, of a ranking system, of a battle in the city, of blue fire and pain and betrayal to one who thought he was finally in a safe space. You see the same face you’re looking at now, older and twisted in a wince. You see it scarred, and pained, burnt in a way that you just knew wouldn’t be able to be recovered from, leaving him different for the rest of his life. You see it grieved and agonized and exhausted and suffering. You see so much of it in suffering.

But right now, the face you’re staring at is smiling, eyes closed, as he holds the toy. His mother isn’t paying attention, not to her son nor the two year old watching him. 

(This could be your chance. But what can you do to help him, here? You can’t take him away from his mother. You can’t warn him about the hero commission. You’re only two)

But wait, you think, almost hysterically, He looks five. Six, at the most. He shouldn’t be. He should be much older. I’m two, he should be ten. Unless…

Are you… older than you think?

You had assumed… well, you had thought… most of the reincarnation stories you had read and seen in your last life had had the main character be reincarnated with classes A and B. But were you reincarnated… earlier? that’s…

That’s perfect .

Suddenly, your plan to help everyone seems a lot more viable.

You have so much more time, you can save everyone, you can do it all-

“C’mon, let’s go.” His mom says. She’s leaving, and he smiles, squeezing his toy one more time.

“Wait!” You blurt out, tiny and unsure of what, exactly, you’re going to say.

Both of them turn and look at you, and your mouth dries up. What on Earth should you say? Don’t trust the hero commission? Run as fast as you can, far away? Take care?

“Do you… want my All Might toy?” You settle on, holding Small Might out. That one, she didn’t get because it was too expensive. But you could give him another one, right? She couldn’t object to a free toy, right?

He looks at his mom, who shrugs, looking away, and then looks back at you. There’s a hesitant smile on his face, and he nods. You grin widely, hoping against hope that this works out how you want it to.

( Please don’t reject it , you think, please let me give you this since I can’t save you yet ) 

“All Might and Endeavor are best friends!” You lie straight through your teeth, “So you shouldn’t have one without the other!”

“Oh. Ok.”

“Now we’re best friends too!” You say. As his hand brushes yours, taking Small Might from you, your fingers tinge. You grab his hand, and smile even bigger. “My names ( Y/ )- Hikari! Fukumoto Hikari! What’s yours?”

“Takami Keigo.” He replies.

He’s so quiet and small, it almost hurts. Nothing like what he would be molded into. God, you want to give him a hug. You want to hold him and apologize for everything that’s happened and will happen.

(But you can’t)

You can see his mom getting impatient. You need to keep talking to him, though you can’t figure out what to say.

“Since we’re super duper best friends, I’m gonna tell you what I’m gonna be when I grow up! I’m gonna be a hero!” You announce proudly, still holding his hand, despite the fact that you don’t know what your quirk will be when it comes in.

( If it comes in)

“You should be one too! We could be hero friends!”

He looks down at Endeavor, in one hand, and then your conjoined ones with All Might. His eyes linger on where you hold his hand, and then dart up to your eyes. The light in them flickers for a second.

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely. I know you’ll be a hero.” You say. “You’re good .”

(In this world, you’re not certain of much, but you do know that no matter what, he will always do what it takes to help people. And that makes him a hero to you. Always) 

The corner of his lips turn up, and he opens his mouth to say something before his mother calls his name. Both of you turn to look at her, and there’s annoyance coloring her eyes.

“Let’s go.” She says, turning and leaving, without watching to see if he would follow.

(You almost wish he wouldn’t. If he would just stay here, you could bring him home. You could make sure he stays out of the hands of the hero commission. You could make sure he’d be safe )

But he does. He waves at you, and you force a smile on your face. You can’t make him stay.

“Bye, Hikari.” He says, and you choose to take the win. He’s called you by your first name, meaning that you must have made some sort of impact.

“Bye-bye bestie!” You shout, waving.

You watch him go, and your smile falls. Could you have done more? You had to have been able to do more to help him. Why didn’t you think harder? All this time to plan, and that was really the best you could do?

You reflect for a moment longer, before realizing it’s almost been 10 minutes, and your dad’s going to be looking for you soon.

With one last glance behind at him, you take off towards the front of the store. There’s no point in losing your dad’s trust this early in your life, right? You should try and worry him less.

(You’re certainly going to worry him enough later on)

So instead of watching him walk away, or seeing him turn and look at you, you rush to the front. Your dad is there waiting, looking at his watch and silently counting down. You personally find that a bit rude, because honestly! You can be on time sometimes.

(Despite the fact that dad didn’t give you a watch of your own or even a way to tell time or ever taught you how to read a clock, not that you need to learn, but- hey wait a second! Was he setting you up for failure so he’d have an excuse to keep a tighter rein on you?! Why on Earth would he do that?)

“Not late papa!” You shout, sliding across the floor and accidentally knocking into his knees. He stumbles slightly, hands outreached to stop you both from falling flat on your tush.

He looks at you with more than mild surprise, before nodding reluctantly.

“Not late. Where’s your All Might toy?”

Shoot.

You didn’t think about how you’re going to explain his loss to your dad.

“Uh….”

Your dad reads your face, and his tired smile turns into a displeased frown.

“Hikari.” Your dad says warningly, and you smile, chuckling nervously.

“I… made a friend! He didn’t have the money for a toy and so I gave him mine.” You blurt. Hopefully he doesn’t get upset at you for, y’know, doing exactly what he said not to, and focuses on the fact that you’re obviously a darling altruistic kid? Isn’t that what every parent wants?

“Hikari!” Your dad scowls, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. You can practically watch a hair turn grey. “I thought I specifically told you not to talk to anyone.”

“But- but papa! His mom couldn’t pay for an All Might toy and All Mights the bestest and then I had mine in my hands and so I thought-“

“Alright alright that’s enough.” Your dad’s eyes aren’t on you anymore, instead focused on something outside the store. You try and follow his gaze, only for him to sweep you up into your arms. “We’re talking about this more at home, am I under- where did you get that feather?”

“Huh?” You ask, patting your head. Your fingers brush against something soft, softer than anything you’ve felt in either life, and you pull it out of your hair.

The feather is red, delicate looking, and about twice as big as your hand. You run your finger along the edge of it, and watch as it moves, silken around you. Your dad is currently focused on outpacing whoever it was that he saw, but you’re too entranced by the feather.

It’s beautiful.

(More beautiful than you could’ve imagined through the tv screen or ink on the pages)   

The tiny pair of wings behind him hadn’t held your attention as much as they should’ve, probably. You were too busy thinking about all the pain that would come his way. Now, though, with a feather of your own in your hands, it’s a different story.

You hold it close to your heart, and smile down at it. Maybe you weren’t able to snatch him away from his fate, but you still believe that you were able to help him, even just a little bit.

It’s a start, and that will have to be enough.

Chapter Text

Fukumoto Sora can pretty safely say that his daughter isn’t the most normal of children. And that’s perfectly fine with him.

Truthfully, he can’t imagine a world without his daughter exactly as she is. Far too smart, whip quick, and tenacious to a fault. Never one to give up a fight, even when she’s definitely lost.

“I think I win, Hikari.”

You scowl up at him from the other side of the checkers board, and he smiles larger.

“No, no papa. Look, you’re in my trap.”

He looks between the board, and your serious face. He makes a “hmmm” sound, rubbing his hand against his chin to hide his smile.

“That last piece of yours must have one darn good plan then.”

“It does.” You reply, matter-of-fact.

You continue to stare down at the board, and begin to unconsciously mimic his position, your hand rubbing against your chin.

While you study the board, Sora studies his daughter. The furrow in your brow, the way you’ve narrowed your eyes. You tap your pointer finger against your lip, and he wonders where you picked that up. Certainly not from him.

“You’ve got to make a move eventually, kiddo.” Sora says after a minute more, and you nods.

“I know. I’m… giving you time to give up!” You reply, and he chuckles.

He doesn’t, in fact, give up. Instead, he watches as your eyes narrow further, before widening, and a smile graces your lips.

“I do win!” You move your checkers piece across, jumping two of his, and he’s shocked to find you’re actually very close to doing just what you said.

“Huh…. would you look at that.” He says at long last, considering the board. You grin even larger, tilting up your chin slightly, and he only feels mild guilt about the fact that he’s still going to win. “Unfortunately it’s not enough.”

He moves one of his pieces, jumping yours, and your face falls.

“Good game kiddo,” Sora says, offering you his hand to shake. He at least tries to hide his grin from you, though he can’t say he does the best job.

You grumble something under your breath, sounding quite like “ chess championship” and “sisters ,” but take his hand, shaking firmly.

You both stand, taking your dishes to the kitchen, and you pull out your stool in order to dry them as he washes. It’s become routine, since you’ve gotten older and can start to help with chores. He’ll make dinner while you tell him about what you’ve learned that day, and then you’ll eat as you play some sort of game, before washing the dishes together and getting ready for bed.

He’s dreading you growing up, as you’ll eventually have to go to school and get your quirk and go through trials and tribulations that he might not always be able to help you with. He’s treasuring the moments he has now with you, chattering about some silly scene or another in your cartoons.

It hits him sometimes, in quiet moments like this though, when you’re both lost in their own thoughts, that if you had told him ten years, or even 3 years ago, that he would be a father, he’d’ve laughed in your face.

And then he probably would’ve shot you dead where you stood.

“I believe we’ve found him, sir.”

“Indeed?” The man stops his scrawl to look up at his loyal follower. “Are you sure? Asahi isn’t one to leave a trail.”

“That is true.” The man inclines his head to his leader, “Normally, we wouldn’t have wasted resources pursuing him. However, his mistake allowed us to find said trail. Seeking out a man with a young child is much easier than finding a single man in Japan.”

“It certainly is.” The man who could, rightly, be called a Lord leans back in his chair. He steeples his fingers in front of him, thinking. “I don’t want to scare him, just yet. Send a man or two to keep a quiet eye on him. If he knows we’re watching him, he’ll slip away again. Kami knows he’s done it enough.”

“You’re not going to go after him?” A boy sitting near asks, almost petulantly.

“Of course I am. But I wish to be certain, first. Besides that, it’s better when someone’s cornered. Then, they realize they have no other choice but to cooperate.” The Lord looks up at his follower, inclining his brow. “You said he had a child?”

“A young daughter.” The man responds. His tone is more delicate, as though he knows these words will have a greater impact on his Lord.

He pulls out three photographs from his breast-pocket, sliding them across the table. One can hardly see anything in them, as they’re all burry and seem to have been taken from several dozen meters away.

The subjects of the pictures are a man and what one could assume is his daughter. The man is holding her in all the pictures, either by carrying her or having her sit on his shoulders. The daughter is well-dressed, showing care.

The room is quiet as both the boy and the Lord consider the pictures. The boy thinks it’s silly, but a quick glance at the man shows that he’s thinking otherwise.

“No wonder Asahi fled.” He murmurs, looking at the clearest one, which truthfully isn’t much better than the others. On it, however, you can at least see the girl smiling and the man’s face inclined towards her own, clearly listening.

He pushes the pictures away, continuing to talk with his follower. The boy, however, takes the picture off the desk. His eyes study it, trying to see what the man had. 

His face is blank, but his eyes train in on her smile. It’s free and natural and effortless, and he raises a finger to trace her face. How can one smile so easily?

“Hikari, what are you doing?”

You stare up at him guiltily, hands wrapped around that feather of yours. Sora does not like that stupid red  feather. You vanish around a corner, coming back ten minutes later missing your All Might toy (which! You hadn’t let out of your sight since you got it) and with a scarlet feather whose origin you said came from another kid.

He frowns at you, and you smile even larger, though it’s wobbly and your eyes dart away here and there.“Nothing papa.”

“Were you… talking to the feather?”

“No, papa!” You deny, despite the fact that he definitely saw your mouth moving and your hand wrapped around the feather. “I was… thinking out loud.”

Sora hates that damn feather.

Who knows what it really is. In their world of quirks and powers, some sicko could’ve given it to you for disgusting reasons. The only reason he let you keep it is because you begged and pleaded and almost started crying when he tried to take it from you.

And you were genuine, too. Though you sometimes look lost in thought, like you’re scheming, you aren’t a good liar.

( Yet )

You desperately wanted to keep it, so he bought you a clasp and chain and told you that you could. You’ve kept it around your neck ever since, sometimes even brushing your hand against it as if to reassure yourself it’s still there.

(Damn. He wishes he hadn’t bought you that chain, so that the feather could mysteriously vanish in a complete and total Accident)

“Are you sure?” He asks, crossing his arms and frowning at you. He’s pulling out his best Disapproving Dad face, for full force of guilt.

And it’s certainly working. You purse your lips, and shift from foot to foot. You can’t keep your eyes on him, and eventually you sigh and look down.

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell you the truth.” You let out a little puff of air, and look up at him. “Sometimes, I really worry about him. That boy I met. He seemed really sad and lonely, and I hope he’s doing ok. When I talk to the feather, I pretend like I’m talking to him! It makes me feel… like I can help him.”

Sora watches you carefully, as you look up at him. He’s not certain about the rest of your little speech, but he knows that last sentence was you telling the truth.

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m sure his mom is taking good care of him.” Possibly. “He’s not being hurt.” Probably. “And you’ll see him again someday.” Not likely. “Now go run off and get ready for bed.”

“I don’t know about that.” You mumble as you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and he frowns at your retreating back.

Sometimes he wonders about you. For a three year old, you’re so… well versed.

Well, no, that’s not quite it.

You seem… different than what other kids your age are. Now, he’s definitely no expert. Before he found out he was going to be a dad, he avoided all kids like the plague. All those little… entities were messes that he had no interest in getting involved in.

But when he heard that you were on your way, he threw himself into preparing. He may not have been expecting a child, ever , in his lifetime, but that doesn’t mean he was going to be cruel. When he first saw you, and realized that he truly was going to be a dad, your dad, he accepted it without a second thought. He was going to be a good father to you.

(Much better than his own had ever been)

Yes, he doesn’t know what “normal” children are like. But he can’t help but feel like you’re… more different  than he realizes. You’ve never struggled learning anything, if anything you’ve seemed to have all the world’s knowledge. The only thing you seemed to struggle with was getting it across. Sure, you had taken your time before you’d first talked, but after you did he almost couldn’t get you to stop.

And you watch so carefully the world around you, like you’re looking for something that cannot be missed. Your eyes are shrewd, carrying a weight heavier than your two years. Darting here and there, smiling and scheming.

(Should he be worried?)

Of course he’s worried.

Sora’s always worried. He finds himself wishing you’d both been borne a few centuries ago. Then, at least, he wouldn’t have to deal with the unpredictability that comes with their world of heroes and villains and quirks.

(Is it wrong of him, to hope that you’re quirkless? You’ll be teased for it, certainly, and some people may not understand. But you’d be safe. You’d be so much safer than you ever could be with any power)

Sora stares up at the ceiling, trying to clear his vision. Something… happened? What woke him up?

“Papa. It’s storming.” You whisper at the edge of his bed. He blinks at you, trying to collect his mind.

“Huh?” He asks, only for thunder to rumble across the sky, shaking the window. You whimper, grabbing the edge of his blanket.

“Right, right, sorry. I didn’t realize it was going to storm.” He stifles a yawn and lifts the blanket, allowing you to climb into the bed and curl up next to him.

It’s not that you hate storms. Rather, you’ve splashed around in the rain and come in muddy more times than he’d like to count. Sometimes he’d let you out with the plants, and lean against the doorway to the balcony as you’d jump and splash in the puddles, kicking and laughing. It’d always coax a smile out of him, the way you seemed to derive so much joy from something so simple.

No, what you hate is the thunder. He can’t fully understand why, and it almost seems like you don’t either.

The first time you had a major storm, he took it as an opportunity to teach you about the weather. You seemed to be having a great time, feeling the rain on your skin, and laughing at the droplets.

And then thunder exploded across the sky, and you screamed, clutching at his shirt. He had held you close, explaining it to you, but your eyes were distant and fearful.

Ever since then, you’ve hated the thunder. Not the lighting, not the rain, nor the winds or even the hail that once fell. The thunder always seemed to get to you, nor matter how hard you stood firm and tried to smile through it.

(He wondered and worried about that, as fathers often do, but had to accept that there was nothing he could do. And, despite your obvious intellect, you were still a child. Hardly more than a baby)

Another flash of lightning illuminates the room, and you snuggle closer to him, tense and waiting for the inevitable collapse of thunder.

“Little child, be not afraid, Though thunder explodes and lightning flash, Illuminates your tear-stained face, I am here tonight.” He sings softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Seven down is locomotive.” You say around your cereal. Sora squints at you.

“And how, exactly, do you know that?” Sure, now that you’ve mentioned it, locomotive does actually seem like a reasonable answer, but there’s no way that you could’ve guess that. 

(You’re able to, but are two year olds supposed to be able to read? Or even know what a locomotive is?) 

”Just a guess!”

“Hmm. Pen or pencil?”

“Pen.”

“Confident today, are we?”

You smile, tilting your face up at him, and he wipes at the milk dribbling down your chin.

“Hey, papa.”

“Hey, Hikari.”

“What would you say if….”

You trail off, and he looks at you, putting down his sudoku book.

You’re shifting from foot to foot, looking down. Your fist is clenched against your side, and your eyes are glued on the floor. You open your mouth, only to close it again.

“If..?” He prompts gently, leaning forward.

You take a step back, looking up at him. He almost flinches at your gaze.

It’s far older than you should be. As though you’ve lived a thousand lifetimes, and found all of humanity in those years. Like you’ve studied the intimate workings of the universe, sifted through the stars and galaxies, and have found it all wanting.

“Hikari?” Sora tries again, disquieted now.

“Can we watch tv? Not cartoons though.” You blurt out, and he knows that’s not what you were going to say.

He watches you for a few moments more. Your eyes clear of whatever inhabited them, and your hands aren’t so clenched anymore.

“Sure,” he says, “We can watch tv.”

“Divide hair into 3 equal sections.” Sora mumbles, running his fingers through your hair while you recount the newest conflict in your show.

“And then, and you won’t believe this papa, Lee jumped!”

“ No .” He says, as dramatically as he can. You nod, and continue talking, and he leans closer to his printed guide. “Right over left, twist…”

“Papa, you’re pulling on my hair.”

“Sorry, sweets.” He loosens his grip, tying the ribbon in your hair. A quick glances between his braid and the picture on his paper reveals that they don’t… look the same. In fact, he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t even be able to tell what he was supposed to be copying.

“It’s ok. But anyway, Lee jumped in front of the lightning bolt, and Kya was really really scared, she was so scared papa.”

“I’m sure.” Which step did he mess up on? 3 or 6?

“I think, if I fall in love, I want someone who might jump in front of a lightning bolt, but maybe not.”

Maybe it was step 5?

“M’sure you’ll find someone who’s willing to jump in front of a lightning bolt to save your life.”

You nod resolutely, and Sora runs his fingers through your hair, pulling out the braid and starting again.

Sora lifts the package of organic blueberries, and then the one of the store brand.

On the one hand, the organic blueberries are grown in a way that protects the environment. On the other, the store brand has a larger amount in the package. They’re both the same price, so all that matters is what I’m looking for. Do I want quality or quantity?

“Papa?” You call beside him, watching as he lifts both packages over and over again. 

Then again, there’s the farmers market on the way home. If I purchase from there, I’m getting both organic and cheap produce, and I’m supporting my local community. But is staying out late enough to get that worth it? I’m saving money and getting better quality, yes, but I’m also running the risk of being spotted.

“Papa.”

Wait. If I get strawberries instead, I’m getting a berry that will help with cognitive development and heart health much more so  than the blueberries, which is important with a toddler daughter. Blueberries and strawberries also have similar nutritional benefits, AND I’m saving money by getting them.

“ Papa !”

Checkmate, grocery store. I win.

“Dad!”

“Yes, sweetheart? Your dad asks distractedly, smiling to himself and dropping the blueberry cartons and picking up one filled with strawberries.

“When you laugh like that, you sound evil.” 

Your dad’s face falls, devastated.

“Happy birthday dear Hikari! Happy birthday to youuuu.” Sora warbles, faux-scratchy voice and all. You’re giggling, practically falling over in your chair as he does. He smiles, placing the small cake in front of you with your name spelled out on top and the candle number 3 lit up brightly.

You blow it out, eyes squished shut.

“What’d you wish for?” He asks, pulling out a knife to cut the cake. You waggle your finger at him, still smiling.

“Can’t tell! If I do, it won’t come true!”

He wrinkles his nose at you, pretending to be disappointed.

“I’ll guess then. You wished for… a new teddy bear.” 

“No way papa!”

“Hmmm. Then a spaceship!”

“No papa you’re so silly!” You laugh again, taking your plate from him.

“Then a brand new necklace!” Please say yes please say yes. 

“Absowootwee nout.” Despite the fact your mouth is stuffed with cake, he can still clearly understand what you’ve said.

“Are you sure? It could be all pretty, with a sparkly stone.”

“Mhm-mm.” You shake your head, and he withholds a sigh.

“Why does the puppet hate the rock?” Sora asks, giving up on pretending like he isn’t watching your show.

You turn to him, slowly, with a maniacal grin crossing your face.

“You really wanna know?”

He’s not sure he does, actually. Not when you’re making that face.

“Sure.” He says, instead of asking why you look devious.

“It’s all back in the play-date episode! So, Ellie was…”

On and on you ramble about the show, your dissertation complete with hand gestures and voice changes to match the different characters. Sora got lost about halfway through, and is now just nodding, “ooo”-ing, and “huh!”-ing where he needs to.

You don’t seem to notice, though, as you describe the climatic battle as well as a three year old can, and when you’re done and looking at him expectantly, he smiles.

“I don’t think I understood a word of what you’ve said.”

“ Dad !”

A moonbeam falls through the window, illuminating your face with its soft pale glow. Your brows furrow slightly, as you kick at the blanket in your sleep.

Sora leans over your crib, watching you. You’re getting a bit too big for it. You just passed your third birthday, soon he’s going to have to start looking for an actual bed for you to sleep in. And a new house, with your own room, and then he’ll have to look into schools for you, and then…

For all that’s coming, he’ll need to find somewhere safe again. He’ll have to find a way to sell this apartment and purchase a new one without collecting any unwanted attention.

He had bought it quickly, when you were small and wide-eyed and silent and he carried you in his arms swiftly away from the hospital. He needed somewhere to be able to retreat to, and this came with no strings attached.

You shift in your sleep, tugging at your blanket, and his eyes soften. He pulls the blanket back up to your chin, and leans back.

Sora hasn’t felt secure since you’ve been born. He used to be a man worthy of fear, a man who never doubted every strike he chose to make. And yet now, he’s so fearful of making a mistake that he’s almost tempted to never make a choice.

(For Gods sake, he’s mumbling to himself! He never did that before)

It’s so much scarier than he had thought, being a dad. There’s so much to consider, so much he has to change and do for you. And yet, it’s so easy to love you. Maybe it’s influenced by the fact that you’re his kid. Maybe it’s biological.

But maybe, (and this is what he truly endorses) it’s simply because you’re you. You’re you, and you’re his daughter, and you're smart, and you’re funny, and you’re kind, and you’re someone he’ll always be proud of.

He brushes a strand of your hair out of your face, and you stir slightly, brows furrowed, as though you’re thinking hard, even in your sleep.

But you calm shortly after, leaning your face against his hand, and he smiles. It a wobbly thing, as he’s fighting back tears.

“Everything's fine in the morning, The rain'll be gone in the morning, But I'll still be here in the morning.” He sings softly, to your sleeping self. He kisses your forehead, and withdraws to his own bed, falling asleep shortly after he lays down.

“ YOU HAVE TATOOS?!?”

With that lovely screech, Sora wakes up from his midday nap.

He had accidentally fallen asleep and left you on the floor, surrounded by toys. You both had been playing dolls, but he had been more stressed than usually and the patch of sunlight that he was sitting in was the perfect amount of warmth falling on his face, and rubbing his eyes meant he had taken off his glasses and forgotten to put them back on and-

Well, long story short, waking up with a crick in your neck and your daughter looking shocked and horrified wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences.

“ You … have a tattoo.” You repeat, accusingly, as you point at where his shirt slid somehow perfectly so that you could see two of the ( many) tattoos he’s been deliberately hiding from you.

Maybe he can still salvage this….

“I do,” Sora responds, picking up the new All Might toy he’d gotten you, and moving it about the dollhouse. “Sorry for falling asleep kiddo, where were we in the game?”

Your Rime toy lays abandoned at your feet as you stand up, hands on your hips.

“You’ve got tat toos .” You hiss, emphasizing the latter half of the word. Sora sighs, realizing you’re not going to let this go.

“I got them when I was very young and very silly.”  He says. You shake your head, clearly not convinced.

“Tattoos.” You mumble. “That’s a snake head, and that’s… a Sunbeam? What do they mean?”

Lie.

“Hikari, I just got them because I thought they would be fun. The Sun represents my powers, and I was born in the year of the snake. Thus the tattoos.”

Believe me.

You don’t look convinced, but his shirt only fell a little bit. Not nearly enough for you to be able to see the whole tattoo, and there’s no reason to believe in the existence of others.

(Though there certainly are others)

Your dad smiles, and picks back up Rime, handing the toy hero back over to you.

“Really, sweetpea, they’re just a couple stupid tattoos from when I was younger. That’s it. Not to say,” he purposely exaggerates his looks to distract you, “That you can get any. Now, are we gonna get back to our game?”

Believe me.

“Hmmmm. Alright.” You say, taking the doll and sitting back down.

Slowly, so you don’t notice, the tension seeps out of your dad’s shoulders, and you go back to playing your game.

You’re sitting at the window, staring out of it, and that same empty yet bottomless gaze is in your eyes again. Sora shifts from foot to foot, unsure of how to help you.

He had consulted his notes, but none of the books talked about something like this. They mentioned ADHD, absence seizures, and even just boredom, but none of the symptoms for those fit what you were doing.

Your fingers were tapping in a silent melody, with your eyes staring at nothing. Sometimes your lips moved, like you were recounting facts. Other times, they held pursued together, like you were keeping secrets inside.

Truthfully, you reminded him of himself when he first found out he was going to be a dad. Constantly planning, going over every possible path and outcome. Calculating, for lack of a better word.

He doesn’t… want you to have to think that way so early. You’re only three. You should be allowed to be a child.

Although… is it his fault that you’re not? He’s always assumed it was just the way you were born, but hasn’t he kept you separate from the world? Keeping the news off, keeping you inside, not even telling you about quirks until you saw them with your own eyes and he was forced to?

( Would he have told you about them if you hadn’t asked right then, or would he continue dancing around it even now, a year later?)

Hell, he went to one singular community picnic before deciding that it wasn’t for him. But what about you ?

(He’s your father. He’s not supposed to put his needs first. Is he stunting your growth by keeping your inside? Is he… hurting you?)

“Hikari,” your dad says, and you pull your eyes away from the window and your mind away from your sisters to look at him. “Would you.. like to go to the park? There’s probably a bunch of kids there for you to play with. That would be fun, right?”

You stare at him for a minute, and his heart picks up speed. Then, a smile crosses your face, and you hop up, like you weren’t contemplating something beyond him.

“I’d love to!”

“If these kids treat you badly, use your legs and leave. Defend yourself if you need to, but don’t hit anyone and don’t start fights. You’re here to play. And remember that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. I think the pro hero Aspire said that a few years back? Anyway, have fun Hikari and be nice-“

“Ok dad ok, can I go play now?”

“Fine, go have fun.”

Sora sits down on the only open bench, watching you run off towards the swings. Sure, there are a lot of kids and parents and families here, but that’s fine. Nobody is liable to recognize him here. After all, people like him don’t often hang around playgrounds. Certainly not the men from his past.

Still, though, Sora’s eyes skim over the crowd. Just in case. You never know where you might meet an old… friend .

There doesn’t seem to be anyone he recognizes. Just the same old happy families and smiling faces you’d expect to see at a playground.

A black-haired kid is crying not too far away, sitting underneath the slide and rubbing at his eyes. Sora feels bad for the kid, but figures he just slipped and scratched his knee up. He’ll probably be up in a few seconds, dashing around like nothing even happened in the first place.  Besides, his business is you, not someone else’s son.

He looks away, trying to see if he can spot the kids parents, and catches you slowing down on the swings. You’re watching the kid too, looking sad, and Sora just knows you’re going to do something that’s going to make his life more difficult.

Please don’t. Please, please don’t Hikari I swear- he thinks to himself, Oh God damn it.

You’ve already hopped off the swings, and shuffled over to the boy.

“Hi! My name’s Fukumoto Hikari. Why are you crying? Are you ok?”

Sora shifts, getting ready to stand. He senses there’s going to be some sort of trouble brewing.

If he hadn’t been watching you so carefully, if he hadn’t learned how to understand peoples body language like it was second nature, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shift in you when the kid stopped rubbing at his eyes and looked up.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hands raised, like you were torn between punching the boy and hugging him. You leaned back, shoulders tense, before you leaned forward again. Your eyes widened, and then narrowed, all while your mouth fell open. You snap it shut, and smile at him, though this time it’s somber and determined.

“Whats your name?” You ask gently, but it doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like you know something terrible, and are just waiting for it to be proven true.

“Shimura Tenko.” The kid replies, still rubbing at his face, “And my eyes really itch.”

Chapter Text

Oh he’s just a boy, is your first thought.

The boy who would later become Shigaraki Tomura rubs at his eyes. A few tears leak out, brushing against his flaking skin, and your heart breaks for him. You open your mouth to say something, only to hesitate.

Instead you step forward, and gently grab his hands, moving them away from his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you’re not apologizing for the fact they itch. There’s so much else you’re sorry for him. You lean down to his level, slowly. You don’t want to spook him. He reminds you of a kitten left in the gutter, and that makes your lips twitch slightly. “But it looks like you’re hurting yourself by scratching.”

He tugs at his hands, and you let them go. He scratches at his face again, and you perch beside him. You both sit in silence in the shade under the slide, before you try and talk again.

“ Does it hurt?”

“It itches more than it hurts.” He mumbles. You nod in understanding and scoot closer to him. He glances at you, a bit uncomfortably, and scotches away.

Watching him from the corner of your eyes, you’d guess he was… 4. It’s great because it supports your theory of being born before the rest of the cast, but terrible because it means that his quirk is going to develop soon. You’ve got a year, maybe less.

He keeps clawing at his face, and your hands tremble beside you. You want to move his hands, you want to get him to stop, but he’s already taken his hands from you once. You don’t want to push too hard too fast. That could end up ruining everything before you even get the chance to really help him.

His nails cut through his skin, and he flinches, pulling his hands away. A drop of blood dribbles down his face, and his fingers twitch, like he wants to keep scratching but doesn’t want to hurt. 

(You don’t want him to hurt)

“My dad can fix that. With his quirk.” You announce. You don’t care that people aren’t supposed to use their quirks openly or without a license. You just don’t want him to hurt anymore. Not if you can help it. 

“Is your dad a hero?”

“Yeah!” Whatever you need to say to get him help. “C’mon, he’s over here.”

You stand up, holding out your hand to him. He looks at it for a long minute before placing his own in yours. You close your fingers around his hand, giving it a light squeeze and smiling as you haul him up and bring him to your dad.

Your dad looks at you with a mixture of exasperation, frustration, and a vague fondness as you approach, before glancing at Shigaraki.

(Should you call him that? He’s just a child right now)

“Papa, he’s hurt really bad. Help him, please.”

“Hikari,” your dad says quietly. Reprovingly. You do technically know it’s illegal to use your quirk in public without a license, but you can pretend innocence. You’re only 3, right? How could you know anything? You’re just a child.

“Please.”

Your grip on his fingers tightens subconsciously, as your dad shakes his head and sighs. There’s any number of reasons for him not to use his quirk, and you’re terrified that he’ll listen to them. You force your face to maintain the pleading smile. 

( Please )

Your dad finally relents, standing off of the bench and then squats down to your level. His eyes crinkle behind his mask as he smiles at him, and raises his hand slowly.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s your name?”

“Shimura Tenko.” He replies quietly. You keep your grip on his hand, still smiling.

“Hey, Shimura, buddy. I’m Fukumoto Sora. I’m Hikari’s dad.” His hand begins to glow, and Shigaraki watches it carefully. “My quirk is called Heavens Light. It heals… boo-boos.”

Your dad winces as he says that, and you bite your lip. You shouldn’t laugh at him. This is serious. But honestly, try not to laugh at a grown man who’s obviously taking so much pain in calling a cut a boo-boo.

“I can stop your bleeding, and make the pain go away, if you want.”

You both watch him carefully. His eyes are on the ground, and his fingers twitch, like he wants to scratch again.

He grips your hand, and nods.

Your dad sends a swift, questioning glance to you, before raising his hand, just as slowly as you had earlier, and hovers it above his face.

Shigaraki flinches back slightly, but then his shoulders slump as your dad’s quirk takes effect. His eyes glaze over slightly, and you watch it, curious.

You’ve only ever seen the quirk used on you. Your dad took great pains to keep you from injuring yourself, but it was just something that happened. You were a kid, after all. When you passed out, of course, your dad had leapt to trying to help you with it, but also when you’ve fallen and scratch your knees up, or when you bumped your head against the table, or any other of the many number of times you’ve managed to get yourself hurt.

It’s interesting to actually see it working on someone else. The glow surrounding your dad’s hand is a soft, roiling, golden color. It seems to seep out of his palms, first, and then travels up to his fingers. The light reaches from his hand to Shigaraki’s face, brushing up against the cut, which heals in a circular pattern, outside to in.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch it work. It’s really a beautiful process, and gentle in nature.

(God, you want it desperately. It would be so helpful) 

The glow dims as your dad pulls his hand away. You grin, relieved and happy. You hadn’t expected it to, but your dad’s quirk has softened out the irritated skin, too.

“How do you feel?” Your dad asks, sitting back on his heels.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times, and your breath catches when he smiles. It’s so large and happy, simply full of joy. His hands ghost over his face, smoothed out by your dad’s quirk, and a soft giggle slips out.

“Shig-Shimura?” You ask, half-tempted to hug him. You really want to comfort him over things you have no right to know about.

“M’not itchy.” He says through his smile, eyes crinkled up so much you almost can’t see them. “Thank you!”

You straighten like you were the one who helped him, unable to keep yourself from laughing with him.

“Yay! You did it papa!” You shout, throwing your arms around your dad.

Your dad smiles indulgently, patting your back as his eyes dart around.

“Where’s your parents, Shimura? Are you lost?”

“No. My mamas over there.” He gestures the other side of the playground, where you can’t see anyone.

(You don’t remember his mom’s name, and you do feel bad about that. But maybe, if you play your cards right, you’ll be able to actually learn it in this world)

“Do you think your mama would mind if we played?” You ask. You widen your eyes, and put your hands behind your back, standing on your toes. You do everything you can to seem nice and make it more likely he’ll say yes.

“No. We can play!” He replies, and it hits you that you probably won’t need to manipulate a child into playing with you.

“Hooray!” You reach for his hand, and hesitate again. In your past life, you could be called touchy, but you don’t know if you should hug and hold people as often as you did then. So instead you just say, “C’mon, let’s go!” and run towards the play structure.

“What do you want to play, Fukumoto?” He asks following close behind you, and you grin.

“You can call me Hikari! And let’s play heroes!”

(There are certainly no ulterior motives for suggesting that, why do you ask?)

You lose yourself in the racing around, the mock-battles and laughter. You lose yourself so much in being a child again that you forget who you’re playing with. It’s like you really are three again, having no worries about life, or who you’re going to be, or saving people. You’re just flying, feeling the wind in your hair and the sun in your sky, moving like you’re meant to be here.

And then you remember, when his mom calls his name.

“Tenko! Tenko! Where have you been?” She races up to him, worry evident in her eyes and voice. You stand a half step away, trying not to smile as she worries over her son.

“I was playing with Hikari.” He answers, and you wave a bit when she looks at you.

“You were… playing with her?” She asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Yup! We’re friends now!” You announce proudly. You throw your arm around his shoulder lightly and smile as large as you can. A quick glance reveals that he’s smiling too.

“Friends?” She repeats, almost breathless. “You… you and Tenko are friends? Really?”

You blink at her once, trying to understand why she was so shocked. When you watched the show, Shigaraki seemed like a normal kid, other than the fact he couldn’t stop scratching. Was he bad at making friends or something? You move your arm off of his shoulder, trying to think fast. You could’ve sworn there was a scene where he mentioned helping kids at school. 

(You remember because it had hurt your heart. He seemed so good-natured as a kid, only to be twisted and manipulated into being someone else)

“Yeah,” you end up saying, instead of what you want to, which is What on Earth do you mean? he’s such a sweetheart it’s almost twice as sad knowing what I know now.

“Good. Good! That’s great, is your mommy or daddy around?” She stands, placing her hand where you just moved off of him.

“My papa’s sitting on the bench over there.” You point to where your father’s sitting. His eyes cast over the crowd swiftly before falling back upon you. When he sees the little group you’ve made, one of his brows raise.

You wave, quite aggressively, to him, and he raises his hand calmly in response.

“Do you wanna come and meet him?” You invite. You just know your dad will be annoyed about you volunteering him to make friends, but truthfully you don’t care.

You don’t give her time to think about it as you lead them over to your dad.

“This is my dad.” You announce proudly, pointing at him as if there was another man with glasses and a mask on the bench, and they needed you to clarify.

“Hello.” He greets, standing and bowing politely. You move beside him, taking his hand. “My name is Fukumoto Sora.”

“Shimura Nao.” She replies, doing likewise. “I’m Tenko’s mother.”

She ruffles his hair slightly, causing him to flush and lean away. You grin, and you can guess your dad does the same by the crinkle of his eyes.

(You’ve gotten quite good at judging his expressions behind the mask, if you do say so yourself)

“Shimura’s a good playmate.” You declare. “And my friend.”

Are you applying it a bit liberally? Maybe. But you’re going to move fate and you’re starting here. Besides, that’s what kids do. Everyone’s their best friends.

Oh, I’ve know you for literally only an hour? We’re best friends. Blood brothers. Allies till the end.

“Do you think we can play again?” You ask. You give your best puppy-eyes to accompany it, even sticking out your bottom lip in a small pout.

You direct the question to Nao, not your own dad. If you ask Dad, he’ll probably say something like “I’m not sure, maybe.” And then you wouldn’t see him again until he becomes Shigaraki.

Her eyes soften, and a small smile graces her lips. She looks at her son, who’s looking at you.

“I think that’s a great idea. What about you, Tenko?”

You turn to him, biting your lip. Your faith wavers, just a bit here. Any number of things could stop him here. He could be uncomfortable with how comfortable you’ve acted around him. He could be annoyed by you. He could be swayed by the path this world expects him to walk.

(Please )

“Mhm. I had fun.” He hides half of his face behind her leg, as though he’s embarrassed by that fact.

Your face lights up like the sun, and a relieved giggle slips out, though you hope it sounds more like childish joy.

“Do you mind if I get your number, Mr. Fukumoto?” Nao pulls out her phone, offering it to your dad, “That way we can actually coordinate park play dates.”

“Sure.” His eyes crinkle again, and he pats his pockets, frowning. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shimura, I seem to have left it at home.“

What?! You think, turning shocked eyes onto your dad, Good grief  old man, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck. There’s no way I’m letting that ruin this.

“That’s ok, papa!” You chirp, “We can come back same time tomorrow, right?”

Your dad watches you from the corner of his eyes, not a single fold in his face. Not a furrow of the brows, nor a crinkle of the eyes.

You… don’t know what that expression means. Your breath catches in your throat.

(It almost feels like a warning)

“Of course,” your dad says smoothly, like that moment never happened, as you rub at your eyes. “I hope to see you both then, Ms. Shimura and young Shimura.”

Your dad bows slightly, ready to go. You frown, stuck between your dad and your friend.

“It was really super fun to meet you Shimura!” You smile, waving. You may as well go with your dad. There’s no reason to put up a stink about this when you’ll be back tomorrow.

“Bye-bye Hikari.” He waves. “You can… call me Tenko… if you want…..”

(It’s strange, looking at him like this. His hair is black, and his eyes the same shade. No scars, and thanks to your dad, no irritated skin either. If you didn’t know , you’d never know)

“Ok! Bye-bye Tenko!”

You wave until you’re out of sight, around the bend in the road. Your dad picks you up as you recount the game you two had played.

“That’s really nice, sweetheart.” Your dad says, looking at the windows of the stores you’re passing, “I’m glad you were able to meet him.”

“Yeah, me too.” You fiddle with your necklace, a bit lost in thought.

(You miss how your father’s eyes narrow on a figure in the reflection of the glass, choosing to cross the street before your building)

A generous estimate would be that you have a year to save Shigaraki Tenko.

(Though maybe that could be better called a naive estimate)

What time of year was it that he got his quirk anyway? Summer? No, spring. Because of how the trees looked.

You confess, until you had met Hawks, you hadn’t been keeping much attention to the seasons beyond tracking years.

“Papa, what month is it?” You ask, as he makes a sharp left.

“July.” He replies, shifting you so he can take his coat off. You tilt your head at him, confused by his motion.

“What are you doing?”

“Just fixing my coat. I was getting a little hot there!” He chuckles, crinkling his eyes.

You watch him for a moment, before accepting it.

“Oh, ok.” Whatever, man.

He’s an odd guy.

(With an odd daughter)

Your dad steps into a store, and you look around, bewildered. He puts you behind a rack of clothes silently, standing next to you with eyes trained onto the door. The retail workers look at him for a moment, before looking away, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it if he wasn’t causing trouble.

“Papa you’re acting really weird.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Here, have my phone. Play your games.”

Your dad slips his phone out of his pocket without ever removing his eyes from the door. You’re not focused on that, though.

He had his phone this whole time? But then why…

“You lied.” You say softly. It’s only when you take your dad’s hand that he finally looks back at you. “You said you didn’t have your phone, you lied.”

“Hikari, now isn’t the time-“

“But you lied!” You’re getting a bit louder now, furious. Why ? “Why did you lie? You-!”

“Hikari.” Your dad hisses, whirling around to you. His face blazes, and for a moment you’re genuinely scared.

You reel back, choking on your breath. He’d never used a tone like that with you. It was… dangerous. The tone an enemy would use. 

His face falls, realizing that he’s let go of his control. He squats down to your level, tugging down his mask slightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just worried about something. That doesn’t give me an excuse, though. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Your eyes are wide as you watch him. You don’t honestly think he’d hurt you. But in the moment, a bolt of fear had darted through you, a fight or flight instinct that told you to freeze.

The shock of it has started to wear off, though, and you nod.

“Ok, dad. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t do that honey, don’t apologize. Look, I’ll explain when we get home, ok?”

“Ok…”

You make in home in one piece, though the walk isn’t full of the happy chatter it usually is. Now that you’re watching, you can see the way your dad shifts between the shadows of the buildings, head down to block the view of his face, eyes up to watch the streets around him.

You imitate him. You lower your eyes, fold your shoulders in as he holds you. You keep your vision focused, though the focus shifts between your dad and the street. You don’t know what you’re looking for, but you have the feeling you’ll know it when your eyes fall upon it.

When your dad locks the door behind you, you’re waiting, solely for your answers. He sits on the couch, and you follow his lead.

“I know this might be confusing,” he says, and it feels like a similar song and dance to the one you had when you found out about the quirks of their world. “And you might not understand till you’re older. But I had some…mean friends. I chose to leave those mean friends when I got you. Sometimes, they still look for me, because we… used to spend a lot of time together, and sometimes they don’t like that I’ve left.”

You peer up at him, digesting his words. You turn them over in your head, looking at them from all angles as you read between the lines of what he’s saying and what he’s not.

He had mean friends. Most likely a group of villains that he ran with. He left when I was born, meaning he might still have ideals aligned with their group, but it was simply too dangerous for a child.

Those tattoos he has. They probably meant something, wherever he came from. Whichever villain gang it was, they must’ve been symbolic, right?

So, what has he done?

Has he… killed people?

“Oh, ok.” You say, instead of the questions you want to ask. No three year old would actually realize what he’s saying. “I’m sorry you had mean friends, papa.”

”That alright, you don’t have to apologize for that.” He frowns, rubbing at his face and shifting his glasses.

The day seems to have taken a bit out of him, and you continue to study him from the corner of your eyes.

”Why didn’t you tell Ms. Shimura you had your phone?” You chance, hoping that he’s willing to answer. “You say it’s not nice to lie.”

“You’re right.” He nods, “It is wrong to lie, and I shouldn’t have. But I don’t know her. You shouldn’t give your number out to people you don’t know.”

”But how can you know her if we don’t meet again?” You counter, and he sighs. “We’ve gotta go back.” 

“You’re right. Maybe we’ll see her again.” 

From your dad’s tone, he doesn’t seem too eager for that to happen. He turns on the tv, clearly hoping to distract you, and you play along. You notice he doesn’t say you will go again tomorrow. 

If he’s so suspicious of others, even that he wouldn’t be willing to trust a random mother with her son at a park, he had to have been someone terrible. 

Who were you, Papa?

Shimura Tenko scratches at his eyes. They’ve started itching again, ever since he’s gotten home.

(He knows he shouldn’t, but he hates being at home sometimes)

Dad didn't make him sit outside today, though! He was good and he told him that he made a friend at the park, and Dad seemed happy. Dad had patted his head, and went into his study to work.

Hana was really the one who was excited. She wanted to know all about Hikari. She had peppered him with questions, ranging from what did she wear (nice pants and a pink shirt) to was there anything cool about her (she was really kind. And funny. And she has a cool birthmark. And she was nice) to what’s her quirk (he doesn’t know. She didn’t mention it)

“I think she was really nice, Mon. I’m glad we’re friends.” He smiles to himself, as Mon rests his head in his lap, “I really really hope we get to stay friends.”

Chapter Text

Your father and you eat breakfast without a word. The only sounds in the air are of your clinking utensils as you dip into your food. He passes you a bowl of fruit, and you hand him brown sugar for his oatmeal.

(Your dad hasn’t brought up going back to the park. You don’t think he ever would. So that means it’s all on you)

But you need to be sure of what you’ll say. Your dad’s good at with words. He’ll direct, deflect, or divert the conversation to where he wants.

“Papa.” You start, over your apple slices. You wait until he looks at you. Until he really, truly looks you in the eyes. “I want to have a friend.”

His grip tightens around his spoon.

Tenko rubs his fists against his face. He’s really trying not to scratch. Hana said you might not like it, and so he’s not going to do it. And he’s doing good! He won’t scratch.

(Definitely definitely definitely. He’s not scratching. He’s just rubbing his hand against the itchy spots. But not scratching! That’s not scratching)

He’s waiting for you to come. You were really nice, and last time, your dad had helped him not to itch.

(But that’s not the only reason he likes you! You’re cool, and really funny, and quick! You came up with some really fun games to play, too. For once in his life he hadn’t felt itchy or isolated. You’ve held out your hand to him, and when he took it, he felt like he belonged)

You said you’d come back tomorrow, and your dad said ok, but now he’s a little bit worried. They’ve been at the park for twenty minutes already, and you haven’t shown up. What if you don’t come today? Or what if you come, and he’s not here?

“I’m sure she’s just running late.” Mom says, ruffling his hair a bit. He nods, but he’s not so sure.

What if you didn’t like him? Or what if you went home, and really had thought he was weird for itching? He hadn’t itched that much, at least he didn’t think so, and he was trying not to do it now!

(But thinking like this and trying not to itch is making it worse. He really really wants to scratch and claw and-)

“Tenko!”

His head snaps up, hands stopped a breath away from his face. You’re bounding across the ground, practically flying to him. The morning glow irradiates you, and your smile almost covers your entire face.

You skid to a stop hardly an inch away, hand held out as though you’re looking for a high-five greeting. He obliges, relieved to see you, and your smile gets even bigger.

“I’m sorry I’m late! Breakfast went way too long! But I’m here now! And we can play! And hang out! And have fun!”

Every sentence is punctuated with a gasp for air, like you ran the entire distance between your apartment and the park.

Tenko… wouldn’t be shocked if you had, actually. You strike him as the type to go go go.

“It’s good to see you, Ms. Shimura!” You, in your endless energy, shout to Mom, offering her a quick bow. She also can’t help but smile at you, though she tries to tone it down a bit.

“And you as well, little Miss Fukumoto.”

Your dad finally catches up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder, as if to stop your excited gestures. Tenko wrinkles his nose, a bit sad that you’re being calmed down. He likes your energy.

“Good to see you both.” He greets with a friendly eye-crinkle. “I’m glad we were all able to make it.”

Your eyes narrow as you give your dad a sharp glance. He doesn’t seem to notice, pulled into a conversation with Mom, but Tenko does.

(What does it mean? Did your dad not want you to come over? Does your dad not like him? He can be better, if your dad doesn’t like him. He can!)

“Excuse me! Can me and Tenko go play now? Pretty please?” You interrupt their chatter, standing on your toes.

“Go on kiddo, have fun. We’ll sit over on the benches.” Your dad waves you off. He and Mom walk away, still talking softly and chuckling at what the other has said.

You turn to him, hands clasped together and eyes shining.

“What do you want to play today?”

Nao can’t help but grin as she watches the kids race around. It’s really really nice to see her boy finally able to connect with someone his age.

Not to say he doesn’t have friends! His hearts always been so gentle and open, it’s hard not to click with others. The problem seems to be that somehow, he always… slips through, to keep using the click analogy. It’s something she’s been worrying about, actually. She’s been hoping and praying that someone will finally stick with him.

(Friends are made easily, but not so easily kept)

But here, it seems you’re almost as determined to keep him as he is to keep you.

“She sure has a lot of energy, doesn’t she?” Nao asks your dad, who chuckles.

“No kidding. I don’t know where she got it from. I was always happier inside reading. I’ve never been a very active person.”

Nao gives Mr. Fukumoto a quick glance, not quite believing him. He’s not… built like a man who spends all day inside with a book.

It’s silent for a moment as they watch their respective kids go. You both were playing on the monkey bars. Tenko was sitting on top of one of them, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to get down. He was fine, holding on tight.

Besides, if either of the kids were in danger, it was definitely you, since you were swinging back and forth, letting go with one hand and then shifting to turn to face the other direction.

(It almost looks like you’re showing off for Tenko. That’s… so adorable)

Despite the sensible distance between her and Mr. Fukumoto, she can practically feel him tense at your display of bravery. His foot taps in an uneven beat against the ground, and when you swing forward a bit too far he almost stands.

You catch yourself, though, reaching up to the bar. You sway a bit, letting go and landing on the ground with all the grace of a panda, but somehow still managing not to pick up a scratch. Tenko hops down a second later, and she hears Mr. Fukumoto exhale through his teeth.

Another moment passes in silence while Nao attempts to think of a small talk subject. Asking about family is a bit off-limits, especially since Mr. Fukumoto hasn’t mentioned anything about his own. She doesn’t keep up with much sports, and while bringing up local heroes would be a normal subject with anyone else, being married to Kotaro has made it clear not everyone shares the amiable view of heroes.

(And bringing up the weather might kill the last of her dignity)

“What do you think they’re doing?” He asks finally, saving her from having to come up with something to say.

She opens her mouth to respond, ready to wager a guess, only to pause. She… really can’t even tell.

You're darting in and out of the playground structure, waving your hands wildly and talking loud enough for her to catch your voice, but not so loud that the words are actually clear. Her boy hops twice, and then you’re chasing each other around and around the playground, jumping over rails and running up slides.

“Careful!” She’s not quite able to stop herself from shouting when she sees Tenko slip, tripping and skinning his knee. She moves to stand, but you make a split-second turn, running back to him.

You reach out your hand immediately, smiling and saying something. He looks up at you for a long moment before he reaches out, taking it. You tug him up and talk again for a second, giggling, before you both head to the swings instead of running around again. Tenko sits, watching as you swing back and forth far more aggressively than Nao has ever seen anyone.

“She’s always at a level ten.” Mr. Fukumoto mutters. He almost sounds petulant as he says it, and she smiles, sitting back down.

After that, the conversation seems to flow much more easily. She mentions Hana’s most recent obsession with becoming a Popstar-Doctor-President when she grows up, and he talks about you trying to convince him to get a dog. That leads to her talking about Mon, and he coos over the pictures she shows.

He’s… funny, truth be told. Not in a joking way, or in a sarcastically-mean way. He’s just… quick. She’s bemoaning the fact that she was late to work last week because of traffic and road work, and he replies, straight faced, “Road work? I should hope it does.”

It had taken her a moment to realize he was joking, the twinkle in his eye having given him away, and she’d laughed, not expecting it.

Their chatter is a bit mindless, but it’s easy, and calming. For some reason, she’s not worried about saying something she shouldn’t, which is something that hovers over her head sometimes when she’s at work, or out and about.

(Sometimes it even stands when she’s at home)

“Oh, by the way.” He says, right after they’ve talked about the most recent addition in the Devils Eyes series, an interest they had shockingly shared. “I managed to remember my phone this time. If you’d like to, we could exchange numbers, and set up for the next time the kids would like to play together.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” She replies. And really, she does.

When she had gotten home yesterday, she had worried a bit about who the Fukumoto’s could possibly be, and realized that maybe possibly she shouldn’t have offered so her number so freely.

For goodness sake, they could be anyone. They could believe in anti-mutant rhetoric, or be purists, or have connections with the yakuza or villainous criminal gangs!

(Ok, maybe not that last one. But still)

However, they seem to be perfectly normal people, and a lovely family at that. Mr. Fukumoto obviously loves his daughter, and little Miss Hikari is sweet and clearly cares about others freely.

So yeah. It is a good idea.

You stifle a yawn, slowing down on the swings. Tenko looks up at you from where he’s sitting, swaying his legs slightly. He hadn’t put much effort into swinging, seemingly more content to just watch you go back and forth, and now you’re tired and he’s perfectly fine.

“Wow.” He says, and you pout at him.

“You didn’t swing at all!”

“I had more fun watching you swing.” He mumbles, kicking at the ground. He seems embarrassed, and you sigh, leaning back in the swing.

“Do you wanna swing?” You had suggested it after he fell, hoping to make hanging out at the park a bit more fun for him, and sure, he had agreed, but what if you were making him?

“Mhm. I just… don’t like going super high.”

“Oh.” Shoot. “Do you wanna spin on the swing?”

“Spin?” He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose. You can’t help but coo, practically almost wailing in your head at him.

(Why is he so cute. He’s adorable. It’s incredible. This is his real quirk. It must be. Being too cute for words. How is he possible otherwise)

“It’s super duper cool!” You pose dramatically, hand on your chin. “I, the master of spinning on the swing, will teach you, my young student.”

“Woo!” Tenko claps, completely engaged with you and your dramatic self.

You twist your swing, spinning round and round and round until the chains are tangled up.

“Ready?” You ask. He nods, eyes shining.

You lift your feet off the ground, and immediately your swing starts spinning. Your breath gets knocked out of your lungs as start getting jerked around by the swing as it turns faster and faster.

(Maybe you didn’t think this idea all the way through)

You’re shrieking, honestly not prepared for how fast it would go. It’s been a very long time since you’ve done this, even before your reincarnation. Seventeen year olds aren’t often found at the playground, after all.

Your swing finally wrenches to a stops, and you blink thickly, trying to reorient yourself.

“You see? So much fun.” You stand up, unwisely, and run right into the beam supporting the swings. “Ow.”

“Hikari!” Tenko gasps, somehow sounding both horrified and like he’s trying not to laugh at you.

“So much fun.” You repeat, rubbing at your forehead and trying to see clearly again. “My favorite part was splitting my head. Honestly the best, 10/10.”

He covers his mouth, in one last final attempt to bury his laughter, but it’s in vain. His giggles finally burst free, lighting up his face.

He.

Is.

So.

Adorable.

“C’mon, let’s go to my dad.” You say, trying to keep from pinching his cheeks and giggling and cooing. “He’ll make it better. And fix your skinned knee!”

“Ok!” Tenko hops off his swing, and you grin.

“And then when he fixes us, you can try it.”

“Oh.” He says, suddenly much less eager to head over to your dad.

“Or not.” You offer, “We can always play another game.”

“I wanna try.” He clenches his fist, nodding determinedly. Tenko glances at you quickly, as if hoping for approval or pride.

You grin, shooting him two thumbs-up. His face looks relieved, and yet somehow also even more anxious and terrified.

“I wonder if Papa will let us get a treat.” You muse, using your hands as a headrest while you walk over to the parents, who are animatedly talking about something.

(Probably super boring adult things. Taxes, maybe)

“What type of treats do you like?” He asks, trotting to catch up with you. You wrinkle your nose, thinking.

(This is a very important question for children. You have to take it just as seriously as you would if he asked you your philosophical thoughts on the universe)

“I like sweet things.” You finally settle on.  “Not those gross things Papa eats and tells me are dessert. Like dark chocolate. Ew.”

He nods along, agreeing with your somber announcement.

“Mom says that fruit can be dessert, but I don’t think so.”

“Fruit?!” Even with the mind of an (almost) adult, you can’t understand that line of thinking. Fruit? A dessert?? No way.

“Yeah.” He nods again, and taps his mom’s knee when the two of you finally reach your parents. “Hikari doesn’t think that fruits a dessert either.”

Nao and your dad share a look, the crinkle forming in between his brows and the slight curve at the corner of her lips telling you that they think it’s adorable.

“It’s not.” You announce, crossing your arms and hamming it up to make them smile more. “Fruit is.. fruit! It’s a plant.”

“Plants can’t be desserts?” Nao ask, blinking her eyes innocently. “Not even if they’re super sweet?”

“Nope!”

“Hmm. I guess strawberries and cream aren’t dessert either.” Nao replies, sighing as if this is a terrible tragedy.

You see Tenko hesitate. His resolve is wavering.

“Well that’s different! The cream makes it a dessert.” You jump in, before he can agree with her and betray you and your anti-fruit party.

“So the absence of cream makes something not a dessert, then? Hmm, I guess mochi isn’t a dessert either?” Shockingly, the betrayal comes from your own father.

“Mochi is too a dessert!” Tenko blurts before you’re able to stop him.

No! You think desperately, They’re effortlessly tearing apart our whole argument! This slippery slope will lead to dad cutting up an apple and calling it my dessert!

Very quickly the four of you fall into a debate about the logic of desserts and treats. You and Tenko are taking it very seriously. Neither of you want to risk losing your desserts. Nao and your dad, on the other hand, very clearly think it’s the strangest argument they’ve ever had, but they do good at hiding their grins and laughter.

Eventually, though, Nao’s phone beeps, and when glancing at the message she realizes the time.

“I didn’t know it was so late.” She says, picking up her purse and looping it over her shoulder. “We’ve got to go now, kiddo. Say bye-bye.”

“Mom says I have to say bye.” Tenko pouts, sticking out his lower lip, relaying the message you just heard to you again.

“That’s ok. We were winning the argument anyway!”

Despite the fact that you, a four year old and a three year old, most certainly weren’t winning an already silly debate about sweets, you both high five like you’ve just brought back the Olympic gold.

“You got Ms. Shimura’s number, right?” You check with your dad. He nods, patting your head. “Then we can hang out again soon!”

“We’ll work on it.” Your dad agrees, and then the four of you part ways.

Both you and Tenko spend as long as you can looking back and waving.

“Behold!” Mom announces with a mischievous smirk, placing a cup of milk in front of Tenko. “Your dessert!”

“Mooom.” He scowls, embarrassedly sipping at it. She giggles like Hana does when she’s made a terrible joke, and turns back to the stove.

“What does she mean?” Hana asks him, tugging on his arm.

“She’s just joking around.” He mumbles into his cup. Hana doesn’t look convinced, turning to bug Mom about it.

Mom’s too busy snickering to answer her, so Hana turns back to Tenko, frowning.

“No fair! You get to see your new friend at the park again today and have a secret joke with Mom!” She crosses her arms, glowering in her chair.

“You went to the park again?” Dad asks, stirring his coffee and reading the paper. Tenko nods, eagerly.

“Mhm! We saw Hikari and Mr. Fukumoto again! And we played on the swings and monkey bars.”

“That’s nice. What’s she like?” Dad asks. Tenko almost feels breathless. It’s not often he gets Dad’s attention like this.

(Usually, it’s not as… good for him to have it)

“She’s really cool! She showed me how to spin on the swing, but I didn’t get to do it. And her Dad was really cool too.” Oh. Tenko’s just realizing that your dad never healed his knees. That’s ok, they don’t really hurt.

“Yeah? Is her dad nice?” Dad sips at the coffee, folding up his paper.

“He’s really cool! He and Mom talked a lot!” Tenko reports, and Dad turns to Mom. She nods, stirring dinner on the stove, and yet not quite looking at him.

“He’s nice. I think you’d like him, Kotaro.” She says airily, “He’s got quick wit, a bit like you.”

“Really?” Dad asks. There’s silence in the kitchen for a second, before he continues. “Fukumoto, you said?”

“Yes. Fukumoto Sora.”

“Fukumoto…” Dad turns the name around is his mouth, trying to see if he can connect it with a face. “What’s he look like?”

“He’s a bit taller than me, with semi-broad shoulders.” Mom gestures as she describes Mr. Fukumoto, and Tenko nods along. “He’s lean, though, and wears a mask, so I couldn’t tell you much about his face.”

She goes into more depth of his traits, from the color of his hair to the shape of his eyes. Tenko sips on his milk as she does, not focused on either his mother describing Mr. Fukumoto nor his father’s face as he listens.

He instead wonders, mostly about you. He’s only spent maybe 4 hours with you, and yet you’ve become incredibly important to him.

(Were you lonely, like he was? Was it better for you too, now that you knew each other? Did you care about him like he now cares for you?)

He hopes so.

He really really does.

Chapter Text

2 Hours Ago

“Asahi!” The man howls, freezing all in their tracks.

Your father’s hand is closed around another man’s throat, crushing his windpipe in his gnarled fingers. His eyes turn, ablaze and trained directly on you.

You had tried to listen. You had tried to run. But you were just a kid. You couldn’t have escaped a grown man.

“Leave her out of this! She has nothing to do with any of it, Takeda.” Your father snarls, dropping the man onto the concrete and stepping over the gasping criminal like he’s nothing but mire. The others quickly surround him, bleeding and bruised and broken. Your father’s given much more than he took, leaving only a drop of blood running down his cheek from the original cheap shot.

The grip on your collar tightens, their leader using you as a shield against your own dad. You squeeze your lips together, biting down hard on your tongue.

“Not another step, Kaneko. Not if you truly care about her.” Derision drips from Takeda’s voice as he shakes you back and forth. The blade held against your jugular cuts a shallow slit, and despite your best efforts to hold them back, tears begin to seep out.

The tears follow down your jaw, mixing with the blood starting to drip out of the slice. Liquid a sickly pink color pours down, staining the top of your shirt.

Wrath sits on your father’s face, fists clenched and shaking by his side. He can’t do anything to help you, not if this Takeda chooses to hurt you further.

(Even he can’t bring back the dead)

“Papa…” you whimper. His eyes soften, and he raises his hands, outstretched you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, it’s going to be ok. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.” His voice is gentle. You know he’s lying. “Give me back my daughter.”

The man rolls his eyes, but releases his grip. You drop to the ground, scratching your knees and palms in your desperate scramble to get over to your dad. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close against his chest. You’re trying to stop shaking, but it’s so hard. You knew what type of world you’ve been reborn in, but you’d never expected to be hit like this by it.

Your father hums your lullaby softly, rubbing circles on your back. Some of his quirk gently seeps from where he holds you, calming your racing heart and healing the cut on your throat.

“I hadn’t believed it when I heard. The great Kaneko Asahi, blade and word of the yakuza, using the skills that we had taught you, stealing from us. Abandoning his life and all those who rely on him. Bringing shame upon the great house of the man who so graciously took him in. All for some bastard child.” Takeda spits out, disgusted.

A silent glare is the only response he gets from your father.

(He memorizes the man’s face. He impresses into his mind exactly who led these men and who hurt you. He will not let this go)

The man sneers, shaking his head, unaware of the danger he puts himself in with every additional word.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive. I can’t believe we’re letting you live.” He turns up his nose, as though the pair of you are filth beneath his feet. You manage to move your head just enough to join your dad in glaring at him. “But I’m not in charge. Lord Hirayama has invited you to a meal.”

You can hear your dad gritting his teeth, grinding them against each other in his attempt to control the cold fury pouring through his veins. His voice is smooth when he speaks, though.

“I am honored to accept his invitation.”

1 Week ago

Dad’s been strange. Or, at least, stranger than usual.

He’s been jittery. Everything about him seems to be moving faster, as though he’s running out of time

You’ve noticed, of course. You’re not an idiot.

It’s there when you play at the park (his eyes examine crowds, swooping low over every person who ever vaguely stirs his mind. His fingers hang at his sides, ready to make a fist and strike)

It’s there playing checkers after dinner (his eyes trained on the doors and windows, body angled toward yours protectively. He looks like he expects someone to burst through, shredding them like tissue paper. You’ve started winning the games you play)

It’s there when you’re shopping for groceries (he doesn’t go out nearly as much, turning your already small outings into even tinnier ones. He darts from aisle to aisle, one hand clutching yours while the other grips the shopping cart like he plans to use it as a battering ram)

Time has passed, though, as time often does, and for the last month you’ve been spending at least one day a week having a play date with Tenko. It’s been actually fun, and beyond that, you’ve even become true friends.

Your dad had even started to relax a bit. He’d gone so far as to unhook his mask once, laughing with Nao over some secret joke they shared while you and Tenko made a game of tag with the other kids.

And then suddenly, much like a bear trap snapping or a guillotine falling, your dad was like he used to be again.

Sure, he still lounged and joked with Nao, and he still brought you to your little play dates, but he wasn’t as comfortable as he used to be.

It was almost like he knew something, and was just waiting for it to come true. Like Damocles sword was hanging above his head, the hair at the edge of coming apart.

(Even Nao and Tenko have started to notice it)

At your most recent play date, Tenko had leaned over and touched your shoulder as you both dug in the sandbox.

You had glanced up at him, and he shifted, nervous energy dripping off of him.

“Is your dad mad at me?” He had asked quietly, and you had paused in your building.

“No, of course not. Why?”

“He’s been kinda… different. In his words. Just… how he talks, sometimes. Like the way his words sound.” Tenko lets a fistful of sand slide through his fingers, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did but I am sorry.”

You’d nudged him with your knuckles, angling your head so that you were looking him in the eyes again.

“Don’t say sorry, silly. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I think Papa…” Lie? “I think that Papa’s just been worried about work.”

Lie.

“Oh. ok.” Tenko nods like that answer makes the most sense in the world. “My dad gets stressed sometimes about work and mom says not to talk him when he does. Sometimes I forget and he gets mad at me. I’m trying to be better at it.”

He then went back to building his sandcastles as if he hadn’t just said something terribly sad. You frowned, eyes softening as you took in your friend.

You know why his dad is so hard on him. You know why he hates heroes, and you know why he thinks he’s right to act like he does to his family.

(He’s not, of course. And the fact that you know his story doesn’t mean you accept it. It’s an explanation, not an excuse)

It just… hurts, to see your friend so ready to accept it. And not just to accept it, to blame himself for “forgetting.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault.” You’d said firmly. “You’re a kid. He’s your dad. He’s the adult. Aren’t they supposed to be good at controlling their emotions?”

Tenko had shrugged.

“Grandma and Grandpa say that we just have to be patient and careful.”

“No.”

“No?” He’d turned to you, frowning. “No?”

“No. You shouldn’t have to be patient and you shouldn’t have to be careful. It’s not your fault if he’s mean or if he’s cruel. You shouldn’t have to be the adult. Your dad is a grown man. He should act like it.” Your frown had deepened, and you took his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

He had shifted, unsure of your words. Very rarely are others, especially children, able to accept that what’s happening to them, that what’s always happened to them, is wrong. Especially not when surrounded by others who say it’s alright, that they just need to keep making it forward.

And so you had let go of his hand and suggested playing a new game, giving him reprieve from thoughts he didn’t quite want to weigh on.

1 Hour and 30 Minutes Ago

The group had split, half herding you and your father into a car, and the other dispersing into the crowd. They’re good at blending in, even with the wounds they’ve been given in the fight.

You and your father sit in the backseat of the car, a man on each side keeping you from the doors, with Takeda in the passenger seat in front of you. The man driving the car, who pulled up almost as soon as your father accepted the invitation, doesn’t look back at any of the new occupants.

Your dad keeps his arm around your shoulder, holding you close. You clutch his other hand, not willing to let go of him.

(You wish you had your quirk right now. You wish you had something, anything. Anything could make you feel safer, make you feel useful)

“When we get to the house, you two are going to have to clean up. Lord Hirayama may be gracious, but you shouldn’t push it.” Takeda says from the front. He’s scrolling through his phone as he speaks, as though this is perfectly normal and he just picked you up for a sleepover at his house.

“Unfortunately, due to the nature of our invitation, we don’t quite have anything appropriate to change into.” Your Dad replies, squeezing your hand lightly.

“We have a change of clothes for you at the house.” Takeda steps around the blockade your dad attempted to set up just as easily as he breaths. “I don’t suggest taking too long to get ready, though.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As silence reigns over the car, you study the men around you.

The driver is an older man. He has horns on either side of his head, and horizontal pupils. You’ve seen a lot in your 3 years in this universe, and so a quirk like this doesn’t faze you anymore.

The man on your left doesn’t have any discernible quirk markings, and he’s average in every trait he does have. Average looks, average height, average choice in clothing.

The man on your dad’s right is similar to the one on your left. In fact, they seem almost identical.

(Perhaps their averageness extends to their intelligence too)

The thought lets the corner of your lips twitch. It’s just enough joy to apparently be clear to Takeda, as he watches you and your dad in the mirror.

“Though I suppose you’re familiar with how this works,” he says, continuing a conversation that had paused five minutes ago. “You were apart of enough retrieval missions, weren’t you?”

The question is posed innocently enough, but it brings your mind back to where you actually are, and who you’re actually with.

It also reminds you that whatever gang these criminals were apart of, your dad was too.

(And if the way he had fought earlier was his skill after laying low for three years and raising a daughter, you could easily imagine the horror he had been in his prime)

Your smile fall flat, lips turning down at the same time as Takeda’s curl up.

48 Hours Ago

Your dad seems to be normal again. Took him long enough.

You had wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t answer when you asked what was wrong. He just dodged, saying something about how he wasn’t sleeping well. You, of course, didn't believe him, but you couldn't prove him wrong.

He had spent much more time on his computer this week, and despite your best efforts, you weren’t able to see what he was doing. Whatever it was, it had stressed him out. He'd sit in front of it, running his fingers through his hair over and over, rubbing the bridge his nose, thumb moving back and forth, adjusting his glasses, lifting them up and down.

And then randomly last night, after pouring away at the computer keys, an exhausted, and yet relieved grin crossed his face and he turned his computer off. He stared at the powered down screen long enough that you turned away, assuming that his exhaustion had finally caught up to him.

You were minding your own business, playing with your toys, when he suddenly snatched you up, spinning you around and around in circles while cackling.

Oh he’s finally lost it, poor man. You had thought as you practically watched the exhaustion fly out of him with the door he threw open to the balcony. He stands there, shoulders rising up and down as he breathed in deeply.

You held your stuffed tiger close as your dad pranced around the house, laughing and chuckling and occasionally even smiling.

“Would you like to play checkers, Hikari?” You’re asked, and he’s grinning more than he has in a while, so you agree.

He sets up the board all happy, nodding to himself while you watch him skeptically.

Wow. He really is a nutcase. Thank God I’m normal, You, the perfectly normal girl who has transcended universes and hold knowledge beyond your lifetime, think.

(Unfortunately, you don’t win that game of checkers)

30 minutes Ago

Your eyes are wide and absorbing as you pull up to a traditionally styled house. A woman waits on the porch, hands held crossed behind her. She watches impassively as you and your father climb out, along with Takeda and the two men. The driver leaves, and Takeda whispers something to the woman. She nods, peering at you and your father.

“Ms. Sato.” He greets. She doesn’t return it.

Instead she studies the both of you. You’re sure you look a mess.

She doesn’t, though. Her hair is closely cropped, and her clothes no-nonsense. She’s a stern looking woman, and you swallow thickly, squeezing your dad’s hand.

She turns without a word, and Takeda beckons you to follow.

“You know where everything for guests is held, Kaneko.” She says, without preamble. “Get yourself presentable. I will take the girl and-"

“You will not.” Your father interrupts, stopping in his tracks. She frowns, turning to look at you both.

“Kaneko, you know how this will work. You’re not a fool.”

(Kaneko. Not Fukumoto. And earlier, Asahi, not Sora. He told you he left his mean friends, and yet now they've caught up to him. What will they do to you both?) 

His only answer is a steely look, hand gripping your own as your eyes dart between the both of them and Takeda, who seems to take a sickly pleasure in every moment of your father’s pain.

Unexpectedly, the woman’s eyes soften the slightest.

“Asahi.” She says, softly. “Think of your daughter. Do not make this harder than it must already be.”

Your dad squeezes your hand even tighter, brows pulled together. He turns to you swiftly, causing the men and Takeda to pull weapons, though they’re stopped at a simple gesture from the woman.

“Hikari, you must make them love you.” Your dad whispers as quietly as he can. “Please. I know you don’t understand, but remind them that you’re just a child.”

Just a child.

That’s right.

You’re just a child.

You’ve been thinking about this like a 17 year old would. You know the danger you’re in. But a three year old wouldn’t. She'd recognize the fear on her fathers face, but she wouldn't know the full extent. 

You understand what your dad needs from you. You nod.

When he reluctantly lets go of you, you walk over to Ms. Sato. You do exactly as you attempted to do with Tenko.

You widen your eyes. You nibble on your lip, placing your hands behind your back and padding forward on quiet, scared toes. You bow, reminding yourself to be respectful.

“Hi.” You say softly. Her eyes turn even more gentle, though it’s clearly fought to be hidden. When you reach her, you hold out your hand.

You don’t fool yourself. This is the yakuza. Killing a child is no big deal to them. But if you can make them hesitate just a bit, if you can endear yourself in the moments you have, perhaps you’ll give your family a fighting chance.

“Hello.” She replies, bending slightly at the hips. “My name is Ms. Sato Rin. I’m going to help you get all pretty for dinner. How does that sound, dear?”

“It sounds like fun!” You force yourself to smile when she takes your hand, leading you away from your dad. “My name is Hikari. Fukumoto Hikari!

“My, that’s a pretty name.” She opens a door to a side room, and you follow her in. “Now, how about we clean off and put on this pretty kimono?”

You nod, hastening off to the bathroom. You fill the sink with warm water, taking a washcloth and wiping at your face and arms.

A glance in the mirror offers a glimpse of your face, which, while you do look tired, has been healed of the bruise you had gotten when you were snatched up.

And now that you think about it, your knees and palms don’t hurt as much. A look there too reveals that the scratches have been healed completely, so cleanly one wouldn’t be able to guess that you were hurt.

You hadn’t even noticed your dad fixing you. Maybe that’s why you were comfortable enough to smile at your little joke in the car.

“Miss Fukumoto?” Ms. Sato knocks on the door, and you hurry to finish cleaning off.

“All done!” You shout proudly, opening up the door with a grin.

(You’ve been acting a child for three years, what’s a bit extra oomph today?)

Ms. Sato nods at you, hiding a grin with the back of her hand. She helps you dress in the kimono, which is admittedly a beautiful thing.

(It's a shame you can't really enjoy the dressing up right now)

You both walk out, to where your father is standing, waiting not quite patiently. Takeda stands near, and even your fake mood sours at seeing his face again.

Your dads been cleaned up as well, the scruff on his face cut and his hair trimmed neatly. He’s been given the chance to heal himself, too, and wears a matching kimono to you.

He nods at Ms. Sato, who returns the acknowledgment. When his eyes fall upon you, they warm, and he holds out his hand.

You squeeze Ms. Satos hand lightly before darting over to him.

“Tada! Don’t I look pretty papa?”

“You look beautiful.” He pats your head, and you smile up at him.

“I believe it’s time for dinner.” Takeda interrupts, and both you and your father frown at him. 

Directly before the trouble began

“Seems we’re out of chicken.” Your dad mutters annoyedly as he rummages through the fridge.

“Oh. Do we need it?” You ask from your perch on the stool, stirring the broth for dinner.

“Sweetheart, chicken is a pretty important ingredient for chicken onion soup.” He glances at his watch. “I think we can make a quick run to the store.”

You hop down, holding up your arms. He waggles his finger at you, grabbing his wallet and the keys.

“It’s only a couple minutes walk. I think you can make it.”

“But- but I’m so sleepy.” You whine, rubbing at your eyes and making your best puppy-dog face. Your dad just shakes his head.

“Don't you start, it’s only 5:30. But fine, I guess if you’re so tired you shouldn’t play with your friends so long at the park.” He shrugs, pretending helplessness in this situation. 

“Nevermind!” You blurt, following him out the door with renewed energy.

He laughs, and you both make your way out of your apartment building, talking about both everything and nothing.

You both wander around the market for a bit, your dad haggling for the best deal on chicken while you beg him to buy you a bit of candy.

You are, sadly, denied, and so you spend much of the walk back to the apartment pretending to pout, while your dad jokes about how nice the peaceful silence finally is.

You’re both too distracted to notice the true silence beginning to gather in the streets, nor the fact that there’s less and less bystanders walking as well.

In fact, you don’t even notice anything is wrong until one of the streetlights flicker. By now, your dad’s eyes have narrowed, and his grip tightened around yours.

“Hikari, I-“

He’s cut off by a fist slamming into his jaw.

Your eyes widen, almost in slow motion, as he stumbles back. A man steps out of the shadows, dressed in simple clothing. He looks like any other man, if not for the subtle maniac gleam in his eyes. Satisfaction settles on his face as he watches you dart to your dads side, shoulders up by your ears as you curl into yourself in fear.

(Is this a villain? Are you both going to be ok?)

Your dad collects himself, arm stretched out in front of you protectively. Others step from the shadows, while the man who hit your father without warning steps closer.

“I wasn’t actually supposed to do that, but I thought that it might bring me a little peace. And you know what, I think it actually did. Funny how that works.”

“Takeda.” Your father spits, rubbing at where this Takeda's ring cut slightly into his jaw.

“The one and only.” The man, Takeda, apparently, offers a false half-bow, still smiling. It falls off his face quickly enough, though. “How far did you think you could run, Kaneko? How long did you really think it would take for us to find you?"

“Hikari.” Your dad starts. You’re as close as you can get to him, eyes darting over the others closing in closer. There are at least 6 of them, not counting Takeda.

What’s going on? Who are these people? 

(How are you going to get out of this one?)

“Hikari.” Your dad repeats, harsher this time. Your eyes snap over to him, watching as a subtle shift follows over the way he holds himself. “Run.”

You don’t question it. You turn and run, slipping past the men as quickly as you can. There’s a rush of air by your shoulders, only for a second, as one of them reaches for you. It’s gone soon though, stopped by the sound of blows landing against flesh and skin.

Your feet slam into the ground, every step propelling you farther and farther. You’re not thinking, focused only on getting away.

(But- Papa-)

He’s a grown man. You have to keep reminding yourself that. You have to get away. You’re only a child right now.

You cannot stop yourself from looking back, though, if only for a moment.

Your eyes widen further.

Your dad is a moving faster than you’ve ever seen him. He turns and fights and claws and bites, almost like some dance. Each blow he lands sends his unwilling participant away, his body moving in a dizzying array of trained power and muscle memory.

None of the men can get a hold on him long enough to inflict more the surface damage, and a breath leaves your lungs.

He’s going to be ok.

But you need to get away now.

You turn, darting as fast as you can down an alleyway. At the mouth, you catch a glimpse of green hair.

Wait. Why am I just running? I need to scream. I need help.

I need a hero.

The thought has hardly dashed through your mind when you inhale sharply, desperate for help.

Before you can, though, hands close around your eyes and mouth, and you’re ripped away.

Now

Takeda takes the lead, while Ms. Sato flanks you both. The two average men who, perhaps cruelly, you’ve taken to calling Tweedledee and Tweedledum, aren’t anywhere to be seen.

“Now listen to me, alright?” Your father murmurs to you. “Do not speak unless directly spoken to. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Keep your eyes on peoples feet. Do not let them get close to you. And please, above all, stay close to me.”

(You want to know so much more, but there's no time to beg answers from him)

His hand shakes for a second in your grip, before he inhales sharply.

“Sharing secrets?” Takeda drawls from in front. “It’s only a dinner. No trouble at all.”

He stops in front of a pair of doors, looking like the cat that had gotten into the cream.

“We are most honored to host you for dinner.” He says, sounding more like a maître d' and less like a man.

The doors open from the inside, and you step through.

You’ve hardly made a breath when it stops in your lungs. The hairs on the back of your neck stand, and a freezing shiver runs its finger up your spine.

You recognize the man at the head of the table easily, but even more you recognize the boy at his right hand.

(You know his name)

The man - a much younger face than you've seen before in screen and ink- speaks.

(That man is Pops)

“Well well.”

(That boy Overhaul)

"Please, forgive me these shadows of my past." You father murmurs, almost too softly for you to hear.

(That boy is Chisaki Kai)

“Look who has returned to my table.”

Your father… was apart of the Shie Hassaikai.

Chapter Text

You’re not sure how much time passes in that moment. It could’ve been seconds. It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been weeks. 

(It could’ve been 17 years and 364 days)

His eyes bore into yours, the sunlight color at odds with the chill that inhabited them. He seems to be studying you as intently as you do him, keeping them trained onto your face.

There’s something in those eyes, though, something buried deep beneath the frigid-nip that almost whispers of curiosity. 

You start to inhale, to unwisely say something that you’d probably regret wasting your first words to him on, only stopped by your father bowing. 

It’s sharp, directly at the hips, and you delay in following. You don’t want to pull your eyes from his, but you know that it’s not just your own life in danger right now. 

(You do eventually, keeping your eyes on his own until the very last possible moment)

“Lord Hirayama.” Your father greets, face still perpendicular to the ground. “I am honored to be invited back despite my past mistakes.” 

“Of course. I could not keep my boy away from my house for long, could I?” 

It’s phrased as though he was the one who made your dad leave, and was just now choosing to welcome him back after he changed his ways. It’s not hard to realize that’s not the truth, though. Even if Takeda hadn’t jumped the gun and started airing the laundry your father had soiled, it wouldn’t be too difficult a conclusion to reach. 

(At least you know his excuse for hiding away so much now) 

“Rise, boy. Let me see you.” 

Your dad does as he is told, impassive. Hirayama studies his face. You already know what he’ll see on it.

(More grey hairs than you remember from your earlier days with him. Deeper lines carved into the skin. A bit warmer of a tone than when he spent his days hidden away) 

“My, the prodigal surely has returned.” Lord Hirayama smiles. The smallest amount of tension slips from your father’s shoulders, as though he’s passed the first test. The yakuza boss turns his eyes to you, and your dad tenses once more. “And this is your girl. What’s your name, Child?”

“Fukumoto Hikari, sir.” You manage to say. Your voice stumbles a bit, and you bite your lip to keep from wincing. 

Hirayama smiles at you indulgently, though it does nothing to stop the racing of your heart. 

“It’s alright, child. You may call me Pops, as Chisaki does, and your father did long ago.” He gestures to the boy at his side, and you keep from frowning.

(You had forgotten about that. In the manga and anime, he had called Overhaul by his surname. That’s odd, isn’t it? He had practically raised the boy. You had thought it was just something he had requested as he’d aged, but was Pops calling him that even as a boy?

And your father called him Pops too? How much more of a member than the norm was he?) 

“Yes sir, Pops.” Better to err on the side of caution.

“Well.” Pops says, nodding his head at you both. “Why are you still standing? We’ve got quite a good meal in front of us. Sit.” 

It’s not quite a request, though you and your dad fulfill it. Your dad gently pushes you to his right, where an open spot awaits you, while he takes the seat across the square table from Pops. 

This leaves you seated across from Chisaki, and though you long to watch him again, you get the feeling that taking your eyes off of Pops would be dangerous for your health. 

(And so you miss how intently he still studies you, eyes skimming over every grove and plane in your face. You miss how they settle on your eyes, rapt, as though he’s attempting to peel back your layers and see what makes you tick) 

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten here? Three, four years?” Pops swirls his sake in his cup, putting on a face like he’s thinking. You have no doubt that he remembers exactly how long it’s been since your dad has set foot in this building.

“Almost four, sir.” Your father replies stiffly.  

“Ah yes. Shortly after I sent you on that mission to Kyushu.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Two well-dressed men come out, laying down plates of food and a teapot with cups on the table. Your stomach gurgles quietly, hunger finally making itself known after the worst of the threats seem to have passed you by. 

“Well, let’s begin then.” Pops smiles in your direction, and a flush works its way up your face. “I hope you all don’t mind Sencha, I’ve got a fondness for it.”

(You’re aware he only says that for your benefit, and perhaps to make the meal actually feel welcoming. The other two seated here clearly know that about him) 

They are more familiar than you are here, which is why you follow their example and don’t eat until Pops has. A few bites pass in a not-quite peaceful silence, the men who placed your meals down having stepped away, before Pops talks again. 

“It was certainly a chore to find you, Asahi. You covered your tracks well. I almost regretted teaching you those skills.” Pops eyes crinkle as he takes a sip of the miso and smiles at your father. 

Your dad smiles back tightly, and you wonder what exactly he’s supposed to say in response to that. 

“We do crazy things when faced with protecting those we love.” 

“Indeed we do.” Pops turns his attention to you, and you straighten under the weight of his gaze. “And I can see why you chose to run. Not that I approve, of course.”

“Of course not. And I have seen the errors of my ways.” 

Pops nods, though everyone at the table can tell that your dad is just saying the safest possible thing. 

“You certainly seem to have gotten better at it, though. We wouldn’t have found you if you hadn’t chosen to keep the girl.”

Your dad closes his eyes, and you stop chewing under the examination of Pops gaze. 

“Would you believe it," Pops says to you, “If I told you that your father was one of my greatest men?” 

“Sir.” Your father attempts to interject, but Pops keeps going. 

“He was a fearsome sight. There was a reason they called him the Golden Dragon.” Pops chuckles to himself, eyes distant as though reliving a memory. “No man could stand against him. I had thought, for a time, he’d be the one to care for the Shie Hassaikai after my passing.” 

Apparently Chisaki wasn’t aware of this little fact, as his face turns so quickly from yours to Pops that you almost worry about his neck. 

You watch the hurt and betrayal simmering in his eyes, taking care to note that he didn’t say something in response.  

(Do not speak unless first spoken to seems to be law in this household) 

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t to happen.” Pops sighs into his cup, drinking the last of his sake. 

You realize how little you’ve eaten, and attempt to catch up to him. In the middle of reaching for the teapot, your fingers brush against anothers, and you curl them back against your palm.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, watching as the hand pulls away like it was burnt. 

Chisaki stares at his hand, his frown severe enough to cut lines into his face. You watch in silence as he turns it back and forth, and then glowers at you. 

You have the strangest feeling that he’s blaming you for the growing red blotch of irritated skin.

It’s a good thing his germophobia isn’t as bad as cannon yet. You could only imagine how he’d react to you accidentally brushing his hand twenty years from now. A little patch of itchiness is better, though only slightly, than a mass of hives.

I’d be dead before I could blink. Thank God my dad’s still here to run interference between me and these people. You think to yourself. 

“Asahi,” Pops says, choosing this time to talk again, “Why don’t we send the children to play in the library? I’d like to speak with you.” 

What the hell, Universe. 

Your dad looks up, maintaining eye-contact with Pops. 

(Even you don’t think that’s a good idea)

“Alone?” 

“I don’t see why not. Chisaki is a good boy. Perhaps they’ll become friends.” The skin by Pops eyes folds over itself as he smiles. 

He leaves no room for disagreement, though every other member at the table wants nothing that he does. 

Chisaki stands, bowing to Pops and your dad, though noticeably shallower to the latter. You do the same, but in opposite, following his example like you have been the whole night. 

He leaves without beckoning to you, and you have to pick up your speed to keep up with him. A final glance to your dad shows you the fight on his face, torn between keeping you within his sights and keeping you safe by obeying. 

The door shuts, cutting you from him before you’re given the chance to reassure him with a smile. 

Sora watches as the door closes, building a barrier between him and you. 

“I wasn’t lying, you know.” 

Sora pulls his eyes from the door to Lord Hirayama. The man’s face is empty, not a trace of a soul behind his eyes. 

“You certainly have gotten better at covering your tracks. You must’ve spent a significant amount of time practicing.” 

“It got easier the more I did it.” 

“Much like stealing from me?” 

Sora doesn’t say anything at first, aware that the ground he treads on could give way at any moment.

“Everything I did was for my daughter.” Without question he’d do it again. If given the chance, every choice he made, he’d make again. This time, though, he’d be quieter about it. Better at covering his tracks. 

Lord Hirayama swirls his tea, long since having finished the sake. He takes a deep sip, finishing what’s in his cup. 

“Perhaps if I had done the same I would still have mine now.” 

(A test has been passed)

Sora refills Lord Hirayamas glass, already aware of what he’s going to ask him next. 

“Is her mother-?“ 

“No. I don’t know where she is.” 

“Good.” 

Sora pours himself a cup, watching the steam rise out in shifting patterns.

“Is the girls quirk like yours?” 

“She doesn’t have hers.” 

“Tell me when she does.” Not a request. 

“Yes, sir.” Not a willing comply. 

“You keep looking at the door. She’ll be alright. Chisaki has been blessed with a strong mind and a stronger quirk. He’ll protect her should something happen.” 

(Sora’s not sure any quirk is a blessing) 

“Asahi, I do want you to be aware of something.” Lord Hirayama puts down his cup, the clink against the table sharper than a razors edge. “There are only two reasons you’re still breathing. You have a valuable quirk, one that I would be a fool to waste, and your daughter. Know that should these stipulations change, your situation will be much different.” 

“I understand.” Sora inclines his head respectfully. Despite the clear and present threat, he breathes a little easier. 

He had feared that they would kill him and keep you. Sato would not have allowed them to hurt you, but the quirk that you might’ve been born with would be too great a temptation to pass up. 

The yakuza is no place for a child. 

“Lord Hirayama. I am aware that I am in no place to make a request of you. You have already been far more forgiving than I will ever deserve, and shown me more grace than any man would consider giving.” 

“Get on with it, Asahi, you know how I hate platitudes.” 

Do or die.

“There is a reason that you had me watch over Asuka, sir.” Invoking her name is dangerous, but he must keep going. “I ask that you remember it.” 

Chisaki actually does lead you to the library, oddly enough. You had half expected him to drop you out the window and continue on with his day as nothing happened.

The library is beautiful. It’s made of dark wood, books of all sizes filling every smooth shelf. The moon shines in through the window, bathing you in its cool beams. You hadn’t realized how late it was starting to get, though the soft glow does nothing but enhance the spirit of the room.

Any other time or place, and you’d be dragging your finger along the spines, flipping through the pages, letting the soft parchment slide through your fingers. You’d fall into the books, letting the night pass in the peaceful silence. 

Now, though, isn’t the time for that. 

“How old are you?” Chisaki asks. Demands, really. 

“Three. My name’s Fukumoto Hikari. What’s yours?” You’re not supposed to know him yet. Play along. 

“Chisaki Kai. I’m ten years old. Too old to be playing any childish games.” 

“Hi Chisaki! It’s really nice to meet you! You can call me Hikari, if you want.” You grin, clasping your hands. 

He maintains eye-contact for long moment, long enough that you start to get uncomfortable, before he rolls his eyes and turns away. 

You frown. 

“We should be friends!” Just try again. It’ll be alright. 

“Ew.” 

If that response wasn’t bad enough, he screws up his nose and sneers at you. 

You run your thumb up and down the tufts on your feather, keeping your breathing even and calm. There’s no use in losing your temper at him. 

(While you’ve come to the sad conclusion that Keigo can’t yet sense through feathers, and certainly not through this one since he was so young when he gave it to you, it’s still a comforting motion) 

“That’s gross.” Chisaki interrupts, and you frown at him. “Feathers carry many diseases, not the least salmonella.” 

“This carries no diseases. It was a gift from a very clean friend.” You’re not supposed to talk all adult-like, what with your attempts to endear yourself, but this punk is getting on your last nerves.

“Hmph.” He rolls his eyes again, pulling out a book from the shelf. It’s thick, has practically no pictures, and was almost certainly chosen to show off. 

The room is quiet while he reads, and you glower at him even more.

“Why are you reading that?” You demand, tiny hands on your hips.

“Because it’s interesting.” 

You look at the book and are depressed to find that it is indeed interesting. It’s about the universe, and though your original assessment said there would be no pictures, there’s at least one, of a nebulae. It’s beautiful, shimmers of silver and green, purple and red, blues of all shades, and a divine gold. 

(It almost reminds you of what the Being showed you) 

You read over his shoulder for maybe half a paragraph before he pulls it away. 

“Stop doing that. It’s annoying. You can’t even read.” 

“Yes, I can.” You square your shoulders, staring back under his scrutiny. 

“No, you can’t.”

“Can too!” You stomp, snatching the book out of his flabbergasted hands. “Stars form out of vast clouds of cool gas and dust, called molecular clouds, that occupy parts of interstellar space. The process of star formation within these clouds can take millions of years.”

You continue to read, long after you certainly proved him wrong, as he looks more and more surprised. 

You smirk at his open-mouthed expression, glad to have finally gotten back at him. Holding the book against your chest, a moment passes, in which a sense of guilt rises in you with the astonishment in him, as well as a dawning realization that you really should not have done that. 

“But you’re a just a baby.” He blurts, and suddenly you feel less guilty. 

“I am not! I’m 3 years old!” 

“Precisely.” He peers even deeper at you, going so far as to stand and move closer. With every step he takes nearer, you take one back.

You hold the book close, like it could protect you against his invasive stare. You’re stuck between him and the wall, unable to take your eyes from his. Your shoulders rise, closing into your ears while you feel like a cornered creature, watching the hunter before the final blow. 

“Smile.” He orders. It’s so unexpected that your face screws up in what is decidedly not a smile. 

“What?” 

“Smile.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to see.” 

“Why?”

He looks at you like you’re an ignoramus (a look that shouldn’t translate so well on a child’s face) and your temper rises once more. 

“Why?” You repeat, instead of pulling back and regrouping like you really should, “You’ve never seen one before? Never had a reason to smile, sad boy?”

Ok great job you’ve said something you really shouldn’t and it wasn’t even that cool now shut UP, you distantly think, but you’re too busy dropping the book and snarling at him to hear it. 

“Of course I know how to smile. You just shouldn’t.” 

What the hell does that mean..?

“What?” 

“Your father is a traitor, meaning you already have no honor.” Chisaki looks down his nose at you as he begins to list off all the reasons you shouldn’t be happy, while your mouth drops open in shock. “And you don’t have a mother to seek comfort from.” 

“You don’t either!” 

“And you’re clearly an impulsive fool, asking me to be your friend. And Fukumoto isn’t even your name. Your father’s name is Kaneko Asahi, not Fukumoto Sora. That means you don’t have a real family name of your own. And yet, you can smile like this.” He pulls out a picture of you and your dad, taken from meters and meters away. You squint at the photo, a close up of you and your dad eating breakfast in your apartment. You’re smiling, and he’s shaking his head at you.

“Where did you get this?” You snatch the paper out of his hands, “Have you just been carrying this around?!”

“We’re the Shie Hassaikai. We have eyes everywhere.” A hint of emotion finally slips through as the tips of his ears turns red. “And don’t say it like that. That makes me sound creepy, and I’m not.”

“Not creepy enough to carry a picture of someone you’ve never met?” You emphasize your words by scrunching up your nose and leaning away, like he’s the diseased one. 

“That’s not why I was carrying it around! It was scientific curiosity alone.” The flush spreads to his cheeks, his words turning to a lower mutter. “I had thought it was just because you’re a dumb kid, but if you can read already then you’re not as stupid as you look.” 

“As stupid as I- what?!” This punk! “Well, I might look dumb but at least I don’t look, uh, brainless!” 

Devastating now stop before he devastates you.

“You really are a moron. Now smile.” 

“No!”

“Smile!”

“Get off me!” 

“What’s going on here?” Ms. Sato demands, opening the door to the sound of your scuffle. 

Both you and him stare at her, book and picture long since abandoned on the floor.

“Nothing.” You blurt. 

(Christ Almighty, what if he tells her? You were so focused on spiting Chisaki that you weren’t thinking about revealing your intelligence. How might the yakuza treat you with your intelligence?) 

Ms. Sato raises an elegant eyebrow, turning to him.

“Chisaki?” 

The moment stretches on while he pauses. You can’t help but hold your breath as he picks up the book, managing to slide the picture quietly under his foot in the same motion. 

“She was begging me to read this to her. I told her that she wouldn’t understand, since she’s just a silly little kid.” He sighs heavily as he lies, like he’s so benevolent and kind. “But she kept insisting over and over again. Eventually she started yelling, like a goose.” 

You narrow your eyes at the slight he’s shot your way, but nod along. 

“I just wanted to know about the pretty stars! But Chisaki was being really really mean to me.” You wobble your lower lip, sniffling a bit in order to get more sympathy. “He said that I was stupid and gross.” 

Now he’s the one glaring at you. The two of you are very clearly fighting as subtly as children can, and Ms. Sato frowns. 

“Chisaki, don’t be rude. Please act your age. And Fukumoto, it’s unbecoming for a young lady to raise her voice when it’s not needed.” 

(No added “Miss” to your name? What does that mean?)

“Yes, ma’am.” You both mumble. She nods, and beckons to you, leaving the room.

You follow, scowling at Chisaki, who does the same right back.

You can only imagine why he’s keeping your secret. Maybe he’ll demand you smile in payment.

(Maybe it’s foolish, and fueled only by your spiteful temper, but you decide right there to never smile for him. Never in a thousand years. You’ll save him without smiling once)

She eventually leads you back to your dad and Pops, who have moved into Pops study. Your dad smiles when he sees you, in an attempt of comfort. You smile back, trying to tell him everything’s alright. 

“Hello again, little one.” Pops greets, “I’m glad to see you both are getting on so well.” 

You and Chisaki share a side-eye, the only thing you managed to do fully together the whole night. 

“Asahi has decided to stay a little longer. Isn’t that nice?” There’s a delayed moment where you realize it’s not a rhetorical question, and you nod. “In the morning, I’m going to need your father’s help with something, so you and Chisaki are going to play together again. You two had fun, yes?”

“Of course.” You both intone. 

“Perhaps they’ll become friends.” Your dad pipes up, and you glance at him quickly. That almost felt… scripted.

“I should hope they’ll become friends. They’re certainly going to be seeing enough of each other.”

That’s… concerning. 

“Lord Hirayama thinks it will be a good idea for you two to spend time with each other when I’m not able to watch you, Hikari.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” 

“Is that the best idea?” Chisaki says, and you press your lips together. Even you, the so-called dumb one, know he shouldn’t be audibly questioning Pops to his face.

“Of course. Now, it’s gotten quite late, hasn’t it? Perhaps we should all start to get ready for bed. Sato can show you to your new home. It’s close to ours, so you can come and play with Chisaki often. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Yay.” You manage to say, sounding happy enough to pass. 

Your dad comes and picks you up, bowing quickly to Pops. He offers Chisaki a half-hearted “goodnight”, one that you join in with, and the two of you leave, following Ms. Sato. 

You maintain eye-contact with Chisaki the whole time, sticking by your vow of not a single smile.

Kai watches you leave, a pouting frown marring his otherwise sweet looking face. 

“What’s with that face, boy?” Pops asks him, and he straightens up, pulling his eyes away from the door. 

“Pops, why do I have to be with her? Wouldn’t it be better for me to help the yakuza in any another way? I can do more than keep an eye on a child.” 

He wants to do more. The Shie Hassaikai has done so much for him, Pops in particular. He can’t really be best spent in babysitting.

“I think it would be good for you to know how children your age act. You spend far too much time with Takeda already. Besides, there’s an actual reason for you to spend time with her.” Pops stops his scrawl to gesture to the seat across from him. 

Kai sits, frown still clear on his face.

“Asahi ran before. There’s a chance he might again, however small. By keeping an agent by his child, he’s unlikely to be able to get out silently. Not just that, but the Yakuza world is certainly a dangerous one, and he’s not able to keep an eye on her all the time. His compliance is more likely when he knows someone will be there to watch his daughter.” Kai smiles to himself, proud that Pops trusts him so much. “And perhaps you’ll actually become friends.”

The smile drops. 

Today drained me, you think, flopping into your bed with all the energy of an octogenarian. 

Your dad responds in kind, breathing deeply as he leans against your door. 

“No bed time story or song tonight kiddo.” He mumbles, stumbling to sit on the edge of your bed. 

“Works for me,” you reply, snuggling under your sheets. 

You both sigh in unison, him seemingly waiting for something. You lay, too tired to imagine what he wants from you, until you remember you’re three. Kids your age will have questions. 

(Questions that aren’t already answered by their past-lives knowledge)

“Er, who were these guys, papa?” You ask, scrambling to get your mind into order. “The- the Shie Hassaikai?” 

“They were the mean friends I left. The Shie Hassaikai is just a fun name they- we called ourselves. They… want me to rejoin the group. Permanently. ”

“Are you going to?” Of course he is. 

He rubs at the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stave off a headache. 

“I think I should, sweetie.” Yup.

“Ok.” You’re half tempted to rub your own temple. This… might complicate things. “Can I still be Tenko’s friend and play with him?”

Please please please. 

“Of course. I made sure to tell Hirayama that you wouldn’t be leaving your friend behind.” He pats your head, and you nod against your pillow.

“Good.” 

(You’re not sure what you would’ve done if your Dad had said no. You can’t quite sneak out, and you fear what abandoning Tenko now might do to him later)

“Why did Takeda hit you, if he used to be your friend?” 

“He didn’t like that I left the group. Do you remember that episode of Green Pup, when Blush learned not to hit when she was feeling strong feelings? Takeda never learned that lesson. He still acts like a child, sometimes.” 

You can’t help but giggle at his face, the wry look he shoots your way making clear he never much cared for Takeda. 

“Why did he call you ‘Kaneko Asahi’?” 

“That was the name my friends gave me. I thought it would be better to pick my own name when I left.” 

“So do I have to be Kaneko Hikari?” What’s another new title, yeah? A rose by any other name and such. 

“No, sweetheart, you’re still a Fukumoto. I will be, too, they’ll just call me another name sometimes.” 

“Are we going to live here now?”

“Yup.” Your dad pops the P in the word, leaning back on his hands. “They started bringing our things when I agreed to stay for a little while longer. t’s a nice house, right? Close to your new friend, and with a… nice… group…?”

Even he doesn’t sound very certain, but you just nod along. 

You try and think for a second if there’s another question you should be asking. What would a kid have to say? What haven’t you already figured out? 

Well, if there is anything, you can just ask him in the morning. You’re really tired right now.

“Ok then Papa. Goodnight.” You tug at your blanket. He doesn’t even blink, standing up and tucking you in. He nods to himself as you get comfortable, patting your head again. 

“Did you have fun with Chisaki?”

“…Yeah. He’s funny.” 

“I think it’ll be nice to have another friend, right?” 

“Yeah, it’ll be a bunch of fun.” 

You have almost no doubt that your dad will spend much of the night awake rereading the books on parenting he had collected. Maybe they’ll have a chapter about introducing your kid to the life of the Yakuza. 

He bids you goodnight, sounding much more genuine than he did when he said it to Chisaki, and turns out the light. 

You lay there for a minute, missing your old glow-in-the-dark stars. There’s more important things to think about, though, including the fact your dad came from a gang. 

(It would’ve been cool to have been old enough to meet Pops daughter, though. You had always wondered about Eri’s mom. It’s too bad she seems to have left before you)

Now. How are you supposed to go about saving Chisaki (and by extension, Eri, Mirio, and Sir Nighteye) without smiling…?

Chapter Text

Life with the yakuza isn’t quite what you expected it to be. 

Of course, you didn’t really have much to base your expectations off of. What you saw on The Sopranos or The Godfather wasn’t quite what you were living through in this real life. 

There was a lot less extortion than you thought there would be. Or threats. Or people coming in, on the day of Pops daughter’s wedding, and asking him to, uh, do murder for money.

Or maybe they just wouldn’t do that in front of kids.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

There have been some… uncomfortable interactions though, to say the least. 

You had woken the first day to your dad already up and about. He and Pops were sitting at the table in your house, sharing a pot of tea, when you stumbled out of your bedroom, yawning and looking much like a zombie 

The first thing that Pops had needed your father’s help with was healing all the men that had been on the retrieval mission. After giving him the order (and you begging with your biggest doll eyes) Pops had caved and said that you could watch him work. 

That meant your dad had to reset bones he had broken and mend skin he had cut, all while the men openly glared at him and you sat at his feet studying his every move. 

(If you were going to get his quirk, it’d be nice to already know how it sort of works)

Chisaki had sat a few feet away, reading, while you immersed yourself in watching how your dad did it.

The golden glow had distracted you though, meaning you hadn’t noticed how many people would slow down as they passed your dad, and openly stare as though he was Bigfoot stomping out of the woods to bum a pack of smokes.  

“Hey sweetpea, why don’t you and Chisaki go run along? It can’t be fun for you to just sit here with me.” 

“I like watching your quirk.” You tell your dad, who simply pats your head while the next man shuffles over. 

“It is very pretty to look at, but you shouldn’t have to sit here the whole day.” He shoves at your shoulder gently, not quite suggesting. “Go play in the library.” 

Chisaki scowls, and you can’t say that you feel much different. You two listen, however reluctant, heading back to the library. 

“Slow down!” You pant, trying to keep up with Chisaki, who’s moving like he’s trying to get away from his past. “You’re so mean!”

“Maybe you should learn to speed up.” He retorts, somehow managing to up his pace.  “You’re so annoying.” 

He’s not going terribly fast, but then again, he’s seven years older than you, and you’re still technically a toddler. Of course he’s going to outpace you, you’re not even in the same physical ballpark. 

On the way, while you huff and puff trying to keep up to your unwilling babysitter, you bump into Takeda. 

He’s walking in the opposite direction as you both, hands in his pockets and whistling a jaunty little tune. Chisaki perks up at seeing him, the exact opposite of your reaction. 

You’re already trotting to keep up with him, but when Takeda falls into your sight you slow down, hesitating to get closer.

“Well hey little Boss.” Takeda greets Chisaki, sounding more like a fun uncle than the threat you know him to be. “And hello to you too, little princess.” 

“Good morning,” you murmur, scooting the slightest bit closer to Chisaki. 

With anyone else, “Little Princess” would’ve been a cute, if embarrassing, nickname. How Takeda says it here, though, almost makes it feel like an insult or a dig. 

(You already wouldn’t like him for how he treats your dad, but you’d be hard-pressed to forget that he was the one who threatened you. Hurt you) 

“Good morning Takeda,” Chisaki greets, “What are you doing today?” 

“Oh just fluttering here and there. Taking care of a few jobs for Lord Hirayama.” He leans closer to Chisaki, a conspiring look on his face, “We have to be careful around certain listening ears, though.”

He faces you while he says it, though he winks over-exaggeratedly to Chisaki, who nods in agreement. 

(It makes you uncomfortable, the way his eyes are vacant while he looks at you. It feels like you don’t even register as a living person on his radar, but rather a tool he’s still figuring out how to fully use)

“I wish I could be with you, and not on babysitting duty. I can do more than take care of a child.” Chisaki mutters loud enough for you to hear. You frown, looking between the two of them as they continue to talk about you like you’re not there. 

“Takeda, do you like to read?” You ask, attempting to interject. 

He watches you lazily for a minute, before straightening up. 

“Can’t say I do.” 

“I can’t read yet, but I like to look at the pictures in the books.” Your dad told you yesterday to endear yourself, and you’re still going to do your best. “Chisaki is really really good at reading, though. He had a super big book yesterday, with lots of pretty pictures of the stars!” 

“Really?”

“Mhm! But he didn’t get to finish it, so we’re going to the library now so he can.” 

“Cool.” 

“Are you going that way too? You could come with us." 

Say no. Leave us alone. 

Takeda raises his hands in a relieving gesture, and yet still can't seem to really be the friendly front he's putting forward.

“Thanks little lady, but I’m good. You kids have fun.” He gives Chisaki a relaxed salute, before turning and continues down the hallway, whistling once more. 

You exhale a shaky breath you weren’t aware you were holding, as your shoulders lose their taut posture. 

Chisaki notices this, of course. His eyes move between you and the retreating man, the tilt of his head showing he’s contemplating the interaction. 

“We’re still going to the library, right?” You prompt, taking a few steps forward. You know which of the buildings is you and your dad’s living quarters, and you could recognize the door to the dining room, but otherwise you know next to nothing about this compound. You still need him to lead you around. 

“You’re scared of him.” Chisaki observes. Any tension released by Takeda leaving comes back in full force. 

You bite down on your lip, trying to decide what to say. Do you admit it? Do you deny? 

Who knows what Chisaki will do with this information… 

(But… he didn’t reveal your intelligence)

“Yeah…” you finally admit, looking away. “He hurt my dad when he was bringing us back.” 

“Your dad was a traitor. Not just to Pops, but to the whole Yakuza. He would not have come back willing.” Chisaki points out. “He had to fight him to bring him in.” 

“Maybe. But he didn’t just hurt my dad. He… hurt me too.” You rub at your neck unconsciously. You still remember the sickly taste of fear and the feeling of the steel knife pulling apart your skin. 

You remember the feeling of your blood dribbling down your neck, and the feeling that the man would love nothing more than to do twice as worse to you both. 

(It reminds you of something, something that you can’t quite bring to the front of your mind. Something that waits in the back, locked away, and yet that still rattles when you try and look at it) 

There’s an unreadable look on Chisaki’s face, and you turn away from him. You don’t know why you expected him to care. 

“Let’s get to the library.” He announces, continuing forward. You follow, trying to shake thoughts of the past from your mind.

When you finally enter the library, you take a long deep breath, enjoying the smell of parchment and ink. You were right in your original assessment that this room could hold your attention for hours. 

Chisaki pulls out a different book than before, and you don’t waste time in trying to see what he’s reading. You already know looking over his shoulder will start another argument, and you’ve got no interest in that right now. 

The sunlight brings a different essence to the room than the moonbeams, the warmer tones bringing light to the corners that only had lamps and the celestial stars before.

Now that it’s brighter, you’re able to appreciate the way the books, which had seemed almost haphazardly shelved last night with the lesser light, were organized. 

You skim your eyes over the spines of the other books, seeking something that will attract your attention without seeming suspicious to anyone who happens to poke their noses in.

It can’t be something too complicated, and should probably have some sort of pictures, so that you can pretend to be looking at those. It should also be something interesting, because there’s really no point in being here if not. 

Eventually you find one that fits your requirements, pulling it down from the shelf and stumbling over to a comfortable looking leather chair. You heave the book up, climbing into the chair shortly after it, and start reading. 

It was a dark and stormy night. In her attic bedroom, Margaret Murrey, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat at the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. 

By the time you’ve gotten halfway through, there’s a crick in your neck and the sun hovers high in the sky. You stretch, folding the page of the book so that you can come back to it and climbing out of your chair.

You reach for the ceiling, trying to loosen up any muscles tense from sitting, and take a deep breath in through your nose. You smack your lips, realizing that you’re actually pretty hungry.

“You shouldn’t do that. Pops doesn’t like dog-eared pages.” Chisaki finally pipes up, pointing at where you’d left the book. 

“Do you have something to mark to page?” 

He watches you for a second, as though he expected a return to the volleys you had launched at each other yesterday. He almost seems to expect this to be some sort of trick.

But when you just peer back, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, handing it over to you.

You’re tempted to make a joke about carrying around paper instead of pictures, but decide against it last minute. 

(There’s no point in starting a fight with him today. You’re trying to save people, not argue to the grave. Besides, the book has been really really good, so you’re in a much better mood than yesterday) 

You fold the page back, taking care to smooth it out with the tips of your fingers, and slide the paper inside. 

“When do we eat lunch? I’m hungry.” You ask, heading over to where he’s sitting. He’s chosen a chair against the back wall, facing you and the door. 

Your stomach gurgles loudly, supporting your announcement.

“Lunch is usually made at 12:30, though after that time everyone can get it when they want.” 

“How long until 12:30?”

“There’s a clock over there.” He points above the door, where an odd timepiece the color of ash hangs. “It says only about 30 minutes more.” 

A test, you think to yourself. He wants to know how intelligent you really are.

That clock clearly says it’s already 12:15. You narrow your eyes, deciding how much of your knowledge to reveal now, and how much to hold onto for later.

“Really?” You decide on, slowly, “Thank you for telling me. I guess we’ll just have to wait a little longer.”  

You both look at each other for a minute, waiting to see who will fold first. 

This punk. This jerk. I just wanted to eat lunch, and here we are having to play these stupid mind games. 

A moment passes, in which you maintain eye-contact, refusing to be the one who turns away first. 

(Though you probably really should)

“I think you know what time it is.” 

“What do you mean?” You blink innocently at him, “My dad never taught me.”

“Nevertheless, I think you do.”

What type of kid says “nevertheless”, good grief. 

“Well I don’t. You’re wrong. So there.” You stick out your tongue, and his face briefly flickers with disgust. 

“Well I think you can. When I told you 12:30, your eyes narrowed. Then when I said 30 minutes more, you knew it wasn’t right and frowned.” He tilts his head up, the self-confidence in his deductions clear as day. 

Damn this kid and his stupid smarts. What the Hell, man. You just wanna eat without him attempting to peel back all your secrets. 

“Are you saying you… lied to me?” You gasp, faux-horror on your face, “Chisaki! Don’t you know lying is bad?” 

“It’s not bad when you’re trying to get someone to reveal the truth. Pops always says One lie for a thousand truths is an easy trade to make. And I’m right, aren’t I?” His face houses an annoying little smirk, and you scowl. 

“No.” Petulance colors your tone at the same time as a blush colors your face. “And it wouldn’t matter if you were! I don’t know where lunch is served, so even if it’s not 12:30, I’ll just follow you anyway once you get hungry.” 

“Maybe I won’t get hungry.”

“Maybe you will.” 

“Maybe I won’t.” 

There’s no way you’ll let this turn into a “Will not!” “Will too!” debate, so you stick you nose in the air and turn away. 

The clock continues to tick, each minute pushing closer to 12:30, and then continuing on past it.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye, rereading the same paragraph you have been for five minutes. Him and his stupid face and stupid theories.

He’s too smart. 

What if he was to figure out you’ve been reborn? 

No, calm down (Y/N). You’re definitely overthinking now. There’s no way he could figure that out. Besides, nothing would happen. He’d probably not even believe it! Reincarnation? Isekai? Ha! Sounds silly.

(Why does the thought scare you, then?)

That’s how Ms. Sato finds you eventually. Both stubbornly refusing to get up for lunch, glaring from the corners of your eyes. It’s long since past serving time, and the food, if there’s even any left, is sure to be cold. 

“Ah, there you both are. Come along, I’ve been looking for you for quite a while now.” 

You both get up, leaving behind your books and following her.

Chisaki seems perfectly unbothered by the fact that neither of you have eaten since breakfast. 

You, however, are a completely different story.

Eyuugehh… I’m so hungry… I’m so hungry… I’m so hungrryyy, You drag your feet, floundering in each step. 

Chisaki spares you a single look of apathy as Ms. Sato leads you both into an open room. 

So… hungry…. So- what is that DIVINE smell!

You straighten up, practically drooling. 

“Lunch!” 

The tatami mat calls to you, and you stumble over, eyes on the cups and sweet containers and plates of food and the kettle and the brazier and the cake and the- 

“Urk!”

“Not yet.” Ms. Sato stops you with a firm grip on your collar. “Lord Hirayama has put me in charge of your education. That includes sabō.” 

Huh? 

“A tea ceremony?” Chisaki says, in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. Pops is having me go to tea parties? I could be doing so much more!” 

You’ll just go on ignoring the fact that he’s literally only ten years old, and therefore a child who would definitely not be serving on the front lines or whatever he thinks he would be doing for Pops, even if he wasn’t here, having a tea party. 

He’s silenced by a single glare from Ms. Sato though, sharper than anything you’ve ever faced. Even you feel like rolling over and showing your belly, and you haven’t done anything! 

“Sabō?” You ask, hoping for a bit of clarification. 

“Traditional tea ceremonies. It’s important for young women to have these skills, even if they don’t go on to use them in their adult lives.”

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry.” Ms. Sato pats your head affectionately. “I’ve taught plenty of young women in my years, even Lord Hirayama’s daughter. It’s very simple, once you get the basics down.” 

Lord Hirayama’s daughter? So… Eri’s mom. 

“Do we have to talk about her? She left everyone. She abandoned her entire family.” Chisaki turns away, crossing him arms. He seems to realize he sounds bitter, and tries to course-correct. “Choosing to leave was an asinine decision.”

“Don’t speak that way about her.” Ms. Sato orders, and Chisaki stubbornly narrows his eyes. 

“Pops had a daughter?” You ask, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. 

Ms. Sato’s eye soften, and she nods. 

“She was a very sweet girl. Compassionate. Not to say she wasn’t her father’s daughter, though, goodness. She could certainly be rather inflexible, and sentimental too.” Ms. Sato smiles at the same rate the Chisaki frowns. “You know, she and your father grew up together. Where you could find one of them the other was always close behind.” 

“Really? They were friends here? When did Papa come?”  You burn with curiosity about your dad’s time here. Pops said that your dad used to call him by that too, meaning they had to have been familiar. Now hearing that he grew up with Eri’s mom, and further that they were close, makes you want to know even more. 

Ms. Sato pauses, almost like she realizes she’s said too much. 

“Never mind that now. If you have any questions, you can ask your father." Darn. You had been hoping for more. "Right now, you and I are going to discuss Sabō. First things first.”

Ms. Sato runs you ragged, going over and over every step of a traditional tea ceremony without stop. Every mess up, she has you go directly right back to step one. She’s immovable, not at all effected by your begging or puppy-dog eyes, and every time you turn them on her she simply raises an eyebrow and says “What is the first thing that you do when a guest enters your home?” 

It’s almost like she forgets you’re three. You’re a very tired and very hungry three year old little girl who spent much of yesterday anxious and fearful and so all you want to do is eat a meal and maybe also lie down and take a nice long nap. 

Unfortunately, you’re not given that option. 

Chisaki is lucky, as he gets to vanish halfway through your training. You watch him leave with jealous eyes, but as soon as Ms. Sato notices your distraction you start from the top. 

You’re sick of tea. Oh dear God above, you’re sick of tea. 

The lessons feel like they last for decades, though it’s most likely just an hour or so. She finally takes mercy on you, ending your training. 

“Here, you can have a slice of the cake.” She cuts a piece, handing it over to you. You inhale the food, desperately trying to satisfy your hunger. “Goodness, maybe our next lesson should be on table manners. Why on Earth are you so hungry?” 

You open your mouth to explain, which she quickly closes, uninterested in seeing the mashed up food. 

That gives you a minute to actually think.

Would it be best to admit that you were hungry because of a stubborn and honestly kinda childish fight? Sure, you were technically a child, and could therefore get away with it but you were almost 18 mentally! Admitting to such an immature argument would cause mental anguish on a front you don’t even want to consider.

(And also she might add a lesson on diplomacy or something like that, and a regular tea ceremony is killing you) 

“Er… my dad says it’s because I’m a growing girl?” 

“I suppose he’s right. I’ll have to talk to Kuua about making you specific meals, with better nutrition for a young lady.”

You help her to clean the tea set-up, acting as lady-like as you can so she doesn’t make you restart. She pats your head, tells you that Pops would like you and your dad to eat dinner with him again, and leaves. 

The second she’s out the door, your shoulders slump, and you flop onto the ground. That cake was good, but no substitution for a real meal. And you’re still so sleepy. A quick nap couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I suppose I should go find Chisaki, though.” You mutter, eyes closed and not very eager to get up off the ground and do so.

“No need.” You hear him push open the door, recognizing the beat of his steps as he walks into the now fairly empty room. 

You inhale, ready to deplore him abandoning you, when you catch a whiff of the most delicious thing you’ve ever smelt. 

Your eyes fly open as you rise like the undead.

He’s holding a tray of food, looking down his nose at your form on the ground.

“Is that for me?”

“…yes.” It doesn’t matter how begrudgingly he says that, you’re ready to give your life for him.

You shoot up off the ground, hands open and out in the universal “gimme gimme gimme” gesture. 

“No. Clean your hands first.” 

You grumble your way through washing them, and then he gives you the plate, of which you wolf down. He watches with more than mild disgust, but don’t really care.

“If I have to sit and look after you, we’re going to do things I like too.” He leads you away while you’re still devouring the food. 

(It’s delicious. Incredible. Amazing)

“Please don’t eat my food like that. You’re spilling everywhere.” 

You swallow hard, following closely behind. 

“You made this?” 

“All the other food was eaten already. It’s nothing special. It’s a very simple meal, I’ve been doing it for years. Anyway, Pops would’ve been disappointed if I had let you starve.” He frowns, opening the door to a room you haven’t been in before. “And no matter how annoying you are or how many secrets you try to keep, I still have to act in a way that brings honor to him.” 

Hm.

You continue eating, though a bit more controlled, and finish just as he pulls a game board out of a shelf. You lay the plate on top of the same shelf, and sit across from him at the low table. 

The game board is exquisite, like much of what belongs to the Shie Hassaikai is, sectioned off into nine by nine squares. It’s got small cabriole legs holding up, and lacquered sides. The designs on the side are beautiful, with stars and dragons interwoven. 

“What’s this?” You trace the tips of your fingers along the detailed sides, feeling out the slight texture changes. 

“Shogi. Since you’re smart enough to read, you’re smart enough to learn.” He lays out twenty pieces in front of himself, and twenty in front of you. “This is the king. It’s the most important piece. If you lose him, you lose the game. He moves one spot in any direction. He captures when he moves onto a spot already occupied.” 

He goes piece by piece, listing off what each one can do and how they can attack. You do your best to pay attention, though the late meal weighs you down and attempts to entice you into napping. 

“Alright.” You say slowly, watching him lay his pieces out on the board and following suit. “It’s a bit like chess, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, though I don’t suppose you know how to play that, either.” 

Actually you used to be pretty fierce at chess. In your past life that is. Your older sister taught you, and you taught your younger sister. It was like a chain. 

And just like siblings are wont to do, you were all ruthless with each other. There was no mercy when you were sat in front of a game board, whether it was chutes and ladders or monopoly or chess. Even video games like Mario kart were to the death. 

“I know a thing or two.” You say, twisting one of your pieces in your fingers. 

The familiar feeling of wood and competition takes you back, although the shape throws you off a bit. You place your piece down, nodding. 

“Let’s play.” 

Suffice to say, you lose. A lot. 

Actually every single game you play, you lose.

It’s to be expected. He’s been playing for who knows how long, and you learned exactly two hours ago. 

Still. It’s a bit embarrassing when you’re studying the board, taking care in every single move, and he just closes his eyes and leans back on his hands.

It almost looks like he’s falling asleep in the middle of your game! 

You grumble, just barely keeping yourself from growling as he wins again, your king once more trapped.

You stare at the board, tuning out his words as you tap your lip, attempting to figure out where you went wrong. 

You actually had a strategy that time, and a darn good one too! But nothing went how you had planned. You thought you had countered his charge, but then he pulled out another move completely out of nowhere. You have to learn more, and hopefully quickly. 

You don’t know how much longer you can stand his gloating.

“Pops taught me how to play, and he’s one of the best.” He continues, still talking while you continue to ignore him. 

He’d probably say Pops was the best at everything no matter what. 

“Anyway, I didn’t expect you to win. I’ve been playing for years.” He closes up the box, putting everything away, and you give him an exasperated look. “You’ll always lose.” 

“I’ll always try. I’m not going to give up.” You clench your fist, narrowing your eyes.

You can almost hear the music crescendo, almost feel the close-up shot, almost-

“Ok. It’s time for dinner. Let’s go.” 

Man. There goes your big moment. 

After another awkward “family dinner” consisting of you, Pops, Chisaki, and your dad, you and the latter go back to your house.

Your dad starts to get ready for bed, laying out his clothes for tomorrow and asking you about your day. You don’t follow his example, though.

“Dad,” You start, with all the gravity you can muster. “Play Shogi with me.” 

He pauses.

“Shogi?” 

You nod. 

“Why shogi?“ 

“Papa. I want to win.” 

Despite the fact that this doesn’t clear up anything more for him, your dad agrees.

“Sure. I think there’s an old shogi set or two somewhere around the compound. I can try and find it tomorrow.” 

You grin, happy that your dad is so willing to be down with whatever random or unexpected requests you spout off. 

“So, yeah.” You finish, “That’s how my week’s been going.” 

“Wow.” Tenko replies.

You’ve edited out any and all buzzwords in your recap to Tenko, mostly because he’d be understandably worried over the true events of your week.

“Yakuza” was replaced with “my dad’s old friends”, “death/murder/yakuza activities” with “their old buddy-club stuff”, “Chisaki” with “my good pal, Shuji.”, and on and on for other things that didn’t need to be shared with your four year old friend. 

(It was a last minute choice to change Chisaki for Shuji. Your dad had tentatively suggested the edit in the first place, and you knew why. It’s the Yakuza, after all. You had pretended, at first, asking questions and acting like you doubted his answers, but in reality you were relieved.

If they met, well, you’d cross that bridge when you get to it. 

And it’s not that you didn’t want them to meet, because you did! You hoped that someday Chisaki would be willing to go with you to the park, not scowl and tell you they were breeding grounds for disease like he did today. You really really did. 

At the same time….

The idea, the thought, the very breath of failure stayed. It hung over your head like a dirge, this knowledge you’ve been cursed blessed with keeping. 

If they got to know each other, and you failed, what would happen? What if it led to the League and the Shie Hassaikai working together from the beginning? What would that do? How much power would that give each of the groups? Give All for One? 

Maybe you’re overthinking. But at the same time, the same question you’ve always wrestled with stays. 

What if you can’t save them?) 

“It’s weird that they surprised you and your dad outside the grocery store.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, returning to the conversation at hand, “My dad was really upset that he dropped his eggs.” 

“Mom would be too. She says groceries are getting too expensive. And when Grandma went out for a treat yesterday, she was surprised too.” Tenko mimics his grandmothers reaction, laying his hand on his chest and widening his eyes. He even goes so far as to raise his voices octave. “She went; ‘Good Lord!’”

You giggle at his acting, and he grins, watching you for laugh for a second, before he frowns softly.

“Why did you promise not to smile? It seems kinda mean. I’d be sad if you never smiled at me.” 

The fact that he doesn’t look away or apologize for asking you that speaks how far you’ve managed to get with him these past few weeks. 

Your giggles slow, though, eventually falling down. You’re the one who ends up looking away.

You had spat out the vow when he won again at shogi a few days ago and was needling you about it. You’d paled and covered your mouth immediately, as though that could take it back. 

You never meant to actually tell him. It was a secret thing you’d done because you were annoyed, and probably would’ve taken back in a week or so. It was such a stupid promise to make in the first place, even to yourself.

But then he had raised a brow, made a face that nearly said he thought you were stupid and that it wouldn’t last, reset the board to play again, and said “Hm. Really?.” and you’d been left scowling. 

You know it’s childish. You’re very aware of that truth, along with the fact that you only promised it because you were feeling spiteful and your temper flared up, and now you’re too stubborn to take it back.

You should, of course, but you just knew the way he’d rub it in your face if you did, with that stupid insufferable smirk on his stupid insufferable face. 

“I dunno. He was just so annoying! He’s such a jerk!” 

“Mom says jerk is a bad word to call people.”

“He’s such a punk!” After a moment, in which he accepts that name, you continue. “He’s always such a know-it-all, and he’s always got this stupid this smirk on his face, and he tilts his head up so that he’s always looking down on you no matter where you’re standing, and his eyes are this stupid super bright sunshine color that shimmers and sticks with you whenever he’s excited or winning!” 

Tenko pauses while you still continue to rant. Is that last one actually a fault? 

Actually, your ranting is sounding more like just listing qualities. Now you’re talking about his fashion sense. Now how good he is at shogi. Now how he’s always reading super thick books with super long titles that turn out to be really interesting, which is apparently infuriating. It almost sounds like you’re extolling him now.  

Tenko frowns at his hands. 

Tenko isn’t the best at reading, especially not big books. He doesn’t know how to play Shogi. His clothes aren’t anything cool. 

What if you end up like your new friend more than you like him?

Chapter Text

Apparently, your dad is attempting to nurture your mind.

You had been listening to him and Nao talk, and slipped up, getting too comfortable and answering a math problem you had no business knowing the answer to.

“What’s the square root of 144?” Your dad had muttered, filling out a puzzle with Nao.

“12!” You piped up, doing your best to clean the sand off of your hands.

Your dad nods, already trusting your answers. He’s used to you being very smart.

Nao, however…

“How did you know that, sweetpea?” She asks, a bemused look clear on her face.

You freeze.

Ah… Crap.

Your dad hasn’t put a second thought into your mind. He has no clue how smart a kid is meant to be. Nao, on the other hand, has raised two children and knows almost exactly how smart a kid usually is at your age.

“Er… it was in my cartoons?”

She doesn’t quite fall for your nonsense like your dad does, instead raising an eyebrow.

“And you remembered it?”

“Hikari’s always been smart,” your dad brags. You shoot his your best death stare, but he doesn’t seem to pick up your signs. “When she was two, she was able to answer almost any question in the Sunday crossword puzzle.”

“Was she?” Nao asks.

“Thats right.” There’s a gleam of pride in his eyes as he pats you on the back. You’re the jewel of his heart, and he’ll take any chance to boast about you.

Man shut UP, you think.

“You know, there’s a program at the library that helps nurture kids in preparation for school. She’d probably excel in it!”

“Really?”

And bing bang boom one thing lead to another and now a few days later you’re at the library and he’s talking with the librarian about the program.

You would be bored, but since Nao was the one who had told him about it she came to help him set it up. Of course, since you were already here, she brought Tenko too.

As an added bonus, they surprised you by bringing Hana!

“Hiii!!!!” She chirps, running up to you and clasping your hands with a huge winning smile, “My names Shimura Hana!! Tenko is always talking about you and I was really excited to meet you!!!”

She’s bouncing on your toes as she talks, her grin taking up much of her face. You can’t help but laugh and smile back, caught up in her wave of energy.

“Hi hi hi! My name is Fukumoto Hikari! You’re his big sister, aren’t you! It’s super cool to meet you! Tenko loves to talk about how cool you are!”

Hana preens at your words, and the two of you fall into an extremely fast-paced conversation. Your parents shoo you off, sending you away, and you make your way over to where Children’s Fiction is.

Tenko follows closely behind, with you holding his right hand. You almost let go when you reached the kids section and Hana handed you a book, but he interlocked his fingers with yours and you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

So now you’re all squished onto one giant bean bag chair. Hana’s chatting about this fun book she’s reading that sounds a bit like knockoff Disney Princess series and Tenko is right over your shoulder listening in.

It’s a lot of fun talking with Hana. You hadn’t realized how much you missed having a girlfriend. You’re surrounded by boys, and all of your friends have been boys, and most of the people at the compound are boys, so she’s just such a welcome fresh of breath of air.

Tenko doesn’t contribution much, content to just sit beside you as the two of you giggle and whisper and laugh.

Slowly, you notice him getting closer and closer to your shoulder. His movements start and stop, as though he’s scared to seem too eager. You glance at him once, curious as to what he’s doing, but he freezes as soon as you do so you turn back to Hana.

You don’t say a word, keeping your pleasantly surprised smile hidden inside, as he finally sets his head onto your shoulder, fingers still interlocked with your own.

You keep your lips sealed tight, terrified to scare him off. He notices your surprised inhale, though, and tenses, almost pulling away.

You stop him by placing your head against his own, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and securing your grip on his hand.

Eventually he actually does settle, relaxed and comfortable. Hana doesn’t mention it, but her smile gets even bigger, and you have the feeling that Nao wasn’t the only one worried about Tenko making friends.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the clouds were rolling by, white and fluffy, the sky was the type of blue you’d only see in paintings, and you were about to blow something up.

You were. You were going to do it this time. This time you’d finally lose control. This time-

“I win.”

You glare up from through your hair, scowling at Chisaki. He just resets the board, perfectly calm and relaxed.

You’ve lost 17 games of shogi in a row.

Seven.

Teen.

And he still wants to play again.

He’s a sadist. He has to be. There’s no other reason for him to be so eager to just absolutely pound you into dust every single game.

You got sick of playing around, oh, round 5. And now twelve games later he’s still trying to play again.

“Why don’t we go outside? It’s a beautiful day.” You suggest through bared teeth, as he continues to place down the pieces perfectly calmly.

“It’s supposed to rain later. I don’t think you’re going to want to get wet.”

Those fluffy white clouds aren’t going to do jack at all, they look softer than silk.

“But it’s not raining now.”

“It’s supposed to start soon.”

“But it’s not raining now.”

He frowns at your repetition, finally looking up from the board, and you maintain eye-contact.

“Just one walk around the grounds. It’ll be great. It’ll be fun! And maybe it’ll make me a better player, you know, clearing my mind.”

He raises his eyebrow, clearly unamused with your attempts to get out of playing.

You sigh as he reaches for the pieces again, shoulders slumped. Of course he wouldn’t be willing to walk with you.

And then he puts them away.

“Let’s go. The sooner we go outside the sooner we come back in.”

Yes!

You both end up going to the inner courtyard. It’s Pops pride and joy of the house, beautifully built around a small pond with a soft flowering tree overlooking it. The breeze picks up your hair, tickling your nose as you breathe in the fresh air.

This is where your dad usually meditates in the morning, absorbing as much sunlight as possible before he has to really start his day. You’ve sat with him a time or two, but he gets up way too early for it to willingly become anything close to tradition.

Actually… maybe you should start doing that. What with quirks being genetic and all, you could use more sunlight. Who knows when your quirk’s going to come in, you’ll need to be prepared with a full battery.

…

But he wakes up so early.

“You think very loudly.” Chisaki notes, as you both walk laps.

You hum in reply, turning your face up and closing your eyes.

The sun actually does feel incredible on your skin. The simple warmth brings a sort of peace to your bones that you can’t quite put into words.

You open your eyes again when he stops in front of the pond. Your face is still turned up, though, and you study the sky.

It really is a beautiful day.

A bird passes by above and you think of Keigo. Your fingers brush against the feather, almost as if to reassure yourself that it’s still there. You hope he’s doing ok.

He’s with the safety commission now, you’re sure of that.

(You know he’s not doing as ok as you could hope)

“What were you thinking of?” Chisaki questions, and you glance at him. He still watches you like he’s trying to perceive you.

You’re not quite sure how you feel about that.

“Quirks,” you answer honestly. You’ve been meaning to find a way to start talking to him about this, and here’s comes the perfect chance.

His faint curiosity turns to clear disgust.

“Why on Earth are you thinking about quirks?” He spits out the word as if it in itself is covered in filth. You withhold a sigh.

“They’re really really big, Chisaki. And super duper important! I was thinking about it cause I was wondering what yours was.”

Not that you need to ask, of course. You already know about his quirk and how it works. And you know his whole life plan, or at least, what it was.

Speaking honestly, he probably could’ve won. And not just won, but absolutely decimated.

His germaphobia really shot himself in the foot, though.

(Also probably the fact he was up against the main character of the series, but you’ll just shoo that away)

Now, if you had his quirk, and you had his ideals, you probably would’ve taken something similar to an All for One route.

Yeah…

Your mind trails off, creating a plan for what you would’ve done with his ability and goals. You can’t help it! It was something you had thought about plenty in your past life, and now you see him face to face, though you haven’t seen it in action yet, you know how strong it is.

Chisaki’s quirk could help so many people, and if you wanted what he wanted, you know exactly how you’d do it.

You’d probably start small, go pro and build up an adoring fan base similar to what Hawks had. You’d use your quirk for more than just heroics, helping random people, volunteer at hospitals, do foods drives, become absolutely beloved.

And then you’d start looking into public office. Something simple, maybe an ambassador type position. You’d talk about how sad it was that you couldn’t help anyone else, sigh, so sad so sad. You’re blessed with such a wonderful quirk, after all!

Then you’d announce you’re running for whatever office you decided on, all while continuing to build up yourself as a pillar in the community.

After you won, you spread those same ideals and adoration around the world. You’d run for a higher office in Japan. You’d continuing “helping” people everywhere.

And then when you inevitably won again, you’d start implementing changes quietly. Start a new government program, not to cure quirks no no! Quirks are a part of people, of course! The research would purely be to help anyone who hated their quirk, or whose quirk negatively impacted their daily life.

People would flock to it! After all, if you had endorsed it, who wouldn’t?

And if there were people who didn’t, well the yakuza would always be there to welcome them with open arms.

Thus you would quietly gain control of your country, whose influence would then spread to the whole world. You might not be rid the whole world of quirks, but you’d have done a damn good job at getting there.

And if anyone tried to stop you, you’d use the Shie Hassaikai, the group you still quietly controlled. But who would? At that point you would have been an adored hero for much longer than you were a politician.

Oh, sorry detective, you’ve got suspicions about me? How sad! I remember when I saved your life.

I hope you do, too, especially since your spouse invited me to dinner after. How are they, by the way? So lovely. It sure would be a shame if something happened.

And then bing bang boom you’d rule the world! Easy breezy beautiful covergirl!

Ah.

Er.

But it wasn’t like you would. Of course not.

Or that you put much thought into it.

Nope.

That was purely a hypothetical plan. Just something you had spitballed while thinking about this world and it’s characters.

Yup.

Ok… maybe you shouldn’t be coming up with plans that would let the villains win.

Focus! You reminded yourself, He’s explaining his quirk!

“Thus, I’m able to disassemble and reassemble matter.” He summarizes, and you nod.

“It sounds really-“

“Horrible? Filthy? Unclean?”

“Incredible.” You finish, “It sounds incredible, Chisaki. Think of how many people you could help! You could disassemble rockslides burying people, or reassemble someone’s crushed legs. Heck, you might even be able to bring someone back from the dead.”

Chisaki furrows his brows while you talk, continuing to point out the ways he could use his quirk to help.

“Maybe,” he says after you pause for a breath, “But that doesn’t matter. Quirks are revolting. I read a theory when I was younger that said that quirks were passed along by rats, like a disease. Beyond even that, quirks lead to people labeling themselves as either heroes or villains, creating a disgusting world with lines dividing the blessed and the cursed. Neither realizes they’re both sick.”

“That’s just a theory, though.” You point out, “I’ve read that quirks are the next step in evolution. How could they be any different than our minds evolving for a greater intelligence? Or evolving thumbs?”

You lift your arm, demonstrating by wiggling your own thumb. He studies your hand for a second before deciding to respond.

“It’s different because people are born with semi-uniform thumbs. Quirks are different, though. Each is almost certainly unique to a particular person. And thumbs wouldn’t hurt a person. If someone’s quirk isn’t compatible to their body, it could end up killing them. Tell me, what genetic advantage does that give?”

He might have the smallest of points there, but you’re not giving up.

The two of you continue both your debate and your laps, walking around the inner courtyard so long you begin to lose track of time.

Eventually Chisaki looks up, frowning at the sky.

“The rain is about to start. There’s no point in getting wet.”

He holds the door open for you, and as you slip past him you have to hide a smile.   

Ok yeah maybe your discussion didn’t lead to either side making any major wins per se, but you’re still giddy. You managed to keep step with him in the debate and he even nodded in agreement once!

Thats amazing! That’s beyond amazing, that’s fantastic!! It’s a much better start than you ever thought you would get with him!

Everything is going so much better than you ever could’ve dreamed it.

Chisaki is… sadly right.

Not about quirks! Good God no.

He was right that it would end up raining. And it’s not just raining, perhaps a better word for describing it would be deluge.

It’s been nonstop for two days now. At first you were excited, especially since it was a rainstorm with no thunder, but now it’s really starting to jack your vibe.

You were supposed to be playing at the park with Tenko right now!

The rain, of course, cancelled those plans, though through careful negotiations (ahem, begging and pleading) you were able to convince your respective parents to take you to the library again instead.

“How much money do you have?” Tenko asks, pulling out two ¥100 coins. You ruffle through your pockets and find one 50 and one 100 yen coin.

“Only this.”

“So together we have…” you let him think for a second, wary of jumping in with any math problems now, “250 yen? That’s not enough for the vending machine.”

“Dang.” You mutter. The chocolate bar inside the machine called to you, beckoning sweetly, and all you wanted to do was answer that summons.

Ms. Sato had kept true to her word, talking to Kuua about changing your meals to be better for a young lady. Kuua, who turned out to be the chef at the compound, a sweet woman with a bright voice, had agreed.

No shade to your dad and the dinners he’d provided for years, but the meals Kuua made were completely out of this world. They were incredible, they were tasty, they were savory, they were just so perfect you almost wanted to weep when you ate them.

However.

Her meal plan included limited processed sugar. And sure, you get why, it’s can be super unhealthy when not controlled and yeah ok maybe you liked to indulge, but come on!

You’re a kid! You’re supposed to be eating sweets! Youre supposed to sneak candy! You’re supposed to have chocolate bars!

One day… you think sadly to the bar in the vending machine, the silvery plastic wrapping still calling for you to come closer.

“Oh well. Maybe Mom will let us get ice cream.” Tenko, on the other hand, isn’t bothered at all by the lack of group funds.

The two of you continue on into the library, browsing the book selection.

Boring. Boring. Dull. Tedious. Ooo-! Nope, dry as dust.

Nothing really grabbed your attention here, though, you know, kids books wouldn’t do that for a teen. The cat in the hat doesn’t hold as much weight for you as it did when you actually were three.

“Hey, Hikari!” Tenko calls, and you move closer to him. “Look! They have a book on All Might.”

Ok ok this might actually be worth your attention!

The two do you squeeze onto the same beanbag chair as before, despite the fact that now there’s only two bodies in it, and thus room to space out.

Your faces are squished together as you turn the pages slowly. The book has clear pictures, each page showing All Mights bright smile.

You ooo and ahh over each story of All Mights greatness, his valiant tales and heroic deeds.

You almost feel breathless reading about him. He’s so good that it’s hard to imagine anyone feeling anything but admiration and love towards him.

(Although that’s the road this world wants Tenko to walk. You can’t imagine losing him to it. He’s your friend. He warm and real and present beside you, and you… you care about him so much)

“All Might is so cool,” you exhale shakily as Tenko talks, tracing the shape of All Mights smile. “I can’t wait to be a hero just like him.”

“Yeah,” you try to sound normal, but your word comes out a bit breathless. You clear your throat. “Yeah! Yeah. You’re going to be a great hero.”

“I hope my quirk is strong.” He mumbles, turning the page, and you stifle a mirthless smile.

His quirk is, without a single doubt, strong.

“I-,” your words are cut off by a soft sniffle.

(Perhaps it’s better, as you didn’t know what to say)

Both of your heads turn in unison to a little girl a few shelves away. Her shoulders curl into herself, and though she’s looking at the books, she’s obviously not seeing the titles.

You’re up in a moment, Tenko a half second behind you.

He lets you take the lead. You squat beside the girl, smiling softly. She looks young. As in, young young.

Anime-logic dude a two year old shouldn’t be alone.

(Ignore that you being alone at that age let you meet Keigo)

“Hello,” you coo, trying to catch her eye. She won’t look at you, though, so you speak again. “My names Fukumoto Hikari. What’s yours?”

“Ito Shizuku.” She whispers. You frown.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ito. Do you know where your mama and papa are?”

That seems to set her off the edge. She begins to cry, large tears rolling down her face. You can practically hear Tenko start to panic beside you, an understandable reaction.

But you had a baby sister. You know what to do.

“Tenko, can you ask one of the librarians where the water fountain is?”

He nods, taking off.

“Ito, do you like puppies?”

She continues to hiccup and cough, wailing in the middle of the kids section. None of the adults nearby come over to help, just glaring at the kid through the shelves.

Yes, that’s exactly what you should do when you see a crying child. Glare. It’s not like you should reach out and try and help someone who clearly needs it.

“Ito, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happening. I really really want to help you!” You move slowly, so that you’re in her field of vision. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you keep your voice calm and even.

She slows down her tears, but is still blubbering. You can’t understand what she’s trying to say.

Tenko returns with a plastic cup of water, and you smile thankfully at him. You don’t have time to ask where it came from and he can’t help but stand there, unsure of himself or how to help.

“Ito, you have to drink water.” You offer the cup, and manage to get a “Don’t wanna!” out of her. “But you have to! When you cry, you lose water, and then you can’t play outside anymore because you don’t have any water in you!”

She stops crying long enough to send you a confused, and mildly doubtful look. She does take the cup, though.

It’s an old trick from your past life, one you used on your younger sister all the time when she was this age. No one can cry and drink at the same time.

You manage to calm her down enough to get her story out of her. Apparently she got lost and got scared. You and Tenko nod sympathetically, and then take her to the front of the library, causing your parents looking up from the table they’re seated at. You offer your dad a thumbs up, reassuring him, and he nods in acknowledgment, going back to the paperwork.

The girls parents run up a second later, obvious fear on their faces. They thank you both profusely, and quietly in the back of your mind you wonder why no one else stepped up to help. Why a four year old and a three year old had to take care of a toddler themselves.

(That’s one glaring problem with this world that you can’t help but hate. One that you agree with the villains over. People become so reliant on heroes that they don’t step up to help others, assuming someone else will take care of it. Your best friend might become a victim of it)

“You’ll be a good hero.” Tenko says admiringly, after the girl gets up and runs off with her parents. “You were really good with her.”

“We’ll be good heroes! I couldn’t have done it without you.” You emphasize. You rest your head on his shoulder, mission complete. The two of you are back in your designated beanbag chair and your All Might biography is back in front of you.

“What do you think your quirk will be?” Tenko asks you, and you shrug.

He wrinkles his nose, not quite prepared for that reaction. Quirks are, as you said a few days ago, super duper important.

As confident as you are that you will get one eventually, there’s always the possibility, slight though it may be, of you never getting one. Izuku came from two people with quirks, after all, and you don’t know if your mother had a quirk.

(If you don’t get one, you’ve just decided to go to Nedzu with your information. There’s no reason to hide it then. So many people could be saved. Sometimes, you wonder if you should do that now, but the fear of what might happen keeps you from it. If you weren’t to get a quirk, nothing would hold you back)

“Tenko, can you promise me something?”

“Sure! Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll always try to be a hero. You won’t give it up, or lose your spark, or-“ or be twisted by a vile man who only cares about himself “or anything like that.”

Tenko laughs, and it’s clear he doesn’t put much stock into your words. You know he can’t promise that, and you’re only having heavier thoughts because of what happened with the little girl, but you can’t help it.

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

“And swear to die.”

Please let him be good, you think, desperate, please let him stay good.

It seems as though Pops takes great pleasure in uncomfortable interactions. There’s no other reason you can think of for him to insist on having “family dinners” night after night after night.

Once more it’s stilted. Once more it’s quiet. Once more three of the four members are counting down the seconds until the end.

“You know,” Pops interrupts the silence with a friendly tone, “I was thinking.”

Oh Lord, your dad thinks.

“About your problem.” He continues to Chisaki, who blinks at him with narrowed eyes. “I understand your germaphobia has been getting worse, yes?”

“The world isn’t clean, Pops. I like to be kept clean.” Chisaki replies, clearly unsure of where this conversation is going

“I understand that. Your fears keep you from touching things, yes?”

“Dirty things, yes.”

“But our dear lady isn’t dirty, is she?”

That nickname has unfortunately stuck. Takeda used it around Pops, who thought it was adorable, and perfect for the youngest member of the Shie Hassaikai.

Chisaki hesitates. You maintain a deadpan look, as he attempts to find a way to say that you are dirty without insulting both your dad and the leader of the yakuza.

“I… suppose not as much as other things.”

Neat. Cool. That’s a great compliment. The Not as dirty as you could be when compared to other things award. You’ll have it tattooed into your heart. Taped onto the fridge.

“Which is where my idea comes. You two are already spending time together.” A shared Look is the only thing you two do ‘together’ here, “I saw the two of you walking the grounds, and an old friend reminded me of the benefits of exposure. Facing your fears like a man.”

Hmm. You have the most terrible feeling.

“Chisaki, I think it would be beneficial if you slowly got used to touch, with your friend. I’m sure our dear girl wouldn’t be adverse to the idea.”

Adverse?

Hmm.

That’s one way to put it.

Completely and utterly against the most horrendous and harrowing idea you will ever have to face in your entire life is a better way to put it.

Chisaki is going to kill me, you think, We’re going to be in one of these court mandated hand-holding sessions and he’s going to think ‘Well. I’m done here’ and then I will be gone.

“What do you think?” Pops asks. The fellow members of the table take a minute to respond.

“Great.”

“Very well.”

“Groovy.”

“Why is he doing this to me?” You whine to your dad, who brushes through your hair. He sighs, looking for the right words to describe Pops.

“He has always wanted… to help.” He settles on, “I think he thinks he’s helping you and Chisaki to get closer as friends, while also helping Chisaki’s germaphobia. I don’t think he realizes that it may not be the best idea.”

And at his heart, he’s always been a matchmaker. In another, kinder, world, Pops would’ve found a nice job as a busybody uncle who always asks you when you’ll bring home a husband.

“But that doesn’t mean he has to sacrifice me.” You mutter, and your dad nods.

“Pops made me do a great many things I didn’t want to when I was younger. I’ve found that many of them ended up helping me in the long run. Who knows? This might help you and Chisaki actually become friends.”

Your dad also looked out the window when Pops had spotted the two of you earlier, and while Pops was tickled with the idea of friendship, your dad noticed the distance and severity of your expressions.

Whatever you two were talking about, it was serious.

Or at least, serious to you two. It was probably just a simple subject made as serious as children can.

However, your dad does mean what he says. He remembers being younger, and thinking his life was over because he was going to have to take care of a prissy yakuza princess.

He was very wrong in the end, and he treasures those moments he shared with her.

(But maybe that’s a story for when you’re a bit older)

The same will most likely be true for the two of you. 

“I’m sure everything will work out.”

Chapter Text

You and Chisaki chat lightly on the porch, discussing the most recent chapter of your shared book. You swing your legs over the edge of it, watching as the sun slips over the horizon. The autumn wind twists through your hair, and you lean back on your hands, closing your eyes as you listen to him resume reading.

It’s nice and quiet out here. Most of the others are inside, either eating their dinners or getting ready for tomorrow. Since it’s just you and Chisaki, you don’t have to pretend to be a kid. He knows you’re much more than what you say, so you’re free to just be you.

And as a bonus, he even seems to be softening towards you!

Today, when you lost at shogi, he didn’t mock you. That’s.. that’s incredible! That’s shocking! That’s stunning!!

(Sure ok yeah he teased you, but teasing is different than mocking, ok? And there was a curve in his lips as he did, got it? It was teasing, plain and simple and friendly)

So yeah. Today has been a pretty good day. 

And hopefully it’s about to get a little bit better.

You slip your hand into your pocket, rubbing the soft material against your fingers. As soon as he finishes reading this chapter, you plan on giving your gift to him.

It had taken you longer than you meant it to, but after enlisting your dad’s willing help, you were able to find the perfect present for him.

Now you just need to collect the courage to actually give them to him.

Ok, just do it. Do it now. Do it. Give him the gift. Go.

You can’t quite get yourself to actually move, though.

You inhale, forcing yourself to at least try and start, and Chisaki stops reading.

Your heart almost stops dead in your chest- how could he realize you were starting to say something so quickly?-  but it starts up again when you hear the door open.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Pops says, sounding almost gleeful as he steps out of the doorway and joins the two of you on the porch.

You open your eyes as he sits down expectantly in one of the rocking chairs. He takes a deep inhale of the crisp air, smiling benignantly at you both.

You and Chisaki share a quick glance, but he starts reading again. This time, he reads slightly more robotically, without the simple emphasis he had added before. Every word is pronounced clearly and calmly, but lacking the tones he added almost subconsciously as he read.

(That’s a shame. You really enjoyed listening to him get into the story)

When he reaches the end of the chapter, you watch his eyes flick up to Pops, looking for approval. He gets in the simple nod Pops sends his way, before he turns to you.

“How have you both managed this past month?”

Though you’re not directly facing him, it’s not hard to hear Pops biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his smile, and you know exactly what he’s thinking.

He’s sure his plan went perfectly, and that the two of you are now absolute best friends.

He’s not… quite correct. Sure, the two of you are on much better terms, and are making your way towards the friend department, and yeah, Chisaki is sitting less than a foot away reading to you, but it’s been a very very long journey here over the past month.

Those early few days though…

Ah…. Those were… how should you put it…

They were pretty rough days, to be sure...

On the first day of your new assignment from Pops, you and Chisaki, by some sort of unspoken agreement, avoid even breathing about it. You two keep a respectable distance from each other, implementing a new daily routine of breakfast, sabō, reading, lunch, shogi, walks, and dinner.

After dinner, Chisaki approaches you. His shoulders are squared. His face is hard as stone. His bottom lip trembles slightly.

He looks like he’s facing his execution.

The two of you separate from the adults, electing for the front porch to be where your solemn ceremony will take place.

His breath is unsteady, eyes focused on some distant point. His thousand yard stare does little to make you feel better.

There’s no point in dragging this out. 

You offer your hand to him without a word.

Chisaki stares down at it like it’s filled with blood.

I will not give any meaningful reaction. This is supposed to be helping. It’ll be over soon enough, you think to yourself, keeping any trace of emotion from coming out onto your face.

Your repeated mantras are a little hard to hold onto when he pulls out a wet wipe. He runs it over your hand, and you feel your eye twitch as you force your face to keep its blank expression.

And then his hand shakes, the most minuscule of motions, and you feel a sudden twinge in your heart.

(That’s right. He’s not… trying to be rude or cruel. He genuinely suffers from mysophobia. And he doesn’t need a child holding his hand, or his father figure forcing himself to do this. He needs a doctor. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing and can really help him)

Finally, the tips of his fingers make contact with the palm of your hand. After a minute of hesitation, he slides the rest of his palm onto yours.

Damn his hand is soft.

You don’t intertwine your fingers, or scoot closer to him, or smile encouragingly. Not like you would with Tenko. You just let him rest it there.

His fingers start to turn red, the path of irritation following up to his hand, a spreading rash of hives not far behind it.

You take your hand back. He stares at the irritated skin for a second, before he retrieves his hand and rests it against his side.

“Don’t push yourself,” you say, aiming for calm and clear. Instead, the words come out far more tender than you’d meant them to. “It’s ok.”

It was hardly a minute, maybe a minuscule bit more, but knowing him, he’d push past his limits if only because he thought it would make Pops proud. He’d go so far as to hurt himself for the glow of approval.

(You’re not interested in hurting him)

Chisaki nods to himself, stands stiffly, and bids you goodnight.

“It’s not ok.”

Takeda watches as the boy who might one day be the next head paces around his room.

Though Chisaki’s position is a bit more precarious since the bastards return, it’s still good to allow the boy to find comfort in him.

(It still will build Takeda future credit as someone the kid trusts, even if that disgusting maggot continues to worm is way back into Lord Hirayama’s home and hearth.

And how idiotic that some members of the Shie Hassaikai still treat Asahi like heir apparent. How foolish to put your trust in someone who’s already betrayed you. Someone who’s already been your Judas. Someone who never cared for you)

Takeda shakes his head briskly when the boy turns his back. No use in entertaining those thoughts.

“You said that Pops is forcing you to do this?” He questions, watching as the kid stops his pacing to sigh exhaustedly as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yes. I don’t understand it. First, he has me babysit. And then now he wishes for me to touch others? It doesn’t make sense. I’m fine. It’s the world that’s messed up.” Chisaki starts moving again, back and forth.

Takeda watches him lazily, weighing his words.

“It must be something more, then. Did Lord Hirayama tell you anything else?”

Chisaki stops.

“Well… he said that having someone watching over Fukumoto’s daughter will make sure he doesn’t run again.”

“Kaneko.” Takeda reminds, and Chisaki nods, “But there you go. Lord Hirayama is doing this because he trust you. This is an important mission, one he’d struggle to assign to someone else. He trusts that you’ll make him proud.“

Apparently that was the perfect thing to say, as the ten year old puffs up. He starts to mutter as he paces, nodding to himself.

“I can make Pops proud, can’t I? By doing this I can bring him honor.”

“Of course.”

Chisaki nods again, though he doesn’t seem fully willing. He thanks Takeda for his advice and leave, much on his mind.

Takeda leans back in his chair, a silent simper on his face.

So, Lord Hirayama’s having the boy keep a mark on the little princess? Smart, though he’d expect nothing else from his leader.

While Takeda owes the man his life, and would never even dream of questioning him to his face, he does worry about the fact that Hirayama’s clear Achilles heel is his sentimentality.

Any other Lord would’ve made an example of Asahi.

Of course, any other man would’ve been made into an example. And yet, the past and the memories that shine from within it kept Lord Hirayama from doing what needed to be done.

Asahi had to be made an example of. Else others would follow the same path. Else others would think Hirayama was soft and close in around him. Else Hirayama would suffer those who would gladly bring pain to him. 

It’s Takeda’s job to protect the Shie Hassaikai. It’s his job to help Lord Hirayama safe.

Whatever that entails.

The third day of your assignment, Chisaki looks like he’s going to faint.

He wipes your hand off again, and you just withhold a sigh. Weeks of this is not going to be fun, but thus is life. What can you do?

(It’s not like Pops is going to listen if you were to beg for a therapist for Chisaki)

You try to keep your compassion extended to today, though the suppressed shiver as he takes your hand doesn’t make you feel any better. You are, at the end of the day, still human, and someone acting like they’ll turn to dust when they touch you does hurt.

He grips your hand like he’s torn between holding tight enough to suffocate and loosening so much he falls back.

All day he’s been shaky, dreading this inevitable moment. So distracted was he that you almost even won your shogi game, though he somehow managed to come in with a sideswipe and crush you again.

A minute passes in uncomfortable silence, as he stares at nothing and you nibble your lip.

More silence.

You tap your shoes together.

He almost reaches over with his other hand, freezes in the air, and then forces himself to lower his desperate-to-itch fingers.

You hum a bit.

He glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Ah, I think that’s enough for today.”

You slip your hand from his grasp just like before, and he stands. His hand is almost swollen, and he scratches at it, listlessly.

You both want no part in this.

“Papa? I know you said that Pops is just trying to help, but I really think he’s making things worse.”

Sora puts down the files he’s been flicking through, watching your serious expression.

“It’s only been a couple of days. What makes you say that?”

“He’s really not doing good,” you admit to him. You’re wringing your hands behind your back, though you’re trying to look less terrified than you feel. “It’s making his scratching worse. He looks like he wants to die every time we hold hands. I'm really scared it's going to bring him a lot of pain."

Sora leans back in his chair. He rubs his mouth, trying to the think of the best way to handle this.

While he personally doesn’t find it the best idea to try and address such a serious problem as mysophobia with hand holding, and he’s adverse to putting you in any situation that could lead to you being hurt in some way, he’s not quite able to just say stop.

Technically he can’t go directly against Pops and say that the two of you should just leave attempting to level Chisaki’s problems to professionals, but at the very same time Pops isn’t likely to realize that there’s trouble enough for that type of intervention until it’s too late to ignore.

(Unfortunately, that’s a bit of a problem of his. It causes much heartache that could be passed by if he was just better at addressing them.

Then again, it was his inability to notice things as such that let Sora slip away so quickly, so maybe he shouldn’t be complaining about it)

“Maybe don’t start with something so heavy. Chisaki suffers from pretty severe germaphobia, right? So touching someone, even if it’s just holding hands, hurts a lot no matter what. Don’t jump right to the worst of the worst. Start with something small.”

“But what would be small? A lot of things hurt Chisaki.”

“You know him better than I do. What do you think?”

As much as Sora wants to help, he’s actually not sure how to handle this specific situation. He tried to work with leading questions, hoping that you’d have an epiphany or an answer of your own that could make everything better, but you still seem just as lost.

You make a soft sound under your breath, turning away and tapping your fingers against the table as you think.

He accepts that as the end of the conversation, and opens back up the files he had been reading.

As a "returning" member, he has to do some extra grunt work in order to prove his loyalty. That includes keeping tabs on fellow yakuza gangs. To get more specific, the Warui Otoko-Tachi have been making some concerning moves recently, and he’d like to nip that in the bud. Maybe sending an enforcer would do the job…

The seventh day, Chisaki doesn’t bring any preamble. You don’t have a chance to try and tell him the plan you’ve been formulating. Despite the fact he looks like he’s going to hurl, he marches over and grabs your hand.

He doesn’t even wipe it off first.

You hardly have a moment to ask why he’s so determined today, as faster than either of the previous times, hives break out. His breath quickens, as his grip tightens around you.

You frown at him, tugging at your hand. He’s not hurting you, but he doesn’t look alive. He seems as though his hearts going to stop at any second. 

No matter what Pops believes about exposure, there’s no reason for him to continue on like this.

“Chisaki, let go.”

“I have to do Pops proud.” He responds. He’s not focused on you. His breath is just shallow puffs in and out, and as you continue to pull at your hand, his reaction gets more and more severe.

(He’s going to irreparably hurt himself. You have to stop him. Now)

“Chisaki, let go of me!”

“I have to.” He grits out.

“Let go!”

You finally rip your hand free of his grip, shoving him away.

He stumbles back, almost falling onto the floor. His hand is wracked with tremors, and he’s left unable to stop them. He clutches at his wrist, holding it away from his body, as though he can force away the hives that continue to grow up his arm.

“I- I apologize. Forgive me.” He begins to scratch at his wrist, clawing almost deep enough to draw blood. “Forgive me,” he mutters agains, still tearing at his skin.

(You're not sure if he's asking you to forgive him for his grip or Pops to forgive him for being unable to do this. All you know is that you were right, and this is making everything worse)

His pupils are dilated, mind obviously not with you. He keeps scratching, the sound making you grind your teeth against each other. Blood starts to bubble out slowly from where his nails have cut deep enough, and your eyes widen as he keeps going.

His nails lacerate at his skin, and yet he still doesn’t stop.

(You need to make him stop you need to do it now)

You reach out desperately, pull back, and then reach out again. Your fingers hover right above him.

(But you can’t move closer)

How can you stop him? It’s not like how Tenko used to be, if you do what you did for him it’ll be worse. If you leave him to scratching, though, he’s going to hurt himself even more.

Already a drop of blood falls, staining the wood of the porch. 

(Just like Tenko)

Another follows it.

(Just like Tenko)

He claws and claws at his arm, and you watch in horror as the hives reach the edge of his shirt.

If he keeps scratching all the way up his arm-

You can’t touch his skin. You can’t grab his hand or pull him away from scratching or grab his face and make him look away from the welts or- wait.

You reach for his collar, yanking at him hard enough that he’s forced to look at you instead of his arm.

“Chisaki!”

He freezes, eyes locking onto your own. You move your face closer, focused entirely on him. He breathes heavily, and you overemphasize your breath-rate in an attempt to get him to copy you.

You haven’t touch his skin at all.

(Not like Tenko)

He slowly starts to copy you, though you’re not sure he’s aware of it.

You’re not friends. You care about saving him and he cares about you as his responsibility.

Jumping straight to addressing deep-seated personal struggles is not how two people should start around each other. It's not the right thing to do here, and despite Pops best wishes and intention, it was never going to do anything but make everything so much worse.

“I apologize.” He repeats stiffly. He’s finally regained control of his mind, and as he steps away you release your grip on his shirt, taking as step back as well.

“Do you have your wipes?”

He pulls them out of his pocket, running the wipe up and down his arm over and over again. He winces slightly as the alcoholic in them sting where he’s accidentally cut himself open.

You stay quiet as he uses a second, and then a third.

When he’s finally clean to his satisfaction, he folds them into fifths and slips them back into his pocket.

You both stand in a stiff silence for a moment, before you move. He steps back rigidly, eyes narrowed and watching carefully, only to falter slightly when he realizes you’re just sitting down.

You pat the spot beside you.

He moves closer slowly, as though a spooked stray. When you don’t do anything but look away, he takes a seat.

You both hang your legs over the side of the porch, neither speaking.

“I… like Pops,” you start, weighing your words, “But… I don’t know if this was a good idea.”

There’s a moment, where he doesn’t seem willing to tell his own truth. His shoulders slip loose of tension slowly, and he exhales.

“Me neither.” Chisaki admits quietly.

“I mean… we’re not even friends!” You toss your hands in the air a bit, and he leans back. “I can’t… help you the way you need now.”

He hums quietly in agreement.

“I’m not going to disobey Pops.” He says firmly. His face is impassive when you glance at him, so you nod.

“I’m not gonna ask you to. I have an idea.”

The eighth day, you implemented your plan.

You sit on the edge of the porch. He sits next to you. You both nod to each other, maintaining a sober silence.

You peer into his eyes. The sunbeams held within them are wary. Neither of you are truly prepared for this.

You take a deep breath. Someone has to take the leap.

And then you start talking.

“My names Fukumoto Hikari. I’m three years old, and I love heroes, books, and my dad. I want to help people when I grow up.”

Chisaki nods solemnly.

“My name is Chisaki Kai. I’m ten, and I’m loyal to the Shie Hassaikai. When I'm an adult, I want to lead the group and bring back our power.”

The two of you aren’t friends. You don’t know anything about each other. The most you two do is compete, playing shogi and debating.

But.

It doesn’t need to stay like that.

You can get to know each other. You can become friends. You can care about each other as people. Maybe you really will be able to help each other, somewhere far down the road in the future.

But that means doing your best to start now. So here you are. 

In the present day, on the porch, while the autumn wind blows, while Chisaki holds the book against his lap as though he has to protect it, you struggle to answer Pops question.

You look at Chisaki, only to find he's already watching you, trying to find the right words to describe your experience.

Do you tell Pops the two of you haven’t touched since that last disastrous time?

If you're being specific, you haven’t been disobeying him, as you’ve been working on trying to get closer, but you know that half the reason he paired the two of you up was in order to address Chisaki’s problems with physical contact.

Then again, since you’re trying to be friends, you are going along with the other half of what he technically implied he wanted you to.

You decide to pull out Old Reliable, pasting your “I’m just a sweet little kid” act on.

“Great! We’ve had a lot of fun! It’s been super awesome hanging out with Chisaki. He’s really good at reading, and super nice to me! I like hearing the stories he tells.” You gush, even going so far as to clasp your hands together excitedly.

(And the Oscar goes…)

“Really!” Pops eyes crinkle with the force of his smile, and both you and Chisaki nod. “What’s he reading to you now?”

“Ah… well… War and Peace…” You trail off, watching as Pops brows raise.

“That’s an… interesting choice.”

(You did not choose the book. Chisaki had brought it with him about a week ago after the two of you started to run out of conversation topic and announced he’d read to you. When you suggested something different, he said you could pick next time.

When you had replied “Next Time?”, barely managing to stifle an eager smile, he merely grunted and started the book)

“It was my suggestion,” Chisaki finally pipes up, and you nod along. “I thought it would be good for her, help expand neglected parts of her mind.”

Your nodding slows as you side-eye him. Sure, he’s protected your secret since you revealed it, but every single time he does he also attaches a shot at you.

What does neglected parts of her mind even mean anyway? What a-

“Punk,” you hiss quietly. Pops doesn’t seem to notice, though the corner of Chisaki’s lips twitch, clearly catching the edge in your tone.

“I see.”

(Pops most certainly does not, but that’s ok)

“Well.” He slaps his knees, standing up. “I suppose I won’t keep you two, then, not if you’re in the middle of something. Goodnight, Lady, and to you as well Chisaki.”

You both bid him goodnight, watching as he heads to his own home in the compound.

It is admittedly getting late. The final rays of the sun are falling over the skyline, leaving the twinkling of the twilight stars up above as house-lights turn on in the surrounding buildings.

“I suppose we should be heading to bed…” Chisaki trails off, reluctantly closing the book in his lap.

You frown, suddenly nervous all over again about giving him your gift.

(What if he doesn’t like it? Or what if giving him this makes it all worse?)

“Why don’t you read a bit more? Just a paragraph or two!” You blurt. While you are trying to buy time, the book is admittedly better than you expected.

“Maybe just a paragraph.” He concedes, continuing, “The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there is dejection and darkness...”

You tune him out just the smallest bit, taking a deep breath.

“Chisaki I have something for you.” You blurt out in one breath, unable to stop the words once they start.

His eyes flick up from the book, and you find you’re unable to maintain contact with them.

(Oh you really hope he likes the gift. You really hope you don’t let it make everything ruinous by giving them to him early)

“These are for you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes are you pull out a pair of gloves. They’re soft, and supposedly easy to keep clean, according to the man who sold you them. “I know you don’t like touching things, so I thought, well, I thought you’d like them.”

You’re not sure when in cannon he got his gloves and mask, and you don’t want to overstep and speed the timeline along. You’d hate to hurt something, to make his germaphobia worse in some way by cutting him off from touching things early.

Or it'd be almost just as bad if someone else gave him his first gloves, and you just stepped in and completely shifted his character arc four steps to the left and three back.

But he always looks so grieved. He looks like he’s suffering, like he’s in so much anguish each time he has to touch something his mind makes him think is unclean that you want to try and make it better.

You just want to help him.

(You’ve begun to care for him as a person. It’s the smallest little bud, but given time, it might just grow to something more)

“These are… for me?” He asks, his voice light and indiscernible. You nod, still unable to meet his eyes.

He takes them from your hands, and you pick at a loose grain of wood on the porch.

“They’re supposed to be easy to clean. Like, if you were to touch something dirty. And they’ll keep your hands clean. So you won’t touch dirty things. So you’ll be ok. And…yeah,” You finish lamely.

He’s quiet, and your anxiety spikes. You lock your eyes onto his hands, which are still and holding the gloves. He hasn’t said a thing.

(He hates them)

You reach out, eager to take them back and end the moment, which is drawing itself out and starting to nip at your heart.

“If you don’t like them I can always take them back, I don’t think that-“

“No.” His tone is quick and clear. He clears his throat, and you watch as he pulls the gloves away from your fingers. “That is, what I mean to say is that the gloves are… nice. Thank you.”

You look up in surprise, his tone catching you off balance. It’s gentle and mild, not at all like how he usually is.

“I… you’re welcome.”

Something changes between the two of you, sudden and unexpected.

You feel the rise in the air, and as Chisaki gazes at you, it’s clear in his eyes he feels it too. And though neither of you are quite prepared for whatever has shifted, you can’t help but feel that it’s for the better.

(You can’t help but feel as though maybe you really can become close. Become friends)

Chapter Text

Dinner, for once, isn’t shared with Pops. Instead, you and your dad are eating with the rest of the yakuza group. They’re a lively lot, people you’ve passed in hallways or seen around the compound all feasting and drinking and laughing together. It’s easier to relax in here than you’d imagine, even with all the extra bodies reaching over each other and shouting to be heard.

You hover near your dad, since Chisaki still has his invitation to eat with Pops and you don’t know the others very well.

From your quiet vantage point, you see something shocking. Something incredible. Something... unexpected.

Your dad is popular.

Very popular, actually, though not for the reason you might’ve feared.

More like cool-guy in the lunchroom popular.

The members of the Shie Hassaikai don’t follow near because he was a traitor. They don’t watch him because they believe he’ll leave again. They don’t stare because they hate him and everything he did.

Oh no.

They like him.

They listen to him.

He’s a myth. A legend.

Stories flew about him when he returned, you in tow, and despite the fact that the truth was that he left, betraying the group that had given him much, an easy lie was spun that he simply was gone caring for you. That Pops had allowed him to leave, to raise his daughter, and that your dad reunited with him of his own volition.

(You, of course, know much different, but when the adults attempt to lie to you, you just nod along)

And now here he is, calmly sitting in the dining room and eating dinner, easy to approach and listen to.

That doesn’t mean they have the guts to, not quite yet. They mostly just sit close, glancing at him not-so-subtly as he tells you to finish eating your vegetables.

Currently, another older member is telling stories that may or may not have happened about your dad, stories that have made even you put down your fork and listen in.

Several of the younger members in the common room are crowded around him, listening intently as he shares anecdote after drama of how things were when your dad was “heir apparent”.

You’re nestled against your dads shoulder, half leaning on him half leaning over him just to get a better position. You looked up at him during one of the more dramatic stories, a clear “wait did that actually happen?” In your eyes, and he shook his head, grinning at you.

Despite the fact the stories apparently aren’t as true as the storyteller would have you believe, they’re still more than engaging. You can almost see the older man’s words curve around the others, entrancing them like they’re children again.

“Imagine it.” The man’s voice is low, hardly above a murmur. “Kaneko Asahi. The Golden Dragon. He’s surrounded on all sides by the heroes who finally think they’ve got him. He raises his hands slowly. All eyes are trained only on him.”

The listeners lean closer, those at the outskirts quieting down to hear more intently.

“They think they’ve outwitted the Fox of the East. Only… he had one last trick up his sleeve.”

Now everyone has gone completely silent, even those gathered on the edges of the room.

“BAM!” The man shouts, slamming his fist into his palm. They jump, and then squeeze even closer, if that’s possible. “His mind. It’s greater than even they could have planned for! He uses his power like a gen-u-ine genius, shining a light so bright the heroes fall back. In seconds he’s got two of them on the floor, the other’s eyes a-burning and keepin them from seeing him as he moves faster than sunshine itself! Boost-boost, fist in the eye! He takes them down quicker than you could ever imagine, a fierce creature unwilling to ever yield!”

The man continues his stories, and as your dad’s character gets larger and larger, each escapade wilder and wilder, you can almost feel the respect for him grow in the room.

It’s strange, almost as though they want to believe the tales. Some of your dads “adventures” are clearly not true, but they still hang onto the narrators every word.

Soon enough thought the man wraps up his tall tales and the others start to disperse, patting your dad and the storyteller on the backs, joking around with both of them like old friends. 

As soon as they’re alone, your dad turns to the man who was telling the story, the laughter he’s been holding back this whole time pouring out.

“It’s really incredible that you still remember all those little details. I seem to remember you darting off at the first sign of trouble, though,” Your dad ribs, rubbing his chin as he pretends to think about it. “And as I recall, it was just a UA sidekick who cornered me in an alley, not 37 heroes. And I’m pretty sure I just punched him. I don’t even think I could use my quirk like that.”

“Bah,” the man waves his hand, as if shooing away your dads words, “Sidekick, UA brat, pro hero, they’re all the same breed of bastard at the end of the day.”

“Oi,” your dad grunts, humor dropping a bit as he places his hands over your ears. “Not around my daughter.”

“Right, right, sorry little princess.” The man concedes, shooting you a grin that’s missing a tooth or two. “Uncle Takumi gets a little carried away sometimes. It’s one of the quirks of being me.”

Oh, yeah. Quirks.

Quirk.

Quirks.

You’ve been in this world for three years, and aware of who and where you are for almost as long. 

Despite the slightly false confidence that you held months ago at the library, when Tenko asked what you thought your quirk would be, you are actually starting to get worried. Every day you get older and older, and yet you still haven’t gotten it.

You’ve done as your dad does, watching as he meditates and soaks up the sun, and you’ve tried to do the same. You’ve even tried to question him about his quirk emergence, looking for any sign of it in yourself.

(He gets a bit antsy when you ask about quirks, though. So much so that he avoids the topic all together, which is just peachy for you!)

Peachy enough that it leaves you to just wonder how in the world you’re supposed to know when a stomach ache means you’re ill and when it means you’re about to get your acid-spit quirk or whatever the hell your body decides to give you!

And you can’t question your mom, because, as Chisaki put it so kindly that first day with him, you don’t have one!

This waiting game literally sucks. Poor Midoriya, spending almost all his life praying for something that wouldn’t come naturally.

(Maybe waiting around for a quirk is a selfish wish. If you can stop the creation of Overhaul and Shigaraki without it, do you really need one?)

You take a deep breath.

It will happen. It’s alright, you just need to be patient.

“Did you really fight like that?” You ask your dad, pushing his hands off your ears and turning wide eyes on him.

He stops talking with Takumi long enough to falter a bit, clearly trying to find a middle between not openly lying to you and telling you the truth about whatever harm he’s done in the past.

We live with the yakuza, old man, I’m very much aware that your past isn’t squeaky clean, you quip to yourself.

“Well… no. You shouldn’t fight people, or hurt others. That’s wrong, even when they annoy you. Uncle Takumi,” he glares at Takumi, who made the cardinal sin of bringing up things you didn’t want your kid to know about in front of said kid, “Just likes to over-embellish his stories sometimes.”

You acknowledge the fact he’s trying to be a good dad and tell you not to fight, but that’s not very important when your goal is combat training. Ignore the fact fighting is mean or whatever, the people long for violence which means you gotta learn ASAP!

“But you can fight! Can you teach me! Pretty please!”

As a hopeful future pro hero, a “UA brat” as Takumi put it so graciously, you’re going to need to fight eventually.

(You very much remember the night you both were brought here, and the way that your dad had fought then. You have no doubt in your mind he could fight a villain off by himself, and you need those skills

So why not start learning now? Especially with the Golden Dragon, the Fox of the West, the one and only “Kaneko Asahi” as your Dad)

“Why would you want to learn to fight?” Your dad says, attempting to diffuse the eager, and slightly concerning, look in your eyes.

“I want to be able to keep safe! Ms. Sato said it’s important for a young lady to know how to protect herself, especially in this world.” You nod solemnly, though that’s not exactly what she said.

In truth, she told you that fighting was a nasty business, one best left to those who didn’t know how to use their wits to get out of trouble, as a bright young woman would. She also said that you should focus on your attention skills since you keep drifting off during your lessons, but you’re not going to tell your dad that part.

“You don’t need to protect yourself,” a new voice joins in, and you scowl at Chisaki. “It’s my job to protect you.”

“But what if you’re not there?” You counter as he hands you a plate of dessert. Your glower slightly lessens as you realize he brought you your favorite. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Why wouldn’t I be there?”

“Well, you’re not there when I go to the park with my dad!”

“You have your dad there. He’s watching you. You don’t need to worry about protecting yourself because there will always be someone else there to protect you.”

“But what if dad gets distracted by Ms. Shimura and Tenko is distracted by the swings and a villain comes around and snatches me up and then I’m gone forever?”

(Unlikely yes but not impossible! Never impossible) 

Several things happen after your, in your opinion, very witty retort.

First, your dad asks “Why would I be too distracted by Nao to notice you getting kidnapped?” To which Takumi, who you’ve slightly forgotten was still here, squawks “Nao! First names, I see!” To which your dad, rather calmly, tells him “Don’t you even start, you twice damned romantic bastard.” To which Takumi waggles his brows and mumbles something too soft for you to hear that makes your dad’s brows fly up and his face turn an alarming shade of angry volcano-red.

Chisaki ignores all of this, though, as he tilts his head at you and says “Tenko? Doesn’t matter. If he’s unable to protect you he’s not good enough. Anyway, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

You blink at the mild spectacle occurring, as Chisaki, hands fully gloved as now they’re always, tugs you away from what looks like your dad choking Takumi and hissing “Not another word you sick freak she’s married and beyond that she’s my friend.”   

But no, your dad wouldn’t do that. After all, he just said that you shouldn’t hurt others even when they annoy you, and you know for a fact Takumi was doing his damndest to annoy your dad.

And so, you and Chisaki go to your regular evening spot, plopping on the porch and sighing in satisfaction as your food settles in your stomach.

(Though he’d probably object to that adjective being used. Oh well)

He picks up where he left off last time, and as you eat your dessert and listen to the dramatic scene he’s reading, you grin to yourself.

Who knew one day you’d be getting the Overhaul, leader of the Shie Hassaikai, and one of the strongest villains in My Hero Academia to read you a sappy drama novel?

This is great. This is actually better than great, this is fantabulous.

Chisaki stops reading abruptly, and you glance at him.

“Why’d you stop? It was just getting good!”

“Why’d you pick this book? It’s a romance.” Chisaki somehow manages to say Romance in the same tone he would Quirks, “It’s not even that interesting. And they’re going through such an idiotic misunderstanding.”

“I am too paying attention, actually. Karasu can’t get over himself and is overthinking Ayame holding his hand. That’s very interesting. And hey! You’re not much better! War and Peace was a romance too!”

Chisaki frowns down at the book.

“Karasu is dumb.”

Your jaw falls open.

“That’s so mean!”

“And he’s much too old for her.”

“He’s only nine years older than her!”

“Exactly. Too old. They’ve got nothing in common.”

“They’re literally best friends.”

“Situational. They’d never spend time together if they weren’t forced to.”

You glare at him, pointing between the two of you. He frowns.

“That’s different.”

“How?! You’re even eight years older than me!”

“Unless you’re still two, you’ve done your math wrong. It’s only eight years and a couple months actually.” 

“More than a couple, it’s almost nine That’s not even the point though, Ayame loves him!”

“I don’t understand why, though. He’s a murderer, a villain, and a man who believes himself great enough that he can tamper with the laws of nature and not expect a pushback.”

“She knows all of that, and she still loves him.”

He watches you for a long minute, clearly not convinced in the all-embracing, all-powerful, and all-encompassing power of love. You prepare for another debate, narrowing your eyes at him, but as he looks at you something seems to give deep inside him.

Instead of starting another argument, he just harrumphs and finishes the chapter.

Tenko, your much gentler friend, is perfectly fine with listening to you rant about how perfect Ayame and Karasu are for each other.

And he won’t talk about how they aren’t right for each other, which they totally are thank you very much.

“Then, and Tenko you won’t believe it, he had the chance to kill her. He was going to, too! But then… the sweetest thing….” You trail off.

“But then the sweetest thing…?” He prompts, managing to look interested despite the fact that he’s confused as to why almost killing someone could be sweet.

“He hesitated. He couldn’t do it. He had his hand right here, right against her face.” You place your hand against his cheek, demonstrating how close Karasu was and accidentally squishing his bemused grin in the process, “And then he just stopped. He stopped before he hurt her. He wasn’t able to do it.”

“Because he loved her?” Tenko manages to get out around your hand.

“Because he remembers her.” You say, as dignified as you can while you poke his face. He nods like he understands. “They were old friends, and he recognizes her. And when he pulls back, he looks in her eyes, and he can’t do it.”

You sigh dreamily as Tenko attempts to puzzle this out.

“So… not killing someone is romantic?”

“Ignore the almost murder, that’s not important. What is is that even when he forgot, he remembered.”

Tenko squints at the sky, as if the answer to what’s romantic and what isn’t will fall from it.

Funnily enough, he’s actually putting effort into figuring this out, using every single inch of his mind. He cares about you, and so he cares about your interests. He wants to know what makes you happy because you make him happy.

This one is just particularly confusing.

While you talk about how romantic Karasu is (this time the scene when he helped track down her father’s killer) and Tenko contemplates what you consider romantic (a revenge mission?), a little girl approaches you both.

“Hi! I’ve seen you around a lot and wanted to play with you! Can I?” She says, and though you smile back at her, your mind is racing.

Alright, normal height, normal hair, normal eyes. No noticeable quirks, and an average countenance.

Your mind runs through as many characters from MHA as it can, trying to see if she fits any of the required criteria for one of them.

Knowing your luck, she’s probably someone super important. Probably someone you need to save, which is going to take up a lot more of your time.

No blonde hair, she’s not Toga. Unless Toga dyes it. Does she?

No, of course not, focus (Y/N) jeez.

Nope! She’s not plot relevant! Background extra number four, thank God. You don’t need to focus energy to saving her. She’s not important!

…

Holy smokes that was so mean.

Holy SHIT you sound like Bakugo-

You’re immediately filled with shock and horror at how your first reaction was that she wasn’t important.

What the hell. Oh dear Lord. Not important. How could you think that.

The little girls face falls slowly as neither of you answer. You’re lost in your mind, too busy flaying yourself for your cruel thoughts to notice the passing of time, and Tenko… his eyes have narrowed slightly. She see Tenko’s face much clearer than you do, the way he edges towards you almost instantly, an expression that hints of suspicion and belonging.

(Of, perhaps worryingly, a sense of possession)

“Never mind. I’m sorry…” she mumbles, turning away. Her tone is enough to snap you out of your head, and your hand darts out, tugging on her wrist.

“No I’m sorry! I was distracted by… how pretty your hair clip is! You can definitely play with us!“ You introduce yourself and she does the same, lighting up once more.

When it comes to Tenko, he frowns, looking at her. As soon as he looks at you, though, he yields.

“Shimura Tenko,” he mumbles, taking your hand.

“Nice to meet you Tenko!” She chirps, holding out her own hand.

“Shimura.” He repeats, and you blink, startled at the sound of it.

What’s up with him?

The girl pulls back for only a second before she recovers again.

“Ok! What do you guys want to play?”

You manage to pick up on the strange vibes between Tenko and the girl, glancing between the two as you suggest a few games. He agrees with you, and though he sounds slightly tetchy, he plays along without complaint.

(You're not quite aware of why though. The truth is simple. As lonely as he had been before you, he wasn’t quite so lonely as to be able to share you)

Soon enough, your life falls into a comfortable routine.

Whenever you wake up, you join your dad on the porch. The first few times you’d done so, you dozed off, but now you have no trouble staying awake with him.

Sometimes you two sit for an hour, sometimes only a few minutes. However long you have, the two of you enjoy the morning, sharing a simple bite of breakfast and talking softly as the sun rises higher in the sky.

After, Ms. Sato summons you for your lessons. She does teach you sabō, but she also starts to teach you a sort of social studies, blending decorum with insight in an attempt to help you be better at studying people.

(As a “bright young woman” as she puts it, you’ll need that skill in pursuit of whatever career you’ll have. You, however, plan on using it to achieve your own goals)

After you finish, Chisaki picks you up, starting his shift of babysitting. The two of you often go to the library, and relax for an hour or so, enjoying the late morning light while pursing your own interests. 

Then you eat lunch, bug Kuua for treats, walk a few laps around the inner courtyard, and debate.

The conversations are, and maybe you shouldn’t use this word, fun. You both are taking it only mildly seriously, but it’s keeping your mind active, which doesn’t happen nearly as often enough.

Sure, you have the tutoring sessions your dad signs you up for, but they hover around first or second year teachings. You’re all aware of multiplication, thanks.

Your debates force you to think.

Then you play a few rounds of shogi, though it’s not as competitive as it was the first few days. Your games are getting longer, though!

(Partially because you’re getting better and partially because you’re too busy talking to make a move)

After that the two of you head back inside, keeping yourselves entertained and simply being near one another. Then dinner, after which you get ready for bed with your dad, and then, directly before bed, you have your porch reading sessions.

As time passes you get closer to the Shie Hassaikai, finding the members to be really just people.

Ms. Sato is still as firm as steel, though she pats your head fondly when you do good. The “average” men you’d met the first night, whom you’d dubbed Tweedledee and Tweedledum, actually are brothers named Ichiro and Saburo, and the man who’d driven the car was called Yori.

Kuua, the compound chef, has never been anything but doting to you, and you return the favor by trying to help her get Ms. Sato’s attention.

Takeda doesn’t bother you as much anymore, though his eerie eyes follow you still and he occasionally asks you pointed questions about your father. You do your best to ignore him, and Chisaki always steps in when he senses trouble.

(You didn’t think he’d care to remember when you admitted you didn’t like being near Takeda, and yet without fail Chisaki’s there any time the mans eyes even trail near you)

Beyond that, though, you also get closer with the Shimura’s! You meet Mr. And Mrs. Magi, Nao’s parents, and they fawn over you, slipping you candy while your dads back is turned. Nao still thinks you're adorable, treating you like a darling niece. Hana is always a treat, and you see her during the weekly additional library lessons. 

(You haven't met Kotaro yet, though. You worry about the day you will)

Tenko remains your dear friend, and every day that passes makes Chisaki more and more a good companion.

Your dad, the ever present, ever reliable part of your life, continues strong, ready to stand in your corner whenever you need him to.

Your life is full to the brim of laughter and a sense joy that manages to seep into every corner.

Fall continues her march, the winds getting colder and colder while you stay warm, wrapped in love.

And just when you’ve gotten used to your lovely little life, everything changes.

The day starts normal. You wake up. You join your dad on the porch. The two of you quietly enjoy the sunlight.

Only, today you feel… weird. Your hands itch like crazy, and the more you try to ignore them the greater the sensation.

Your chest burns as well. It feels like flames are licking up from your stomach to your lungs, blazing a path as it turns your skin to ash. You cough lightly and clear your throat several times, all in an attempt to release the smoke.

“Are you feeling alright, kiddo?” Your dad asks, looking worried. He nudges your water closer and you drink it greedily, desperately trying to stifle the flames. “Do you think you’re catching a cold?”

Maybe, but you don’t feel sick. You feel like if you could just cough hard enough, your lungs would clear. If you could just reach your hands deep enough, you’d be able to pull the embers out of you and be alright again.

(Is this how Tenko feels all the time? No wonder he always asks for your dad to use his quirk and calm his skin)

“I think I’m just thirsty.” You say, sipping at your water. Your dad clearly doesn’t believe you, but he nods.

“Hold still,” he tells you, placing the tip of his finger against your neck. Heavens Light seeps from his hand and soothes your throat a bit, but the burn persists in your stomach.

“Thanks, Papa.”

He frowns at his hand, disappointed in his own lack of ability.

“I can’t heal sicknesses, but I can try to sooth the symptoms. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sick.” You repeat stubbornly.

You’re not. You know you’re not. If you were sick, you’d feel different. This feels like something you can expel if you just focus enough. A cold or the flu doesn’t feel that way.

Something else is going on.

The feelings persist through your day, so much so that when Chisaki happens to drop an insult about Karasu all you’re able to do is glare weakly at him.

He stops talking to watch you, taking a step back when you clear your throat for the dozenth time that day.

“Are you… sick?” He demands. You shake your head.

“No.” You try to say, but it comes out more like a croak than a word. He takes another step back, scrunching up his nose in the process. “I’m not sick.”

“Right. So you say.”

He keeps his distance from you the rest of the day, going so far as to cover his nose, like you could spread whatever’s causing you to feel like this.

He claims he doesn’t want to catch whatever illness is plaguing you and that he has too much to do before he dies. Preferably not from an illness.   

(It would be unfair, if you were really sick, for you to go out like this. A disease? Really? With a dad who can heal everything but a cold? If this is what kills you then the universe is cheating)

The inferno stays the next few days, but you get much better at hiding it.

“Tenko! Hey hello hi, I’m here!” You grit out through the rasp that hooks in your throat. His eyes light up as soon as he sees you, and when you offer a hug he accepts easily.

The two of you talk, and though you’re fighting your own body for your life, you do manage to scrape together enough to be able to play with him.

The same girl as before joins the two of you, and you smile at her as Tenko takes your hand.

After she suggests hide and go seek, you and Tenko rush to hide while she turns around to count.

“Shhh, Tenko, you’re not supposed to follow me to my hiding spot!” You playfully chide, only to pause when you see his face. “Are you ok?”

“Does she have to play with us?” He mumbles, and you blink at him once.

He never seemed to have trouble playing with others before. In fact, you used to play tag with a revolving door of any kid that happened to show up. Did something happen? Was she mean to him when you weren’t paying attention?

(Did you miss her hurting him?)

“Is it bad if she does?” You ask, trying to shift so you’re looking him in his eyes.

He frowns, looking away.

“I just want to play with you.” He mutters, kicking at the dirt.

“Oh.”

It’s just child-like jealousy, then. That’s easy, that’s simple. That’ll pass in time. That’s nothing to worry about.

(Wrong wrong wrong. You’re so very wrong)

“Well, we can play with her a little while, and then just play me and you! How does that sound?” You suggest.

He hesitates, and then nods.

“Ok, I guess.”

“Found you!” The girl shouts, popping out from behind the slide. You jump and pale, praying she didn't hear your conversation. “Hey, what’s up with you guys?”

“Nothing! You just scared me!” Thank goodness, she doesn’t seem to have. “My turn!”

You manage to get Tenko to at least pretend to play along while the girl is there. As soon as she leaves, though, he truly brightens up, running around and laughing with the same open smile you’ve come to love.

You both dart around, making up everything as you go along and finding meaning in it all the same, before you find yourself on top of the tallest metal slide on the playground. 

“Are you gonna go?” Tenko asks you, not unkindly.

“I will! I just wanna look around first.” You stick out your tongue at him playfully, and he does the same back.

The view isn’t anything special truth be told, you’re just up high. You can see farther into your city, watching a few people walking laps around the park. There’s a young couple over there holding hands, and an older woman feeding the birds.

You smile, taking a deep breath. The cool air soothes the burn inside you, and you close your eyes.

Your life is pretty darn good if you do say so yourself. You’ve got nothing to complain- oh look at that you’re falling.

You slipped. Or did something bump you? You can’t tell. That doesn’t matter, anyway.

All that does is your desperation, scrambling for foothold or something to hold onto, the pads of your fingers slipping uselessly against the metal bars of the structure while your nails scratch at it. They peel back the paint, the smooth metal underneath offering you no salvation, and the back of your knees bump into the steel of the slide, sending you careening backwards.

You catch a glimpse of Tenko’s terrified face and his leap forward, hand held an inch away from you, hoping to save you from your descent.

The tips of his fingers barely glance you, and as you fall backward you just hope the landing won’t break more than your dad can fix.

Your fall is quieter than you think it should be, despite the fact you can feel yourself screaming. You see Tenko’s face above you, watching from the slide, mouth open in a silent shout.

And then, as your breath escapes you, the ground getting ever closer, you feel the magma in your lungs rise up and out in a mighty exhale, the fire quenched just as you make contact with the ground.

Only… the ground doesn’t hurt. Your landing feels like you’ve been cushioned by something. Sound comes back, and you hear your dad shouting as he gets closer.

You crack open your eye slowly, inhaling sharply at the sight that greets you. You raise your hand, watching the twisting energy covering it, a mixture of colors that blend and combine in a beautiful display.

The slightest bit of effort, and you’re floating further up. You look down, twisting slightly, and grin.

A giggle slips out at first, and then a full laugh. You push a bit more and the energy falling off of you sends you higher.

“Tenko!” You shout, looking up at him. The relief of his face is palpable, and he climbs down, running closer to you.

“You-you got your quirk! You look beautiful!” He blurts. His slams his hand over his mouth, but you miss that, laughing and trying out your newfound ability.

You’re flying. You’re flying! You’re actually flying!

It’s uneven and janky, a stuttering thing that sends you left and right, down and up at the slightest but of too much motion, but it’s still flight.

The energy falling off you propels you from side to side, the dizzying display of colors making your smile even larger.

“I got my quirk!” You shout joyfully, stumbling as your feet connect with the ground. Tenko catches you, and you grin up at his face. “I got my quirk.”

You don’t have control over it, and as your dad’s steps slow, the energy vanishes into the air. You turn your hand over, looking for any residual sparks, only to find nothing. Tenko takes your hand in his own, trying to see if he can find any trace of it, and you squeeze his hand.

“Oh sweetheart, you scared us.” Nao says from where she followed your dad, hand over her chest like it can slow her racing heart. A shaky laugh slips out, and she manages to smile at you, though it’s clear it still pounds. “Goodness. Congratulations, though, honey you got your quirk!”

You smile up at her, and turn to your dad. His face has pulled into itself slightly, eyebrows folding towards each other and mouth pressed small. His eyes are distant, and he looks away for a second, before looking back at you.

You falter a bit, squeezing Tenko’s hand tighter as your dad forces a tired smile.

“You… got your quirk.”

Chapter Text

Yours dad reaction is startling, to say the least, and not just to you. As the silence drags on, Nao shoots him a look and Tenko tugs you closer.

“Well! I have an idea.” Nao claps her hands together, smiling as her eyes dart between you and your dad. “Why don’t we go get a treat to celebrate! How does that sound?”

“That sounds great!” Tenko pipes up. Both pick up on the fact that something’s wrong, though whatever it is exactly escapes them.

It escapes you, too, as your dad looks like he ages in an instant.

“That sounds nice,” Your dad says, though his voice is thick. “What do you want to get, Hikari?”

You stifle your jolt. He doesn’t call you by the name he gave you very often. It’s mostly saved for serious situations, or when he’s trying to get your attention. What does it mean when he calls you by it now?

“What about ice cream?” You suggest.

“It’s cold.”

“I like ice cream.”

“I know.” Your dad nods, the regretful grin on his face telling on his grief.

You’re not sure why he’s so upset that you’ve gotten your quirk. Despite your fear, it was an eventuality, wasn’t it? There was no real reason for him to be so upset, was there?

What does he know that you don't?

In spite of the heavy air hanging around the four of you, your group manages to navigate through the park to the stand that sold treats and drinks to anyone happening to pass by. It was a cute little place, and normally you were in much greater cheer when you went. 

The woman working there picks up on the very strange energy that clouds you all, based if only on the way her brows shoot up, but makes no mention of it as your parents make their requests. Nao orders a gelato, and your dad something small that he picks at as the woman turns to you and Tenko.

“I wanna do ours,” Tenko requests, and Nao nods. She hands him a few yen bills, and then tugs your dad away. His morose face follows you, and you do your best to shake it off.

She and him sit off to the side at a raised table, and it’s clear from her expression and soft tone she’s attempting to glean from your dad why, exactly, he seems to be in such a funk.

“I bet I can guess your favorite.” Tenko says, interrupting your own thought process.

You smile at him indulgently, trying to ground your mind.

(You really need to paint your face back on. So your dad was bummed that you got a quirk, something you’ve been desperately waiting around for, so what! Who cares? It’s no big deal at all)

“I bet you can’t.”

“Bet I can!”

He turns to the woman running the stand, standing up straighter in the way all children do when given a task they think is adult.

“Ex-cuse me,” his voice gets slightly quieter, but when she smiles at him it gains strength, “Could I please have a death by chocolate milkshake? And for my friend…”

Sure enough he guesses your favorite. Somehow, without even a moment stutter, he says it.

It’s not really a big deal, but you’re still surprised.

He really does know you that well.

Tenko's eyes flick over your face, and your shock turns to joy when handed your order.

“I told you!” He beams as you dig into your treat, hardly even starting his own milkshake.

“You were right!”

The two of you take a seat on the curb, watching bikers and runners go by, and pointing out anything that catches your eye, ranging from a dog that looks like it’s owner to a leaf that’s the perfect shade of red.

He keeps glancing at you from the side of his eyes, as though trying to gauge how you’re feeling now.

“Can you show me your quirk again?” Tenko asks. You pause, looking over to your dad instead of him.

Your dad is talking to Nao, a sort of stutter-start-stop to his words. He’s explaining his reaction rigidly, and you know without even hearing him that he’s probably lying too. She’s watching him carefully, studying his face.

They’re not paying much attention to you or Tenko, and despite your dad’s reaction you are eager to see it once more.

With one last furtive glance to your dad, you nod.

The two of you crowd closer together, leaning over as your hand as you hold it out, trying to will you quirk into activation.

Nothing happens, and you think back to how it was first activated.

Do I have to be in danger to activate it? That would be a pain. But there was also that exhale thing. Is that how it starts?

You grunt slightly, eyes narrowing as you force that same push through your arm.

It feels like waking up your hand after sleeping on it, a pins and needles sensation that falls away as your hand ignites with the same energy.

He coos over it, and then reaches out, running his hand through it.

“It’s warm.” He notes, “And so colorful! It feels… kinda tingly.”

“I wonder why it tingles…” And also why you’re not lifting off the ground now. Even if the bit of energy you’re setting out isn’t enough to fly, your hand should be floating up at least, right?

But no. You’re able to move it around, watching as the energy roils around your hand, spiking here and there before slipping back against your skin. It's mostly a pretty peachy-sunset color, but here and there other colors slip through. 

You wonder what causes that.

Maybe it’s the amount you’re putting out? Or the surface area needs to be greater? Or, is it the mental focus on flying, like how you really weren’t keen on breaking a dozen bones after your fall and that activated the output for flight?

It is pretty warm though. Feels nice, especially as the wind blows a bit colder.

Man, you could really use Midoriya right now. He’d probably have seven dozen theories at once, and four more already on the slow cookers.

Well, you might not have him, but you do have Tenko.

“What makes your dad able to heal?”

“Mhm. HIs quirk, like, super charges your cells, smooths all that stuff out. Something about the energy output, I think.”

“So maybe your quirk… makes the energy come out like a fighter jet! It’s just super charged energy that spouts!” He puts his hand against your own. “It feels really nice. Like, your dad’s quirk kinda makes you relax, but yours feels jittery. Like when Dad let me have a sip of his coffee.”

“Cool,” you whisper.

“You know…” He trails off, interlocking your fingers with his own, “It really is pretty.”

“Aw, Tenko…” You cut your quirk as you pull him into a hug, almost dropping your treat in the process.

You can tell he’s been doing his best to cheer you up after your dads reaction was what it was, and you can’t help but love him for it. Despite the fact that you weren't matching his mood as he had talked earlier, he still tried his best to make you happy. He still brought up your quirk, even when he saw your dads reaction, all because he knew it would make you smile again.

He’s so good.

“You’re my best friend Tenko. I don’t think I tell you that enough.” The words are genuine and true, and he can tell.

“You’re mine too!” It’s not as serious to him, but to you…

You squeeze him tighter, and then release. You don’t want to break the hug just yet, but you also don’t want your dessert to melt on him.

He grins at you, lopsided and silly wit his eyes closed, before pointing at one of the pretty oddly dressed bikers making his way down the trail and leaning towrds your 

“Do you think his mom made him wear that helmet?”

You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you. Winter is well on its way, and she’s leaving her mark on you, nipping your nose into a bright frostbitten pink. The clouds are blocking the sun, and everything is starting to turn a very drab shade of grey.

You stomp back and forth, attempting to warm up your toes in your boots. It is so so icy cold outside, and your dad is trying to impel some fatherly wisdom to you.

This is so not the time, though.

The two of you are standing on a bridge overlooking a river, your dad gesturing to the water below.

It flows on, never the same, and there’s a lesson in there about people he’s trying to get you to understand.

You’re kind of zoned out.

Understandably zoned out! It’s cold! You don’t know why you’re out here! You’re hungry! It’s cold!

“Do you understand, kiddo?” Your dad asks, turning to you.

You nod rapidly, deciding to just say whatever it takes to get back inside to the house where it’s warm.

“Good. I thought you would, being so smart and all.” He ruffles your hair, almost dislodging the ribbon tying it back. “Now, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about...”

Oh Lord, here we go again

You rub your hands together, glaring at your dad who seems perfectly fine with the cold. Not like he’s kept warm by the fact he’s a grown man and you’re a little girl or anything. 

In fact, he’s just standing there! Just talking! Just perfectly fine! Not even with his hands in his pockets!

Unfair.

Though… maybe you do have something the even the scales a bit.

You angle your body away from him, just slightly, and focus on your hands.

Your quirk won’t heat you up much, but it will warm you. And you just want to keep warm, this weather is an absolute bane.

C’mon… C’mon, just a little bit more. Just a little push and you’ve got it, c’mon then.

Your hands begin to glow, slowly catching color. Your palms warm up, and you smile, sighing satisfied.

All you want to do was warm up a bit.

“Further, for one to be able to- Hikari!” Your dad’s covering your hands with his own in a second, head turning swiftly as he surveys the others enjoying the river. “I thought we told you not to do that.”

“I- I just wanted to get warm, it’s so cold out here!” You defend, trying to put out the energy you had been so fine with releasing a heartbeat ago.

“Just stop, turn it off.” His voice turns hoarse and sharper, keeping your own hands in between his palms.

“I’m trying!” It spikes once more before turning off entirely, reacting to your emotions. Your dad sighs, resting his head against your paired hands.

“Please don’t do that anymore. I know you’re excited to have your quirk, but you have to hide it. Just a little while longer, ok, just while I think.”

“But why?”

He opens his mouth, closes, opens, and then closes it again.

“It could be dangerous. We haven’t gone to the quirk doctor yet, and I don’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

Liar.

You know that’s not the real reason. When he first told you, you nodded and accepted it, but it’s been three days. He hasn’t mentioned it since. He’s not actually worried about taking you to a quirk doctor. He’s worried about something else.

Something he won’t tell you.

“Fine. I won’t use it until we go to the doctor.”

Neither of you notice the shadowy figure that slips away.

What you do notice, however, is Ichiro and Saburo waiting for you and your dad when you get back to the compound.

“Boys?” Your father greets, already able to tell that somethings wrong.

“Hello Kaneko. I was wondering when you’d return!” Takeda steps from the shadows like a cliché villain, grin ill-fitting to his face. Your dads face falls into something approaching unamused, and you hear the barely muttered "Good grief".

“Takeda.” Your dad attempts to keep walking, but Ichiro and Suburo stop him. “I see.”

Great. Your lips twist just like his own, Here we go again.

Perhaps your reaction is a bit hohum. It’s not that you’re not nervous. You simply been through a bit already in this universe, and you’re more than prepared for more to come your way.

“Lord Hirayama would like to speak with you.”

Takeda leads you to Pop’s office, bouncing on the toes of his feet the whole time. Your dad sighs and rolls his eyes.

That’s… odd.

When you finally open the door, Pops looks up from his papers, a frown on his face.

“Takeda? Asahi? What’s this about?”

“Lord Hirayama,” Takeda’s voice is grave, “There is something you need to know.”

Pops sits up straighter.

“What? What’s wrong?” He looks at you, as though you know what Takeda’s going on about, and you shrug, just as confused.

If there’s something serious, your dad would know, wouldn’t he? Is this why he didn’t want you to use your quirk? Maybe you were too hard on him, after all-

“Kaneko’s daughter got her quirk.” He points an accusing hand at you and your dad, and your mouth drops open, “And he chose to hide it from you."

Wait, what?

Takeda preens as Lord Hirayama glowers upon the disgraced face of Kaneko.

“It’s true. I saw it with my own eyes. His daughter activated her quirk on the Tanabata bridge, and he desperately tried to hide it! How he could choose to do this, I cannot imagine. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” Takeda points an accusing finger at the pair in the doorway, and you frown, looking confused.

But of course you’d be confused, ill-mannered little brat. You’re probably just like your disgrace of a father, expecting the world to be handed on a silver platter to you, clean for your picking.

Disgusting. 

“Asahi. Is this actually happening?”

A sick grin starts its crawl across his face as he watches Kaneko look down, unable to meet Lord Hirayama’s gaze.

And you, the little princess, your eyes keep darting from person to person before they settle on him. He makes clear his feelings on this matter through his own stare, and you squeeze your father’s hand tighter.

“I don’t know why he keeps doing this.” Kaneko rubs at the bridge of his nose, but Takeda isn’t listening. 

Finally! Kaneko has no excuse! He will be forced to admit that he lied to Hirayama, that he never told him when you got your quirk, and his deliberate disobedience will cost him!

Takeda closes his eyes, grinning to himself.

Finally. He’s given Lord Hirayama an excuse to free himself of Kaneko. He’s doing his job.

He’s keeping Lord Hirayama safe.

“Ichiro, Suburo you may leave. Takeda, explain yourself. Now.”

Yes, he’s-!

What?

“I- Lord Hirayama, his daughter has a quirk!”

“Yes.” Pops nods, “I know this.”

Wait. No. No.

“But… he was trying to hide it.” Takeda tries weakly.

“Because we didn’t want the others to know yet. It was meant to be a surprise. A child getting their quirk is often cause for celebration, after all. Wait.” He holds up his hand, “How did you know?"

“I…” But… no, Kaneko wanted to hide it so much… there has to be more. “I didn’t trust him, so I had him followed.”

He looks back at you and your father, and the pair of you have a matching expression of Are you being serious right now? on your faces.

“You used Shie Hassaikai resources to have another member… tailed?” Lord Hirayama asks, and the thinly veiled anger in his tone does not go unnoticed.

“I was just trying to help.” Takeda defends himself, though his heart isn’t in it.

“Help? Can you imagine if the other yakuza’s heard about this? This… this infighting? I have enough trouble with the Warui Otoko-Tachi without you making more trouble for me!”

Takeda flinches back at the roar, guilt rising in his stomach.

He was just trying to do what was right! He was just keeping Lord Hirayama safe!

“Chisaki,” Hirayama calls, and the boy steps from the darkness. Takeda hadn’t even known the kid was there listening.

You hadn’t either, as your eyes widen and soften as you take him in. Lord Hirayama is talking, but Takeda watches as Chisaki inclines his head slightly in greeting to you, the slightest hint of reassurance in his eyes.

By God, you’ve even managed to get him around your finger. This must be some extended part of your fathers plan. Some... some plot to control those nearest to power. First Lord Hirayama, now Chisaki. 

No. How is everyone falling for this act?! This is a trick! A lie!

No. This isn’t fair. It isn’t right.

Chisaki walks over to you, nudging your shoulder slightly. You glance to your dad, who nods, and then the two of you leave.

He clearly missed something, but he turns to his leader when Kaneko does.

“Asahi, how many times has Takeda attempted to report you so far?” Lord Hirayama asks, looking aged.

“Seven times since me and my daughter returned.”

“Oh for the Gods… I wish to speak with you both,” Lord Hirayama sighs, “Clearly there is something buried causing this… trouble. Come, now, let us set matters straight.”

Takeda glares at Kaneko.

“Kaneko has betrayed you time and time again! He left, he stole from you for three years, he embarrassed you in front of all the others!” Takeda spreads his hands, voice almost pleading, “I don’t understand how you can keep forgiving him, even after all this time!”

“I am attempting to keep us all together. The men who nip at my heels do enough damage. Why must you continue to tear at each other?” Lord Hirayama rubs at his forehead, “Takeda, I understand you felt betrayed when Asahi first left. He betrayed us, yes, and you in particular, but he has seen the error of his ways. He’s proved his loyalty ten-fold since he’s returned.”

“I- I’m doing this for you, sir. I’m trying to keep you safe!” Takeda defends, taking a step forward.

Can’t He understand? This is for His own good. He’s doing good.

“Takeda. Listen to me. I thank you for trying to help, but you are simply making things worse. You are destabilizing what I am trying to build up.”

Takeda steps back, face paling.

No. No he’s doing good. His actions can’t be hurting his Lord. He would never dream…

“Beyond even that, you are straying from the path of humanity. Your accusations, though baseless, could’ve caused much more trouble. Imagine how the others would react to hearing Asahi was betraying us again? Though a lie, it could’ve costed him his life. His daughter too. We have regulations in place for a reason. Remind me one of the tenants of our organization?”

“Should you have issue with your brother, you must approach him first. Do not make trouble where there is no need. First, make peace with your brother, then go on your way.” Both Takeda and your father recount, rather dully in tone.

But… Takeda thinks, I was hoping… I wanted… I thought that…. I thought Kaneko finally would get his just comeuppance. I wanted that outcome. I wanted…

“Do not request a meet with me again without a genuine situation. Stop hounding Asahi. Stop bringing him trouble.”

“Understood.” Takeda mumbles.

“Dismissed. I need to speak with Asahi.”

As Takeda leaves, torn between his rabid desire to destroy your dad and all he holds dear, and his fervent desire to make Lord Hirayama proud and bring him honor, your father’s lifeless eyes follow him.

Chisaki doesn’t take you outside, as you thought he would. Instead, he walks over to a pot, pulls it back, and puts a code in the board that pops up. Your eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes you into the tunnels under the building.

Christ, you’d forgotten about these. It was such a big part of the Shie Hassaikai arc, and now that you’re down here actually seeing them...

They’re a bit lackluster.

They’re smaller than they are in cannon, and a lot darker too. You wrinkle your nose as you look around them, taking an unconscious step closer to Chisaki.

“Are you scared?”

“No!”

“There’s nothing down here.”

“I know!”

Of course there’s nothing down here. The tunnels just… aren’t very inviting. It’s easy to imagine something down here, and that almost makes it worse.

“When I’m in charge, this is the first thing I’ll change. These tunnels are from Pop’s father’s era, and haven’t been cleaned in just as long. Pops thought it’d be good to take you down here, so you wouldn’t be stared at by the others.”

You hum in acknowledgment, and the two of you walk in silence for a minute.

“So. You got your quirk.” He says, and you nod.

You had wanted to tell him first, but your dad had dragged you over to Pops and told him all about it. Pops was tickled pink, excited for you, much like Nao.

You expect, and are honestly prepared, for Chisaki to react like your dad had.

“What is it?”

“Oh. I’m not quite sure.” You force it out, exhaling as the feeling pulses through your limbs. Flying is still something you’re getting used to, and your stomach clenches slightly as you move jerkily through the air. “I think it’s a form of energy manipulation! Or expulsion? One of the two”

“I see.” He keeps up his pace, tone clinical, and you twist, attempting to keep up with him. “How long can you maintain it?”

“I’m also not sure about that.” You turn again, into an almost backstroke position.

“Is this all you can do with it?”

“Maybe! I’ll have to see.”

His eyes are narrowed and his lips twisted. He doesn’t like it. But as he’s ok with you now, he makes no further comment.

The two of you continue to walk laps, and you keep testing out new positions to fly in.

There’s, of course, the standard Superman position, but you also try and walk, focusing the energy on your feet (and almost bumping into the ceiling), try to swim (you swear you hear a stifled chuckle, but Chisaki would never admit to it) and just boosting from your hands (if you put out enough energy, you can float from them. With more practice, you could probably use your hands and feet as boosters)

You keep testing your new ability, while Chisaki just watches you. He doesn’t say anything, an inscrutable thought in his eyes.

(You don’t think he blinks the entire time, as if he’s just soaking up the image of you dancing around in the air. It feels weird, but you try and ignore him. You’re not going to feel embarrassed for practicing with your quirk, you need this skill sharp as iron)

You speed up a bit, pushing more of the energy out of your hands and feet instead of focusing it around your torso. You pick up speed, but at the same time it feels super weird.

Hmm, you think to yourself, Maybe when the energy coats my whole body, it acts like a sort of shield, cutting down on wind resistance? I wonder….

You push harder, sending even more to your feet and speeding up even faster. A sharp left and you’re out of Chisaki’s sight, a whole empty hallway of a straight shot right ahead of you. You grin, pushing even more as you light up the hallway your fly down.

Flying is fun. Even discarding that quirks are serious business and all, they’re so fun. It’s no wonder Bakugo kept sending out tiny explosions from his hands, you’re having the time of your life as air cuts past your face and the walls speed by and all the colors of your quirk paint you skin and-

And it cuts out.

Rather unexpectedly, too.

Yikes.

“Oh-!” You manage to get out before crashing onto the floor, completely front-first, your head slamming into the ground.

You feel something snap in your face, the abrupt pain sending tears to flood your eyes.

Just as Chisaki finally catches up to you, your nose starts to bleed. He frowns at the sorry sight you’re sure you make, bloody and teary and scuffed from the floor.

Blood dribbles down your face as you cry, and you turn, hiding your face from him.

(He probably thinks you’re a gross mess right now. He’s probably thinking something terribly mean that’s also whip quick, and you have no interest in hearing it)

You sniffle, wiping at your nose, only to jolt back when he’s suddenly squatting in front of you.

Chisaki studies your face for a second, before he heaves a mighty sigh.

“Good grief.” He mutters, pulling off a glove. “Hold still.”

He places a finger against your nose, brows furrowed, and you flinch away.

He opens his mouth, scowling at you and your reaction, ready to berate you for it.

He stops.

His eyes soften.

“Apologies. Hold still. Please.” He’s much more gentle this time, holding your face still with his gloved hand and gently brushing the tip of his fingers against your nose with his other one.

You close your eyes tightly, expecting it to hurt. After all, he’s using his quirk on your face. In the anime, every time he used it, it was supposed to cause pain.

And yet, it doesn’t feel like much. For a second, you feel the briefest flicker of a shock, almost like electricity, and then you’re able to breathe through your nose again.

Your eyes flutter open, Chisaki an inch away, face still screwed up in focus. He finally leans back on his heel, shuffling through his pockets for something, and you raise your hand to your nose.

It’s... better. He healed it.

He healed it?

“Don’t touch your nose.” He grouses, tugging your hand away and giving you one of his wet wipes. “Here. Clean the blood off your face.”

You take the wipes, still in a faint sense of shock, and watch him flick his hand through the air, as if to stave off the patch of red showing the automatic irritated reaction of his body.

“You… fixed my nose.”

“Well, yes. I did. I suppose I should explain how-“

“Why?”

“Because you gave me the idea. Your whole tirade about how I could do so much with my quirk.” He twists his wrist in a lazy circle, rolling his eyes along with it. His tone makes clear that he’s not thinking much of it.

“No, I mean… why’d you fix it?”

He stops, putting the wipes he had been cleaning his hand with back into his pocket. He puts back on his glove, carefully making sure the seam lines up with his wrist, and then stands.

He offers you his hand.

You take it slowly, and he tugs you to your feet.

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” he says gradually, the words coming out at a leisurely march. There’s a pause, in which you’re about to thank him, before he keeps talking. This time he’s quieter. “And… I didn’t feel right, seeing you hurt.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You almost perk up, ready to have a pleasant conversation with him, when he pulls out the shot he always has to take. “Anyway, you need to be more careful. You don’t know your quirk limits yet. You always leap without looking.”

“Alright alright, jeez. I get it.” You step away, frowning. “How long do we have to spend down here?”

“Pops is trying to make peace between your father and Takeda. I imagine we’ll be here for a while. You don’t seem too upset that your quirk is gone.”

“Papa’s quirk does the same thing sometimes.” You shrug, still marveling over your nose. “Like when he runs outta sunlight. And we’re underground, so…”

So you’ve probably just run out of energy too. Ah, you probably should’ve expected that.

You were just so excited, though! And flying… it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

Now that you have your quirk, you’d love to pepper your dad with questions.

Actually, speaking of questions…

There’s something you’ve been meaning to ask him.

“Chisaki? Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Didn’t you just?” He replies wryly. You roll your eyes.

“Seriously.”

“Anything can be asked.” The But not everything is answered is unspoken but not unheard.

“Why do you dislike quirks?”

His eyes flick over to you for a second before he frowns and looks away.

“When we first met, you said that I didn’t have a mother. How did you know?”

You lean back on your heels, tilting your head. When did you say that?

You think back as best you can, pulling up your first conversation with Chisaki. It was an uncomfortable, awkward, and honestly embarrassing one, but the moment he’s talking about stands out.

He had been listing off reasons you shouldn’t smile, and one of them was that you didn’t have a mother. You had retorted that he didn’t either, something you knew because you had read the manga and watched the anime.

But you can’t tell him that. This is real life now, after all.

“I… guessed. You were here with Pops, alone, so I thought maybe…” You trail off, unsure of how to finish that wouldn’t be suspicious.

“No, I understand. You’re smart, after all, and it’s hardly a difficult conclusion to reach.” He drags the tip of his shoe against the ground, weighing his words. You wait. “I did have a mother. Once. A father as well. They weren’t bad people, despite why they chose to marry. But their quirks ended up… hurting them. I was left wondering why quirks would do that, especially if they really were the next step in evolution. That’s when I started to read. I did all that I could in order to get my hands on books that could give me an answer why.”

He looks back at you, carefully enunciating his words. You’re caught by the grief in his eyes, carefully buried and maintained and yet clawing out despite that.

(You find familiarity in it)

“When I realized that it was because of a disease, I finally understood. Viruses mutate. Viruses change. The symptoms can come out in different ways in different people. People haven’t been blessed. They’ve caught a disease, and just like any other sick person they need someone to help them.”

“Oh… Chisaki, I-“

“There you are.” Your dad interrupts, walking down the hall. The two of you jump, and Chisaki takes a step back again, as if the space evaporates what he’s said. “Lord Hirayama- what happened?”

You glance down at your shirt, suddenly remembering your quirk completely failing on you.

“I was showing Chisaki how I could fly, and then my quirk went away and I fell. I hit my nose, but he fixed it.”

Your dad rubs at his face, dislodging his glasses.

“You probably ran out of energy. My own quirk does the same thing. You think you’ve got enough stored up, and it just cut out, more often than not at the least opportune times.” Your dad sounds tense, but not despondent. You have to hope that whatever happened in his private meeting didn’t cause too much damage.

“I thought so! I was telling Chisaki that.” You glance at him mischievously, and stage-whisper to your dad, “I think he was worried about me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“He totally was.”

“I totally was not.” He adjusts his gloves, as though he’s a professional of some sorts, squaring his shoulders against your baseless and honestly quite rude accusations. “Besides, even if your quirk just happened to vanish, you’d be better off.”

You harumph, though your dad mumbles something that sounds, rather worryingly, like agreement.

“Hey, why don’t we all head upstairs now?” Your dad nods to you, and you perk up. “Lord Hirayama was worried about you, and set up a meeting with a quirk doctor. Now we can figure out all the parts of your quirk. Isn’t that so exciting?”

Your dad is clearly less than eager to go to the doctors, but you nod and grin and attempt to bring his spirits up. He leads the two of you up and out of the not-as-haunted-as-previously-thought-tunnels, and you slow your pace, leaning close to Chisaki. 

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hello.” He replies.

“Thank you for telling me about your parents. I’m really sorry to hear about what happened to them.”

“Oh.” He seems confused for a moment, as if he didn’t expect you to bring that back up, or to have empathy for him. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Still. I’m sorry you lost them. It must’ve been hard.”

He struggles for what to say for a moment, and just as the two of you break from the underground back into the sunlight, he responds.

“Thank you.”

“Ah! Good evening! Mr. Fukumoto and young Miss Fukumoto, yes?” The doctor asks, standing up when he sees you and your dad.

“Good evening,” Your dad greets, and you parrot it.

“So! I’m Dr. Shimizu. Lord Hirayama said you wanted a quick quirk check-up, yeah?” He turns to you, “Congrats kiddo, you got your quirk?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Cool beans! High five! I’m gonna ask a few questions, then we’ll move on to the physical tests, alright?”

“Okie dokes!”

You follow behind him as he points out several machines that look a lot like torture devices. He explains their uses, though, before sitting you down and rattling off questions about your quirk. You answer to the best of your ability, and then he hands your dad a questionnaire to fill out.

“Now, here’s the fun part! I’m gonna ask you to do a couple of things, alrighty? You get to show off your quirk!”

“Nice!”

Several more physical tests later, and you’ve got a basic understanding of how your quirk works.

It seems like a form of energy manipulation. Just like your dad, you can absorb it and expel it. Unlike him, you’re able to use it to propel yourself, which is how you flew the first time.

You’re definitely going to need more practice with it though.

(You ran into the ceiling once or twice. And the walls maybe only possibly three times)

You’re able to expel it from all parts of your body, which is pretty cool!

(It was really weird to send it out from your shoulder blades, and then even more from the back of your knees. But hey, at least you know you can do it now!)

The doctor said you probably felt sick the first day it appeared because you stored up too much for it told hold it, and it was messing with your system.

Almost like shaking a soda can and then deciding not opening it.

It was still going to blow eventually, but in the meantime all that pressure building up would be clear in the shaking of the bottle!

You were the shaking bottle!

(Boom. Midoriya’s microwave metaphors got nothing on you)

After turning to your dad with puppy-eyes, he agreed to tell you how exactly to store and save your energy safely. He gave a basic explanation of it being like a muscle, but he said he’d go into more detail later.

(Knowing how long-winded your dad can be, you’re ok with just leaving it at muscle)

You’re also able to heal just like your dad! It's just at a much slower rate than him. The doctor said your form of energy is much more volatile, which is most likely the cause of that, though he also said it could change with age, how much you’ve got saved, or even practice!

(You’re… unable to heal yourself. You had a paper cut on your finger, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get that same energy to seal the cut. But… you’re sure that’ll also change with time! No need to worry)

A pretty unexpected side-effect of your quirk being so much more volatile had to be the explosion.

Yes.

Explosion.

Dr. Shimizu had wanted to see if you could send the energy through things, much like a conductor. You were getting tired, but were still excited, so you agreed to keep testing.

He gave you a piece of metal, told you it was used in other energy type quirks, and asked if you could see if your quirk could funnel through it.

So you focused, took a deep breath, as you’ve been doing, and gave a mighty push.

There was a split second in which the metal glowed in your hands, before it splintered off into a dozen tiny pieces with a sharp crack!

You managed to bite your tongue to keep from shouting a curse, your dad darted over and grabbed you, as though to protect you from the explosion that already happened, and Dr. Shimizu furiously scribbled something on his clipboard and said Fascinating.

“The mother’s quirk was telekinesis, correct?” Dr. Shimizu asks your dad, who nods. “Alrighty then! I think I have a pretty good grip on your daughter’s quirk, Mr. Fukumoto.”

You straighten up, excited to see what you’ve been dealt in this world.

“It seems as though you’ve gotten a mix of your parent’s powers, kiddo. Your father’s energy output has combined with your mothers telekinesis. I’m guessing your wife,” he directs the question to dad, but notices your dads frown and tight brows and stumbles over his words, “Er, the girls mother was able to extend her quirk from any part of her body?”

“Yes.”

“Right. So, for your daughter, Mr. Fukumoto, you’ve given her the energy manipulation, which is expelled from all points of her body. It’s also what propels her through the air, and, although much weaker than your own, offers her the slightest ability to heal. It seems slightly more unstable than your own, which is why the tester, ah, detonated. Therefore, for her Quirk Name, I offer Bolide.”

“Bolide?” You ask.

“A bolide is a type of comet! I thought it would work best, since it often causes small explosions, the radioactive trail can be used for generating energy, and you kinda looked like it when you flew! You can always change the name later, if you’d like, though it’s a bit of paperwork.” He explains calmly, and you nod along.

“Oh. Neat!”

“I’m glad you like it! I think Nurse Hoshiko has a lollipop for you, you see her over there? Why don’t you go grab it!”

As soon as you’ve run off to ask the Nurse for said lollipop, too busy being excited about your quirk to realize you’ve been deliberately sent away, Dr. Shimizu turns to your dad.

“So, Fukumoto?” Dr. Shimizu asks, “Kinda preferred Kaneko.”

“Did you? Afraid I don’t remember if we’ve met.” Your dad says, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Ah, I thought not. I imagine that you had plenty of jobs like the one you were sent on to me.” He sighs, tapping the clipboard with the pen. “I was desperate. I borrowed money from the yakuza to pay back my debt, but now I owed the Shie Hassaikai, and suddenly I was behind on payments. I was pretty dumb. You were sent to collect. I thought you’d kill me. Break my bones or something. I watched way too many Yakuza movies when I was a kid.”

Asahi peers at him.

“What did I do?” There’s a great many things he had done while still being second to Pops. Most were things he’d never tell you. He couldn’t imagine the disgust and horror in your eyes if he did.

“You covered for me. I told you the truth, why I had borrowed all the money, and begged for my life. You looked down on me, so cold, and then gave me a week. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to scrape together the money. And keep all my limbs where they belong!” He chuckles, though it sounds vaguely ill. “Any other member would’ve done their job. You showed me mercy.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m going be honest with you. Your daughter’s quirk could be very very dangerous. Your own quirk is much more stable than hers. I don’t think it’ll get worse, but the way she described her ability… the push to activate it. I worry that she could pull.”

“Pull?”

“Yes. If she expels her quirk as energy that could interacts with another’s body, I hesitate to think what she could do with receiving energy from said body. I’m sure her mothers telekinesis wasn’t just pushing things away, right?”

Your dad pauses, and then understanding washing cross his face.

“You don’t think…” HIs voice is weak as he speaks, and Dr. Shimizu, for all his jolly acts, nods solemnly.

“Perhaps. I don’t want to imagine what an ability that heals when put out does when it pulls back.”

“I see.” Your dad is understandably troubled.

(He himself cannot pull energy from a body. He can only absorb sunlight and send it to spur another DNA to replicate quickly, thus healing cuts. When his quirk was first revealed, some in the Shie Hissaikai had hoped he could hurt others through use of it, though they never quite figured out a way to do so. If yours is able to do all this…)

“You’re aware of the quirk singularity doomsday theory, yeah? Every generations quirk getting stronger and stronger than the former. Some look towards it eagerly, chomping at the bit to see the powers that children will hold. Children can be used.” Dr. Shimizu doesn't look your father in his eyes.

Your dads fingers twitch. This discussion can very quickly go in two different directions, and he would do what he needs to in oder to protect you.

“I’m not going to mention it on my report back to Lord Hirayama. I owe you a lot, and despite how honorable he is, the men he gives second chances to are much less so. I have a son of my own, and though I don’t understand the situation you’re in, I can understand the desire to protect.” Dr. Shimizu’s face is serious, the magnitude of his decision not lost on your dad. He nods, and very quietly thanks him.

You choose that moment to run over, showing off the lollipop you’ve got. Your dad nods and laughs, patting your head. You don’t even realize something was wrong.

(He’s still the better liar between the two of you)

The doctor watches and smiles to himself as he puts the equipment away.

As you’re leaving, your dad turns to him again.

“I remember, now. You lived in the squat little apartment downtown. It was a pretty nasty place.”

“Yeah, well, I did owe you guys. I was scrimping every penny.”

“Yeah.” Sora nods, “You look like you’re doing pretty good now, though.”

“You know, I really am! I’ve got a nice life, nice wife. Not too shabby for a guy like me.” Dr. Shimizu smiles, rubbing the back of his neck a bit bashfully.

“Congratulations. You’ve really managed to turn your life around.” Though the words might’ve been sarcastic if another said it, your dad actually means it.

“Thanks!”

Your dad remembers the kid now. He had been younger then, much more eager to prove himself to Pops, not much different than Takeda or Chisaki. He was sent to go collect from Shimizu, and was more than willing to fulfill his mission.

Shimizu had begged for mercy, still a young medical student then. Your dad had felt pity, but figured it was just too bad. The kid shouldn’t have made such a deal if he didn’t want to have to face the consequences.

And then he happened to glimpse something he probably wasn’t meant to. A simple photograph on a simple desk.

Your dad had frowned to himself, and decided that maybe one act of mercy wouldn’t hurt.

He hadn’t realized how long-reaching the effects from that choice would be.

“Congratulations sugar!” Kuua slurs directly into your ear. You laugh, leaning away, both to get some space between her breath and her volume.

She has definitely had too much to drink.

Your dad kept true to his promise, and now a few members of the Shie Hassaikai who are closer to you have come together with a little party.

You wanted to invite Tenko and Hana, but your dad didn’t know if bringing another kid to the yakuza would be the best idea.

And he also thought Nao wouldn’t let the two of you hang out anymore if she found out you were attached to such a er, dangerous organization.

Which, yes, he does make a rather good point.

So the attendants are rather small, just Ichiro and Suburb, your dad, Kuua, Ms. Sato, Pops, and Chisaki, who is sitting in the corner and sipping at his cup. Pops set it up in the open courtyard, and you’re doing your best to step over the many streamers that have started to fall slightly.

What a wall-flower, you think, only to have our train of thought derailed as Kuua pats your back again.

(Slams her hand against your back, really)

“Do you think if I invited Rin to dance she’d take me up?”

“I think you should try!” And also maybe stop yelling in the ear of the three year old girl, like c’mon she’s gonna ruin your eardrums.

She nods, stumbling slightly over to Ms. Sato, who is standing like a lonely queen.

Somehow, she says something that makes Ms. Sato grin like a schoolgirl. Then the two of them are off, talking like they’re in their own little world.

You smile at the pair of them giggling in the corner, and head across the courtyard to Chisaki. You may be the life of the party, everyone congratulating you (and slipping you money oh-ho!) but he is very much not so.

“Just standing all by yourself?” You asks, sliding up next to him. He looks at you over the rim of his cup, one brow raised in vague amusement.

“Is this what you expected when your dad said he’d throw a party?”

“Ah…” You watch as Ms. Sato watches Kuua dance, though it can’t be called that since it has no rhythm, as Ichiro and Saburo debate the music choice, as Pops and your dad chat while your father puts the leftover cake into a tupper-ware container.

He watches you watch everyone else, and you turn to him with a please expression on your face.

“Actually yeah! Everyone is having a lot of fun! It’s perfect.”

“I suppose.”

The music changes abruptly, Saburo winning the apparent Great Debate and turning on a song you know by heart.

“Oh! I love this one! You should dance with me!”

“I don’t think so.”

“I definitely think so!”

“No.”

“Dude.” You frown at him, turning up your nose and sniffing dramatically, “It’s my party and I say you have to dance. You don’t get a choice!”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that when I decided to come.” He replies, rolling his eyes.

“Tough!” You grab his hand, dragging him away from the wall. “Pops says I’m princess and I say you have to dance! So you have to!”

He mutters something that sounds faintly like “I’ll just start a revolution,” but he doesn’t fight against your grip.

You let go of his sleeve, dancing next to Kuua, who spins you around. You throw back your head, laughing.

Chisaki, who is still not dancing, can’t help the small grin that rests on his face.

Chapter Text

“Now, as exciting as I’m sure it is to have gained your quirk, you must remember to act in a way that brings honor not just to yourself, but also to those around you…”

As Ms. Sato talks and talks and talks, you watch the snowflakes lazily fall outside the window.

They aren’t sticking to the ground, so it’s not going to be a cute snowy day, but you’d still love to stand out in it and catch snowflakes on your tongue. They're slowing down now, though, so by the time you get out there they'll be gone.

“My own quirk, Lycanthropy, could very easily be used to harm others, and though yours leans into the healing aspects, you must still be careful. Now, the history of quirks is a long and fascinating one…”

You wonder if snowflakes really are all different, or if that’s just a scientific guess. Snow’s been falling for millennia, right? So how can you be certain that there haven’t been one or two the same?

“In fact, for many many years, quirks such as that were considered prized, even though their facets were vast and diverse.” Ms. Sato calls your name, and you nod along, humming in response to her question. “Pay attention, please. Now, as I was saying, an emitter quirk like your own…”

Ok, it’s really not fully your fault that you can’t pay attention! Your dad promised you a surprise today, and you’re too focused on that to really care for tradition and all that jazz.

Like, yeah, this is very interesting, especially because it’s not really something that was really gone into in the manga, but surprise! Your dad has a surprise!

A surprise for you!

Little old you!

You!

“Are you listening to me?”

“Traditionally, women were mostly sidekicks until the Pro-Hero Aspire began to break barriers.” You recite, sighing as you stir your tea, “Racking up a record amount of rescues and villains defeated in a single year, she paved the way for more heroines to follow in her footsteps.”

“Very good. Now, while it appears that-“

“Sorry I’m late!” Your dad interrupts, opening the door. You pop up, smiling for him as he holds his arms open for a hug, a request you willingly fulfill. “Hey sweetheart!”

“Papa!”

“Ah, Asahi.” Ms. Sato greets him with an incline of her head. Your dad grins at her, spinning you around. You squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for all you’ve done today, but me and the little one are staging a bit of a jailbreak.” Your dad chuckles, and Ms. Sato clicks her tongue fondly.

“Of course you’d call it a jailbreak. You were just as bad as your daughter is when it came to studying.”

“Me?” He blinks all wide and innocent like at her, and she shakes her head. “I seem to remember being a model student! I never forgot all that jazz about discipline and stuff.”

“All that jazz?”

“We’d better get out of here before she decides to give me a refresher class,” Your dad mutters conspiringly to you, just loud enough for Ms. Sato to hear. You can faintly hear her saying something under her breath about him as he shuts the rice-paper screen behind the two of you, before making your way down the hall to the door.

“How’s your day been, kiddo?” You grin at your dad, happy to see him in a much better mood.

After you got your quirk, a storm cloud hung around his head for quite a while. He finally seems to have beat it back, smiling and laughing like you haven’t seen him do in a while.

(Actually, you don’t think you’ve seen him be this happy since the two of you returned to the Shie Hassaikai)

“Fantastic!” You answer, “Ms. Sato was teaching me about heroes.”

“Really?” He asks as he helps you into your jacket, “Tell me about it!”

So you do, going all the way back to the beginning. He listens and nods and “hmm!”’s plenty enough for you to know he’s listening. 

“Wait!” You stop him, tugging on his hand before the two of you can leave the compound.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for your surprise?”

“Yeah, but I gotta say goodbye before we go.”

“Oh, gotcha.” He holds your gloves as you dart back down the hallway, past where Ms. Sato is cleaning up your cups, around Ichiro, and right into the library.

Chisaki catches your gaze.

“I’m headed out!” You shout, wrapping your scarf around your neck. You’d rather tell him now, not because you think he’d worry if he can’t find you but rather because he’d nag you when you got back if you didn’t.

“Don’t do anything dumb. Don’t get into trouble. Be safe.” He looks up long enough to nod at you, “I’ll see you when you return.”

“I promise. See ya.” You roll your eyes at him, giving a sarcastic salute before darting back to your dad. He gives you your mittens, takes your hand, and you step out into the cold streets.

Your pair walks for a while before he pulls out tickets from his pocket, and the two of you get onto a train. You hop into the window seat right away, watching as the land around you passes.

“So where are we going?” You ask your dad, who smiles and shakes his head.

“To the beach.” He replies, squeezing your hand as he flips through his phone a bit distractedly.

“Yeah right! Where are we really going?”

“To the beach, like I said!”

“Liar liar pants on fire.” You stick out your tongue at your dad, who chuckles. “I wanna know!”

“If you know, it won’t be a surprise.”

“If I know, I’ll know exactly how to act surprised!”

He shakes his head, going so far as to waggle his finger at you. You frown at the offending appendage, and he goes back to reading his e-book.

He’s clearly not planning on telling you anything more (rude!) and so you return to looking out the window.

Japan is beautiful in the winter. Your last two were spent much different, just you and your dad inside watching seasonal specials while sipping hot chocolate.

Getting to watch it fly by on a train is much different than that, though. You won’t say better, because you really do treasure that time, confusing as it may have been for a pre-knowing you’re in MHA self. It's certainly different, though, and you'll give it that.

Once the train slows to a final stops, you hop out of your seat, expectant eyes trained on your dad.

He grunts as he stands up, patting his knees like he’s getting old or something. He’s so dramatic.

Still, he smiles at your face.

You take his hand again as the two of you make your way out of the train station, navigating the tightly packed streets. Your dad chatters as you walk, trying to keep you from figuring out what you’re going to be doing today.

“Papa, I- Tenko!” You blurt, letting go of your dads hand and taking off. You hear him calling your name, but pay no mind as you crash into your friend. “Hi!”

“Hi!” Tenko squeezes you back all too willingly, and you close your eyes, happy in his embrace.

A delicate voice clears its throat, and you crack open your eyes to see his sister there, looking at you expectantly.

“Hana!” You chirp, freeing yourself of your friends grip to greet her with a smile. “You're here too! I love your hat!”

“Hello!” She responds, and you give her a hug as well. “It’s so cute, right? My Dad got it for me!”

You greet Nao, who grins down at you before starting up a conversation with your dad. The five of you start your walk, headed to wherever and whatever your parents are planning.

“Do you guys know what the surprise is?” You ask, glancing between the siblings.

“Oh, yeah! We’re-“

“Shhh!” Hana shoves her hand in Tenko’s face, glaring at him. “We’re not supposed to tell!”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as you glance between the two of them.

They know what the surprise is. But they can’t tell you.

Now. Obviously there’s a bit of a walk to it, you’re standing outside a grocery store. There’s no way the surprise is picking up groceries.

A walk gives you time to interrogate.

You just have to pick the right victim.

Hehe.

“I heard you got your quirk!” Hana changes the subject quickly, smiling widely at you. “I wanna see!”

“Look!” You ignite your hand, proudly showing off your ability. “My quirks called Bolide! Oh, speaking of, Tenko hold still really quick…”

You turn to Tenko, hands ignited and raised. He blinks once and then twice, and you’re about to say if he can hold still and you’ll use your quirk to help his itchy face when he leans forward, eyes closed.

(Whatever you’re doing, he trust you. Implicitly, absolutely, always)

“Watch this,” You tell Hana, who pitches in closer. You squint, focusing on the release of your powers. The energy gathers in your hands, the same sunset colors settling on your palm and the tips of your fingers. You cup Tenko’s face, furrowing your brows as you push it further.

The irritation around his eyes smooths out, slower than your dad would’ve been able to do but healing nonetheless.

You pull your hands away when it’s done, and he opens his eyes a second later. The two of you smile at each other, and Hana claps.

“Thank you, thank you!” You faux bow, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. You can hear your dad grumble about you using your quirk, but you pay him no mind.

“Oh that’s cool!” Hana says, tugging your hand much like her brother did when you first got your ability. “Tenko didn't tell me you could do that! He said you can fly too, which is really neat. Dad can fly too, but he doesn’t like to show off his quirk.”

“Oh, really?” Her dad. Tenko’s dad. Nana’s son.

Kotaro.

You haven’t been told much about him in this world. Nao avoids mentioning him, Hana couldn’t look you in the eyes when she first mentioned him ligthly, and Tenko…

The last time Tenko mentioned his dad, the two of you were at the park. It was earlier in winter, and you and your dad had been debating something. It was silly, whatever it was, and the both of you were obviously joking.

Or, at least, it had bene obvious you were joking to you. Tenko’s eyes had widened, and he grabbed your hand in the middle of responding to your dad. You had turned to him, confused, and he shook his head rapidly.

“We should go swing!” He suggested, though it didn’t sound like one. He’d pulled you away from your dad, over behind the swings, and spoken quickly and quietly. “You shouldn’t fight with him. He might make you sit outside.”

“He might… what?”

“Make you sit outside,” He repeats, as if you hadn’t heard him and it wasn’t your shock making you ask again. “You know, when you mess up and have to sit outside. I don’t want you to get in trouble or get hurt.”

You can hear your breath in your ears, just like you can hear him start to talk faster. He’s saying something about not believing that you get in trouble or anything, but he just wanted to warn you, and he doesn’t want to get you in trouble because you’re his friend and he really cares about you and you-

You hug him. Arms thrown around his neck, eyes shut, lips tremblings and pressed together.

“Your dad shouldn’t make you sit outside. That’s not right. That’s not… you don’t deserve that.” You squeeze your eyes tighter shut, your grip tightening. “I’m so sorry.”

Words fail you as his arms raise slowly, before wrapping around you. His face rests in the crook of your neck, and you can feel the slight rumble in his shoulders.

Your plan had been to keep Tenko gentle. To give him support and to be there for him so that he would let you help him. To be someone to turn to if, and only if, he got his quirk in the same way. To give him a reason not to hate.

You were going to play the waiting game.

You’re don't want to anymore.

You had told your dad about it. You told him everything Tenko told you about his dad. And your own father had sighed and looked both righteously angry and exhausted and told you that the two of you couldn’t do anything unless you had more evidence.

You were furious. How could the two of you not do anything?!

And your dad had said wrong though it may be, making your kid sit outside wasn’t technically a crime. It could be classified as a time-out, nothing else.

He told you to keep supporting your friend.

(You hate that that is all you can do. You hate it so much)

“I have my quirk too!” Hana waves her hands a few times, and music starts to play. It pulls you out of your own mind, and you blink at her, tilting your head. “Mom can make music with her quirk, and dad can move through air. I can pick up music from the air, though only what’s playing on stations! Mines called Antenna, though I wanted a cuter name.” Apparently the doctor who named her quirk is her biggest enemy, as her puffed out cheeks and furious brows attempt to convey.

“Hana’s really cool, sometimes she plays it when we’re really bored and stuff.” Tenko pipes up, and you nod in understanding.

“Oh, wow! How many stations can you pick up?”

“A whole bunch!” She tilts her hand, focusing her gaze. A baseball game starts to play, shocking a laugh from you.

“That’s so cool! So you always have your own background music!”

“Mhm! It is awesome, isn’t it?” She preens, skipping along. As soon as she’s slightly out of hearing-range, buoyed by your praise, you turn to Tenko.

“Have you… sat outside recently? How have you been?” You don’t know how to phrase it so that he knows what you mean, and so you just let it out openly. Hopefully he picks up on it.

“Mm-mm, nope! Mom and Grandma made mochi yesterday! It was really really good. I wish I could’ve brought you some.” He seems bummed that you didn’t get some of that famed mochi, and you nod, leaving the sitting outside subject alone.

Your conversation stays light as you study his face. He really has been doing alright, apparently, and so you let go of your fear for him, if only for a second.

“Tenkooo,” you sing-song, and he shakes his head rapidly. He recognizes the gleam in your eyes, and no matter what you’re about to ask, he knows it’s gonna be a pain for him. “C’mon! You know whatever the surprise is! It can’t be that big of a secret, right?”

“Your dad doesn’t want me to tell you!”

“But wouldn’t it be so much fun if I knew!” 

“No, I don’t think I should.” He denies, and you pout at him.

“Aren’t we friends?”

“Of course!” His distress is evident, and he grips your hand tighter, “But I don’t wanna spoil the surprise!”

“Ok ok, I won’t push anymore,” you concede. You don’t want to torment him, not if you can help it.

“You’re gonna really like it,” he reassures you, nodding rapidly, “It’s going to be so much fun!”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to wait.” You sigh dramatically, but grin to show you’re just teasing.

You all keep walking, making turn after turn while shooting the breeze. Hana’s happily waiting for her second term to end, and she throws her arm around Tenko’s shoulders, just as excited for him to join her at school.

(Your smile strains a bit. He will be joining her and staying with her if you have anything to say about it)

When your group finally stops outside a theater, you perk up.

“A movie! We’re going to see a movie!”

“Yupper skipper.” Your dad smiles down at you, pulling five tickets from his pockets, “We usually watch our winter movies together, but they’ve come out with a new one, and I thought it’d be nice to share with friends. It’s got really good reviews, if you like it, maybe we can add it in to the winter rotation, yeah?”

“Absolutely!” You shout, hopping on your toes. “What’s it called?”

“Home Alone!!” Tenko bursts, finally unable to hold back.

Yeah! Home Alone is one of your favorite winter movies, getting to see it in theaters would be so much fun!

Wait a second…

Home Alone?

But that’s not-

“Yeah, seats A 4-9, thank you and enjoy the movies.” The person working the concession stand says. Tenko tugs you along as your mind stutters through why exactly, in a world set apparently so far in the future, Home Alone is a new movie.

You sit in between Tenko and Hana and watch as the exact same movie you remember from your otherworldly childhood plays out on the screen.

Tenko and Hana laugh at all the appropriate parts, and the movie even gets a chuckle out of your dad. You managing to laugh along like they do, but wow. It’s just… it’s Home Alone. That’s Macaulay Culkin on screen. That’s literally the Wet Bandits.

Is this legal?

Despite your misgiving about calling it new, the movie is just like you remember.

Everything is exactly as it was when you watched it with your siblings. The old man, the clock going out, the scene in the church, all of it.

It reminds you of the time spent with your family. The winter weather, the countdown till school breaks, the hot chocolate and peppermint sticks. All of it comes back, shifting it’s way through your head..

It makes you smile, though you do have to close your eyes against the pain it brings as well. The memory of how you and your siblings had laughed and believed that you could do all the same stings a bit, but it also carries up joy with it.

You take a deep breath, letting the grief wash over you, before it settles in your hands. You exhale, releasing it out into the air and opening your eyes again.

Tenko glances over at you, catching you in the middle of laughter. Your eyes are screwed up, the light from the screen shining in them, cheeks slightly pink and popcorn forgotten beside you.

The next exaggerated joke is just as funny as the last, but his focus isn’t on the screen.

His eyes are on you, and his smile is yours alone.

(It always will be)

“That was so much fun! I mean, did you see all tricks! I betcha we could do that, Tenko!” Hana hasn’t stopped talking about the movie since you all left the theatre. She adored the set-up, the execution, but above all, she adored the traps.

She also keeps trying to ask her mom for a BB gun.

She swears it’s for perfectly normal things! For real!

But when pressed by Nao as to what she’d use it for, she can’t seem to come up with quite a clear answer.

You and Tenko share a glance, giggling at her theatrics. She protests as Nao demands again why she needs a gun, and you hear your dad chuckle too.

Your stomach growls halfway through their conversation, and several sets of eyes run to you. You turn bright red, ducking your head to avoid their gazes.

“It’s not too late yet. We could go and grab some dinner, if you guys want.” Your dad suggests, deflecting attention from you. “There’s a good takoyaki place down the street.”

Nao sucks in a breath through her teeth, considering it. She casts a glance at the sun, resting just above the horizon, and nods, conceding.

“Mmm, alright then. I can call Kotaro and let him know we’ll be a bit late.”

You and the siblings whoop, prancing around your dad while Nao dodging kids, stepping to the side with her phone held up to her ear.

Your dad watches as you and the others dart around, your excitement lost to whatever game you’re making up now. He glances over at Nao, catching her expression for brief moment, and frowns to himself.

She seems nervous. Her foot is taping against the ground rapidly, and she keeps tilting her head up and then back down again, as though answers reside either in the clouds or the dirt.

She murmurs into the phone, mouth moving as though in an orison. As your dad tracks her lips, trying to decipher what’s wrong, you tug on his shirt. He pulls his eyes away from decoding her anxiety to squat to your level.

“Yes?”

“Can we get ice cream after?” Tenko and Hana stand a few steps behind you, listening intently while failing to look discreet, and he fights a grin. You’ve clearly been sent in as a representative.

Smart kids.

“You always want ice cream.” He blows a raspberry toward you, sending you squealing back. “Fine, we’ll ask Nao if your friends can stay a little later.”

You wink back at them, over-exaggerated and very obviously. The siblings shoot you a pair of thumbs up.

By the time your dad has straightened and turned back to see if he can solve what has Nao so worried, she’s returned to the four of you all.

“How fun kiddos, Dads going to joining us for dinner!” She claps her hands together, as if she can bring some life back to her eyes through the repetitive beat.

Hana freezes and Tenko’s face falls. You and your dad jolt as one, surprise in both your eyes as you look at each other.

(You’re thinking about what you know of him. Your dad has what he can guess of him. Neither are very good depictions of the man)

“Let’s go to the one run by old Ms. Yukiko. She makes the best onion takoyaki, and you know your dad loves that.” Nao continues, starting off at a fast clip pace.

She walks ahead, your dad following behind. As soon as she’s at the lead of your group, Hana’s smile turns down at the same rate as Tenko’s eyes do. His hand finds your own, and you can feel his heartbeat jump from the vein in his wrist.

You run your thumb over it, glancing at him as you take Hana’s hand as well. They don’t look fearful, rather resigned. Almost like they’re on the execution block awaiting the fall of the sword.

You clear your throat, glancing at your dad for a second, hoping he might have an idea of how to bring your evening back to the high it was earlier.

“So, Hana! What’s your favorite takoyaki? I know octopus is kinda normal, but it’s sometimes really gross.” You stick out your tongue, and she shrugs.

“I dunno. I like octopus.” She scuffs her foot against the curb while you wait for the light to change, leaving it at that.

You inhale through your teeth.

“What about you, Tenko?”

“I like tempura.”

Once more, silence descends.

You nibble your lip.

Your dad isn’t having much more luck with Nao, who squares her shoulders and marches forward firmly. He attempts to draw her into a conversation, even mentioning that book series they both enjoy. She gives succinct responses to each endeavor.

You finally make it to the takoyaki stand, standing around and kicking rocks while you wait for their dad.

You’re not sure how you’ll feel when you see him. Though his previous life was tragic, you stand by what you told Tenko earlier this summer. He is an adult. He has no right to take out his buried feelings on his family, or to place asinine rules over the house.

He is a bully. And you hate bullies.

When the man in question finally walks up, 12 minutes after the rest of you have arrived and you’ve struggled in vain to help your friends, you stare up at him blankly.

He looks a lot like Tenko, which you find unreasonable. Short black hair, sharp charcoal eyes.

He wraps his arm around Nao’s shoulder, kissing her on the cheek. She squeezes her eye shut and smiles at him.

Your dad watches this carefully, the same look as you on his face, through when Kotaro turns to him it’s suddenly clear of his erudite expression.

“Ah, you’re Mr. Fukumoto? It’s nice to finally meet you! My family can’t stop talking about you and your daughter.”

Your dad smiles widely, shaking Kotaro’s hand firmly. The two go through the general greeting customs, and your dad turns to you.

“Well, I suppose this is the girl in question.” Your dad pats you on the back, and you step forward. You don’t let go of your friends hands.

“Fukumoto Hikari. My friends have told me about you, too.” You say, just as firmly as you would if you were reading him his rights.

He blinks for a quick moment, before letting out a light laugh. Nao joins in, and your dad does something akin to an exhale.

“Very serious kid you’ve got, Fukumoto.”

“Why don’t we order?” Nao suggests, and your dad nods.

Kotaro is a charismatic person, there’s no doubt about it. He’s good at making jokes, been blessed with a quick wit, and him and your dad go back and forth as easily as if they’ve been friends for years.

You manage to convince Hana to smile again, asking her about her favorite part of the movie and listening intently as she talks about anything. It seems to help, your patient and yet still excitable reactions drawing her out again.

She’s quieter, though, withdrawn, and Tenko still clutches your hand. Kotaro keeps his arm around Nao, who doesn’t talk as much as she usually does.

The whole air is filled with tension.

You know that Kotaro wasn’t physically abusive, he didn’t lay a hand on them, at least not until Hana found the picture, but he was still mercurial. The Shimura family had to avoid entire subjects because it would lead to him sending sharp words, leaving them to comfort whoever faced it in the moment.

More often than not, that was Tenko.

You all finish your dinner, the takoyaki’s rich flavor settling in your stomach, and begin to head back to the train station. Your friends hold your hand as you walk a half pace in front of them, separating the kids from the adults.

Your dad stops suddenly, snapping his fingers.

“That’s right, I completely forgot! The kids wanted to go and get ice cream, I don’t suppose you have a few more minutes to spare.” Your dad hitches his thumb towards Kotaro, but his body is angled to Nao.

“Ice cream? In the middle of winter?” Kotaro laughs, tilting his head.

The group chuckle, much akin to workmates at a corporate event.

“Trust me, I don’t pretend to understand kids.” Your dad responds. He gestures to you as he says it, dressed in your gloves and scarf and coat, “You’d think she asks for hot cocoa or coffee.” 

“Sure, I think we’ve got time.” Kotaro checks his watch, not glancing towards his wife, “Your parents will be alright for fifteen minutes more, right?”

“I already told my mom we’d be late, I’m sure she’s already made her and Dad dinner.” She murmurs in response.

“Alright, then, let’s go.” He turns to Tenko, who straightens like a rabbit under his dad’s gaze, “What are you going to order?”

It’s an innocent question, but your friend seems to be terrified that his answer might end up being wrong.

“A… strawberry milkshake?”

“Good choice,” His dad nods, and Tenko’s shoulders drop with his exhale.

Good God, you think, I feel like I’m watching a trial with a potential death sentence!

Your group stops at another stand, this one with a much shorter line, understandably. Nobody really gets cold food during the cold seasons.

Nao and your dad ask everyone what they want, and head over to order.

Your dad lowers his voice as the two of them stand in line, making sure none of you can hear them.

“Nao, I know it’s not my place, and it’s probably none of my business, but are you alright?”

She blinks at him for a second, before she looks away, unable to maintain eye-contact.

“We’re fine.”

“Are you?”

She bites her lip as the two of them take another step forward, one person dividing them and the attendant running it.

“Kotaro is… he lost his parents young. His father died and his mother… she’s not in the picture.” Nao wraps her coat tighter against her, lifting up the collar so that it covers her mouth. “He just wants a happy family. That’s all he really wants, and sometimes… he’s harder on the kids, or on… he can just be severe sometimes…”

Her words lose steam, and your dad hums softly in acknowledgement.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s bad!” She rushes to fill the open air, “Or- or anything that you’re certainly worried about. He’s a good husband, and he does his best as a father.”

“That’s all we really can hope to do.” Your dad says, inclining his head.

Meanwhile, Kotaro is attempting to be a kind and gentle towards you, as you might do to any kid who hangs around your own children.

It’s not quite going how it usually does with his kids friends.

You’re a bit different than he expected, though. Hana had described you as fun and excitable, and Tenko had said that you were smart and kind.

You certainly are smart, the wisdom in your own eyes betraying you, but you don’t seem very fun and excitable. You’re not even very kind to him, though he can’t really say you’re unkind.

You’re very brisk, that’s for sure. Any question he sends your way gets brutally shot down and answered with sharp one word responses.

Maybe you’re just not good with new people?

“So, kiddo.” He tries again, “You’re three, right? And in the same program as my kids, at the library?”

“Yup.”

“Well then you must be very smart!” He pats his son on the back, not noticing the boys wide eyed stare at him. “You hear Tenko got the highest points of his group?”

You nod, smiling for the first time since he’s met you.

“Tenko’s really smart. Like, super smart. And he’s nice and kind and friendly. And good.”

“He is,” Kotaro agrees with you, though he seems a bit surprised by your vehement belief in his son. “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a h-“

“Bride!” Hana interrupts, “She wants to get married, like me.”

“Oh, that’s very nice,” Kotaro nods his head as you frown at Hana.

It clicks a second later in your mind.

You were going to say heart surgeon, as it was close enough with what you wanted without actually saying it, and sounded like a real enough career choice in your mind for a kid.

(It really isn’t. What child says heart surgeon?)

But Hana thought you were going to say hero.

You could only imagine what Kotaro would do if he found out his kids were hanging out with someone actively encouraging their heroic dreams and ideals.

He’s might not take them away from some punk who’s got attitude when she talks to him, but someone who actively pushes his kids directly against what he believes?

You suck in a breath through your teeth as you imagine him picturing you as a negative influence. Would he make your friends stop hanging out with you?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so clear about your rather strong feelings towards him…

“Yeah, a bride.” You say, “I can’t wait to settle down and start a family! And have lots of kids and, er, a white picket fence.”

While you talk to Kotaro, who accepts your sudden change in mood as just something kids do, your dad searches for something to say, some way to help Nao.

He’s seen a lot in his few decades, and that includes people who make excuses. Some of it is first hand experience, and some of it comes from careful study.

He hesitates for a moment, before deciding to proceed.

(Trust begets trust, does it not?)

“My own mother was similar. My father, on the other hand…” Sora trails off and gives her a clear look, “If you’re ever in trouble, or think something is wrong, or he gets… more severe, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. If not for you, then for your kids.”

Nao smiles weakly in response.

Tenko watches you and Hana go back and forth, trading bites of your desserts. His dad walks a few steps ahead while he’s just behind mom and you two, so he has a full view of the group without anyone looking too far back at him.

Hana wasn’t able to guess your favorite first try like he did, which made him grin to himself.

Obviously, it wasn’t because he liked that she was wrong! No no, because that would be mean, and he doesn’t wanna be mean. No, it was because he knows you better, which means that he’s your closer friend, which means that he and you are better best friends.

Not that he doubted that! He knows you two are super close, and he likes that a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

But.

Hana guessed what you wanted to be when you grow up. And she was right.

He thought you were going to say a hero, because that what you’d told him. But then she said bride, and you agreed with her, so maybe he was wrong? Or maybe you talk more to her?

But bride means married. If you were married, you might move away, or live somewhere else.

Oh no.

He stops dead in his tracks, and Mom turns back to look at him.

“You ok, honey?”

If you got married… your spouse would be your best friend. Not him.

Oh no.

“Tenko?”

“Mom, why do people get married?” He asks in a rush.

What if you meet someone else and you both like the same music and stuff and the two of you get married and then you move away and then he never sees you ever ever ever again because he’s not your best friend anymore and then the two of you never talk again and then nobody lives happily ever after and he’s ALONE.

“Uhm, why do you ask?”

“Because Hikari says she wants to get married.”

“Oh.” She smiles at him, though she nibbles her lip, as if trying to hide it, “I see. Are you worried she might leave?”

“Yes!”  The very idea makes him feel faint, and he stumbles into her leg.

“Well, I’m sure she won’t. You two are going to be friends for a long time.” She hardly holding back her laughter now, and you glance back at the two of them.

He doesn’t want you to know how absolute he is against your idea of moving away forever and marrying someone else and hating him till the end of time (something you never actually said) and so he fakes a big smile.

You don’t look impressed, but when Hana calls your name you turn back to her.

“But what if she does get married! Why do people even have to get married?” He continues in a harsh whisper.

It doesn’t even make sense to him! You marry your friend, right? So, how do you choose which friend you want to marry!

You have a lot of friends! What if you choose one he doesn’t like! What if you choose one who doesn’t like him! One who keeps you for themselves evilly!

“They don’t have to, sweetheart. People usually get married because they love the other person. They want to spend the rest of their lives with them, and they’re very serious about it.” She looks up to Dad, who is walking a pace and a half ahead, “And you want to live a long and happy life, together. In a house full of laughter.”

“I see.” He nods very solemnly. “So I should marry her.”

Mom starts coughing, and he looks up at her, worried. It takes him a minute to realize she’s laughing.

Odd, because this is a perfectly reasonable plan.

“I’m going to remind you about this when you’re older.” She chuckles, waggling her finger at him. He frowns at it, and then at her.

“But it makes sense! I really really like her, and I don’t want to lose her! I’m very serious about this! And I wanna spend the rest of my life with her! And we’d have a nice house full of laughter!”

“I’m sure you would.” She says, still laughing.

He doesn’t understand why she finds this funny. He’s very serious about this. Very.

It’s a great idea.

You unfortunately break your promise to Chisaki on the walk back to the train station.

You don’t mean to, of course. It’s not as though you go looking for trouble! It just always seems to end up finding you.

You’re about a block away from the station, still walking with the Shimura family and on seemingly better terms with Kotaro when a villain attacks.

Not you and your family, much rather she’s robbing the store in front of you and you just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It’s an unfortunate fact of this world, one that was bound to happen today or tomorrow. You’re surprised it didn’t happen yesterday.

Your dads step forward in front of the group, Nao turning you and the other kids around and pushing you away. Your group beats a retreat, the screams of others getting louder as people jostle past you, all desperate to get away and stay alive.

The villain sends out a burst of acid, and you watch in horrified abject silence as it dissolves the sign directly next to you.

Your dad roars above the rumble of the crowd, pushing you and the others farther away, but as more and more people panic you start to lose sight of him.

Your eyes stay trained on Tenko and the next step in front of you, your parents finally gone from your gaze.

Alone in the crowd, just the two of you, running for your lives.

Desperation pounds through your veins with every uneven beat of your heart, the desire to live I want to live let us live sharp enough to taste.

He’s shouting, looking back here and again at you, hand choking your own. Your feet slam against the ground, breaths shallow puffs as you run like prey from the woman laughing over the crowd.

A man stumbles next to you, and you grab his shirt, pushing him to keep moving.

He slaps away your hand, too scared to know the difference between threat and innocence.

You stumble back, the force of his swing knocking into you and causing you to lose grip of Tenko.

Droplets fall onto your hand, and at first you think you’ve just blinked.

The pain is a second behind you, and as soon as you breathe in you feel it.

You scream, sobbing out wordless cries. It tears at your throat as it breaks free, and Tenko stops in his tracks, turning back to you. His eyes widen in horror.

A shadow falls over you both as you blubber out, trying to get him to keep moving forward. You look up, connecting eyes with the villains eerily calm gaze. She reaches out, and you shove Tenko out of her range. He stumbles back just as you’re grabbed.

I’m going to die here, you think, and the thought seems familiar to one you’ve had in the past, one you can’t quite remember and yet shakes in the back of your mind.

The woman drags you away wailing, and you watch as Tenko reaches out for you. He’s pulled back by members of the crowd, people who, despite their haze and panic, still cannot bear to leave a child behind.

You can hear your dad crying out your name over the crowd, see the faintest bit of his head as he turns back to where you had been not a second before, and you feel bad that you’re going to leave him this way.

The villain shouts her threats to the crowd, who reel back in fear. She raises you up by your throat, you clawing uselessly against her fingers.

You can feel a tug from the chain against your neck, and though it doesn’t quite make sense, you hope she doesn’t take your feather from you.

You think of activating your quirk, but know you couldn’t be fast enough.

What could you do? Flood her with energy and cause her to explode?

Even if you boosted yourself away, she’d be faster. You be dead.

You’d... you’d melt.

(You don’t want to imagine how that feels)

Acid dribbles off the fingers of her other hands, a single instant away from you.

Unintentionally, as you lean away you activate your quirk, just near your face.

It’s the same as your clawing, useless against the woman’s strength.

The acid leaks down her wrist, the sickly smell causing you to cough and choke. She reeks of boiled flesh, and bile slips up into your mouth.

The acid sizzles as it comes in contact with the energy roiling against your skin, and you wince, waiting for the pain. It doesn't come, though her grip doesn't loosen around your neck.

(It doesn't melt you. It stops at your energy? Should you activate more? But you're low because you healed Tenko earlier, and you-)

She jerks to the side, sending you swinging widely and your legs scramble, the hero who charges up to her negotiating with his hands up.

As she throws back her head and laughs, you’re jostled enough to see the stars.

(If this really is how you leave again, at least it to a pretty sight)

(But your friends… your Hana, your Keigo, your Chisaki, your Tenko… Will they be alright? Have you saved them?)

You’re let go in an instant, falling towards the Earth. Strong arms wrap around you, springing away from the villain, who falls towards her knees, entire body shaking.

“It’s ok kid. I got you now.” A voice, familiar and yet foreign, murmurs to you.

Your eyes, which you had unintentionally sewn shut as you were dropped, open slowly. Your fingers are buried in the heroes shirt, the loose fabric of it slipping through your fingers.

The woman who attacked is… laughing. She’s laughing?

More heroes approach, as the one who caught you puts you down gently. You look up to thank him, and your words get caught in your throat.

“You ok, kid?”

“Ah, goo-goo- hero.”

…

Shit.

“Alright.” Eraser Head adjusts the goggles over his eyes as the older hero, the one who attempting to negotiate with the villain, reads her rights.

Holy mother of God, this is Eraser Head. A young Eraser Head, sure, but he’s here in front of you!

(You know it’s just the adrenaline running through your veins and not making you think straight, but he’s very purr, even at this age. 18, maybe?)

He squats in front of you, forcing a smile onto his face.

It doesn’t look much like one, more like a man who thinks death is late for his appointment.

“How are you feeling? When a bad person grabs you like that, it can be very scary. Are you hurt?” It’s recited clearly, like he read it a manual once before.

“Ah, no…”

“Eraser!” A very loud, very joyful, voice calls. He sighs, hanging his head and looking even more lustful for death.

If your eyes were wide a second ago, they’re even bigger now.

Ms. Joke runs up, looking just as she does in the show. She pats Eraser Heads back for a second, before noticing you.

She leans over, waving at you. Her smile takes over her face, somehow as large and genuine as the sun.

“Hey there kiddo! My names Ms. Joke. What’s yours?” Her smile is slightly crooked, screwing up one eye while leaving the other open.

It’s a very inviting smile, truth be told.

“Hikari…”

“Nice to meet ya Hikari! Hey, did you hear about the wedding?”

“Wedding?” You ask, winkling your nose. Is she about to make a joke about her and Aizawa?

“Yeah! Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love and got married. It was so sweet! The ceremony wasn't much, but the reception was excellent.” She winks, and you giggle. “I was gonna change my hero-outfit, what do you think?”

“Its, uh, awfully… bright!”

“Thank you! I was gonna add somethin, though, it gets cold, ‘specially in winter. I even bought quite an expensive coat made of velcro! It was a massive ripoff though.”

You laugh again, and she and Eraser share a glance. You haven’t seemed to realize that she’s calming you down, and she edges him over a bit to take control of the situation.

Your breaths had been sharp and your eyes blown wide when she first walked up. Erased looked painfully out of his depth, and so she stepped in.

More evidence they should get married, she thinks! They could be a tag team partnership!

“He hasn’t proposed to me yet,” she stage-whispers, and he rolls him eyes heavily, “But I used to have this cute mood ring! I lost it, though, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“That’s awful!” You manage to say around your giggles.

“I know, I know! We’re stationed here all week!” She throws her arm around Erasers shoulder, locking him in her grip. He growls under his breath, but she keeps talking, “Ms. Joke and Eraser Head, interns-in-training and future lovers!”

“I don’t think so,” Eraser shrugs her arm off, and you laugh again at her over-dramatic face.

“Sighhhhh! Someday he’ll love me. It’s so difficult wanting to be friends with someone who can’t see your shine.” She gestures dramatically as she speaks, and you nod in commiseration.

“My friend Chisaki is exactly the same. He doesn’t want to admit we’re besties.”

“Right! Like, dude, we spend every day together!” Ms. Joke doesn’t look at Eraser while she talks, and you know she’s probably only doing this for you to laugh, “Hey, by the way I like your necklace! Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, this? My friend gave it to me! I haven’t seen him in a while, but I hope he’s doing ok.”

“Bah, I’m sure he’s great!” She pats your head, and you grin up at her, “I mean, I’d be great with a friend like you!”

As the adrenaline running through your veins begins to lessen, you can feel the burn on your hands sting worse and worse. You look down at them, your breath stuttering at the sight.

They look… awful. You can see strips of your flesh starting to peel away, clear down to your muscle. Blood bubbles, and you don’t know if you’re more shocked that you can’t feel it or that you haven’t passed out yet.

“Hey,” Aizawa says, covering your hands with his own loosely, “Why don’t we go to the ambulance people? They can make you feel better, alright?”

You nod, sure that if you spoke you’d start crying again.

Sora is panicking.

Nao can’t say she blames him, she hasn’t let go of Tenko and Hana since she found them again in the crowd.

His exhales are brisk, and every time he turns his head it’s with a jerk. They still haven’t seen you, not since Tenko ran up to her sobbing and apologizing for letting go of your hand.

He didn’t say anything to Tenko, who shook like a leaf. Nao had wrapped her arms around him, guilt tinging her heart.

She was… relieved that her son returned to them.

Sora stood up straight. His eyes were sharp, and Tenko had flinched away.

“Alright,” he said, “Alright. I’m going to go find her.”

The Shimura family stayed with him, trying to help as well. The crowd has started to calm down a bit, people pushing against each other less and less, their rattled faces settling back into place.

Hana is sniffling, clutching Nao’s hand as she murmurs soft words to her kids. Neither of them are injured, but they’re clearly shaken by the attack.

Villain attacks are not something new. Nao herself has been through three since she was 16.

That normalized fact of them doesn’t help, however, when you’ve lost your kid.

In fact, knowing the odds might even make it worse.

“Wait, I think I see her!” Kotaro shouts, pointing over to the ambulance. Sora’s head snaps around, and the second his vision focuses on you, a shock blanket wrapped around you while three heroes stand and talk to you, his feet are in motion.

When you look up and see him, your face lights up.

“Papa!”

His arms wrap around you in a second, holding you close as you repeat over and over that you’re alright.

The heroes step back, and Nao can see even from several strides behind him that they’re young.

“Excuse me, sir, are you the girls father?” The older hero asks, and he nods wordlessly.

The older hero explains what happened fully, the villain having recently escape police custody and planning to hold a hostage an escape. He, very calmly, points to your hands, and as Nao catches up she sucks in a breath.

The back of your right hand has been marbled by discolored scars. The Hero explains that he used his own quirk to help speed up the healing process, but that you would probably have those for the rest of your life.

The older hero pats your back, commends you for being so brave, and shuffles away, heading out to help others.

Tenko looks sick, and she knows he blames himself.

“It’s ok,” you say and your smile is reassuring. It almost reminds of All Might’s. “I was saved! These really cool heroes helped me! And now we’re super best friends till forever.”

They beside you straighten up, and she reassess them. Maybe they’re not quite kids, more like 18 or so.

“This is Eraser Head, and I’m Ms. Joke.” The one with rather bright hair says, pointing her thumb to her quiet partner.

“Thank you,” Sora bows sharply, hand still on your shoulder. “Thank you so much. I’m in your debt.”

The poor kids looks uncomfortable, and the boy, Eraser Head, steps forward.

“It’s ok, really. I’m sorry we couldn’t be quicker. We just… did what we could. What anyone would do.”

The parents keep talking to the Intern-Heroes, and you turn to your friends. Hana throws herself at you, almost dislodging your dads hand, and you assure her that you’re ok.

Tenko stands a step back, frowning at the ground as he fights his tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's my fault." He reaches towards his face, as if to scratch. You take his hand, smiling at him. He doesn’t look up.

“It’s ok, Tenko, it's ok. It's not your fault,” You repeat, “Look, I’m ok! And I got to meet two really cool heroes! Ms. Joke is kinda funny, and Eraser Head is cool!”

He shuffles closer, and you keep talking.

“They have these really cool powers, Ms. Joke can make you laugh and Eraser Head can get rid of your quirk! Isn’t that so cool? It really is the hero who makes the power, not the power that makes the hero!”

Hana chuckles wetly, and nods her head.

“I’m really glad you’re ok.”

“Of course I’m ok!” You drop your voice, smiling at her, “I mean, Eraser Head is so pretty. Did you see his eyes? Swoon.”

Hana can’t help but laugh with you, and the two of you chatter about the hero. Her tears slow down, and Tenko studies the heroes.

The boy has long black hair and coal colored eyes. He looks tired, but as his friend, the other hero, the one with green hair and eyes, laughs and talks, he stands relaxed. She speaks with your dad, and though she’s bouncy she’s serious enough for him to nod solemnly.

She seems to have a good energy around her, as even his own dad looks calmer that he’d be with another hero.

But… the eraser hero… Eraser Head. He’s… he’s amazing. He saved you, when no one else was able to. He stopped the villain from hurting you, he saved your life, and now he’s not seeking the pride and admiration from the crowd. He’s content to let his partner do the talking.

He’s a real hero.

“You’re so cool Eraser Head.” He says, and the hero turns and grins at him. It’s small, just a pull of his lips, but it’s a smile nevertheless.

“I’m really sorry to say we have to go, now.” Ms. Joke says, “We’ve got to make sure no one else is making any trouble, kk? Keep being cool, kids!” She flashes a peace sign, squeezing her eye shut as she does.

“Wait! Can I get a picture with you guys?” You ask, and she looks at her partner.

“Fine with me.” She chirps.

Eraser Head sighs, but nods his head.

They squeeze close with you, taking a selfie. Ms. Joke smiles, and Eraser Head looks less like he desires death.

“Do you want one, too?” She asks him and Hana. The siblings look at each other, both very much aware they do.

“No, thank you.” Kotaro speaks up, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty else you need to do.”

“Alrighty then! Peace out, you guys!”

The two leave, waving at you. You wave, hand flying back and forth through the air quick enough to send air flying towards Tenko’s face.

His dad clicks his tongue as soon as the heroes are out of sight, and Tenko bows his head. He’s used to his dad’s thoughts towards heroes, but it’s still embarrassing to hear it around others.

“Those kids…” His dad trails off, shaking his head, “They’re so young. What, are they so out of people willing to die they’re sending kids now?”

His mom shakes her head, resting her hand on your shoulder as you frown.

Tenko sees you open your mouth and squeezes your hand quickly. When you look at him, he manages to maintain your gaze, trying to tell you silently to not say anything.

You snap your jaw shut loud enough for him to hear it, squeezing his hand back.

“I’m inclined to like them, myself,” Your dad says, lifting you up as if to check you for wounds. He’s quietly holding his hand against the one Tenko wasn’t holding, though, trying to smooth out the scarred skin.

It doesn’t seem to be working.

“It’s already been healed, Papa. You can’t change what’s been fixed.”

He frowns, fingers curling back into his fist.

Your dad doesn’t put you down until you get home, arms wrapped protectively around you, as if he can make up for losing you in the crowd and your almost loss.

He keeps looking down at your hands and furrowing his brows, the mixed colors weighing him down.

You keep trying to reassure him, but nothing seems to work.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters to you, gently putting you down inside the compound. Ms. Sato looks up from her papers, frowning at the two of you. She can tell something happened, something terrible.

She stands, and your dad pats you on your back, pushing you towards her.

“How was the movie?” She asks, and your dad shakes his head.

“Sato, if you could please help my daughter get ready for bed, I’d be very grateful. I need to go speak with Lord Hirayama.”

“…Certainly.”

Your dad kisses your forehead, smiling tightly at you.

“I’ll be right in to say goodnight, I just need to do something real quick, alright?”

“Ok. I’ll see you in a minute, Papa.”

After your day, you really are tired. It had been so much fun, and your friends were so good, and then suddenly… suddenly everything went south so quickly.

Ms. Sato takes you to your own home on the compound, where Chisaki sits, waiting. He looks up from his book, and you would be confused, if you had more energy to spare.

He generally goes to bed around the same time as you do, which is rather early in your own opinion. Any bedtime that’s set when the sun is setting is clearly morally wrong, but your dad is firm on eight o’clock. You think it’s treasonous against the princess, ahem you, but you still have to follow it.

It’s very much past eight, and yet Chisaki is still sitting there waiting for you. Odd of him, but you just nod and accept it.

“How was the movie?”

Seems like everyone knew about the surprise, then.

“It was good.” You nod, “I really liked-“

“Your hand.” He cuts you off, standing up and frowning. “What happened.”

It’s not a question, as he takes your hand in a way that’s somehow both gentle and demanding. He turns it over, severe and studiously.

“I… may have broken my promise to you.”

You can see the barest flash of his canines as he sighs through his teeth, and it leaves you with a strange sense of foreboding. 

Chapter Text

“If you do that, you are feliz navi-dead to me.”

“Someone’s not in the Christmas Spirit today I see.”

Chisaki maintains eye-contact as he reaches for his lance. He moves it two paces forward, and you growl under your breath.

“Your move.”

“What move is that, exactly? I can’t do anything!” you grumble, studying the board.

“Sure you do. You have several moves you could make.”

“Yeah, and all of them lead to you winning.”

“Oh. Rhat’s too bad.” The innocent look on his face does nothing to sooth your ire.

“Tsk. You’re so mean.”

“I’m not, actually. You kept making silly moves. I’ve told you before not to-“

“Leap without looking, yeah yeah, I know.” You stick out your tongue at him as you knock over your last king, “I yield.”

“Good game.” Chisaki says, and you know he’s not lying to you. You’ve definitely gotten better at playing, and it’s not just thanks to the time you spend practicing with your dad before bed.

Actually, speaking of your dad…

While Chisaki picks up the pieces on your shoji board, you lean back on your hands to watch your dad through the window of the training room.

He’s currently being beat up, which is rather mildly concerning.

Or, at least, he was a second ago. You see a flash of color under his shirt from his tattoos as he twists, seemingly changing the direction of the fight in an instant.

He slides under the fist of one of his sparring partners fists, grabs their arm, and slams their back-first into the ground quickly.

You wince, watching as they bounce off the training mat. The amount of force to catch that much airtime... yikes.

The second stumbles back for a second as he turns his gaze on him, but charges forward bravely anyway. He kicks out, your dad shifting to the left of the kids foot. He twists on his feet, driving the arch of his foot into the kids shoulder and sending him to the ground too.

It’s like a switch flips in your dad’s head after both of them tap against the ground. Gone is the warrior, in its place a fatherly medic as he smiles at the two kids and activates his quirk, healing the injuries that he inflicted.

He’s been training a lot more recently. Sure, when you first came back, he did an irregular schedule here and there, but for the past week he’s been a lot more aggressive with it.

And you can probably guess why.

You rub at your throat, glancing down at your hand. The scars aren’t painful by any stretch of the means, but to him, they're probably just more evidence that he can’t protect you, just as when Takeda and the others came to collect him and you got cut.

(You remember how he looked as you were pulled away from the crowd. You remember how he turned, eyes wide and shoving people away from him, screaming your name)

He felt… helpless. Him training like this is an attempt to get a sense of control back.

“Hey.” Chisaki pushes your hand away from your face, frowning. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

In contrast to your father, however, beyond his momentary lapse of snatching your hand, Chisaki hasn’t shown much of a care over the incident. He doesn’t like when others look at the scars, though, and you suppose that extends to you as well.

It hurts a bit that he does’t care as much as you originally thought, but then again he cared enough to wait for your dad with you. He had side-eyed your stuffed animal, but hadn’t said anything otherwise, and listened you calmly explained what had happened. And then, as you dozed, he sat patiently beside your bed.  When you woke up, your dad was back, and Chisaki never mentioned any of it.

He’s probably just dulled by the violence that the yakuza demonstrate, the Shie Hassaikai chief among them.

Oh, well.

You hop up, following behind him.

Seven days ago

“They can’t be allowed to live.”

Your father and Pops look up from where they’re talking. He had separated from you when your pair had first returned, and though Kai had thought it was odd at first, he now understands why.

“What are you doing in here?” Asahi asks tersely.

“What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be with your daughter?” Kai accuses, and your fathers face flushes in anger.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I just sat with her until she fell asleep, rather quickly in her exhaustion, after listening to her terribly lie in answer to questions about the scars on her hand. You’re her father, aren’t you? You should’ve been in there with her.”

“Listen here you little-“

“Boys.” Pops interrupts, and both fall silent. “I understand that this situation has us all feeling strongly, but we would do well to avoid biting at each other.”

Asahi crosses his arms, looking away.

“The villain needs to be made an example of,” Kai repeats, taking a step forward. “Whomever they were, they should be dispatched.”

They need to be put down. They chose to hurt you, and therefore their life is forfeit.

That is simply how it is.

“She,” Pops pulls a file from a drawer under his desk, “Was a professional villain. The police and pro-heroes have already apprehended her. As I was just telling Asaahi, there’s nothing we can do without making ourselves a target.”

“There must be! This villain hurt my Lady, she’s-” Kai bursts and stops just as quickly. “What I mean to say is that this was an affront to the entire Shie Hassaikai. She is connected with us, and therefore an attack on her is an attack on us all. With the Warui Otoko-tachi coming for an accord, this is the last time to seem weak.”

It’s his job to protect the Shie Hassaikai, and to help Pops. You’re a part of the Shie Hassaikai, and he’s supposed to watch over you, as Pops orders. That’s why he’s gotten so upset about this. That’s why he’s responding so strongly.

(Right?)

“Chisaki,” Pops says gently, “Trust me when I say this will not go without retribution of some sort. We have loyal men and women in the prison system. Should some accident happen while the villain was arrested, we wouldn’t be held responsible, but those who needed to know would.”

So, then, it would be taken care of.

Despite that, you were still hurt from it.

And he can’t do anything.

Kai’s fists tighten for reasons he himself can’t quite articulate.

“It will be dealt with, I assure you. I have responsibilities I have to care for now, as do you both.” Pops turns away from them, and the two bow, the dismissal understood but not quite accepted.

“As little as we see eye to eye,” Asahi says right before they separate, “This is one point that I will agree with you on. We should’ve been able to do something.”

Dinner is absolutely fantabulous, as it almost always is. Kuua is good at what she does, you’re more than willing to give her that.

As you dig into the nikujaga, Chisaki fills up your cup of tea, his gloves off and in a neat pile beside his plate while he eats. You nod at him, mumbling a thanks, while Pops and your dad talk.

“Actually, there was something I meant to mention to you,” Pops says, gesturing to your dad. “I made arrangements for us all to go see a rakugo performance tomorrow.”

“Ah, the yearly shows are still happening?” Your dad stops to think for a second, “What are we going to see?”

“Jugemo-Jugemo.”

“Oh that’s a good one. The kids will like it.”

“What’s-?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Both your dad and Chisaki say at the same time, in vastly different tones. They glare at each other for a second while you roll your eyes and chew faster.

“What’s rakugo?” You finally swallow, wiping at the corner of your mouth.

“It’s a storytelling technique that’s got a long history here in Japan. Pops took me to one last Christmas Eve. You might like it.” Chisaki answers you.

“Hirayama used to take me as well when we were younger,” Your dad adds, “Every Christmas Eve, the local community would hire a rakugo performer. It was always fun, as long as you had a good one.”

“Do you remember that year the rakugoka had that terrible country accent?” Pops asks your dad, who laughs at the memory they share.

“How could I forget? Or the one who almost told the Peony Lantern story? Good grief you had us up and out of that theater before I could even ask a question!”

The two continue trading stories back and forth, giving enough context for them to laugh, but not enough for you and Chisaki to understand what they’re talking about.

(Your dad seems to look back on those times very fondly. Is that what might’ve inspired him showing you so many winter movies? A longing for what he used to have? Or was it just because they were fun movies, and an easy way to distract you…?)

“Oh, wait a second, I meant to mention to you that the Shimura’s invited us over for Christmas Dinner.” You dad says, his chuckles slowing down as the stories do.

Pops waves his hand, as though the request is nothing serious.

“Approved, of course. I’m glad your daughter has those little friends of hers.”

While Pops and your dad keep talking, Chisaki frowns at you, tough you don't notice. WHen you finally do, halfway through a bite of your dinner, you mirror his expression back.

Why does he seem so upset? You’re still going to give him his gift, you’re just going to be spending most of the afternoon and evening with Tenko instead of him. It's not that big of a deal, isn't it?

Weirdo. What is he thinking?

Christmas Eve

Your dad hums your lullaby as he brushes your hair, expertly twisting it into a style you’d be proud to wear even in your past life. You straighten up, squaring your shoulders as you turn back and forth to admire yourself in the mirror. Your dad may be a member of the yakuza, but damn if he doesn’t have taste.

Not too shabby for a three year old!

“Look at that,” he says, leaning over beside you to look in the mirror. “I see such a wonderful person there. Fearless, trustworthy, tenacious.”

“Yeah… oh and I’m here too!” You joke, and he clicks his tongue, tweaking your nose. He’s burying a smile, though, and you count that as a win.

“C’mon, they’re waiting for us outside.”

“I think it’s so pretty in winter. Everything is so quiet, and the snow blankets the land.” You sigh, cradling your face.

“Hmm. It’s nice, I suppose.” Chisaki responds lightly, not looking away from his book.

Dang, he can be boring sometimes.

“What are you doing?” You ask, leaning over his shoulder. He scowls at you, but angles the book so you can see what he’s reading instead of talking. “This is… a medical textbook! Why are you reading this?”

“It’s important to know all the facets of your personal quirk, no matter how extreme they are. You could end up hurting someone by accident, or you could find a new and inventive way to use it.” He replies. “Like your own quirk. You can’t send out your energy far beyond your own body, but that could change. When I fixed your nose after you feel like a stone," Here you glower at him, but he continues on, "I wasn't really prepared. I want to get better at healing. Fixing."

(His eyes briefly dip to your right hand, as though he can see your scars through the material of your gloves. You don't notice the simmer in his eyes)

“So you accept that quirks are good and useful?” You waggle your brows.

“Absolutely not.” His scowl deepens, shooting you down. You pout.

He starts talking, a long winded speech about quirks you've heard before, and you roll your eyes.

Here we go again…

He keeps talking all the way to off the train, down the street, and outside the community center. Pops and your dad stop for snacks in the main entry way, sending you into the empty auditorium, and yet he continues to rant.

The two of you are waiting in your seats for the show to start, and he’s still talking.

Man, he can talk about quirks as much as Midoriya can mutter about heroes, you think as he gestures and taps his fingers against the armrests of your chairs.

You start to feel a bit awkward as more people funnel into the room, and he’s still ranting about quirks.

“Chisaki-“ you say, trying to come up with some way to change the conversation before someone starts a fight with you both.

He keeps talking.

“Chisaki maybe we should talk about this later.”

He keeps talking. One of the other members of the audience turns to glare at you. You smile apologetically.

“Chisaki, if we talk about this later I promise to play shogi again and not call you a cheater-dweeb anymore.” Nothing works, and so you try one last desperate move. "Chisaki, if you wait t talk till we get home, I'll let you pick the next book we read."

He pauses, torn between his own beliefs and the temptation to not be forced to read about Karasu and Ayame and their far-too-long slowburn. 

“Jugemo-Jugemo isn’t that bad of a rakugo to listen to.” Chisaki finally lets go of it, continuing on, “Though it’s not my favorite.”

You sigh in relief.

“Have you heard it before?”

“I’ve read it.”

“I don’t think that’s the same…” you trail off as he waves his hands around, shooing your words away.

“Sure it is. What could they add that I don’t already have in my mind?”

“Maybe the fact that they’re trained in it?”

“Hm. Doubtful.”

You eye him, shaking your head.

Must be nice to be filled just to the brim with the absolute belief that you would rock at everything you ever tried.

You, on the other hand, have always had to work hard to get what you wanted.

In your past life that is. Now, things are a bit more gentle to you. You've got a bit more luck. 

(For example, you didn’t even have to pay for the gifts you got your friends! Though that could also be less because of your own personal luck and more because you're three)

The lights begin to dim, and as you lean forward in your seat to get a better view, Chisaki leans back, arms crossed.

He could certainly do better than the woman who just walked out in front of them. She hardly looks like a real rakugoka, with outrageous dyed pink tips. 

Honestly, he doesn't see why it's such a big whoop, but he didn't mind seeing it with you.

“I mean, it was like there really were other people on the stage with her.” Chisaki marvels.

You stifle a snort, watching as he slowly adjusts his gloves around his wrists.

“I don’t understand how she did it so well. Perhaps it was her quirk? No, because that’s against the rules. Maybe she…” 

“Maybe she's just good at what she does.” You contribute, trying not to laugh at him. He nods to himself, eyes distant and still in the theater.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Pops chuckles, “Maybe we can go and see another sometime soon.”

“Absolutely!” You bounce on your toes, spreading your arms so that your dad can put your coat on. “I can’t wait to tell Tenko about it.”

Chisaki glances at you, watching as you think about your other friend.

“Going to see rakugo is much more fun that just sitting in a dark theater watching movies, isn’t it?” Chisaki says lightly. Your dad pauses, glancing at him.

You don’t pick up on it quite yet.

“Mmm… I dunno. I think they’re fun in different ways!” You smile to yourself, imagining Tenko’s reaction to the story.

He’d probably listen intently, stars in his eyes and breath in his throat. He’d let you retell it, and no matter how badly you did, he’d act like it was the best thing he ever had heard.

Tenko’s such a good friend.

“You never smile at me like that.” Chisaki notes.

You stop, scarf halfway around your neck. Pops and your dad turn to each other slowly, lips pursed together and eyes wide. Your dad gestures to Pops, not quite pushing his boss but definitely moving him along to give the two of you some space to talk.

“I know that you vowed you wouldn’t. I remember it quite fondly,” his sarcastic tone slips from his voice as he speaks, “But I don’t suppose I expected it to stay. Or rather, I don’t think I expected you to stick by it.”

“I…” you continue winding your scarf, giving yourself time to think. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

You definitely almost slipped up a couple of times. Someone’s done something, he’s murmured quietly to you with his wry light in his eyes and you’ve had to bite back a grin.

Why do you stick to it now, anyway?

“I have. I read that friends smile at each other often. We don’t, though.”

“You… think we’re friends?” You stare at him with wide eyes, watching as the tips of his ears turn pink.

(The colors isn't caused by the cold air outside)

“Maybe. I suppose.” He looks away. “Yes.”

“Oh! I do too!” You’ve reach out, taking his gloved hands. “I think we’re friends. So you should call me by my first name!”

“No.”

Ah.

“Why not?” You pout, and he rolls his eyes, “You just said we were friends!”

“We are. But it’s not appropriate.”

“Not appro- it’s a name!"

“A personal name.” He emphasizes.

“And? We’re friends now! If I smile for you, would you do it?”

“Do not.” He covers your mouth with one of his hands, slipping it out of your grip. He does leave the other one connected to you, though his grip is limp and awkward, like he doesn’t do this often.

“I’ll lick your hand.” You threaten, muffled though it may be.

“Do not.” He narrows his eyes at you, and you do the same right back in defiance. “I’m taking my hand off your mouth now.”

“Why are you now making a big deal out of smiles?” You ask, rubbing at your lips to get the cottony taste out.

“Because they’re supposed to be natural. Genuine. Not in exchange for something.”

“What, did you get that from your book too?” You stick out your tongue at him.

He looks away sharply, suddenly unable to maintain eye-contact.

“I don’t have to answer that.”

"Not without your lawyer?"

He scoffs, but you drop it. You're satisfied that you're friends now, and you're definitely going to remind him that he admitted it first all the time. 

Your dad comes back with Pops, raising his brows at you to make sure everything is good. You nod at him, and the four of you make your way back to the train station.

The return trip to the compound is a bit more difficult to get through than the original, though.

Now you're forcing your eyes to stay open, each blink getting slower and slower. At one point, you swear the train is passing a town, and then you close your eyes only for a second and there’s water on that same side.

Maybe your eight o’clock bedtimes are starting to get to you. You’re too used to going to sleep early that staying up past 9 o'clock twice in one month is killing you. 

Chisaki is perfectly fine, of course. Somehow he’s managed to get his hands on a book about rakugo and is tearing through it at a clip that’s almost fearful to see.

You yawn, your head unintentionally and slowly listing towards his shoulder. It falls, you finally losing your fight against sleep, and he pauses only for a seconds, your breath even puffs against his neck, before he moves you onto your father’s shoulder.

Asahi gives you a fond look, adjusting slightly so your neck won’t have a crick in it when you wake up, before turning to continue talking with Pops.

His hand raises, already awaiting the itch the signifies something unclean has touched him.

A moment passes, in which nothing happens.

He frowns. It must be because there wasn’t any skin-to-skin contact.  Yes, that must be it.

Christmas Day

It’s a beautiful day, snow having fallen the night before, and you stare at your cup, teeth clenched so hard you swear you’ll lose them your best attempt to keep from dying or killing.

It’s a beautiful early morning, and some of the Shie Hassiakai members decided to stay at the compound today, in order to give gifts to others they’re close to, though they haven’t started yet.

It’s a beautiful snowy Christmas morning, after all, that’s what people do on Christmas Day.

However.

Many of them are also singing Christmas songs. That wouldn’t be bad in the short term, but it seems like none of them can agree on what to sing. Because of that, you now have three different factions singing three different songs, and not a single one has a single hope of carrying a tune.

Aren’t y’all supposed to be bad guys? Yakuza members? Villains? You think to yourself, watching them separate from each other. 

(Over a song. They're going to have a fight to the death over a Christmas Song. This is outrageous)

One goes after a particularly high note, not quite managing to catch it, and you wince.

If you’re suffering, though, Chisaki looks like he’s two seconds away from committing a federal crime.

“It’s nice to hear the members have a nice moment to themselves, isn’t it?” Pops grins, “I haven’t seen them this carefree in a long time.”

Your dad smiles tightly.

You clutch your cocoa.

Chisaki almost stands, your hand tugging at the edge of his shirt the only thing keeping him in his spot.

You don’t need spend your day explaining to the police why there was a murder on Christmas.

(Actually if he did stop their screeching you might defend him…)

No, no, You shake your head, murder is bad.

“Why don’t we do the gift thing now?” Your dad suggests, sounding very lightheaded.

“Good idea,” Pops clears his throat, standing up. The others immediately fall silent, turning to him. “Let us begin the gift exchange!”

They start making noise again, though this time friendly chatter. People who were moments away from killing each other over songs, of all things, are now laughing genially like nothing happened.

Chisaki opens his mouth to say something, but Pops talks before he can.

“This is from me.” He says, handing you a rectangular box.

“Thank you,” You smile up at Pops immediately, and he shakes his head fondly.

“Open it before you thank me, child.”

You rip at the paper gleefully, cooing at the ornate tea set inside.

It’s beautiful, designed with your favorite colors in swirling shapes, The style is slightly antiquated, but the master craftsmanship is undeniable. 

“Sato told me that you particularly enjoyed this part of your training. I thought that having your own set would be a good gift for a young woman.”

(You’re not sure why Ms. Sato said your favorite part was the tea training, but you can tell this gift was expensive-expensive and you like Pops, so you’re going to play up your reaction as much as possible)

“Thank you so much!” You gush, running your finger along the edge of the pot. “They’re gorgeous! I’m going to love them forever!”

He pats your head twice, squishing your hair against your face. You run your fingers through it as soon as he turns away, subtly smoothing out all the frizz he’s caused.

Chisaki raises his brows at you, and you roll your eyes in response to his expression. 

Once again he’s about to say something when Kuua interrupts, placing an entire plate of sweets in front of you.

You can barely see his unamused gaze over the steam rising from it, and you can’t help but smile.

“I made this new recipe just for you!” She announces, patting you on your back. Each one sends you forward, almost face-planting into the pile.

“Oh wow! Thank you!” You reach for one, stuffing it in your mouth.

You almost cry at how good it tastes.

Kuua my life is yours eternally, you think as your dad grumbles about dessert for breakfast.

While the two of them talk, and Chisaki tries to find his way around the food, Ichrio and Suburo hand a music track off to you, talking softly about how the entire playlist is songs they know you like. Somehow you know they’ve got it all perfect, and you thank them quietly.

After the four of them start, more and more members of the Shie Hassaikai are spurred into coming up to you. The pile of gifts gets bigger and bigger, as do your eyes. They range from weapons that your dad confiscates almost instantly to toys that are a bit out of your age range to jewelry that may or may not have been stolen to just straight up money slipped into your pocket.

Chisaki growls under his breath as you’re forced to listen to more and more bromide from a member who has no right to talk to you- what? - and he still hasn’t been able to give you his gift.

“I think we need to start getting ready to head over to the Shimura’s, kiddo.” Your dad says, and Chisaki’s gaze snaps to your father.

Now? Now?

You haven’t turned your attention to him yet! And yet your dad thinks it’s the right time to take you away to that.. that other boy? The one you smile for?

(Distantly he wonders why it’s such a problem. The book he read mentioned that having more than one friend is accepted. Normal, even. And yet still it bothers him)

Chisaki pushes the trays of food and gifts on the table out of the way, scowling at them as though they’ve committed a terrible crime. He opens his mouth once more, about to speak, but this time you interrupt him.

“Oh, but I haven’t given Chisaki his gift yet!” You tug on your dad’s shirt.

(You… have a gift for him)

You turn to him, a mischievous look on your face as you turn to grab at something behind you. You pull out a bag, reaching to go through it briefly before he stops you.

“Actually,” He starts, and you glance up, “I want to give you mine first.”

“Oh! Well, we can do that too!”

He takes your hand, the warmth from you slipping through the material of the gloves and into his palm.

(It’s a comfortable feeling, one he’s gotten used to over the months that he’s known you. He doesn’t mind it as much as he once did)

He leads you to the library, the place that the two of you first began to be friends. In the center of the room is a stack of books, and a closed box on top.

“Is it-?” You ask, letting go of his hand to creep forward. He frowns down at it, rubbing his thumb against the palm of his hand. Strange that he doesn’t enjoy letting go of you anymore.

“That book series you said you adored but couldn’t find anywhere? Yes.” He says, still pondering his hand a moment longer before flicking it away and standing up straight. “All of them.”

“All of them?” You gasp out, lifting book after book and flipping through them. “All of them?”

“Every book in the main series, novellas, side stories, special editions, and authors copy.” Chisaki squares his shoulders, a smug look on his face.

“Oh my God,” You mutter, slipping your fingers through the pages.

“No, just me, and I’m not quite divine.” He feels like smiling. What a strange sensation. “That’s also your gift.”

You open the box that sat atop the pile, still in shock and maybe even vague horror at the fact that something you mentioned once or twice stuck so well in his mind.

Your eyes widen, and he studies the way the gift reflects. The shimmer glows in them quite well. Perhaps he should get more. What’s the next appropriate time to give jewels? A birthday?

Hmm. He’s not sure he’d like waiting that long.

“It’s… a bookmark?”

“Pops still doesn’t appreciate the dogeared pages you leave in his books. Despite these being your personal copy, I don’t doubt he’d feel the same.” He shrugs, though it’s not quite as modest as he’s displaying. “It’s a practical gift.”

(Practically expensive, but that’s not important, not when he sees your face now)

“Wow,” You say, and for a moment he worries as your voice is wobbly. “It… really means a lot that you cared this much.”

You are his friend. Friends care for each other. How odd that you wouldn’t expect the same of him.

“I almost feel like my gift is tacky compared to all this,” You clear your throat, looking up at him. “It’s… it was apart of my training, and I thought you might like it.”

You go for the bag you had carried for it, reaching inside.

“Don’t picture something crazy big, it’s- it’s just a simple gift, I thought you might like, or find useful. First, these gloves are replacements for the ones you have. Those aren’t the best quality, despite the guy who sold them swearing they were.” You scowl, like you’re going to fight with whoever sold you the first pair of gloves, and he finds it sweet.

He slips off the first pair you gave him, placing them gently down on the table. The new ones are certainly of a better quality, softer and with padded fingers. He slides them on, turning his hand over as he admires the style.

“They are very nice.”

“Yeah maybe but this is the important part!” You shove the bag at him, unable to look him in the eyes in embarrassment.

He shuffles through it, nodding in satisfaction at the year subscription to Cleanliness Monthly. There are several good gifts in here, but the piece of cloth at the bottom gives him pause.

“It’s a handkerchief?”

“With your initials stitched on. I’ve been practicing for months, Ms. Sato thought it was an important thing for a girl to learn.” You mumble something about learning to stitch up wounds, but he’s not paying any attention to that.

He traces the kanji of his name, each careful stitch admitting to the time and effort put in to make such a gift for him.

You’re still talking, and he can’t understand why you think these gifts were lesser. They are perhaps the greatest he’s ever gotten.

He folds the handkerchief into fifths, slipping it in the his pocket. The gloves shift against his palm, smooth as silk and yet strong as steel.

You’re looking away, flipping through the books again, and he gives in to the urge to smile.

Though you don’t see it, smiling with you feels right.

Tenko looks up as his mom moves to the door, the rapid and heavy knocks making him frown. 

Why would someone knock so hard? They almost shook the house. There’s no need to be so aggressive, and-

“Merry Christmas and all that comes with it! You want to hear a carol? I bet I can get Papa to sing!”

Yes you’re here! Yay! He’s so glad you did all that, you always know exactly how to make the perfect entrance!

Tenko pops up, running to the door before he’s even aware of it, arms thrown around you in a hug.

“Hello Tenko!” You hug him back, warm even though your coat carries the smell of the wind outside.

“You came!”

“As if there was any doubt!” You laugh, letting go of him. “Now who is this darling baby?”

You coo over Mon, who practically falls to pieces in your hands. He had followed Tenko as soon as his boy had gotten up, snapping out of his sleep to run towards to the door with him.

“This is Mon! He’s a good dog.”

“Of course he is, yes you’re just a good boy yeah good boy Mon.” You pet the dog, paying more attention to him than to his mom or grandparents, who are making their way to the door. Mon rests his head in your hands, adoring eyes trained up on you, and Tenkos smile gets bigger.

Hana and his dad come home not much later with dinner, while you’re swinging your legs at the counter and munching on the cookies his mom made in preparation. She shouts and hugs you, the two of you immediately talking about her schooling.

"I have a few games we might like to play!" His mom says, coming to stand by the two of you, "And crafts to make too! Do you guys want to start now, or wait till after dinner?"

You turn to him with a wide smile, and he feels his heart warm.

“Are you ready for the best Christmas you’ve ever had?”

Somehow he knows you’re going to deliver on that promise.

“Mhm! Mhm!”

“Christmas tree!”

“Mmm! JUH!”

“Lights?”

“AH. AH. AH.”

“Bells?!”

“No, it’s-!”

“You’re not allowed to talk!”

“You were talking your entire turn, Hana!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Star!”

“Tenko got it! His team gets the point!”

“Alright.” You clap your hands sharply, your soldiers standing at attention. “This is when we put ourselves to the test. When we prove ourselves to be men. Are you ready to prove your honor?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Your eyes narrow as you look at the supplies you’ve been given. You can do it. You can win this. You can crush your enemies under your heels. All you need is a little faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Your dad squints at you in worry from a few feet away, where he and his team are talking about their plan. You and the other kids have… concerning looks on your faces.

“We are going to make the best gingerbread houses that this world has ever seen.”

Hana and Tenko cheer as you put your hands on your hips. Leaders have to look cool, after all, and you’re gonna look dope as hell posing like this.

(Nao quietly takes a picture, saving the moment)

As the gingerbread house begins to come together, Tenko starts to notice some supplies are vanishing. A gumdrop that was meant for the roof is gone, there's not enough icing to paint the door quite right, the floor to their house is missing. 

"Captain," He calls, lifting the house to make sure they haven't accidentally dropped their materials under it, "Captain, I think we have a problem."

"Mph?" You reply, half turned away from him.

"I think the other team might be cheating and taking our stuff!"

Hana gasps dramatically, and you turn back to him, wiping at your mouth. 

"Those dastardly villains!" You shout, waving your fist in the air, "We'll have our revenge on them, make no mistake!"

Strange that there are crumbs dropping from your cheeks. That definitely doesn't signify anything, though, and he follows your charge to accuse the parents table. 

“How’s your star going?” Tenko leans over your shoulder, watching as you fold your paper skillfully.

“Perfectly!” You show it off to him, preening.

He pauses. He bites his lip. He clears his throat.

“It looks really… good! It looks great!”

“What is that?” Hana asks, leaning around him. He tries to shush her, but she gets out the words before he can. “A deformed sheep?”

“A deformed sheep? Hana!” You gasp, “It’s a star!”

“Ohh. I don’t see it.”

"Pst, sweetheart," Mrs. Magi, Nao's mother, calls to you from halfway across the room.

You glance at your friends, who are in the middle of talking about this show they watch, and quietly make your way over to her.

"Would you like a piece of chocolate?"

"Yes please!" You hold out your hands, and she pours candy into them. "Thank you!"

"Of course sweetie. You're such a sweet girl." She pinches your cheeks, a trade you're willing to make in exchange for the candy.

You bring it over to your friends, gleefully sharing it with them. 

“Your grandmas really nice,” You whisper, shoving your candy in your mouth. Hana nods in agreement.

“She also makes this really good- Moms coming!”

The three of you throw your candies in the trash, rather rashly, as Nao approaches. From your faces and the way you keep shifting on your feet, she can tell somethings wrong.

“What’s going on?” She asks, hands on her hips. You all share a guilty look.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing you want to tell me?” She raises her brow, turning to her son. “Tenko?”

She’s going after our weakest link! You panic, glancing at Hana. From the look on her face, you can tell she’s thinking the same.

Tenko opens his mouth slowly, not looking at either of you, who are shooting the most desperate of looks to him.

“I- I… I’m still hungry?” He says.

She hums, watching him a moment more.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I've made some popcorn. Let’s go kiddos.”

Flawless Tenko, of course he wouldn’t betray you. You can trust him with your life.

You snuggle against Tenko, hands are clasped, watching as the fire crackles softly, and the steam from your drinks in front of you rises lazily into the air.

The day has gone by a lot faster than you think it should’ve been allowed to, and now the moon has risen to watch over the night and those you love peacefully. Its soft beams reflect against the snow that kisses the grounds, sealing up the seeds buried under the ground waiting for the new year. Stars join it in its guardianship, twinkling against the backdrop of the sky. 

Kotaro and Hana are knocked out on the couch, her fast asleep against his shoulder, and Mr. and Mrs. Magi have long since gone to bed, citing their age as an excuse. Your dad and Nao talk at the kitchen table, her leaning back in her seat and your dad resting his feet on the chair across from him.

Gifts have long been exchanged, dinner long since eaten, and plates long since washed. The night has wound itself down into this quiet moment between you and your friend, satisfied in your life.

(While the adults had cleaned up earlier and Hana fought her sleep, you tugged Tenko to the side.

“I know you really liked him,” You had whispered, “And so I got you this.”

You slip a piece of paper into his hands, and as he unfolds it he can’t help but smile.

Do Great Things Kid- Eraser Head

It’s as generic an autograph as you could possibly get someone, and yet Tenko looks at it like you’ve just given him a first-edition Elisabetta Sirani. His eyes are filled with tears, and he blubbers out something as he hugs you again. You can’t really tell what, but decide it doesn’t matter very much)

You yawn, cuddling closer to Tenko as you close your eyes and enjoy the warmth of the fire.

“You’re using me as a pillow,” You hear him faux grumble, and you can't help but chuckle.

“Yes. All these months of friendship have been for the entirely selfish job of being invited into your house and using you as a headrest. That’s all it was for.”

“I knew it."

You look at each other for a short moment before you give way to giggles. You laughter peters off, a snap from wood breaking in the fire sending a wave of warmth toward your pair. 

You sigh in unison.

“It was a good day.” You mumble into his shoulder. He nods.

“A really good day.” He yawns, breaths slowing.

You hear Tenko start to snore lightly, the day getting to him, and as your eyes start to close, you remind yourself of what you meant to do earlier. You curl your fingers around the feather at your heart, tugging it up a bit closer to your lips.

“Hey. You probably can’t hear me, but I hope you’re doing good.” You sigh, knowing quite the opposite. “I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Merry Christmas, Keigo.”

As you finally give into sleep, you swear the feather caresses your cheek.

Chapter Text

“You’re going away?” You look up at Tenko, eyes wide and wet.

“Just for a couple of weeks! Dad has a business trip, and he wants to take us along!” He waves his hands around, desperate to get the sad look off of your face. “And then we’ll be right back! And we can video call’n stuff! Mom still has your dad’s number, so we can talk all the time!”

“But…” But that leaves you with less time, “But I don’t want you to go…”

He keeps talking, and when he takes your hand, you force a smile.

You’re not upset with him, or even really upset that he’s going away. Of course his dad would want to take his family with him on a trip.

It’s just… it’s the new year. You celebrated with your friends, able to laugh and dance around, but deep in your heart worry began to fester.

(This is when Mr. And Mrs. Magi die. When Nao dies. When Hana dies)

This is the year that Shigaraki Tomura could be born.

(This is the year that Tenko could die)

“When do you come back?”

“Dad says March 21.”

“The twenty-first?! But that’s-! You’re going to be gone for a month?” Your voice goes hoarse as he nods slowly.

“Dad says he doesn’t want to be away from his family for a such a big time.” Tenko wrinkles his nose, and though your quirk isn’t reading minds, you can almost guess what he’s thinking.

He probably wouldn’t mind being away from his father for such a long while.

You and Tenko are actually supposed to be working on the math problems that the lesson-planner gave you, your still-weekly learning club meeting thing, but with your combined minds- and your past-life knowledge -the two of you almost always finish early and spend the rest of the time talking.

Kotaro and your dad are seated a few yards away in the library, each working on separate computers. When you first came in, and saw him with Tenko instead of Nao, you and your dad shared a look of distaste.

But Kotaro isn’t… awful. At least, not when compared with other fathers.

There are some that are crueler than anything, without an ounce of love for anyone.

Kotaro isn’t like that.

He hasn’t laid hands on his family (yet) and he actually tries to pay attention to them.

He goes to Hana’s awards ceremonies at school, brings Nao home flowers, he was even just talking to your dad about helping Tenko get ready for his own first year.

It all seems good in the abstract.

But you can see how your friends tense up around him, how Nao suddenly gets quieter, how Mr. and Mrs. Magi always share a glance of regret and grief over him…

You can see how what eventually (might) happen happens.

“Tenko, when we call- and it has to be every day -you’ll tell me about everything that happened to you since we last talked, right? You won’t leave anything out.” You take a deep breath, “So that way it’s almost like I’m there with you, no matter how far away you are!”

“Of course! So it’s like we were never be parted!” He squeezes your hand, his own smile more genuine than yours.

You nod resolutely

“Never part,” you murmur like an invocation, before smiling at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, where are you going? Are you excited?”

Tenko nods, talking all about the upcoming trip, to New York, it turns out.

He mentions the sights he wants to see, the American food he wants to try- including the fascinating and unique Real American Fried Chicken - and the fact he plans on finding the Big Apple itself.

You laugh at his determination, the silly face he’s making warming your heart.

Every day you call Tenko, just talking and talking and talking. New York is 13 hours behind Japan, so your calling times are pretty varied, but the two of you always pick up when the phone rings.

You wander around as you talk to him, right until one of your phones dies, to your parents, the owners of said phones, chagrin.

Hana joins in off-screen sometimes, shouting random additions to his story, but he shoos her away more often than not.

Several members of the Shie Hassaikai can’t help but poke their heads in whatever room you’re in, listening to either you or Tenko ramble about whatever is your most recent thought. The happy chatter your pair creates makes them smile.

Chisaki on the other hand looks much like a hostage, absolutely hating it.

He says you and Tenko sound like a pair of chattering monkeys, something that made you gasp and shout over.

He, pretty dramatically if you’re being honest, has taken to wearing earmuffs while he’s with you and you’re on the phone.

(Though you swear you caught him slip off the side that was opposite of you, as if to listen in as well. Hmm)

Anyway, you just ignore him.

Talking to Tenko over the phone is just like talking to him face-to-face. Easy, simple, and warm.

It’s good.

You’re minding your own business in the library today, playing shogi with Chisaki and muttering grimly about his choice of strategy, when Ms. Sato walks in, frowns at you as if finding you doing something you weren’t supposed to be, and clicks her tongue.

You point to yourself questioningly.

“Yes you, young lady. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?”

“Ready? Ready for…?”

“Oh for goodness sake.”

She sighs heavily before snatching you up, leaving you to blurt “oh I guess this game is over I’d totally be winning anyway if she didn’t save you!” to Chisaki as you’re kidnapped and absconded off to who knows where.

The actual where is the bathroom, in which she tells to take a bath and then put on this very specific kimono she’s leaving out.

Bath time? But it’s only 4 o’clock! You grumble as you climb into the tub, scrubbing your skin and hair meticulously.

After drying and finding that Ms. Sato’s taste is impeccable as always, the kimono adorable and a perfect fit, you find her, and she starts doing your hair, which is a process to say the least.

Chisaki joins about hallways through, having changed into montsuki.

Does everybody know something I don’t? You think to yourself.

“You’re going to want to look your best. This is going to bring honor, not just to Lord Hirayama and your father, but to the entire Shie Hassaikai.” Ms. Sato says, still not quite explaining what, exactly, is going on.

“Hah?” You ask, as Ms. Sato battles your hair, twisting it up into a style not unlike her own severe one. “What’s happening?”

“Haven’t you been paying any attention?” Chisaki brushes through his own hair, and you wouldn’t be shocked if he’s counting till his hundredth stroke. “Pops is having an accord with another yakuza. Because of that, we need to look honorable and professional.”

Professional? Dude, you’re ten and I’m three.

You open your mouth to respond, but Ms. Sato tugs expertly at your hair, as though a preemptive strike to keep you from saying something sarcastic and unladylike.

You must’ve heard someone talking about it, as this meeting sounds familiar, but you’ve been too busy thinking about Tenko to really pay any attention.

“Oh. Ok.” A yakuza meeting… hmm. Sounds dangerous.

How exciting!

But nothing fun is probably going to happen. It’s an “accord” right? At least, according to Chisaki. So that’s like a peace meeting. All chill and quiet.

All will go great, you’re sure. Boring, probably, just adults sitting around talking, but great nonetheless.

Once done, Ms. Sato lines the two of you up in the inner courtyard like toy dolls. Shoulders up and back, spines straight, eyes forward, but not too forward, and chins perfectly aligned.

Then she leaves you, saying that she has to finishing a few more things.

People begin to file in, though your dad and Pops are noticeably missing.

Takeda is among those who takes place around the outer edge of the room. When he walks in, he just so accidentally happens to bump into you, dislodging you from the meticulous position Ms. Sato put you in.

You scowl at his retreating back, the annoying smirk he throws over his shoulder showing you it wasn’t so accidental.

Asshole. Who has beef with a three-year old?

“Ignore him,” Chisaki, who seems to have less and less patience for the man, tells you.

And so the two of you stand there.

And stand there.

And stand there.

“Hey, when’s this meeting thing supposed to start?” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth.

“At 5:15.” Chisaki replies, frowning down at his wrist. “I can’t tell you what time it is now, I don’t have a watch.”

You hide a snort, his distress over not having one evident.

Drama Queen.

You kick at a loose stone, Chisaki’s eyes flicking down to it and then back up at you.

“Where’s Ichiro?”

“He’s probably guarding the south entrance. We can’t just leave everything open.”

More waiting.

“Good grief, I’ll be as old as Pops by the time this actually starts.” You tell him.

You can see him bury a smile, and you’re about to say something else when your dad and Pops finally come in.

Your dad shoots you a wink, and you grin back at him.

“You two look very fine.” Pops nods at you both, and you stand up straighter. “All of you do. I am glad to call you my fellow workers in the Shie Hassiakai, and I am certain that this meeting will bring peace and prosperity for us all.”

“Sir,” One of the members calls, “They’re here.”

The other yakuza funnel in slowly, all clad with matching colors and symbols. They were introduced, the Warui Otoko-tachi themselves, and your eyes skim over all of the members.

Kinda plain looking, if you’re being honest. No sense of fashion.

Finally, a woman comes in, elegantly clad in a formal kimono of golds and blue.

She smiles at Pops, her eyes shrewd. Pops smiles back genially, and the two bow shallowly to each other.

“Hirayama Ryo. It is good to see your face after all this time.”

“You as well, Hojo Yaeko. Come, let us eat and drink and find enjoyment in our works.”

The two sit at the table set in the middle of the inner courtyard, and you study the procession that came with her.

All of the members of both yakuzas are mostly just standing around the edges. You and Chisaki are the only children, obviously, and your dad stands a few steps away from Pops.

The two heads talk of small matters for a while, before the eyes of the woman, Lady Hojo, fall upon you.

They hover for a less than a second, a silt of thoughts mixing in them, before moving on to your dad with a light, amused glance.

Her eyes flick to Takeda, and then back to your father. Your dad scratches idly at the back of his neck, chin bopping up for a second as he does so.

(Takeda leaves shortly after, and when you look at Chisaki he mumbles something something Joining Ichiro south entrance something something stop talking. Whatever)

The woman reminds you of a fox, truly. The slightly narrowed way she covers over the world, the sharp way she holds herself, the tilt of her head, all of it.

When she grins at something Pops has said, it’s without teeth, her lips pressed together. Her voice is smooth, without inflection on any of her words.

All this to say, she’s kinda freaky and makes you super uncomfortable.

So it’s just amazing when she turns to you again and says “So sorry to interrupt you, Hirayama, but just who is that darling girl over there?”

“That is my aide Kaneko’s daughter. Beside her is another young member of our group.” Pops gestures to the two of you, indicating you should approach.

You do so, doing your best to remember each and every one of Ms. Sato’s lessons on elegance and grace, even the ones you definitely slept through.

“Chisaki Kai. Ten years old.” Chisaki says, bowing to her.

You copy him, introducing yourself and bowing. When you rise, a bit of your hair has fallen out of the pins Ms. Sato put it up in, and you swipe it back quickly.

The corner of the woman’s lips twitch, almost like a buried genuine reaction.

“Lovely to meet you both. I knew your father, girl, a long time ago.” She says, voice honey-soft.

Oh shoot, for real?

As much as you want to know more, you also figure now isn’t the best time, y’know, with the whole meeting and all.

(And also the fact she’s a yakuza head and probably wouldn’t, like, sit and talk with a kid)

You and Chisaki step back again, your job of being Shown Off done.

A few moments later Ms. Sato taps you and Chisaki on the shoulders.

“Come along now. It’s time for the adults to speak.”

You expect Chisaki to be upset about being sent away, or even just put up a bit of a fuss. Especially because it’s right in the middle of such a big deal meeting, and in his head he’s a big deal member.

He doesn’t, though, just nods and agrees.

Huh! Maybe he’s actually chilling out.

“You’re taking them to the library, right?” Your dad asks quietly as your troupe passes by.

“Mhm.” Ms. Sato nods.

“And they’re going to stay there?”

“Yes, Asahi, they won’t leave the library.” She gives him a funny look, but answers anyway.

He nods, shoulders easing down a bit.

“Sorry. Just overprotective, I guess.” He smiles at you, though he looks tired.

Poor dad. He must not be sleeping well, something keeping him up at night. probably this meeting. You imagine it was a major source of stress for everyone involved. 

Ms. Sato leaves you both with strict orders not to leave the room, leveling her glare at Chisaki in particular.

“You wanna play-“ you start, walking over to where you figure Chisaki put the shogi board, only for him to interrupt you.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Go where?”

“We need to hear the rest of the discussion. This pact is an important part of the Shie Hassaikai’s future.” At your blank stare, he sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues slowly like you’re an idiot. “I’m going to be the next leader of the Shie Hassaikai. I’m taking over after Pops.”

“Right. So?”

“I’d be acting like a child if I had made a stink of it when Pops was very clearly having Sato dismiss us, but I still need to know about things such as these that are happening.”

(You bite your tongue very hard to keep from telling him that he is a child)

“Won’t Pops just tell you when you take over?”

“What if he can’t? What if he dies suddenly? Or gets sick? Or falls into a coma?”

You get very quiet.

“So there. I should know what’s going on.”

His ‘logic’ is not actual logic. It sounds mostly just like he wants to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“And you-.” He continues, pointing at you.

You blink at him, sitting pretty.

“You… you’ll probably still be hanging around me when we’re adults too.”

You frown.

“That makes you still apart of the Shie Hassiakai’s future as well!” He adds.

“Right.” You say, clearly unamused by his words.

“C’mon.”

And then he just leaves the library.

“C’mon’?” You repeat, hopping up and following him, “Where are we going to listen from?”

“The roof, we can keep watching the discussion from there.”

“The roof?!” You stop dead in your tracks, “Chisaki, you must be crazy. I’m not going into the roof.”

“You don’t need to worry about falling. You can fly.” He points out, as if this is perfectly reasonable.

“I don’t want to have to worry about flying, I don’t want to go on the roof at all!”

He snorts.

“Well, you can either join me or stay here.”

“I’m staying here.” You cross your arms, stomping your foot.

“Alright. I’ll tell you what happens later.”

And then he leaves you in the middle of the hallway.

You stand there for a second, and then a second more.

“Son of a- Chisaki wait up!” You follow him, lifting your kimono skirt to catch up.

“Why are we going here?”

“The best way to access the roof is through this alley. I’ve done it before.”

“What?!”

Chisaki stops in his tracks, and you, in your complete bafflement at the idea of him climbing onto the goddamn roof, run into his back.

“What’s-?” Chisaki hushes you with a sharp glare, pulling you back with a hand on your collar.

“You really think it’ll be this simple?” An unfamiliar voice mutters.

You freeze as he steps in front of you almost silently, your eyes turning slowly to the men crowded in the mouth of the alleyway.

“‘Course it’ll be. Didn’t you hear that man? Easy in and out, we’ll have the info and be gone in no time.”

“Maybe, but this is the Shie Hassaikai. Nothings ever that easy.”

“They may be the Shie Hassaikai, but we’re the Warui Otoko-tachi, and we-“

There’s sounds of a blow landing, and a deeper voice joins the other two.

“Shut your fool mouths.” It hisses, “We have a job to do and we can’t be doing that with you announcing it to the world.”

“Aye, jeez, alright boss man.”

“I’ve got the alert. He’s left the entrance. Get your asses in gear.”

The voices fade as the trio walk away, and you and Chisaki look to each other.

“They’re gonna betray Pops,” you whisper, and he nods.

“We have to tell him.” He says, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that twinges your heart.

The two of you silently dart back into the building, him a half-step ahead of you.

“What’s going to happen, Chisaki?” Your voice is shaky as the two of you move, and it distantly registers that you don’t see any adults. 

They’re probably all in the center too, right? So then if someone attacks, or throws a bomb, or has a quirk that could be used-

He stops suddenly, turning to look back at you.

“What’s wrong? We need to tell Pops, right?”

He’s silent, appraising you, all three years old of yourself.

“Follow me.”

Chisaki leads you to the tunnels under the compound. You can hear the stomp of people above you, someone fetching something or another, their every move sharp enough to send the lights flickering.

You have to go tell Pops. Why is he leading you down here? You need to move faster and tell him.

(You thought this was supposed to be a simple meeting. Weren’t they just going to talk? The yakuza groups have to know they can’t fight, right? Else the police, the heroes-)

“Stay here,” Chisaki hisses, pushing you into a dark corner.

Your hand flies out, gripping the corner of his sleeve. Your eyes are wide, your hold is tight, your breath rasping in and out.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go help.”

“You’re leaving me?” Your voice cracks and you don’t let go.

“I have to go help.” He says it harsher this time, pulling at your hand against him. “A fight could break out. I’m needed up there. You’re too young. You could get hurt.”

“But- you- you can’t! You can’t leave me,” It’s selfish and desperate but you don’t want to be alone, not when there’s fighting going on and you could die what if you die again-

“Let go of me.” He snaps, finally breaking free of you.

“You swore that you’d protect me. Please don’t leave me alone.”

He turns away, his eyes soften, and his hands flick, as though he wants to turn back.

“This is how I protect you,” he says at long last. He pulls his gaze away from you forcefully, wincing. “I protect Pops. I protect the Shie Hassaikai, and thus I protect you, too.”

He turns his head, like he wants to look at you one more time, before pushing one foot in front of the other, leaving the tunnels.

You curl up, pulling your knees against your chest. Your eyes dart at every shift in the tunnels, every creak from above.

Your breaths are sharp, and you try to silence them.

Rationalize this, you tell yourself, be logical. Don’t be scared of nothing.

You’re in the safest place you could be. You’re levels underground, hidden away from even members of your own yakuza! No one knows you’re down here, and no one knows how to get in, unless they’re apart of the Shie Hassaikai.

Chisaki knows all this. That’s why he brought you here. That’s why he hid you away. He’s keeping you safe.

You breathe out slowly, nodding to yourself.

It takes five minutes or so, but you calm down.

(Good grief, what came over you? You’re a bit embarrassed of your original reaction to him leaving. There was no reason to be so dramatic about it. Everything’s fine)

You’re safe.

The noise above rises, slowly, though you can’t tell what’s going on. It begins to muffle, and you force a smile. It’s probably all over now. Whatever happened, whatever started, it’s over.

You hear the sound of footsteps. Chisaki, come to retrieve you. You start to stand.

Your face freezes.

You don’t recognize the cadence of the steps.

Kai tears through the hallways, running past other members who stand in the halls, attending to their duties.

They don’t know what’s going to happen, but he does. He does and he’s going to stop it. Unlike the others who shrink back from their duty, he’ll fulfill it, down to the last letter.

He’s protecting that which he cares about and that’ll never let him fear then why isn’t he still down there with you? which is why he’s warning Pops before someone can start a fight that will cost too much.

He bursts into the light of the day, eyes zeroing in on the group in the middle.

Pops is speaking to the woman in the middle of the courtyard. Though she’s the leader of the Warui Otoko-tachi, Kai doesn’t stop to remember her name.

He takes a deep breath, brushing back his fly-away hair and adjusting his gloves. He needs to approach Pops without signaling to the woman that her plans have been given away. He needs to be smart about this.

He approaches Pops, silently slipping through the crowd. He’s almost at him, too, when he’s intercepted.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sato demands quietly, her hand on his shoulder and turning him around.

“I have something important to tell Pops. There’s-“

(Your father glances over at the quiet interruption, doing a double take at the sight of Kai)

“Whatever it is can wait, of this I’m sure. Now is not the time to be running in and interrupting a peace meeting.”

“Listen to me, Sato, please, there’s-“

“What are you doing up here?” Your dad hisses, having rushed his way through the crowd to Kai, “Where’s my daughter?”

“Listen to me! The Warui Otoko-tachi are planning on betraying Pops! we need to tell him now!”

Sato’s eyes widen, and she motions to Saburo.

“Quickly, check Ichiro." She orders. He nods, leaving.

She moves to Pops side to whisper quietly into his ear so quickly it’s almost as though she was never there.

“What is the meaning of this, Hojo?” He hears Pops say, “Do you dare to break the treaty now, of all times?”

“Hirayama,” the woman replies, voice as smooth as a bell, “I would never dream of doing something so foolish. I think we both understand how important this is.”

“Then why, pray tell, have I heard reports otherwise?”

“I cannot imagine. Perhaps the boy simply got overexcited, misunderstood things.” Her eerie eyes fall upon Kai, who dares to stare back, just as boldly.

“Perhaps. Though I doubt-“ Pops stops in his tracks.

Your father still hasn’t let go of Chisaki’s arm, though.

“Where’s my daughter? I need you to tell me now, she can’t-“

“Be caught in the crossfire? She’s fine, I hid her away in the tunnels.” Kai shakes off your dad’s grip, glaring at him as he does.

Your father’s face goes pale. He sways on his feet, turning to the compound with an ill look in his eyes.

Every single face turns, almost of their own accord, in the same direction. One by one, the members of the two different yakuza’s go through stages of grief and rage.

Kai turns.

Saburo steps out of the entrance, his hands raised and shaking. All eyes are on him.

Blood drips from his shaking hands.

“I-Ichiro… my brother-“ he chokes, and Kai fills in the blanks.

Ichiro, who is guarding the south entrance to the tunnels. He’s-

Your father voice shakes as he whispers your name.

“No.”

Chaos descends behind him, members pulling out weapons or activating their quirks. It’s going to lead to a standoff, a gunfight if they’re unlucky. Kai knows this, and knows his quirk could help. He could use it to divide the people, or to lift the ground in order to create blockades behind. Your father, their one healer, leaves, rushing towards the vase the opens the doors to the tunnels.

He could save lives if he stays. He will serve Pops best if he stays. He’ll protect the Shie Hassaikai if he stays. He will save lives if he stays.

And yet the choice is an easy one to meet.

He rushes for the tunnels.

The steps get closer and closer, and for once you thank God for the fact these tunnels are so dark and dingy.

You can curl up in this far corner, as tightly as you possibly can, and no one will know. They won’t know. They won’t know that you’re hidden away here.

You alternate between squeezing your eyes shut and forcing them open.

(If something happens to you, if someone tries to hurt you, you want to be able to look them in their eyes. You want to see, so you can escape)

As they get closer and closer, you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. The beat rises slowly, your teeth running against your tongue as you hold it back.

You can’t let a sound escape. If they see you, if they hear you…

As the people approaching slows near your corner, the lights flicker. They stop.

You focus every inch of your body. If they’re going to try and hurt you, you’re not going down without tearing as much of them as they try with you.

One gives a nervous chuckle.

“You’d think, for all their wealth, the Shie Hassaikai would have a better cleaning crew.”

“Shut up, Gil.”

They continue, one person marching forward quickly, and the other half-stepping hesitantly behind him.

You wait. Your head feels light. The steps fade. You finally breathe again.

Thank God.

Before you can think, a hand grabs you, ripping you from your corner.

“I thought I heard something,” The man says, eyes like a periscope, zoomed in and focused on your face. He carries you to the other two, who hadn’t truly left, their ruse only done so he could sneak up on you.

You scream.

You scream and kick and scratch and throw your entire body weight around, writhing in the grip of the first man, who passes you to the second.

(You refuse to die without a fight. Not if you can help it. Not this time)

You activate your quirk, kicking it to as high a gear as you can to slip away, but a blunt fist against your head jostles you, sending stars careening in front of your eyes.

The one holding you laughs, tossing you back and forth. The others watching him throw you around, almost as if they’re unsure of what to do with you. You’re still yowling and screeching, praying that anyone will hear you.

That Chisaki will come back. That your dad will appear suddenly and save you. That you won’t die.

You swing wildly, your fist connecting with the one who’s keeping you in places jaw with a solid crack.

“Oh, yikes! You’re a fierce one, aren’t you?” He jerks you back and forth, causing you to blink thickly as you try to reorient yourself. His hands grow, wrapping around you like vines and restricting your movements. “You won’t be when we cut your neck, though. Leave a little present for dear old Hirayama.”

“Don’t do that,” the second says softly. He shuffles back and forth, eyes darting around.

“Shut up” The one who snatched you originally snarls, “We need a hostage. She’ll work.”

“She’s just a kid,” the second weakly protests again, his hands wringing back and forth like a noose.

“Both of you stop talking.” The periscope man, the one who seems like their leader, studies you, watching as you stare back. “Jesus. You really are his. I’d recognize that defiance anywhere. Kaneko had a kid.”

“If he had a kid, chances are she has his powers, right?”

“Even if she doesn’t, I owe him quite a bit.” His tone grows dark as he ruffles your hair, a twisted version of how your dad brushes it out of your face. “Maybe once we complete the assignment. Be good to have collateral till then.”

“But the deal-“ the second says, cut off by a gesture from the first.

“Forget about the deal. If an accident happened, tough shit. Who’s he going to call, Hirayama?” He barks out a laugh, “Unlikely. I hope you don’t mind, little girl. Sins of thy father and all.”

You stop struggling only for a second to spit out something muffled from through your captors vice-like grip.

“I think she just cursed at you, Boss!” The one holding you laughs, moving you so that you’re upside down and facing him. “Wanna say it again, brat?”

Your necklace falls through his fingers, the feather an inch away from your nose. You glare at him, stewing in silence as you try to plan a way to escape.

You know the statistics, if you get taken to second location-

“No, no, say it one more time!” The man seems stuck on the joke you make as you try to fight back, even as the other two scowl and sigh respectively.“Maybe you need a bit of motivation, yeah?”

You screech something unintelligible, the sound barely getting through. He laughs again, while their leader starts to make his way through the hallway. You try and active your quirk, but his grip is so vice-like that you can’t. All you can do is twist your neck back and forth, as though turning to beg for mercy from him.

The push under your skin that means your ability is active starts to recede as your desperation raises. 

And like a flash through your nerves, you get an idea.

He holds you up higher, his eyes glimmering in humor.

You steel yourself, readying to active your ability again to make a quick get away.

“One more, kid!” 

It twists and roils, waiting for your signal.

(You don’t notice, but the man holding you starts to slow, his grin creasing at the edges. Suddenly, he feels tired. How odd. As you twist it so your quirk is at your call, it doesn’t just push in expelling. It starts to pull)

“I’ve had just enough of telling you to shut your goddamn mouths.” The leader hisses, your captor turning to frown at him.

This is going to hurt like a bitch.

“It’s just a joke, boss, I’m-“ his words choke off you a shout of pain as you rear your head back, building moment to then drive your forehead into his nose.

Damn you were right.

He drops you, clutching at the blood spurting out of his nose. The others twist quickly to assist, but you’re already on the move, shooting out your ability from every part of your body.

You blaze down the hallway, your quirk streaming out from behind you.

You need to be quick, you need to escape, but how can you? You only came down here once with Chisaki- and God you wish he was here -and you don’t know where the exit is. Trying to hide won’t do anything for you, not if the leaders eyes do more than just zoom in, and you still don’t know what the third one can do.

You shake your head. You can just keep going.

(But you can’t. You’re underground. Your quirk will burn out on you)

So what do you do?

Just keep running. An idea will come to you. Either that or Chisaki will.

And so you do.

(You don’t notice that a new color has joined the soft peaches, golds, and pinks that make up your ability. It’s blue, and only there for a moment before it burns out of your system. The man you took it from, unintentionally as it was, stumbles in his chase)

As you twist around another corner, you slam onto a stop, the second, cowardly man standing there, arms spread as though to stop you.

You careen through the air, flipping onto your back and then righting yourself as you turn in another direction, but he’s there again.

No matter where you turn or which hall you turn down, he’s there, waiting for you.

His face is apologetic, but you don’t care, not when the first man grabs you again, arm wrapped around your neck.

“I’m sorry,” the second man stares at the ground, as though to avoid your furious gaze.

“You really are his kiddo,” the leader laughs, “Though I would’ve thought Kaneko’s daughter would be a bit better trained in fighting.”

You growl at him, clawing uselessly on his arm.

“I don’t think activating your quirk again would be a good idea, do you?” He asks, smiling pleasantly like he doesn’t have his arm around your neck in a chokehold.

(It’s a familiar picture. You’ve been held like this before, but now you don’t have your dad to hold you safe)

“You bitch! You broke my nose!” The man who held you originally finally catches up to the other two. You glare at him, about to shout something, when he hits you.

It’s not like a blow you’ve felt before. Nothing like messing around with your friends or running into a door, or even falling to the ground.

Nothing like a fight.

This blow is angry, vengeful, and hard on a three-year old body.

Your head snaps back, teeth cracking against each other, hair falling out of the deliberate and careful style Ms. Sato had so carefully set up for you.

And yet when you look at him, strands falling into your eyes as they blaze defiantly, his nose pouring out blood, you know you’re not sorry. Not sorry at all. You’d do it again.

You’re about to snarl as much when he bursts in a spray of blood.

You weren’t where he left you. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. Where you would be safe.

He put you there to keep you safe.

Your father stumbles only for a second. He closes his eyes. Then he nods.

“Split up. She can’t have gone far.” He says, “I’ll take the right, you take the left.”

“They might’ve-“ Kai’s voice shakes, and your father jerks his head sharply.

“They wouldn’t. Not if they know what’s good for them.”

The way he says it leaves little to the imagination, and Kai nods in agreement.

Though your father is confident in his belief they won’t touch you, Kai wasn’t as much.

And now, as he just watched one of them hit you- hit you, the unclean filth dared to touch you -his fury is a cold pulse through his veins.

“Get your hands off of her and I’ll kill you quickly.” Comes the low growl from his throat.

The man not holding you pales, his shaking hands raised. The other simply inclines his brow.

They’re not fools, though, they see what he did to their friend.

“Bold, kid, but I wouldn’t risk a threat. Not if I were you.” He shakes you like a bag, your eyes trained on Kai the whole time. “We do have a bit of an advantage, after all.

“Then you’ve made your choice.”

“Good grief,” your captor rolls his eyes, “Gil, kill this kid.”

“Him? But he’s just a child, I don’t really think-“

“You seem to really be having trouble following orders today. Look at him. he’s weak. He’s leaning against the wall. Now, I said kill him.”

“My apologies.” The man murmurs. He reaches out for Kai, who watches him carefully.

And then the wall reaches for the man.

You watch as the walls of the tunnel start to shift and fold, exactly like they did in the show when Chisaki was Overhaul and was trying to escape with Eri.

The concrete and steel spins and turns, spearing itself down upon the man, who twists and drops to the ground, rolling out of the way at the last second.

“Interesting,” The man holding you seems sick of your straining and fighting and screaming, leveling another solid blow at the rear of your head.

Black spots dance across your vision, your head lolling forward as you fight to stay conscious. Three blows in less than an hour isn’t doing you any good, and you might end this with a concussion.

(That is, if you even leave this alive)

A bead of sweat falls down Chisaki’s brow, the only evidence of any strain.

He’s not like how he was in canon, able to use his quirk instantly without blowback. He’s only ten. Of course he’ll struggle.

“Earth manipulation? Perhaps,” the man holding you ponders, “Thus the iron in the blood killing Inojin. Fascinating.”

It’s apparently not fascinating enough to keep his attention, as he walks away, leaving behind the man who came in with him to do battle with Chisaki.

It’s almost distant in your mind, the fight that’s still occurring like tv static at the edge or your consciousness. You can hear the sounds of the wall still shifting, faintly see the man who’s holding you hostage as he glance down at you, mouth moving in silent words.

What you do hear is Kai’s frustrated shout as you’re taken, and then a terrible shriek of pain, the wet squelched of flesh and bone spilling, and a crystalline silence.

“Give her back to me.” Chisaki’s voice cuts through the dark of the hallway.

The man turns, frowning.

“Is that the best idea?” You force your eyes open, hand raised and bouncing off the man holding you weakly.

“I will not ask again.” Blood drips from Chisaki’s hand as he reaches forward.

“You don’t have to. Obviously, she’s important to you, so you won’t do anything. Not if you want her to keep breathing.”

Chisaki grits his teeth as the man pulls a knife out, holing it against your neck while he pinches your face.

“I’m going to leave. This mission has gone pretty pear-shaped, if I do say so myself. But I need a bit of leverage. I’ll take her with me, and drop her off a few blocks away. Then you can come and retrieve your little girl. And we’ll each go our separate ways. Sound good to you, little soldier?”

You hear something click behind you.

He’s going to betray Chisaki, your mind, addled as it is by the blows, still puts two and two together.

Chisaki’s eyes waver, looking at you. You try and force your mouth open to warn him.

A soft groan comes out instead of words.

He lowers his hands.

“Fine. But you must swear not to hurt her.”

“Of course not. I’m not so terrible as to hurt a child.” He grins, inclining his head at Chisaki, who watches with barely held fury simmering in his eyes.

Another soft click, and you straighten as much as you can. 

“I suppose it’s time for us to leave.” The man says.

No time not time, you need to help.

You falter for only a minute, before you clamp your jaws around his hand. Your teeth sink in.

He screams, his other hand dropping whatever he was hiding, the steel-like click against the ground echoing through the hall.

You hesitate at the blood. The warm metallic fluid fills your mouth, thicker than water and worse than anything you’ve ever tasted.

And then you thinks about how these men were going to kill you, or worse, and the way they were going to hurt Chisaki. You force yourself to hesitate no longer, sinking your teeth in until they meet bone.

He flings his hand out, doing anything he can to get you off of him, sending you sprawling to the ground.

You activate your quirk a moment before you slam against it, shooting forward towards Chisaki.

You’re free thank God.

You’re finally free!

“We need to-!”

Thunder rumbles through the tunnels, and you flinch back as you always do.

How weird… thunder, this far underground? And Chisaki’s face…. The relief at you being free is getting eclipsed by horror. What happened?

And then, as you watch your own blood arc out in front of you, you realize what it was.

You’ve been shot.

Again.

(Again?)

Your feet stumble against the ground, your body falling forward. Chisaki is against the floor, leaving bloody handprints as he sends the ground up and traps the man behind you.

You’re not aware of that, though.

Your senses are fading as you fall into his outstretched arms, your body limp and out of your control.

You’re going to die again.

(You’re scared)

He shifts you in his arms, his lips moving over and over again in a silent plea that you cannot bear.

(You want to help him. You do. You just… can’t get your body to respond)

And so you do the only thing you're able to, with every system in yourself going haywire and sending off whatever final signals they can.

You pull your bloodied lips back and smile at him.

As your vision grows ever darker, you see the faintest bit of his eyes.

Just like sunshine, you think, and then you stop thinking all together.

Agony.

Writhing.

Twisting and ripping.

It burns.

It blazes.

It tears through flesh, cutting piece by piece in surgical precision.

Thrashing back and forth, wailing and crying and forcing life into veins and heart into beating again.

You scream awake.

Your eyes fly open, Chisaki huddled over you with hands rattling and the true power of his quirk running through your nervous system, whispered words your ears don't register falling off his lips. 

(It almost sounds like a prayer)

You move your own, finding your voice.

“Chisaki…?”

His eyes fly open.

As soon as they meet your own, his arms wrap about you, fingers burying in your hair and cradling your head against him. His shoulders are shaking.

Hesitantly, you return the embrace.

As soon as it hits you, the memories of what has just occurred falling back into place, your grip tightens and you tremble.

Silent tears fall, soaking into his shirt.

(His heart skitters like a rabbit as he keeps you in his embrace. The fear, the idea of losing you… it still haunts through him, making him hold you as tight as though he still expects you to slip away)

As soon as you’ve cried yourself out, eyes dry and nose running, he stands.

He helps you up to your feet, your knees weak.

Chisaki turns to the man.

His eyes are cold. Any trace of warmth, any mercy, any sunlight you thought rested there is gone. They are now vast empty pools of nothingness, clear in their intent and filled to the brim with void.

“Please,” the man begs, trapped in the stone that Chisaki placed him in, “Please.”

It doesn’t help.

Over and over Chisaki uses his quirk on the man.

At first, you don’t feel compassion for him. And then as you watch him die and be brought back again and again, and his words fill the halls before cutting off over and over, and he stares at you each time coming back and then he whispers please before dying and your friends eyes become colder and colder with each kill, and suddenly you can’t bear it, grabbing at his sleeve.

“Wait, Chisaki,” you blurt, “Wait.”

He doesn’t listen, and all you want him to do is stop.

“Kai!”

He pulls his hand away, looking back at you. For a second your clasp on his sleeve tightens as those same eyes stare at you.

And then they thaw, and he takes your hands in his own and you can see the regret and the pain and the penitence as he holds them as carefully as possible.

“Forgive me for not protecting you,” he murmurs, his tone guilt-ridden. “I- I apologize. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The man is shaking on the floor, unable to form do anything beyond the fear inhabiting his eyes.

He begins to mouth something, and you clench your friend’s hand. There’s blood on them, and it spreads to your own as well.

“Don’t look at her.” Kai snaps, “She’s not going to help you. You have no right to look toward her.”

“I…” you croak. You don’t… want to help him, not really.

But at the same time, you can’t let him die.

(You cannot let your friend be what he becomes)

“Don’t hurt him anymore, please. Don’t kill him, please.”

“He deserves it. This is just.”

“It.. it’s not…” you trail off, clutching his hands, “Please don’t kill. I can’t stand violence.”

There’s a moment in which you fear he might continue.

And then he squeezes your hands.

“As you wish.”

Your dad finds you a few minutes later. He rushes to you, picking you up and holding you close against him. You can feel his shoulders shake as you reassure him that you’re alright, his quirk spreading around you with nothing left to heal.

You tell him everything.

He carries you out, his hand against Kai’s back as he leads you both back into the sun.

When you make it out of the tunnels, Pops is the first one to run up to you.

His eyes skim over both of you children, connecting with your father’s own as he questions him with his eyes.

Your dad shakes his head. Now isn’t the time.

Pops nods.

You, resting your head against your dad’s shoulder, watch the gathered members. Takdea stands next to Pops, ready to do anything in an instant should his leader order it.

All the rest seem worse for wear, bruised and scratched and bleeding here and there.

Kuua rests her hand on Saburo’s shoulders, and when you catch his eyes you try to smile comfortingly.

He can’t quite do it back.

“Sato,” your dad calls softly, “Can you please help my daughter wash up?”

She turns to you three, eyes widening as they skim over the blood on both you and Kai.

She nods, reaching for you, but you maintain your death-grip against your dad.

“I’m going to be right there,” he murmurs gently, “But wouldn’t you like to clean off? Everything will be ok. As soon as you’re done, I’ll be right with you. I’m not going to leave you.”

You weigh it over for a second. You really don’t want to be in these clothes anymore, and though the blood has long since cooled, it still sticks to your skin, mixing with your sweat.

“Alright.”

You let Ms. Sato take you from his arms, his shirt stained with crimson as you’re carried away. Kai stays on your tail, though he does go to another room to clean off himself.

Your dad explains to the rest what happened in the tunnels, that the blood isn’t all from you. Pops sends a few men to the tunnels to collect the man that’s left, and to… deal with the mess.

“How could this happen?” Pops murmurs to himself, “How could they not only have the gall to betray us, but also get in so easily?”

“We tried to talk to the last one,” another member pipes up, “From the tunnels, I mean. But he’s… he’s raving like a madman. I don’t know what the kid did to him, but when I look at what’s left of the other two… yeah. I don’t think I want to know.”

“I,” your father’s voice is grave as he lifts his head, “Would like to make an accusation.”

After your father’s announcement, Pops did as he usually does for an accusation. He calls the two quarreling to private quarters, in order to find the truth. It’s what he did for your dad all those times that Takeda accused him.

And he does the same now that Asahi is accusing Takeda.

“This is absurd!” Takeda attempts to defend himself, “I would never betray you, Lord Hirayama! I am loyal, loyal to my dying breath!”

“If that is true, then why did you leave Ichiro to guard the south entrance alone?” Asahi’s accusing finger continues to grate on Takeda, “And if that was true, how did they know where it was? And why were you absent from the entirety of the fight to defend our fellow members?”

“I had stepped away only to make a lap and guard the building! I swear it, Lord Hirayama, I would never betray you, not even in my thoughts!”

“Both of you, silence. No more until Jin returns.” Lord Hirayama orders. Kai looks up at him, watching the way he studies the two men.

Though the meeting is meant to be private, several members hang around the walls of the room. After such an iron-hot betrayal to the yakuza, all are looking for answers.

Should said betrayal have started from the inside, well…

The point is that no matter which side is right, this isn’t a meeting that will be missed if it can be helped.

Kai himself is accounted as one of those seated and listening, directly at Pops right-hand and waiting for you.

He had cleaned off quickly, wanting to be there the second you were done, though Sato told him to go. She told him that you needed a minute, and no matter how much he wanted to stay, she physically forced him away. He had walked in on your father laying his accusation against Takeda, who had very little to excuse himself.

The problem is that all of it is circumstantial. All including your father saying he saw Takeda accepting something from one of the members of the Warui Otoko-tachi.

Thus, Lord Hirayama suggested sending a man to in to investigate Takeda’s room.

Takeda agreed, of course. What would he say otherwise? No? That would be an immediate admission of guilt.

The door opens.

“Sir.” Jin, the man he sent, has his voice hard as steel when he walks in. “I did as you asked.”

“And?”

He approaches Lord Hirayama, whispering something in his ear. He hands him a bag and a piece of paper. Lord Hirayama’s face gets increasingly red as he reads what the sheet says, but when he speaks his voice is calm as a lake.

“Takeda. Answer me. What is the meaning of this?”

Takeda takes the paper, and, at the same rate that Hirayama’s face turned red his turns pale.

“I-I swear! I had no hand in this, I would never have anything, much less agree to a deal with the Warui Oromo-tachi! I would never betray you, I swear!” He drops the letter, and Asahi lifts it from the floor, eyes ghosting over it as he reads it aloud.

It starts simple. A letter of well-wishes from Hojo Yaeko to members of the Shie Hassaikai. It follows with hopes for peace, and then towards the end, thinly veiled promises. Wealth, prestige, power.

Vengeance.

It’s a tempting deal, and easy for those listening to connect his treatment of you and your father to a lust for revenge. A lust that might push him to make foolish choices.

“I swear it!” Takeda turns to the listeners, who have lost any compassion they once held for him. “I swear, I would never-!”

“All know of your feelings towards me and my daughter, but I never thought it would-!“ Your dad growls out his words, hardly above tearing into Takeda. Takuni steps in, a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

“Enough.” Hirayama interrupts again. “Takeda. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Takeda’s eyes dart up, the evidence for his betrayal laid out in front of him. As soon as they connect with Asahi’s, they widen, and then narrow as a snarl overtakes his lips.

“No, no you’re a liar! You’re a liar and you’re the traitor, and I’ll prove it!”

He unrolls his rice paper, snatching up a knife out of it. As he charges up to your father, several men leap into action, though your dad looks perfectly calm.

As soon as he gets close enough, Asahi grabs a his wrist and snaps up, breaking the charge. He pulls Takeda close in portrayal of taking him down, but as his mouth passes his ear, he speaks, harsh and quick.

“I haven’t forgotten. Not you being cruel to my daughter, nor you trying to incur Hirayama’s wrath on us with her ability.” Your father leans back, though his lips keep moving, “I remember how you cut her when we were first brought back.”

Takeda’s wide eyes slump close along with his body as he’s hit by another members quirk. His body goes limp, fallen to the floor.

“I can’t believe he would just charge at you like that.” Takuni says, “I always knew the kid was a bit different, but not so wild as to make a mistake like that.”

Your dad looks down at him without a hint of emotion in his eyes.

“He believed me to be a threat to Lord Hirayama. Men do crazy things when faced when the task of protecting those they care for.“

Kai watches him get carried out, mind a thousand miles per hour. His eyes skim over your father, but when you burst into the room 4 minutes later, he leaves it be. He watches as your dad picks you up and spins you around, the relieved grin on your father’s face enough for him.

Your father couldn’t have betrayed them. No, that wouldn’t make sense. He’d be putting you at risk. And he’d never do that, even unintentionally.

You whisper something to your dad, who puts you down carefully, like fine china that will break if he moves too quickly.

You move closer to Kai, your dad right behind you before you gesture for him to stop. He clearly doesn’t like it, but agrees.

“Chisaki,” you say, looking down and then up and then away, “I...”

You can’t seem to have the words, and as he opens his mouth to say something that can’t seem to come he realizes he doesn’t either.

(He still feels the guilt of leaving you)

“I think that… you... and I…” he trails off, finding he can’t maintain eye-contact. “Are friends.”

“Right,” You nod, “We are.”

It doesn’t feel like enough, though.

His guilt for it all still sludges in his stomach. He resolves to say something, do anything to make you happy.

And he thinks he knows exactly what to say now.

“And since we’re friends…”

Your eyes flick over him, curiosity lurking in them.

“It would be… perhaps… appropriate to use personal names.

You stop only for a second before your eyes light up.

“Chisaki, are you saying that I can call you… Kai?”

“I am.”

“Ok,” a smile graces your lips, “Kai.”

(When you smiled in the tunnels, when you were- no.

That… that hurt. He doesn’t want that to be the first real smile you gave him. It won’t be, not in his mind)

He had mused for quite a while that when you finally smiled at him- a genuine one, not forced like the ones you gave him when the two of you first met -it would be a sight unlike anything he’d ever seen.

And he’s right, of course.

Your smile is magnificent.

“Kai, can I hold your hand?” You offer, yours held out.

(Of course you could ask to hold his heart, and in this instant he’d pull it from his chest)

Instead of going that far though, (and that thought is one that later he’ll forcibly dismiss as hysterical) he gives you his hand.

He slips his glove off, placing his in your own.

Nothing happens as he does. No rash, nor irritation, not even a twinge. Just your hand in his own, like it’s meant to be there.

(He thinks it is, actually)

You smile even larger, and then say something devastating.

“So, since you’re Kai now, you can call me by my first name too.”

Well. That’s… no. That’s a bit… too far.

“…”

“Right, Kai?”

“I will… it might be…” He trails off, and you raise your brow. “That is…”

You giggle lightly, shaking your head fondly at whatever face he's making. 

“Baby steps, baby steps. Kai.”

You can’t sleep.

You’ve been tossing and turning all night, but it doesn’t help. Alone in your room, you’ve been watching the stars pass over.

Your dad had told you as any stories as he could, hummed your lullaby until you feigned sleep, and sat in here almost the whole night, only getting up twice to wash his hands.

You can hear him up again now, moving around the main room of your home. If you went to your window and opened it, you’re sure you’d see others unable to sleep as well.

You sigh, kicking off the blankets. There’s no point in staying in your bed. Your mind will just keep replaying what happened, over and over again.

You slip out of your room, your dad looking up from where he’s washing his hands in the kitchen.

“Still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

You join your dad, climbing up into the chair at the table.

“What are you doing?”

He thinks for a long moment, drying his hands. There are a few candles on the counter beside him, and he takes one, lighting it and placing it on the windowsill.

“When we were young, a friend and I thought that if you lost someone, you could guide them home with lights. Ichrio left us,” He glances at you, and you nod. Your dad had done his best to explain death to you, you being three and all, “And so I was setting up the candles.”

“Oh. Can I help?”

“Sure.”

He lights the rest of them, helping you drag over your chair so that you can put them with the first.

While you do that carefully, he washes his hands again.

“A little water clears of this deed,” he murmurs, though he cuts off whatever he was reciting and smiles when you look at him.

The two of you watch the candles flicker, the warm light a contrast to the moonless sky outside.

“Papa?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I talk to Tenko?”

“Sure.”

“I think this is for you, kiddo.” Moms phone is ringing, and it only takes him a second to realize it’s the tone he set up for you.

He takes it eagerly, excited to tell you about his day and his continued search for the answer over “The Big Apple”.

None of the Americans have answered his question, only giggling at him and calling him cute. He will not be deterred, though! He has you to report back to, and he won’t fail!

“Hi~!” He chirps, picking it up.

“Hey, Tenko.” Your voice is soft and tired. You sound… off.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s really early in the morning where you are.

Why are you calling him now? Shouldn’t you be asleep?

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m ok. I just… wanted to hear your voice. Sorry.”

“No, no!” Mom shoots him a glance, his tone begging questions, and he waves his hands, shooing her away. It’s fine, mostly. Probably. “Let’s talk! What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. Tell me about your day.”

He’s not sure what’s going on, or what’s making you so upset. He just knows he wants to help you, and so he does. He tells you everything he can think of, even the most inconsequential moments. And then when he hears you start to get quieter and quieter, he doesn’t stop.

He keeps talking until you start to snore softly, and still even then until the phone beeps alerting him to its low power.

When Mom takes back her phone, asking about you, he gives quiet answers. He knows something was wrong, but he can’t tell what. He wishes he knew better, or that he could cross through the phone and give you a hug.

At least he’ll be home soon. He can give you a hug then. And everything will be ok, cause you’ll be back together.

Still, though, the fact that he’ll be home eventually with you doesn’t end up making Tenko feel any better. Eventually isn’t now, after all, and you’re sad now.

He’ll bring you a gift back home, then. Yeah! Something to show that he cares about you, and always will. That will help make you feel better, won't it?

He hopes so. 

Chapter Text

In the week following, the Shie Hassaikai begins to rebound from… the incident as best as they can. This recovery includes several members consistently conducting frequent checkups on you.

It’s funny, in an abstract sense. Seeing hardened men and women poking their head in whatever room you're in currently, check you up and down, make sure you're alright, nod to themselves, and leave isn't something you had on your bingo card.

They use all sorts of excuses when they do, ranging from "Oh hello, I didn't know you were in here! How are you, poppet?" To "Ah, the library. Yes, I love books too, that's a good one you've got there. What's that? Oh… no, I haven't read it, but books are good, especially for children."

Your favorite that you've heard is "Thought I heard a cat in here. You know how allergic I am to them, Little Lady, I hope you're not hiding one! Haha anyway I found this candy, but I'm not keen on eating any right now, why don't you enjoy it?"

(It's ok. You can laugh, You're fine when they ask. You're perfectly fine. Besides, you've died before)

Kai has hardly left your side since it happened. He's there when you awaken in the morning and he's there by your side until you go to sleep at night.

He even sits with you during Ms. Sato's lessons now, keeping to his books, though occasionally he lets you rope him into it too.

And honestly, you don’t mind at all.

(If you’re truly being honest, you actually feel safer. Just knowing he’s hovering around, a simple outstretched arm away. It's… nice to have him so close. You feel protected. Safe. You don't much care for being alone anymore)

But things begin to get better as things always do. Time passes, February turns to March, and suddenly it's almost Kai's birthday.

"What time is it?" You ask him, barely managing to keep your smile hidden.

(Not yet. You can't give it away yet)

He frowns at his wrist, and then looks to the clock above the door.

"2:13."

"Are you excited for your birthday party?" Not yet, (Y/N) you can't give away your gift just yet.

"I don't want a party," He tells you, and your head snaps around to look at him.

"Sorry, I think I misunderstood you!" You laugh lightly, turning back to scrawl on the paper in front of you, "It almost sounds like-"

"I don't want a birthday party." 

Your scrawling stops.

"Well that makes no sense. Parties are so much fun! And one specifically for you? I mean, that's gotta be the best part, right? Why wouldn't you want one?"

"Because I'm too old for them. And there's no point. A year comes and a year goes, and I'm all the same." He stops to think for a second, before he nods to himself. "Perhaps after I've done something more important. A birthday is a celebration of life, after all."

"You take care of me! That's important!" You sigh dramatically, flopping against the table. He just watches you, shaking his head and clearly believing you don't get it.

(His eyes flick to your right hand, though you don't notice. You still have the scars from the acid. When he failed, when you died, he didn't think to fix it, too. So focused was he on resurrecting you, your words when you told him you thought he could heal and bring back the dead were the only thoughts echoing in his mind. And then you were screaming in pain and he was begging you to come back.

And then you were.

And now he can't bear to put you back through that again)

No matter what you say, or how you beg, he refuses to budge. Kai won't even consider changing his mind! He steadfastly believes that having such a large party would be pointless and a waste of time. You just sigh and nod along.

It backfires slightly when there's a stubborn nudge against your shoulder. He's giving you an intent look, and you have no idea what it's for.

Oops?

"I asked what you're doing."

"Oh! I'm drawing a picture for Tenko! He comes back next week, actually the day after your birthday funnily enough, and I'm really excited to see him. Me and Dad are meeting them at the airport. I'm trying to make him a welcome home sign." You hum under your breath, analyzing the picture with a sharp look.

It looks like crap.

"It's certainly a choice gift." Kai says mysteriously, and you scowl at him.

"You don't have to be so mean about it." You crumple the paper, throwing it to the side and starting again.

He watches you for a second, handing you the pencil you reach for. You stick out your tongue as you work, scribbling with it before going for the colors. You stray towards the red, strangely, before snatching up an ebony one for his eyes.

"There! What do you think?" You show him the picture, and he takes the paper from your hands somberly.

His eyes flick over it, serious and slow.

"He'll like it." He hands the paper back to you. "He comes back the twenty-first?"

"Mhm." You frown at the picture, holding it up the light. Your final product leaves quite a bit to be desired, very rough around the edges.

"I've changed my mind." Kai announces, rather randomly. "I want a party."

"Oh, really!" You clap your hands, the picture slipping from your grasp and onto the table. "Good! Great! What do you want to do?"

"Could you pass the tea, please?" Kai asks, seeming pleased as punch. Pops refills his cup, the light chatter over the table warming the room.

Kai's request for his birthday was to have a private dinner; just you, your dad, and Pops.

Your dad got his invitation to this dinner because him and Kai have started talking more, what with one being the former heir and the other the current. They first started talking after what happened, and they get along well, which is honestly surprising to you. It's a pleasant surprise, though! You're glad that they're getting along.

(You don't listen when they talk, since most of it just seems to be inter-yakuza group politics. And most of it is. What little that isn't, though, tends to be about quirks)

The dinner isn't so bad, actually. The Shie Hassaikai have started to get a bit overbearing with their check-ins. Kai specifically requested a private meal, no interruptions, no emergencies, nobody else.

(Though you're not sure how he plans on stopping emergencies. Oh well)

Pops gifts Kai a calligraphy set, and your dad gives him several science textbooks. You tilt your head, glancing at Kai, but he seems to really enjoy your dads gift, smiling and thanking them both.

You, with your dads money ahem ahem, bought him a pocket-watch.

(The gift giving suddenly feels like one for some octogenarian British lord)

"Thank you," He says, popping it open. His eyes widen immediately, a small grin on his face, and you don't fight your own smile. "This is a picture of us."

"Yes!" It's one your dad took at the Christmas breakfast. In it, you have your arms wrapped around Kai's shoulder, and your faces are squished together. One of your eyes is closed, and the other is crescent-shaped, pushed up by your cheeks. Kai is smiling at you, a small quirk of his lips that would be hard to notice if you didn't know him so well.

"It's very nice." He rubs his thumb over it, and you nod.

"This," you say in a conspiring stage-whisper, "Is a picture that is not creepy for you to carry around."

Your reference to how your original meeting went doesn't escape him, his ears turning red as he averts his eyes.

"What does that mean?" Your dad asks, faintly bemused.

You rest your face in your hands, smirking at Kai, who also avoids your dads gaze.

"Nothing. It's just an inside joke. She's being silly." He tries to grimace at you, and you can't help but burst out laughing. His glower doesn't stay, and just like it's become, seeing you happy draws out a smile of his own.

"Tenko! Tenko!" From your perch on top of your dads shoulders, you can see the entire Shimura family coming down the escalator. Nao is holding Tenko's hand, and Kotaro is carrying Hana, who looks tired. None of them can see you, though. "Tenko!!"

You see him looking around, hearing your voice but not quite seeing your face, and so you wave the sign even faster. Another quick glance around, but nothing. You straighten up, activating your quirk just at your hands to catch his eye, even as your dad says your name warningly.

The soft glow finally catches his attention, and he lets go of Nao's hand, darting down the escalator.

"Hold on, hold on," your dad grunts, shifting as you try and climb down. As soon as you're free from him, you race across the entryway, crashing into Tenko.

"I missed you." He says softly into your shoulder. You tighten your grip.

"I missed you too."

His parents appear a moment later, you still holding Tenko's hand as they approach.

Hana slips out of her dads grasp, and you give her a hug as well as she tiredly mumbles out something that sounds like a greeting.

Your group makes its way to the car your dad had rented so that they would have somewhere to put their bags, discussing where to get some food.

While the adults finally settle on a place, somewhere cheap, quick, and most likely deeply unhealthy, you watch Tenko.

He's regaling you with tales of his journey, some that you've already heard over the phone and some that are brand new. You just listen, eyes locked onto him as he gestures and talks.

His face looks… clear. Open. Not jagged or rubbed raw. It doesn't even look like it itches.

(Maybe the time in New York wasn't as bad as you had worried)

Your dad listens to Kotaro and Nao, who go back and forth over the table talking about business and pleasure. All four members of the Shimura family are wolfing down their food rather desperately, like they didn't have a good meal the entire time they were in New York.

"Oh, I meant to tell you," Tenko says, pausing in slurping at his food, "The Apple!"

"The apple?"

"The Apple." He nods. "The Big Apple. I asked some of the Americans, and they finally told me it was called that because of a song."

"Oh!" You had forgotten about his determination. You nod solemnly at him. "So your mission was a success. Very good, Agent Shimura."

"I also got you a shirt. Because you sounded sad on the phone a couple of times." He nudges you gently, quieting his voice a bit, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. I'm good, Tenko." You smile at him, nudging back.

"Are you sure? Because if you're upset or anything, I'm right here. You're my best friend."

His eyes are dark as coal, and yet still warm, earnest in their silent request. Your gaze flicks over his face, the soft concern in him strumming at your heartstrings.

"Thank you, Tenko. I'm okay. Really! I'm just happy to be here with you."

The parents wrap up dinner soon after, wanting to finally get home. It's an understandable wish, after a month away, longing to sleep in their own beds, eat their own foods, see Nao's parents, and pet Mon, who Hana tells you she's missed the most, right after you and her grandparents.

You're saying goodbye again, but it's alright. This time you know you'll see him again soon, though he does start school soon.

(Hm. That's going to cut into your time to stay with him. You'll work around it)

As you hug Tenko again, you glance at Kotaro. Its swift, and sharp, and he notices.

(You don't know how to keep Tenko's quirk from manifesting, but you do know how his father treats him has a large hand in his pain. No matter if he had a good time this trip with his family, his fathers mood can change quickly)

"Don't forget to tell me if something happens, ok? If you ever need me, I'll be right there." You whisper to him.

"Only if you promise to do the same," He tells you, just as serious.

"Deal."

"I feel like she doesn't like me," Kotaro tells his wife as they unpack their suitcases.

"Who? Hikari?"

He nods, sorting his white tops from the colored ones. Nao huffs a laugh, shaking her head.

"I'm sure she does. I don't think it's possible for that girl to dislike anyone."

"I'm being serious," He complains, "Really, I don't think she likes me. Every time she sees me, she's got this gleam in her eyes, like she's plotting my downfall."

"Kotaro, she's three."

"Three-year olds can scheme, too." As soon as he says it, he winces. He can hear how crazy he sounds. "Ok, yes, you're probably right. But I swear she hates me."

"Whatever you say, honey."

"I don't like Tenko's dad." You tell Kai. He snorts, shaking his head.

"I know. You've told me before. Several times."

"Well I don't." You wrinkle your nose.

Tenko's started school, which you are happy for! He was so excited, and you're excited for him.

It's just, with him being at school all day, the two of you don't have as much time to spend together.

And right now you're just super bored. You've already finished everything that needed to be done, and so you're home with Kai today, your dad on some mission from Pops. The two of you aren't really doing anything, just shooting the breeze and kicking rocks

The part-time tutors at the library have started to notice how quickly you're tearing through the work they give you, and so they've given you heavier subjects. You've already finished all of it, leaving you to do nothing but hand around. 

"Kai, do you go to school?" You ask, rather randomly.

"No." He sees your eyes light up, and guessing that you're going to make a joke at his expense, he continues before you can, "I do have tutors, however. What do you think I did while Sato taught you sado?"

(To be perfectly honest, you kinda just thought he sat in a dark room ruminating over quirks. Maybe rubbing his hands together, maybe grumbling ominously. Something to that affect)

"But you sit with me now. When do you learn from your tutors?"

"Later, after you've gone to sleep." He shrugs, "You do go to bed quite early."

"Man, don't I know it," You sigh, "Papa's killing me with bedtimes."

(You don't register it then, but the fact that he's doing it after you're asleep means he's doing it late into the night. Then, in the morning he gets up early to make sure he's awake when you are. All this just to spend more time with you)

"C'mon c'mon! We're gonna be late!" You tug at your dads arm, almost forcing him out of the house.

You finally have a planned play-date with Tenko again, his busy schedule opening enough to fit a day at the park, and you are not going to miss it.

"Alright! Alright! Jeez, i"m coming! Calm down!"

"But we're going to be laatteee-! Oh! Hi Kai!"

You stop in your tracks, your dad bumping into you as he tries to adjust his light-weight jacket. Kai is buttoning up a sweater, and he hands you one that looks similar. You slip it on without thinking, so used to him, before you pause.

"Are you… going out?"

"I'm coming with you."

Your jaw falls open.

You had tried to get him to go out with you a couple times at first, when you first came to the Shie Hassaikai, but he used such strong language against going to the park that you just decided he never would. And then you figured that would be better, because of Tenko.

And now here he is? Just… deciding he's coming with?

"You… are?" You ask, suddenly dragging your feet to the door.

"Of course. Where you go, I go."

"Oh, ok." You nod. That's… good of him. And it really means a lot.

However.

You did completely lie to Tenko about him. You told Tenko that your friends name was Shuji, and that your dad was apart of a buddy club, not… a yakuza.

The three of you leave the compound, you tapping your lip the whole way.

(Shoot. How are you gonna lie your way out of this one?)

Your dad seems perfectly fine with him coming with you, but when you got some distance between you and Kai and reminded your dad about the lie in a harsh whisper, he paused.

And then he told you to just tell Kai the truth. That you were worried about the yakuza, and worried about your friend, so you made something up. He said he'd understand. 

You take a deep breath in, almost choking on the stale air of March and close your eyes, speaking in a rush.

"Hey, Kai, I gotta tell you something real quick."

"What?"

"I didn't mention anything about yakuza activities to Tenko. And I also didn't tell him about the Shie Hassaikai, I said you guys were a buddy-club!"

"Ok?" Kai starts, but you continue before he can say anything else.

"I also… told Tenko that you were my friend Shuji, not Chisaki."

You wait for his response, cracking open your eye.

He seems mildly chuffed by the fact you changed his name when you told Tenko about him, but also mildly pleased that you were smart enough to lie.

He nods, an almost proud look crossing his face.

"That makes sense. It wouldn't do to go around telling people about the Shie Hassaikai. And giving him my name could lead him back to us. What else did you tell him?"

"Just… that's pretty much." He's taking this much better than you thought he would.

"Alright then. I suppose I'm Shuji," He adjusts the sleeves of his sweater, "I've been meaning to learn more about this 'Shimura Tenko'. I need to be certain he's trustworthy."

You almost stumble on air.

"Tenko? Of course he's trustworthy! I mean, I've known him longer than I've known you!"

"No matter. The situation with Takeda has proven that you must be careful, no matter who it's with."

"Even you?" You try to joke, but his grieved expression, you stop. "Oh. Oh no, Kai, I-"

"Was joking. That's alright. We're here."

Sure enough, you are. The park is fairly empty, which is nice, and you can see the barest top of Tenko's head by the swings.

He waves you over, but as he sees Kai at your side, his hand slows.

"Tenko!" You hug him, and he keeps his eyes on Kai, who stands slightly behind you. "K-Shuji, this is my dear friend Shimura Tenko. Tenko, this is my close good friend, Shuji! I told you about him, remember?"

"This is the jerk?" He asks, and your hands fly to cover his mouth as your face burns.

(Kai doesn't need to know about about all the name calling and complaining you did before the two of you became friends)

"Tenko! He's so funny, isn't he? Haha! Anyway, let's go play you guys!"

This playdate is… awkward. Like, really awkward. Like, dinner-with-your-Ex's-family-after-he-cheats awkward.

First, Tenko takes your hand and suggests you guys play on the swings. You say it's a great idea, but then Kai takes your other hand and says there's only two swings.

"Thank you for volunteering to let me and Hikari swing. I'm sure my lady is grateful."

(What's with the emphasis on your name and titles?)

"Your lady?" Tenko wrinkles his nose, "What's that mean?"

"It's a nickname. Friends give each other those." Kai has a simper on his face, and you elbow him.

(That is completely something he got from his book)

"Hey, are we going to play-?" You try to interupt.

"Nicknames are cool, I guess," Tenko grumbles, watching Kai. "But we have one too! Right?"

(What the-? No? But maybe he needs you to say yes right now? He seems-)

"Right?" You say, glancing between the two of them. "Yeah, he has a nice nickname too!"

"Firefly!" Tenko says, and you fight to keep your eyebrows from shooting up.

(Firefly? Well, yeah, he did call you that after you got your quirk, but he hasn't really since then…)

"I'm gonna be a hero!" Tenko announces, squeezing your hand. "Me and Firefly together."

(Is that just your nickname now? Cause like… there's a lot more cool ones he could've gone with. You get what he's trying to say, but still, c'mon…)

"Really?" Kai asks, his eyes flicking to you for a moment, "How will you keep her safe? What's your quirk?"

(Keep her safe- excuse you! You're a grown woman! Kinda!)

Tenko wavers for a second, before his resolve hardens.

"I don't have it, not yet. But I don't need one! All Might says it the person, not the quirk!"

(For the first time, something like acceptance passes over Kai's face. Tenko having no quirk is a major boon for him and Kai to become friends)

"Hm." 

They're acting like… weird. Really weird.

"So, are we going to swing, or..?" You try again. 

You do end up swinging. You say that your trio should just take turns, since that would make everything fair, and they agreed to your suggestion.

Although maybe you shouldn't have suggested swinging, because now the two of them are doing it very passively-aggressively.

(Is this some sort of ritual or something? Like, them competing?)

If they're racing to see who can go higher, then Tenko definitely wins. He hops off, turning to you with a proud smile.

"I won!"

You nod, clapping.

"I saw! Good job!"

The next "game" (?) is to race to the top of the play structure.

You're put at the finish, to be judge and referee.

"This is a weird game, you guys!" You shout down to the two of them, who don't seem to hear you. "Hey! Hey! What are you competing for? What's the prize?"

Neither answer.

Kai wins this one, the fact that he's both stronger and older working in his favor.

"I won." He tells you, and you nod, even more confused.

"Right," You say, "I was at the finish. Good job."

They want to compete (again!) but this time you insist on playing too. And you win! Yay!

But the way they keep glaring at each other is really just crazy. And you're caught in the middle every single time. 

Picking up some really weird vibes you guys.

The same weird vibes hang around the next time you go for a playdate. Once again, Kai joins you, and once again, they do these weird… like… tournaments? They say it like it's meant to be a fun and cool thing, but they keep watching each other, the way you might if you were forced to work with your mortal enemy.

For example, you had a tutoring session at the library! Kai had been accompanying you to them, unwilling to leave your side for even a moment after… the thing, and now that Tenko is home, your little trio goes together.

Though Kai isn't technically enrolled, he's started participating by offering answers at random intervals. He's always right, of course, but you're used to his frustrating amount of knowledge.

(It almost feels like he's showing off. Hm…)

The same can be said of Tenko when you go to the park. Tenko tends to shine here, as Kai's aversion to the public spaces and the bacteria that's gathered there has kept him from having a normal childhood and learning how to play with the equipment there.

(Tenko always turns to you after he's better at Kai in something. Every single time, he runs right to you like he's facing the sun. That's also odd)

And then it happens again. And again. And again.

It's only four playdates and four library visits after that first one, but dear Lord. It's killing you.

You had thought that Hana would understand what's going on. That she would help you to understand, and also help to fix it, since the adults seem content to just laugh.

When she meets Kai, she stops in her tracks. She looks him over, up and down, side to side, and then turns to you.

She shakes her head. Takes your hand, like she's about to say something terrible and painful, and you'll need her to anchor you through it.

"I'm gonna to be honest," Hana tells you, "Your friend is super pretty, but he's also super weird."

You sigh, take a long sip of your lemonade, and nod.

"Yeah. He is."

"And Tenko's acting weird too."

"Yeah! He is!" So, she does notice it too! 

"How do you fix it?"

Great. She's asking you. 

"Hana." This time you're the one talking like an intervention, "I have no idea." 

"Kai," you lean very close to him, hands cradling his face as your eyes zero in on his own, "Listen to me."

He tilts his head forward, gazing directly at you.

"You need to be on your best behavior. Do you understand? You can't do any of…" You let go with one hand to gesture obscurely at him.

He blinks.

"Any of…?"

"Whatever it is you do when you and Tenko stare at each other." You wrinkle your nose, "Just… act like you do with me!"

"You are my friend. Shimura is an acquaintance."

"Act like you do with my dad, or one of the other members then! It's Tenko's birthday, and I expect you to act right!" You narrow your eyes at him, "Consider this a direct order from your Lady."

He deliberates your command for a long minute, during which you continue your demanding stare, before nodding.

"Very good."

"Happy birdthday Tenko!" You shout, unable, as always it seems, to keep your volume at a normal level.

"Happy birthday, Shimura." Kai greets solemnly. You turn to Hana, rolling your eyes; she giggles, agreeing with your assessment of him.

(Kai gives Mon a look of vague displeasure as the dog sniffs his legs, nose completely against his calf. The dog then licks him. He buries a shudder, looks at you for the briefest of moments, closes his eyes as tightly as he can, pulls a wet-wipe from his pocket, and cleans the area.

Best behavior, he reminds himself)

"The most exciting day of the year!" You shout, taking Tenko's hands before he can even say anything and spinning him around, "April 4th!"

"The most?" Hana asks, and you amend your statement.

"One of the most!"

"How many are listed as exciting?" Kai asks. Tenko narrows his eyes at the boy, almost unconsiously, and you miss it, too busy sighing.

(You feel a headache coming on)

"Does anyone else want to be included in the important day club?" You ask, sarcastically. Every hand, except for Kotaro, who is at the store, raises.

(As you're busy bemoaning the fact you have to make a "Seven Most Important Days" list, but Nao leans close to your dad, a question in the slant of her brow as she looks between you, Kai, and Tenko.

He shakes his head, half amused and half exasperated. You're very academically smart, almost scarily so according to Nao, but when it comes to people you aren't always… quick on the uptake)

Kotaro gets home eventually, and though you watch him from the other side of the room, you don'r say anything. He comes bearing gifts, after all, both the literal gifts he order for Tenko and the cake he brings home from the bakery.

(Your gifts are coordinated, in way. Nao had told your dad about her idea, and you agreed right away, even as your dad wondered if Tenko would like it)

Like it?

He loves it.

"You got me… a video game?" He asks. His eyes have lighten up, excitment in the quiver of his voice. "I- thank you!"

"Open this one next!" You giggle, handing him the gifts from you and your dad. He does so, shuffling through the many games you bought.

(You don't really remember what games Tenko liked in cannon, but you don't think you can say you care. Your Tenko is a completely separate person from Shigaraki Tomura in your mind)

"Do you want to play it?" He offers immediately to you, Hana, and, surprisingly enough, Kai.

"Absolutely!" You crow, volunterring the both of you. Hana's already in, of course.

And thus begins the highest-stake racing championship that the world has ever seen.

Hana gets knock out soon enough. You feel bad for her, but not so significantly bad. You're the one who got her out, after all.

Of course, when it's your turn to get knocked out, you're talking about how unfair and rigged it must be. Your dad just pats your hair, shaking his head as you pout.

Kai and Tenko stay neck and neck for the next few rounds, with an equal number of wins below each of their belts. The stakes seem higher than ever, especially with the way the two of them have been competing these last few weeks.

(You don't know who you're rooting for more, and you feel like saying "I hope you're both having fun" is missing the point)

The adults have found your little championship to be interesting enough that they're taking a break from washing the dinner dishes to watch keenly.

It comes down to one final game. The two fighters prepare, stretching their hands and wrists.

The boy are intent in the race. They've set it to the highest level, because of course they had to.

Tenko manages to cross the finish line by the smallest hairs ahead of Kai. The crowd goes wild, everyone hopped up both on the sugar from the cake but also the energy from the room.

"Good job!" Kotaro pats Tenko on the back, smiling down at his son. Tenko beams back, but when he turns to you, Kai is in the way.

The two watch each other for a moment before Kai extends his gloved hand.

"Congratulations. You were a good opponent. Your reaction times are quite strong."

Tenko looks down at it, and then takes the offered hand. They shake, and you and Hana share a glance.

"You were a great opponent too, Shuji."

(You bite your tongue as hard as you can to keep from laughing at Kai's face. No matter how good of an idea he thought it was originally, he seems to be getting very tired of being Shuji)

The passing of Tenkos birthday signals something major in this world. It's his fifth birthday, after all. And yet, he doesn't have his quirk yet. You don't bring it up, but you know it's troubling.

(If you had seen more, perhaps, if you had finished the series, perhaps, you might know. You might know)

But you didn't, and so you don't. You continue with your life, continue holding his hand and offering him love and playing blockade when his father says or does something that he shouldn't.

You bring Hana fresh spring flowers and listen to her when everyone else is busy.

You treat Nao like the aunt you didn't have.

You do everything you can to help them. You hold your hand out to them all, but Tenko especially.

And then, spring ends. Spring ends, and with it your fear too. Spring is when he was… lost. That's according to the best of your math, and suddenly, spring turns to June, and he's still laughing and taking your hand.

And you allow yourself to think that you might just have interfered enough to keep them all alive.

"Here," Kai drops the book on your table, and you blink up at him. "You're always talking about heroes with Shimura. You might like this one too."

There's a dozen and a half books in this library on heroes, and you've read every single one. This one isn't likely to be different, but it's older, dust falling off the pages, and Kai found it just for you, so you decide to check it out anyway.

You flip through the book, unsure of what you’re really looking for. Maybe you’ll see Gran Torino. That would be fun!He was cool in, his prime, wasn't… he…

Your fingers slow, and eventually stop. Your eyes widen, locked on the woman smiling confidently at you. Her hand is out, as though inviting you to join her.

“What have you found?” Kai asks, reading over your shoulder, “Pro-hero Aspire, died in the line of duty.’ Hm. That’s unfortunate for her and her family.”

He looks up at Tenko, standing a few feet away with a younger kid, glancing between your friend and the hero Shimura Nana on the page.

There are clear similarities between them, but there’s enough of Nao in your boys face to hide the truth.

He turns away, discarding the thought, and you close the book quietly, weighing the page.

"Awww look at him, he's gonna cry like a baby!"

"Kai, I-" You cut off, leaving the book behind quickly, "Hey! Leave him alone!"

Two older boys, maybe 8 years of age, have crowded Tenko into a corner. He's scratching at his face, head turning back and forth between them quickly. His nails pierce his skin, eyes wide.

"You think you're so big, don't you? But we know the truth," One of the boys taunts, shoving at Tenko, who flinches back. "Five years old, and no quirk!"

"You know he wants to be a hero, right? Gonna be hard to do that when you're quirkless!"

"Quirkless AND useless!"

"Stop that." You hiss, grabbing Tenko's hand and glaring at the boys, "Get lost! Tenko's twice the boy you are, even if he doesn't have a quirk!"

"Firefly," he says softly, and the second after you register that he means you, you turn. He shakes his head.

"We should just leave." He mumbles.

"Tenko," Your voice softens, "You-?"

"Aw, what, now you need a little girl to stand up for you?" They laugh, jeering at your friend. You snap around to glare at them, and Tenko takes a step back, slipping from your grip as he scratches at his face.

"Tenko!" You mean to follow him, but the shaky taunting laughs of the two boys stops you, as your whirl around to snarl at them. "You! You two are so immature and mean! Why would you say something like that?!"

"I dunno," The first shrugs, "Cause it's funny! Look, he ran off!"

Anger bolts through your chest, a furious sound building in the back of your throat. They're hurting him just to amuse themselves. They're bullies. 

You hate bullies. 

One reaches forward, as if to shove your shoulder and continue mocking you, but his hand is grabbed by Kai before he can.

"Excuse me," Kai says mildly, "But what exactly do you think you're doing?"

The boys quiet, though they share a glance and attempt to regain their composure.

"Check on Shimura," Kai tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder and pushing you in the direction Tenko fled, "I'll talk to these two."

You search his eyes briefly, before nodding, following your friend out.

(If you stay, you'll say or do something you'd regret. You'd never regret standing up for your friend, but you don't want to regret how you do it)

"Now," Kai turns to the two boys. He's older than them by years, taller too, and the way he addresses them makes one step back, "Let's talk."

"We were just messing around!"

"Yeah, just joking! He's quirkless, you know!"

"And?" Kai asks.

The boys seem baffled.

"You keep repeating that, like it's a fault of his."

"And… that's bad."

"According to who? More people in history have been quirkless than those who have had quirks. And humans have thrived without them for almost all of our history. Do you think you're special for having quirks?"

"I-" One of the boys starts, a weak attempt at a bluster.

"Or do you realize you're just as useless as quirks themselves, and thus lash out at those you perceive to be different?" Kai maintains his moderate tone, but his eyes glint like a knife. "Truly, I wish to understand you."

"Tenko! Tenko, where'd you go?" You call for him, "Those boys were dumb, you shouldn't listen to them!"

There's no response, and you turn quickly, scanning the back courtyard of the library.

"They're a bunch of idiots!"

Still no answer. You bite your nails, spinning on your heels.

"C'mon Tenko! Those are just a bunch of empty-headed jerks! They mean nothing!'

"Mom says jerk is a mean word," You hear. You exhale, relieved, and head to where you heard it come from.

He's hidden underneath a maple tree, leaning against it and scratching at his face.

"Tenko…"

"I shouldn't have run. A hero would've stood up to them." Tenko mumbles, eyes distant as he curls his arms around his knees. "I should've stood up to them."

You lean closer, reaching out towards. He flinches back at your touch, and your gaze softens, rocking back on your heels.

"They were making fun of a little kid. I tried to get them to stop. They didn't listen."

"It sounds to me like you did stand up to them, then."

He doesn't say anything, just scratches at his face idly, and you look away.

(He's becoming withdrawn. Concerningly so…)

"Tenko," you ask softly, "Has your dad been mean to you recently?"

He doesn't respond for a long moment, before he lets out a small nod.

"There were these two kids at school. Mikkun and Tomo. We played together, and they said I could be All Might. They said I was nice, because no one else was playing with them. We were playing a couple of days ago, and I saved them from a big truck. A really nice man took me home, and Dad was… mad. He's been mad a lot recently."

Tenko keeps scratching at his face, over and over and over again. He's causing himself to bleed.

He looks at his hands, the blood and flecks of skin flakes caught under his nail, his itching getting worse and worse. The spot he's in leaves him covered with shadows speckling his hands. His mom tells him he's allergic to something, but he can't help but feel like it's something else. Especially when he's at home. 

You, though... the evening sunlight streams through your hair, bathing you in its soft glow. It seems to wrap around you like a veil, slipping in and out of you, almost an extension of your own soul.

It's such a strong contrast between the two of you. He looks away. His nails scrap at his face again and again. 

"Shuji's really cool." He says, "And he's faster and stronger than me. He could be a really good hero."

"And?"

"Maybe he should be. I'm sure his quirk is really strong too. You could be heroes together."

"You promised me that you would always try to be a hero, Tenko. I want to be a hero with you. I want to be your friend. I don't care if someone else is stronger or faster or their quirk has more power. I want you. And you're good. You're so good, and kind, and you always help everyone you can. There's only one Tenko, and I want him as my best friend." You reach forward slowly, giving him the chance to move away if he wants to, "You."

His fingers curl against his face, scratching at his eyes again. You sit down beside him.

"Tenko, give me your hand, please."

"I'm gonna get blood on you."

"I don't care. You're my friend."

He gives you his hand. He's right, but you disregard it. You brush his hair out of his eyes, and smile at him, holding your right hand against his face as you heal the irritation and slits he's made in his skin.

"You're my friend," You say again, "My heart is fully with you. Always"

"I..." He opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. "Can we sit here for a little while?"

You nod, shifting slightly so that your shoulder is against his. 

He closes his eyes.

"Always?"

"Always."

Chapter Text

You cackle madly from atop the play structure, looking down upon your friends, who defiantly- at least in Tenko's case -stare back up at you.

"I'm the queen of the castle, get down you dirty rascals!"

"Never!" Tenko shouts, pointing up at you courageously. "Us heroes will always win!"

"Not always," Kai adds thoughtfully, "There are actually many cases in which heroes do not win, and the villains get away."

"Shuji," Tenko stops to frown at Kai, "You're supposed to play along."

"Yeah, Shuji, play along." You smirk, his deadpan, morose look only serving to make your crooked grin grow larger.

"We're supposed to be defeating the villain. Focus!" Tenko shakes his head at Kai, like he's the dumbest person he's ever met.

"I don't get this game." Kai replies exasperatedly, "We're not actually fighting. They're just standing up there."

"You're supposed to pretend, Shiju."

"But what's the point?"

The two start to go back and forth, and you sigh, already forgotten about in their desire to one-up each other.

You glance at Hana, who is kicking her legs beside you. She shakes her head, telling you it's not worth it. You nod in agreement, sitting down beside her.

"So, how's school?" You ask, swinging your legs in tempo with her own.

"Meh, it's ok. It was better last year! We were only doing fun stuff back then, like coloring."

You nod in understanding, and she huffs, laying her head on your shoulder. You mess with her hair, tugging on the end of her pigtails, as you watch the boys act like... boys. 

"Why do you think they're always fighting?" You study Tenko, who has his arms crossed, and Kai, who has pulled back and looks absolutely annoyed.

She's quiet for a second, before her shoulders start to shake.

Oh shoot, is she crying? Why would she cry? Does she not want them to fight? They're not actually fighting, they're just acting like idiots, really!

"Hana? Are you ok? What's wrong?" Your words get more and more frantic and slightly higher pitched, as she just continues to shake.

"You're so blind!" She bursts out, laughing as she shakes her head at you.

Blind? You?

Absolutely not! You're not blind! You're like- the most perceptive person in the world! You have to be, after all, in order to pick up on all the subtle cues these crazy people give off.

"My lady," Kai calls up to you, interrupting you thought process. "You have to solve our disagreement."

You stick out your tongue at Hana, and she snickers.

"Proceed!"

Kai starts to talk about their most recent row, in which they're debating heroes. You suppose it's a reasonable enough argument to transition to, but they're so vehemently defending their respective choices that you don't even know how to answer.

Keeping neutral is actually really hard in this dispute. Kai picked some hero you don't know much about, but Tenko picked Eraser Head and like… c'mon. Choosing between some random Joe or Aizawa is so not hard.

It's Aizawa.

Still…

"We shouldn't compare two good heroes. They've both got their strengths and weaknesses! I mean, I wouldn't compare you two!"

You think that's a very diplomatic answer. Ms. Sato would be so proud of you.

Strangely, after your response, both of the boys glare at each other even harder, and Hana laughs again.

Weirdos.

You climb down quickly, figuring that you should probably do something before they start arguing about colors or whatever else they'll find to fight about.

"Why don't we do something else?" You ask, stepping in between them. It's definitely not a question, though, as you take Hana's hand. "Like… take a walk! Yeah, let's do that. Apparently there's a really cool trail, but I've never seen it. C'mon!"

You shout to your dad where you're going, and he tells you to stay in sight. That's perfectly fine, though, the "trail" isn't actually that long, just a small loop around an even tinier lake.

You and Hana swing your arms back and forth, the breeze tossing your hair gently. You turn your face to the sky, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. The sun warms your skin, and you absorb as much sunlight as you can, storing it away in your quirk.

"Oh my God…" You hear Hana whisper, and your eyebrows furrow slightly at her tone.

"Firefly?" Tenko calls, and you hum in acknowledgment, opening your eyes.

What that he-?

"Do you think geese have feelings like we do?" Tenko asks you.

"Well, this one definitely does."

The three of you watch with morbid fascination as the goose in question stares at Kai, who leans away with a more than faintly disturbed expression.

He had been standing at the edge of the lake, pondering life in his reflection, or something like that, and the bird just… approached him. Its beady eyes are locked on Kai's face, and he keeps glancing at it from the corner of his eyes, not quite at the point of running away, and yet also not comfortable with this creature.

"Maybe you're near its nest!" You offer, very kindly.

"Yes, thanks for that helpful suggestion." He gives you a weary look, torn between retreating towards the safety of you and Tenko, and the very real risk of bringing this beast towards one of the few people he's cares about and making the entire situation worse.

"Can we start having these… playdates elsewhere?" Kai asks, as the goose takes another step. "No, no, don't do that."

"He's the bird-whisper." Hana not-very-quietly whispers to you.

You snort, thinking of the future version of Kai, and his dramatic plague-doctor mask. It certainly looked like a bird, didn't it…

Actually, maybe he can be "The Bird-Whisperer" instead of Overhaul.

Tenko chuckles as he scratches idly at his face, mumbling about how humid it is. You've already used your quirk on him earlier, smoothing out ragged skin, and so this itching doesn't begin to worry you.

"Hey, look!" He stops suddenly, plucking something off of your face, smiling at you all the while, "An eyelash! You're supposed to make wishes on these!"

Tenko hands it off to you, and you look down at it for a moment.

What should you wish for?

Unfathomable wealth? Power? True love?

You glance up to see Kai leaning farther away from the goose, raising his fists like he's going to fight it; Hana throws back her head, laughing so hard she's close to tears; your dad talks to Nao on the bench, the pair smiling and sharing stories.

It's all so perfect, and so no, you won't wish for any of that.

Tenko grins at you, eyes shining like there's stars caught in their depths.

Let it stay like this forever, you think, blowing softly at the eyelash and watching it rise, Let me keep this love.

"Kiddos! It's time to go!"

You hold them close, squeezing Tenko once before pulling back. Kai takes your hand, and as you wave to them until they're out of sight, you can't help the smile that pulls at your face.

Life is perfect. It's like a dream, something you never could've imagined being yours.

Of course, dreams end. They escape, no matter how you tightly you clutch to them, and when you wake, you find you can't recall them, left only with a sense of loss.

Later, at their house that isn't a home, when Tenko gets in trouble again, and Hana tells Tenko that she found a secret, you're not there to help them. You're unable to interfere, and just like waking in the morning, your dream slips through your fingers.

"This lady is our grandma!" Hana whispers to Tenko, her eyes bright. "She's a hero!"

"Wow," Tenko breathes.

"Even though Dad gets mad when you play pretend, I'm with you! I'll be cheering you on, your biggest fan! We'll become heroes, all together! And Dad won't know anything about it!"

"All of us?" Tenko asks, his face shining like the sun.

"All of us!"

"Can you believe it Mon? There was a hero in our family! I can't wait to tell Firefly!" He whispers to the dog, scratching behind his ear, "I feel great right now! I feel like I could- I could stand up to anything!"

His smile turns to a wince, a bolt of pain running up his hand. The ball falls, rolling across the ground and stopping not far away. Mon pounces atop it, sneezing as a bit of summer dust gets in his nose, before he brings it back loyally.

It's really humid, Tenko thinks, scratching at his face.

"Tenko!" He flinches again, wide eyes turning towards the house. "You went into my study?! What did you see?"

His father stands over him, fists clenched at his sides as his eyes burn. Tenko curls in tighter to himself, Hana's cries calling his attention.

She says… she says it was his idea. That he found it.

No! But that's not-

"That's not your grandmother!" Dad snarls, lifting him by his collar. Tenko scratches at his face, his eyes watering and his heart skittering in his chest. Mom shouts something, but Tenko can't hear it. "That's not your grandmother. She abandoned her family when she left."

Someone, he begs, please!

"You'll learn…"

He needs someone, anyone to interfere. To help him. Please anyone-!

"-hurt those who love them!"

He reels back, his fathers hand slamming into him like a shot, and Tenko wishes his father had never loved him.

Nao hovers above the phone, arms hanging loosely. She stares at it for a long, long moment. Her mother is comforting Hana, speaking softly towards her.

The sound keeps replaying in her mind. The slap. The blow landing.

Her fingers twitch by her side.

If you're ever in trouble, or think something is wrong, or he gets… more severe, please don't hesitate to reach out to me. If not for you, then for your kids.

Sora's words echo in her ears. His voice had been even and gentle, and she knows that if she called him now, he would come.

But that choice would be irreversible.

She reaches for the phone. Her finger runs along the side of it.

Tenko is still outside. She knows it's not possible but if she strains, she swears she can hear him cry.

Two, three, four. Four fingers grip the phone.

If she calls… he'll come.

But Kotaro… he did his best as a father. He just… he just wanted a happy family. He…

No. He's gone too far.

She almost lifts the phone. Almost drops her thumb onto it, almost dials the number and places it against her ear.

If she called, he would've come.

She puts the phone back down. Takes a step back, and then another.

She doesn't tempt herself with the idea.

First, she has to confront Kotaro. Then she can call.

"He went too far," She tells the air, "I won't tolerate more of this."

Her mother comes up beside her. Her father, too.

"We won't tolerate it." Her mother says.

Hana watches them leave, and turns to the door.

She was wrong. She shouldn't have done that.

Hana's conscience bites at her, her gaze forced to the ground through the weight of her guilt.

She shouldn't… she shouldn't have done that.

She was just so scared. Dad had found the picture, had seen her with it, and the way he looked at her, the anger in his eyes…

He looked at her like he looked at Tenko.

He looked like he was going to hit her.

She was scared. She was so scared.

But she shouldn't have done that. She loves Tenko, so much. He's her baby brother.

She remembers when they brought him home from the hospital, hardly more than a baby herself.

It's her first memory. She keeps in safe in her heart.

He was so small. So tiny, even compared to her. He had no hair, and was so small and weak…

She's supposed to protect him. She's his big sister.

"Tenko?" She says softly, her eyes still trained on the dirt in front of her, "I was looking for you."

He breathes harsh and fast, and she closes her eyes.

He's crying. Because of what she did. What kind of sister is she?

"Listen… I shouldn't have blamed you for that earlier. I'm the one who found the picture and said it was a secret."

His voice is hoarse and squeaky, odd puffs coming in and out. She opens her eyes, worry twisting with the guilt.

"What's wrong?" She rushes forward to help him, stopping at the sight of… blood.

Blood?

She screams, physically recoiling. Blood. That's blood. That's… blood!

She runs. It's the only thing Hana can think of doing, rushing back to her mother, because Mom will fix this. She'll fix all of it, won't she?

But Tenko. That's right. Her baby brother. She needs to stop and turn around and help him too. That's what she came out here for. She needs to help him too.

But she's so scared.

She's only seven. She's just a little girl, a scared, terrified girl.

She just wants her Mom.

She feels a grip on her back, and wants to turn. Wants to help Tenko. Wants her Mom. Wants to help Tenko.

She's never able to choose.

He doesn't understand. He wants this to stop. It's a villain. It has to be a villain. He wants it to stop. He wants the itching to stop and he wants his pain to stop and he wants it all to stop why can't everything just stop he hates it here he hates it so much he can't take it anymore why didn't anyone ever say anything? Why didn't they stop it?

(Why can't he stop it?)

"Tenko."

Mom stumbles. She reaches for him. The world crumbles around him, and she still tries to hold him. She still tries to help him. She still loves him, even as the world falls to pieces. 

She dies.

His Mom… dies.

Agonized wails rip from his throat, as Tenko writhes on the ground, the yard only ruins around him. His movements are jerky, clawing at his arms, clawing at his neck, clawing at his face, clawing at every inch of skin he can reach.

He retches, empty dry heaves that bring nothing up.

The door opens, and he lifts up.

His father stands there.

"Dad, I didn't- I didn't know! The itch- I'm so sorry Daddy!"

The ground buckles and breaks again as he sobs, reaching out to his Dad.

Because someone has to fix this. Someone has to fix this. Someone has to save him.

But his Dad has never been a hero.

Just like when he used his hand, the blow sends Tenko sprawling back. His lip splits open, iron exploding across his tongue like the stars across his eyes.

He burns.

His father floats away in the wind.

And suddenly he doesn't itch anymore.

He- he doesn't know what to do.

He felt good. At the end, he felt good.

But no. He- he shouldn't- he didn't mean- it was an accident when Grandma and Grandpa and Mom and Hana and-

He doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't know what to do.

But wait… he does. He can. He knows what to do. He knows where to go.

You. He'll go to You. Yeah, that's what he'll do. You'll fix it all. You always do. You and Your dad, You can fix it, You can make everything better.

You're- You're Firefly. You'll help him. Everything will be alright. He just has to get to You.

But where are You?

He's never been to Your house. He's never… seen Your family. He only knows You and Your dad. You've been to his house. Why didn't he ever go to Yours?

Doesn't matter. He's going to You. He's going to find You, and You'll make it all better. He knows You will.

You have to. Please, You have to.

"Hi there. Are you ok? What's the matter, honey?" An old woman stops in front of him, her voice soft and concerned.

Someone. It's not You, but it's still someone. Someone who will help him. Someone who can make it better.

His lips pull back, like an imitation of a smile, and she recoils, hand raising over her mouth.

"I'm sure a hero or a police officer will be here soon! You'll see. I have to go, or else I'll be late for work. Bye now!"

Wh-where is she going? No, please come back. Please…

She turns away from him. Everyone turned away from him. No one reached out. No one at all.

That's all it would've taken. One person to reach out. Someone to have the courage, the heart to take his hand and help him. Anyone, just one single act. The smallest of gestures. He just needs someone.

No one does. If You were here, would You have?

He's hungry. He doesn't even remember what he 's looking for. He's been walking for so long. He's been hit by strangers in an alleyway. He's hungry. His feet are ragged and bleeding. His skin is ragged and bleeding. He's hungry. He doesn't know where he's going. He's leaning against a wall. He's so hungry.

A shadow blocks what little light hits his face.

"It's alright. Everything will be alright. I'm here now."

He gives him hands. He says they'll help him. He says that the heart is well-crafted. That it's strong. That he'll carry his family close. That he'll survive.

"Child," The man who saved him says, "You've such an urge to destroy that it's impossible for you to control it or keep it below the surface. Hate is spilling out from you, overflowing from every pore, manifesting as an itch. You don't have to endure that. It's not necessarily a bad thing."

His savior talks a lot. He's not sure of what he says.

(You told him he was good. If he was good, would he have hate? You always made the itch go away. Does that mean he didn't hate You? But he didn't hate his mother. Did he?)

He gets sent out. He gets beaten by thugs in an alleyway. His fingers flex. He can feel an urge, like a bolt through his body.

But he puts it away. He's good. You told him he was good. You believe he's good.

He lowers his head. Curls his hand.

"You poor thing. What is it you fear? Act as your heart desires. If you don't, then you'll suffer an agonizing life alone."

"Not- alone. Not- not alone." He grits out, scratching all over.

This itch. It won't leave him alone. It won't let him be. He itches and itches and itches.

"Of course you have me." 

That's not who he means, though. His mind is splintering with ever cut he gives himself as he scratches.

"Conscience, morals, ethics. These are all concepts designed by humanity. People who wanted the world to run smoothly. Don't be held back by them. Do not be afraid. What's inside of you is more important than anything else. Now, tell me. What do you want to do?"

He sees his father. He sees the men who hurt him.

And then a star shines in his memory as he trembles. The Firefly. He remembers that. He wants that. He wants-

"No- have- have-" He can barely get the words out, barely even think. A face flashes through his head, a name on the edge of his tongue, "A Firefly. There was a Firefly. Have- not alone."

The man doesn't say anything.

"There are so many bad feelings inside of me. No matter what I try, they won't go away. I want to kill them-" He reaches up, grabbing one of the hands on the table, "I can't hold back much longer."

The man smiles.

"But I'm good."

The man pauses.

"I promised." The words slip out, like someone else is saying them. "I'm good. I'm a best friend. I promised her I'd try to be good."

The man frowns. He watches as the boy suffers on the ground, the hand he grabbed turning to dust.

This is not how he planned on doing this. He had hoped that the boy would be more pliable. However, it has never been said that he cannot improvise. He would not be where he is if he couldn't.

And so gears shift in his mind, and he nods at the boy, a savior once again.

"Do you think those men are good?"

"No. No. But she said-"

"The girl is young," His savior interrupts, "Your friend is young, and I'm sure she means the best. But she's not right. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, but by letting men like this exist, she let's them hurt others, right?"

He nods, listening as well as he can.

"Of course," He coos gently, "Which is why we will be pursuing justice. The conventions of our society tell us men like that should be allowed the walk the streets. This is what fooled the girl. But those men could hurt someone else, couldn't they? Maybe even your friend. You promised her that you would be good, did you not? Would it be good to let them continue? What do you think you should do?"

He twitches on the floor, the itch even worse. Something in the back of him mind screams at him that it isn't right. That it's not justice. That it's not good.

But he's tired. He's so tired, and he itches so much, and ridding the world of his father- a justice, wasn't it? He wasn't good -that had made him feel so much better. And maybe this man is right. He saved him, didn't he? He's an adult. He knows better. His friend meant well, but she was still just a child.

(He's still just a child)

"Go and do your best."

"I thought he lost his memories."

"No, but they are merely buried deep down inside of him. Tucked away. Those hands restrain him. They rebuke him. I didn't expect him to hold so tightly to what that girl said to him, but it doesn't matter. His buried memories make him unstable. She will be buried with them."

"You gave him his quirk as an infant, did you not?" The good doctor asks, as both figures stand in the shadows and watch the boy below.

"Indeed."

"I wonder, then, why it took so long to manifest." The dust that was formerly men rises up towards them, and the taller of the two raises his hand, waving it away.

"Time and unexpected events, my friend. The mental distress I expected to incur the quirks awakening seemed to have been put of slightly by the grace of the girl. Not to worry, though. I expect all shall prove to go our way.

"Even the girls influence?"

"I do not expect her to have been more than a simple thorn in my side, though perhaps it would be worth looking into getting her hands as well." The man pauses for a moment, before he shakes his head. It wouldn't be worth it. She's connected to the Shie Hassaikai, and while they're not nearly as strong as they once were, they would attract too much attention.

No, he'll just wait for the boy to forget you. It will happen, and you'll be nothing more than a faint scratch at the edge of his mind.

"He's subconsciously keeping his quirk in check. Though it's not how I expected it to occur, I will still personally cultivate his new identity. He will be the Symbol of Fear that craves destruction and calls it justice. How apt an opponent!"

The boy turns his face to the rain, the water soaking onto his torn skin.

He congratulates the boy. He commends him, gifts him the five new hands. He smiles at the boy, praises him, renames him.

"Shigaraki Tomura?"

"The world will grieve the old order, but it will accept the new, the justice that you shall bring. Of course, preceding that you must destroy the way that things were. Thus, Tomura, for their mourning."

"And Shigaraki?"

"My last name, of course." He smiles at the boy, a tight and sharp thing. "Shimura Tenko is no more."

You're with Kai when it happens. You're with Kai, and you're playing shogi. You're rubbing your necklace, thumb rising in circles over the soft, downy feather as you lose yourself in your thoughts. You're there, but your heart isn't with you.

"Hey, sweetling…" your dads voice is soft. Tired, maybe. That's not what makes you stop and look at him, though.

It's the undercurrent of exhaustion. Of grief. He sounds… sad.

"Papa?"

"There's… something's happened."

(You know what he's going to say before he says it. After all, this is how the story goes, isn't it?)

You knew it was coming, didn't you?

But as he speaks, as you hear what he confirms, you can still feel something break inside of you. You wrap your arms around yourself, as if to keep the pieces in place where they belong.

"Do you remember how I explained death to you." He says, "It was a villain attack." He says, "I'm so sorry." He says, "They're gone."

Your hands shake as bile rises in your throat.

(You

You know what happened. What really happened)

There's still time. There has to be. He wandered the streets, right? He was- he was looking for help. For someone to do something. You can still save him but you can't save the others they're

Gone?

Gone.

Mr. and Mrs. Magi, they're gone.

You cover your mouth, stumbling back, as if you can escape the memory that's been brought to life.

Your shoulders heave, the true impact crashing into you.

Nao. Hana.

Oh God, they're dead. You know how they died, you saw it a thousand times, you watched it.

But they aren't just characters in a show anymore. They are were people. People you knew, people you loved, oh God you loved them.

You remember it. The way they fell apart slowly, their agonized screams, the way Nao kept reaching for her boy even after she was turning to dust, how he didn't know what was happening how-

You vomit onto the floor, trembling as their deaths replay every time you blink. You can see it. You can hear it. It happened. It actually happened.

Your father wraps his arms around you as your body wracks with the force of your sobs. You wail into his chest, his soothing words lost on your deaf ears.

They're all gone but-

"No. Tenko's ok, he has to be, there's still-" You choke out, trying to pull away. "He has to be. I can save him, let go I can still rescue him!"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Your dad keeps repeating that. Why won't he let you go? You can still help Tenko. "I'm sorry. We only just found out. He's gone. I'm so sorry"

He keeps saying that. He keeps saying that he's gone. But Tenko's not gone.

He's lost. He's lost and you've lost him. You failed Tenko. You failed your best friend.

You couldn't save him.