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Izuku was fussing around the house, checking and double-checking the emergency numbers, the first-aid kit, even the food in the fridge. Behind him, he heard the laughter of his wife, Ochako.
“Deku, c’mon, the house isn’t gonna explode over us being gone for a couple of hours.”
“I know…” Izuku said nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “But this is the first time we’re letting Toshi be without at least one of us.”
The toddler in question, now four years old, was currently jabbering away to Grandpa Might about the latest hero cartoon. The child’s green eyes glowed as he detailed the protagonist’s quirk in a way that only proved he was Izuku’s child through and through. Toshinori hung on every word, savoring the peace of the moment. Ochako looked at the scene fondly, wrapping her arms around her husband with a smile.
“I think Toshi will be just fine. Isn’t that right, Grandpa Might?” she teased, her gaze meeting Toshinori’s as her head rested on Izuku’s shoulder.
“Definitely! If I could handle all of you rascals back in the day, I can handle a four-year-old. You two go, have some fun—and tell Hawks I said hi for me, would you?”
Izuku relented, letting out a breath as he relaxed his shoulders. “You’re both right, as usual. And sure, I’ll say hi to him. With Principal Nezu attending too, I think I might be able to help pitch Ochako’s idea of getting better quirk counseling not just in hero schools, but improving it across the country!”
He chuckled. “You’re gonna have your work cut out for you with Aldera.”
Ochako released her hug, eyes gleaming with determination. “Oh, I’m going to have a field day with them. All that ‘Deku was taught by us!’ nonsense when the reality is you’re still here in spite of them being awful… ooooh, Nezu and I already have thoughts.”
Izuku gulped, grabbing his keys, then knelt to his son’s level.
“Alright, Mommy and I are going out now. You be good for Grandpa Might, okay?”
Toshi wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck.
“I will! Have fun, Daddy! Have fun, Mommy!”
With that, Toshinori watched his two former pupils leave the house, their son bouncing excitedly on the couch beside him.
“Oh! Grandpa Might! They told you my quirk came in, right?” the child said.
The retired pro smiled and nodded. “They did! It’s like your Grandma Inko’s quirk, right?”
Toshi nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Wanna see?”
All Might chuckled as he was led by the hand to Toshi’s room, which was filled with memorabilia of his many, many aunts and uncles. From his toy chest, the boy pulled out some building blocks to create a tower and then walked to his bed.
“Okay, here it goes!” Toshi announced. He lifted his hand toward the small Tsukuyomi plushie by his pillow. His eyes narrowed in concentration as the plushie wobbled into the air, and with a flick of his hand it flew, knocking over the tower. Toshi cheered triumphantly, striking a hero pose, his eye twitching faintly as his stomach gurgled.
“See? Daddy thinks it might be a bit of Grandma’s and a bit of Mommy’s quirks!”
“Oh wow, that’s a pretty cool power. I bet if you train it real well, you’ll be a pro in no time,” All Might said encouragingly, scooping Toshi up.
“Would you like to see a comic from when I was your age? It’s about a hero who uses pieces of himself to save others—it was all the rage back then.”
“An old hero comic? Okay!” Toshi decided.
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The dinner and meeting went off without a hitch. With a solid plan in place, hopefully there would be fewer cracks for children to fall through. Ochako couldn’t help but think of Toga—of how she could have been helped much sooner. As they walked toward their front door, Izuku took his wife’s hand.
“She’d be happy, you know,” he said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“I do… it’s just a shame we can’t go back and change some things. But… yeah, I think she’d be happy too.”
Ochako opened the door—and froze. A soft melody drifted from the living room: a blend of their child’s carefree voice and Toshinori’s older, gentler tone. Neither adult recognized it immediately, though for Izuku, it only took a few moments. Anpanman’s March. The two quietly entered, watching with quiet reverence. Their son and their mentor sang together; halfway through, Toshi began to yawn. Toshinori’s voice softened as he laid the child down, continuing the song from his own childhood.
The memory of his mother’s voice rang clearly in his mind as he tucked the blanket around his now-sleeping namesake. When he looked up, Izuku and Ochako were standing in the doorway, smiling at him—tears shining in both their eyes. Quietly, he held up an old, faded issue of Anpanman.
“Ah, I didn’t hear you two come in. Toshi had me read all the voices—apparently Anpanman sounds like me.”
Izuku let out a quiet laugh, one hand brushing at his eyes. “He’s not wrong,” he said softly. “You really do sound like him.”
Toshinori chuckled, closing the worn comic with care. “Well, I suppose we both wanted to be the kind of heroes who made people smile.”
The room seemed to exhale around them—soft lamplight pooling over the floor, the gentle rhythm of a child’s breathing filling the silence. Ochako leaned her head against Izuku’s shoulder, and for a moment, everything felt still. No headlines, no battles waiting beyond the door—just a quiet evening that heroes past rarely got to keep. But now? The future his students built was bright,one where heroes no longer needed to fear for their children. Toshinori thought about the long road that led here and smiled, grateful to have lived long enough to see the peace he and so many others had fought so hard for finally take root.
Ochako moved to carefully lift her child off the couch; a touch of zero gravity made it easy to do without waking little Toshi. As she carried the toddler off to bed, Izuku gave his thanks to All Might and bid him good night.
When Toshinori stepped out into the cool evening air, the city lights glimmered softly in the distance. He paused for a moment beside his car, hands in his coat pockets, and began to hum the tune of Anpanman’s March—a gentle, familiar melody carried on the night breeze.