J.'s Anime Fics & Imagines

Akira

The morning after felt brittle, as if my entire world had suddenly turned to glass, and I was just waiting for one wrong word or movement to send everything shattering.

Mirai had called as soon as he saw the news about Ankoku’s reappearance, and the panic in my voice was just enough to cut through whatever resolve he’d built up to stay at the agency. I’d tried to sound brave for his sake, but the edges had crumbled, and he’d heard it. That was all it took for him to promise to be with me again within a few hours. I tried to tell him that it was okay, that we would be fine, but I couldn’t lie to him. I wasn’t fine without him. I needed him just as I had every moment we were apart, but this sort of need was different. I needed him because he was a reminder that I was strong enough to face whatever was coming my way.

After Hitoshi returned from washing his face and brushing his teeth, Hizashi had turned everything off, insisting that it was time for us all to head to bed. I couldn’t sleep, though, not even with Seirei behind me and Tenko wrapping me against his chest with Hitoshi pressed between the two of us. I just couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge that Hizashi was in his bedroom right down the hall and that Shota was on the couch. I couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge the Tsukauchi had a team of detectives keeping a watchful eye on us. I couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge that Enji, Nemuri, Snipe, Keigo, and a dozen other pro heroes had taken on additional patrols in the area throughout the night and early hours of the morning.

Keigo was coming back just to watch the skies over us. He wouldn’t be able to see me, but he was willing to risk his safety, to be away from home without reward, just to make sure I knew he was close, that he had my back.

My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t let me rest. 

I heard the click of the lock turning from the other room. It was quiet and careful, but my body recognized the sound. I had been on high alert ever since Ankoku escaped Tartarus, but it was even more intense now that I knew he was getting closer. I had everything to lose. I had my son, my Player One, my Speakers, my sister, my…Shota. My family. Mirai and Arehate were the only ones missing from the people I needed to protect, but I had to trust that they were safe. Still, the click of the lock made my breath hitch and my muscles tense. I was prepared. I was ready for the fight I didn’t want to have because I was certain that it wouldn’t be one I’d walk away from, but if I fell, I planned to take Ankoku with me.

Shota would’ve been asleep in the living room. If it was Ankoku at the door, he’d go for him first. It would be fast and quiet. He wouldn’t want to give me a chance to wake up and intervene. The thought of losing him in that moment made my chest constrict even further, and my heart began hammering so hard, I could feel it over every inch of my body. The only images in my head were of Shota’s body on the floor, his eyes empty and lifeless, his body broken and battered beyond recognition. He’d look like the basement ladies, like ground meat and blood.

I slipped from the bed like I’d done a thousand times before, times when I’d left the apartment in the night when I was younger and found myself walking across the city toward Shota’s apartment. I was good at being silent. Hitoshi whined softly in his sleep, a gentle, muffled sound that made my heart ache. His small hand reached for me in the dark, but Tenko, without even opening his eyes, pulled Hitoshi into his own warmth, threading his gloved fingers through his violet hair, soothing him back to a peaceful slumber. That was all it took. I could leave them both for just a second without worrying that Hitoshi would wake up scared and alone.

I padded down the hall silently, every step measured and careful. Hizashi’s door opened before I could get too far, and I was certain he must’ve heard the same click, or he must’ve felt me moving. He was well attuned to every move I made in the apartment. He was moving before I could even ask, putting himself between me and whatever threat could possibly be on the other side of the apartment door. I felt a rush of gratitude and guilt twist simultaneously in my stomach. He always did that, always stepped in front of me like he could take the world’s worst head-on and walk away smiling. Whenever I asked him about it, his response was always the same: “because I’m your older brother, and you’ll never face the world alone again. I’ll face it for you.”

We moved together with him making sure to keep his arm out in an attempt to keep me behind him. The living room opened up in front of us, dark aside from the haze from the streetlights that leaked through the curtains. Shota was sitting up on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his face holding all the exhaustion of the past several months on it. His eyes flicked to the door, then to me. It was clear that he hadn’t been sleeping either. None of us truly had been since Ankoku’s escape from Tartarus, but we were all just pretending more often than not.

The door creaked softly as it pushed open, and a tall figure stepped into the room before immediately closing and locking the door behind him. His coat hung down to his mid-thighs, and his collar was upturned. His hair was slightly disheveled, and those golden eyes looked so exhausted, but he still didn’t fail a gentle smile when our eyes met. I hadn’t expected him to come until morning, but I should’ve known better by now that his duties as a father were more important to him than anything else.

He didn’t look at anyone or anything else once his eyes met mine. “Akira,” he breathed out my name like it was an answer to some ancient question he’d finally found the response to.

That was it. That was all it took for something inside me to begin breaking apart. That was all it took for the tension and fear and responsibility I’d been holding together with trembling hands to finally fall apart. We crossed the room toward each other, and I crashed into him, throwing my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. I didn’t care that my breath hitched, that I was coming apart at the seams, that my body felt like it would cave in on itself. I didn’t care that I clawed at him like the little girl I’d once been when I’d been brought away for private questioning and thought I would never see him again.

“Dad,” I choked out, the word shattering on my tongue. It was a relief and a heartbreak all at once. It had only been a few days without him, but it felt like an eternity with everything that happened since Tenko and I returned to Mustafu without him to stay with us. He was just as much my home as the rest of my family was, so being away from him in the worst time of my life meant losing my footing on the world. I hated being away from him just in general, but I hated it a thousand times more than ever before when I felt so scared and vulnerable.

His arms wrapped around me, strong and unyielding. One hand cupped the back of my head, cradling me against his chest, and he held me like I was the only thing that could possibly anchor him to the world, like I was his tether to both life and joy. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head before he breathed me in the same way I had done to him. His voice was steady despite its clear exhaustion. It was the kind of voice he’d used when I was still so little and had nightmares. It was the voice he used whenever he promised to come back home to me. “I’m right here, Akira. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he repeated the words as if they could burrow deeper into my bones and remind me of the truth he’d always promised me: I was never alone in this world.

I pressed my face harder into his chest, searching for his heartbeat, for the proof that he was real and not just some desperate hallucination that had been conjured up by exhaustion and fear. I trembled hard, but he simply tightened his grip around me. It was like he believed he could hug the terror out of me if he tried hard enough. No matter how many times I thought I had grown up, there were moments like that where I was nothing more than a girl who still needed her dad. I needed him when I was happy, when I was hurt, when I was scared, when the world felt like it was ending, when it felt like there were monsters lurking just out of sight, when it felt like I didn’t know how to breathe or how to feel or how to keep holding on. I needed him because he was my first safe haven after the basement, because he was the one who could pull me back from the edge when I was so close to falling.

I needed him because he was my dad.

He stroked his large hand through my hair as I sobbed into his chest, letting it all out. It was like everything I’d been holding back to keep Hitoshi from seeing the truly broken pieces of me was finally released. I felt so small in his arms. I felt like I was a little girl all over again, clinging to his legs at the agency and begging him not to leave for another mission, terrified that he wouldn’t come back to me. I never stopped being that little girl, though, and with Ankoku on the loose and drawing closer, I knew that Mirai would be among the list of people he would target in order to get to me, and I couldn’t lose him. I could never lose my dad, not when he was the first person apart from my Tenko to ever love me unconditionally, not when he was another piece of my soul that I couldn’t live without. I couldn’t exist in a world void of him. I refused to.

I’d tried to be brave for Hitoshi’s sake. I tried to act unfazed for Seirei and Tenko, to show them that I could handle the fear that threatened to consume me upon seeing the new messages from Ankoku, to show them that I could be strong for myself and could take care of them. I tried to be strong for Shota, to show him that he trained me well, that I was capable of being the hero he’d spent so much of his life ensuring I could become. I tried to be defiant for Hizashi’s sake, to show him that I was still the stubborn and fierce girl he raised me to be. But I couldn’t be anything but Akira to Mirai. With him, I was just a little girl.

He continued whispering the same words to me in different orders as I cried. “I’m here,” “I’ve got you,” “it’s okay,” “you’re safe,” “you’re not alone.” His voice was rough around the edges, like he’d been fighting sleep and fear for hours until he got back to me. I just clung to him, pressing myself as close as I could as I trembled and allowed myself to feel the fear that broke me apart because I knew he’d pick up the pieces with the gentlest hands before putting me back together and calling me his brave girl again.

It was like I processed everything all at once: Keigo and the birthday party, the messages with him and my guilt for hiding it from my family, the pain of potentially losing him as a friend, the fear of disappointing my family if they found out, the weight of motherhood in times when I still just needed to be a child myself, the terror of losing Tenko all over again, the fear of losing them all, the fear of Ankoku finding us. It all hit me, and I didn’t care about being strong in that moment. I just let go. I allowed myself to crumble. I let myself be his daughter because that was all I was when I was in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to come back yet,” I reminded him after a few moments of silence that was filled with nothing but my muffled sobs and his steady heartbeat that reminded me that he was here. My voice trembled as the words caught in the fabric of his coat. It was the only thing I could think to say. It was a reminder of the plans we’d both made. He was supposed to be at the agency, supposed to be easing us all back into normalcy, supposed to be returning for dinner a few nights a week like before until I was ready to return to my work study with him. He had suggested it in an attempt to get us back to feeling something relatively close to normal once more, to remind me that I was strong enough to get by without him.

His arms tightened around me slightly. “Plans changed,” he murmured into my hair, the words filled with a soft sort of dedication, as if there had never even been another option, as if sticking to the plan wasn’t something he’d ever even considered doing the moment he heard my voice.

I tipped my head back, searching his face for the answer to the question I couldn’t form without breaking apart all over again. The tears hadn’t stopped, and I hated myself for it. He didn’t make a scene when he simply reached up and wiped them away with his thumb. It was the kind of touch that made me feel okay again, the kind of touch that conveyed his promise that he would never fault me for needing him the way I felt I would always need him.

“I called, and you sounded like you needed me,” he explained, allowing a beat to pass before his expression softened from one of concern to one of the purest love I’d ever known apart from that of Hitoshi. He loved me in a way I’d never truly known. Tenko loved me with all the force and ferocity of the universe when it first burst forth. He loved me just because, but there was blood that linked us. There was a shared history and a shared existence. He was quite literally my other half. Hitoshi didn’t have that blood connection with me, but I loved him the way Mirai loved me, and Hitoshi loved me the way I loved Mirai. It was unconditional and all-encompassing. It was simple. I loved them both because there was no other alternative. “You needing me is all the reason I require to turn the world upside down for you. Nothing, no plans or promises, could keep me from coming home to you, tot make sure you don’t forget how to smile.”

I squeezed him tighter, burying my face into his chest once more. I felt the guilt rising up within me once more. It was a thick and ugly thing that crept up in my throat like hot tar. He’d already done so much for me, and my presence in his life put him in danger. It put the people I loved most at risk, and he was still there, loving me through every moment of it. There would be no convincing him to leave, to return home and rest easily. He was devoted to me in the same way ancient societies devoted themselves to their deities. His devotion was unwavering and absolute, but it scared me to think of the lengths he would go to in order to protect me. It scared me to think of a life without him because I didn’t know what the world would look like without his smile.

“I tried to sound okay,” I admitted, my voice so small I could barely recognize it as my own. It was similar to my face in the reflection earlier that night. I couldn’t entirely recognize myself. I’d tried to be brave, tried to make it easy for him to hang up the phone without his nerves forcing him onto a late night train to get back to me. I tried not to pull him away from the life he’d finally started to get back to, but I’d failed.

Of course I failed.

He pressed his hand between my shoulder blades, his fingers tracing over the tension in my back. “You did. You sounded just like my brave girl, but I know you, Akira,” he reminded me, admitting that I’d done my best. He simply knew me too well. “I know how brave you’ve always been, how you shoulder the weight of the world with a smile just so you don’t worry the people around you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to argue against him, to tell him that I was a fraud, that I was no hero when so many people were dying because Ankoku was trying to get to me, that if I was a true hero, I’d deliver myself into the jaws of death to protect every other innocent civilian who would be hurt. I couldn’t get a single word out before Mirai traced his finger just below my eye, catching another stray tear before it could slip away.

He studied my face just as he had in the late hours of the night when I’d make my way into his room as a little girl. I remembered it like it was yesterday. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry. It was a night I had a terrible nightmare, and I asked if I could sleep in his bed. He brushed my hair back and hummed to me. His cheeks were wet with tears that I couldn’t understand until I became Hitoshi’s mother. Once I stepped into that role and knew a love like none other, I realized that my heart couldn’t handle the sheer amount of love that existed for him. I was overflowing with it and just looking at him sometimes made me ache with the most wonderful kind of pain. Because how had I become anything to someone so wonderful, someone so pure and good, someone so perfect? How had I been anything to someone who was everything?

And to be loved back by him? By the little boy who was my reason for breathing? It was almost too much to bear.

Mirai pressed his lips to my forehead, and my eyelids fluttered closed. “You don’t have to be brave right now, sweetheart, not for me, not while I’m here. You can just be. I can be brave for both of us, and you can lean on me because that’s my job. Taking care of you is always what I’ve wanted to do, even when I didn’t know you existed. Being your dad was the dream I had before you were ever an idea, before you were ever a reality in my life. I want to take care of you,” he whispered against my skin, and I felt the warmth of his breath against my face.

I swallowed hard as fresh tears slid down my cheeks. “I hate that he still scares me, that I feel like I’m still nothing more than a 5-year-old girl in that basement,” I confessed, the words catching behind the lump in my throat. The shame built up hot and settled in my cheeks. “I feel…I feel so weak,” I admitted as my knees threatened to buckle beneath me under the weight of the memories.

“This isn’t weakness, Akira,” he corrected me firmly, though there was no true heat in his tone. “This is your memory reminding you of the danger you’ve been in. It’s trying to ensure your survival because we never forget our traumas. We learn to live with them, and we can learn from them and grow stronger because of them,” he reminded me, cradling the back of my head against his chest once more where my tears soaked into his coat. “But I need you to remember one thing, sweetheart: you’re stronger than every bit of pain you’ve ever endured. You’re stronger than you know, stronger than anything this world could ever throw at you.”

“I don’t feel strong right now,” I confessed, shaking my head.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his golden eyes before both hands came up to cup my face. I could see the exhaustion in his features from a clear lack of sleep probably since Tenko and I had returned to Mustafu, the train ride, and the weight of worry all bearing down on him. There was something else there, something far more fierce, a love that rivaled the love I had for Hitoshi. “You’re still here,” he stressed every syllable, his voice filled with the weight of every second we’d spent together, of every memory. “That makes you a force to be reckoned with, sweetheart.”

The words washed over me. I allowed my heart to open up to them, to believe them.

Mirai didn’t let me go, wrapping his arms around me once more instead of cupping my face. I leaned my head against his chest once more as he straightened back up. “Now,” he began, his voice soft but full of determination, “I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on the couch while you’re restless in your bedroom, so…” I glanced up at him as his eyes flickered to Shota and Hizashi who were watching my moment with Mirai in silence. It was clear that they knew he was there for me, nothing else.

Hizashi nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he headed toward his room. “My bed is the biggest one in the apartment, so I’ll get more pillows and blankets ready for everyone,” he suggested, leaving the three of us in the living area once more.

Mirai motioned for Shota to follow as he made he led the way to my bedroom, his hand remaining pressed to the small of my back as if that alone could keep me tethered to his presence because without it, I’d lose myself yet again. We slipped into my room, and the sight nearly undid me all over again. Tenko was curled up on his side with Hitoshi tucked against his chest. My Player One’s face was soft in sleep, but it was troubled by whatever dream he found himself in. He had been sleeping peacefully until I left the room earlier, but now, his brows were drawn tight with worry. We didn’t sleep well apart. Hitoshi had tangled himself in the blankets in Tenko’s arms, his little hand clutching onto Tenko’s shirt. Seirei was sprawled across her side of the bed, her golden hair a chaotic mess that she’d thrown back into a ponytail before she fell asleep.

Hitoshi was the first one to stir as we crossed the room to him. His eyes met mine first, and then they flickered to Mirai. “Jiichan?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his fists, his voice so small and sleepy that it made my heart ache. I knew one day, it would deepen, and I’d ache for his sweet little voice again. Mirai had joked with Shota and I the first time Hitoshi had called him “jiichan,” telling us that he was far too young for that title, but he wore it with such pride and never once questioned it in front of Hitoshi. All he had ever done was continue to act like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I watched Mirai’s face soften as he scooped Hitoshi up into his arms with the same gentle care he used to lift me up as a child and even now. “Come on, little one,” he murmured as Hitoshi melted into his arms the same way he did in Shota’s. After we collected Tenko and Seirei, we filed out of the bedroom, following Mirai to Hizashi’s bedroom where blankets and pillows littered the bed.

Once we were all settled in, Mirai lay between Tenko and I, our hands reaching across his chest as we both curled into him. Tenko had finally opened up fully to Mirai during our stay with him, still hesitant but more willing to accept the love he offered because he saw what that love had done for me. Hitoshi was nestled half on top of me and half wedged between Mirai and I, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and his face buried against my body. After a soft “I love you most, Mommy,” he was out like a light.

Shota lay on the other side of Tenko, grumbling about how we’re all terrible at sleeping separately, but it didn’t hold much heat, and it certainly didn’t hold weight coming from the man who was barely at his own apartment most of the time. Hizashi didn’t say anything as he led Seirei toward the bed. She’d insisted that she’d sleep in the living room, but when my brother reached for her and touched her without receiving any resistance, she let him pull her toward the bed with him. It was the first time I’d ever witnessed that she allowed a man to touch her without her being the one to initiate it. She’d hugged him and landed playful punches on Enji’s arm occasionally. Still, I’d never seen her allow a man to touch her without her pushing him away.

She was softer in that moment, and I didn’t know if it was because she—like me—was reverting back to a little girl or because she was so tired of constantly fighting that her walls started to crumble. Perhaps, my brother had finally managed to crack the shell she built. I didn’t know for sure, but the way she followed him, the way she gave in when he asked her to stay, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him told me that he’d reached a part of her that not even she knew was there. Her fire wasn’t gone—evidenced by the way she reached over him to flip Shota off as a way of saying “goodnight”—but she was softer than before.

Seirei faced away from the rest of us, and I knew in the soft quiver of her shoulders exactly why.

Hizashi noticed it, too, so when he spoke to me, he made sure his soft voice was just audible enough for Seirei to hear it as well. “You may be afraid, Stars, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told you when you were much smaller than you are now…” he began, craning his neck to glance back at her, hoping she was paying attention, “girls are built to survive the impossible.”

I nodded, remembering that mantra, remembering the countless times my brother had repeated it to me when I was growing up. It was a reminder that I was stronger than the circumstances I’d faced. It was a reminder that I was built to endure, that I was unbreakable, that no matter what I thought, I was not fragile.

“I’m a girl, so I can survive the impossible.”

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

The next morning came quickly. Seirei, Shota, and Hizashi were out of bed before the rest of us, muffled speaking coming from the kitchen. Mirai was awake but still in bed beside me, clearly having been waiting for me to wake up so as to not panic me by his sudden absence. When we were all awake, Mirai joined in on the conversation with Tsukauchi and Enji, which led them into the office that Hizashi often used for his music with maps, photographs, coffee, and whispered plans laid out before them. From the small bits of information I gathered with Tenko, who was helping me keep Hitoshi distracted with Jettie’s help, they were discussing ways to keep Seirei, Tenko, and me—primarily me—safe. It seemed like Ankoku was after me in particular since the messages were so pointed.

When I caught sight of the map while asking them if anyone wanted breakfast, Mirai quickly stepped in the way to block my view. It was a clear indication that he didn’t want me to see what was going on, but I didn’t like secrets. From what I did see, though, there were various routes, safehouses, contingencies for if Ankoku got any closer, and possibly an evacuation plan in the works if he managed to breach the safety nets they’d set up. They spoke of patrols, check-ins, and what to do if the next number showed up any closer than the last.

Shota took Tenko, Hitoshi, and I out to go shopping, clearly having heard enough. The rest of them stayed behind despite me asking if Mirai could join us. Sho reminded me quickly that while I wanted him close, he was a master strategist, and his input would be some of the most vital.

“I won’t do it” I heard Mirai say from the other room as we were preparing to leave. There was a level of distress in his voice that I hadn’t heard before, one that made my heart clench in my chest. I checked around me before stepping up to the closed door silently, leaning my ear closer to it.

There was a long pause before Enji spoke, “I know you have your reservations, Mirai, but your foresight-”

“I said I won’t do it!” Mirai snapped, his voice firm and loud enough for me to have heard it even if I hadn’t been eavesdropping. “Of everyone in this room, you should be the first person to understand why,” he argued in a lower but much more intense tone.

“This would be for the best. We could at least plan these things ahead of time if we know for sure that Ankoku is coming for her. We can know when and how he gets to her if that’s what he’s planning,” Tsukauchi countered, “it’ll give us intel that we can use to our advantage.”

What are they talking about?

“Guys, I think we’re pushing this a bit too far,” Hizashi chimed in, and I had never felt more relief that he was willing to jump to Mirai’s defense.

Enji cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to say this, but we’re all doing our best to keep Akira and the others safe. There are dozens of heroes out there right now who are taking on more than their fair share of the workload in order to protect the citizens, but they’re also here to protect Akira. If you’re not willing to help, then perhaps you should step back and let those who are willing to make the necessary sacrifices do the work.”

My cheeks burned red hot, and I grabbed the handle, prepared to burst in on them. How dare you! How dare you speak to him like that! How dare you talk about sacrifice when he’s sacrificed for me since the day I met him! He’s been through enough without you throwing it back in his face, you monster! He’s a better father to me than you could ever hope to be with your children, you cold, ruthless, calculating piece of-

“The last time I used my quirk to see that far into the future, I watched my friend die. I’ve seen countless people…I’ve watched their futures unfold, and I’ve been unable to prevent it. It’s as if my visions are inevitable, like the future I see is already set in stone,” Mirai explained, clearly haunted by the things he’d seen, the weight of his power bearing down on him. “What if…what if by using my quirk to see into their future, I’m sealing their fate? What if my visions are what make their future an inescapable reality? And now, you’re asking me to use it on my daughter?!” he asked, his voice trembling under the weight of his fear.

My heart stalled. He was afraid. He had been so strong for me, put on the voice and face of certainty for my sake, made me feel safe enough to sleep. Now, he was crumbling just thinking of using his quirk on me. He didn’t want to seal my fate, didn’t want to see a future that would inevitably come to pass.

“Akira,” Shota’s voice sounded behind me, quiet enough not to draw attention from the others behind the door but stern enough to pull me from my eavesdropping. I whipped around to face him, my heart pounding in my ears. Was this why he left the conversation? Was this why he wanted to take me out shopping for school when it was virtually impossible for him to leave the apartment before noon most days? He turned on his heel, “if they wanted you to take part in that conversation, you’d be in the room with them. Let’s go.”

Unbeknownst to me, Mirai had already given Shota his credit card for Tenko, Hitoshi, and I to buy what we needed for school starting back up: new clothes, backpacks, and school supplies. I’d insisted on putting money toward Hitoshi’s clothes because he was growing out of them, but Sho refused and paid for every bit of Hitoshi’s things with his own money. He’d done so with a smile on his face, as if fatherhood wasn’t just something I’d thrust upon him when I brought Hitoshi home but something that made him feel like breathing was easier. He treated fatherhood the same way I treated my role as a mother: like it was the greatest responsibility and the greatest joy of our lives.

We’d kept up the façade that everything was business as usual for Hitoshi’s sake since he was still oblivious to the sudden seriousness in the air. I didn’t let go of his hand for more than 10 seconds the entire time we were out, and even when I did, my eyes were glued to him. The entire time we shopped, Shota kept his body positioned between us and the door.

Every moment that day felt shadowed by all the things none of us were talking about. The cancelled pre-term dinner party—an annual tradition Hizashi always insisted on hosting, meant to welcome new faculty and let staff relax before the chaos of another school year—hung over all of us. Even Shota, who always found a reason to sneak out of the party early to get out of small talk and the busy nature of it all, seemed shaken by the cancellation. It was a solemn day that Tenko and I tried breaking when we returned to the apartment.

Mirai had disappeared with Enji, Seirei, and Tsukauchi to discuss further plans at the Tsukauchi’s office. It was hard to keep up appearances when we all knew that everything was subject to change with one phone call or one more breaking headline. Still, I forced myself to smile for Hitoshi, to remind myself of the goodness in my life even in the face of all the darkness that seemed to be looming over us. I had my family. I had Tenko back. I had my son. I had a hero career ahead of me, and I wouldn’t give that up, not because of some man in a basement 12 years ago. I was my son’s favorite hero, and I’d become the very best one I could be to make him proud.

I wanted him to remember the days we were living as boring and simple and safe. I didn’t want him to worry, so I refused to succumb to my own fears. It was a heroes job to be strong for those around them, to swallow their own fear and move forward, leading by example. I could fail at everything else in my life, but as long as I did well as a mother, I’d be content with that.

So I stayed strong for him, and I didn’t let anyone else around me see how close I was to falling apart. I stayed strong, and I kept moving. I kept smiling. I folded new clothes, sharpened pencils, labeled folders, and helped Hitoshi pick out which folders were for which subject before packing his backpack with him. I made dinner with Hizashi that night, the two of us moving around each other in the kitchen. Hizashi was quieter than usual, but one bump from my hip was all it took to shake him out of his daze. He grasped my wrist before spinning me away from him, causing me to laugh as he twirled me around.

His singing was accompanied by Hitoshi’s quick footsteps as he ran into the kitchen to join in. “Do you want to dance with mommy, too, Peanut?” Hizashi asked, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

Hitoshi’s eyes brightened at the prospect, rushing forward and throwing himself against me. Hizashi instructed him on how to hold my hands and spin me around. When he requested that he twirl me the way Hizashi had, I lowered myself down awkwardly to dip beneath his arm in order to twirl beneath it.

“It’ll be easier when you’re taller than her someday, sweetheart,” Shota grinned, leaning against the island as he watched us dance together. My eyes met his briefly, watching his gaze soften before he turned his attention to Hitoshi, “dancing is Mommy’s way of expressing herself. It’s how I had to train her in the first place. I taught her how to fight like it was a dance.”

“Will you teach me to fight someday, too?” Hitoshi asked, his voice filled with excitement.

My heart stuttered, and before Shota could answer, I stepped in. “When you’re older, my sweetest little starlight. You’re still my baby boy, and for now, we have dancing,” I smiled, continuing to sway with him and desperately trying to avoid his line of questioning. Training would mean that he was growing up, and I wanted to keep him a little boy for as long as I could.

I was meant to fight for both of us.

Seirei joined Hizashi, dancing with him as she twirled and the two of them laughed together. Hizashi laughed easily with her, but she looked softer than I’d ever seen her before that moment, almost like I was catching a glimpse of who she was before the basement. It was like seeing the woman she could’ve become if life had been kinder to her. I’d always wished I could somehow go back in time and change the course of events that hurt the people I loved most, and despite knowing that it was impossible, I held onto the moments like those when I saw the healing of the ones who had been through such pain and struggle. She let him touch her. Because my brother’s hands weren’t like the hands of the men from the basement.

Hizashi’s hands were safe.

After dinner in which Mirai wore a stiff smile, Tenko and Hitoshi helped clean up before they dissolved into games for the evening. Tenko knew how important it was to keep him away from the anime we’d been watching because of the possibility of more breaking news. We all kept our phones close by to stay updated, but Hitoshi deserved to be as carefree as possible. He’d paid his dues with all the things he’d already been through, so he would know peace or the world would know my fury.

Hizashi and Seirei spoke out on the balcony while Shota went on a “walk” with Mirai, which I’d come to know as their way of patrolling without telling me. They had done the same things when Ankoku first escaped Tartarus, sometimes even making it not so subtle when they staggered their “strolls.” It was their way of feeling some level of control in a situation that felt like utter chaos. I understood the feeling. It was the same reason why I continued to hum “Moonlight Sonata” throughout my life in my moments that I needed to create some sort of inner peace and order. When I couldn’t control what was going on around me, I found comfort in knowing I could still control myself.

The sliding door to the balcony was cracked open just enough for the night air to slip inside. With it being mid-April, the air was still crisp but not as cold as the winter chill. I’d only stepped out into the kitchen to get Jettie some of her treats as she perched on my shoulder. She spent most of her time between Tenko and I since the birthday party, though Tenko was still afraid of her presence. After learning what happened to Mon-chan, I was empathetic to Tenko’s fears. If she wasn’t with one of us, she wrapped up around Shota’s neck, but she was typically with whichever one of us was with Hitoshi.

Because she was a traitor and preferred my son over me.

I couldn’t blame her, though, and I much preferred it. Hitoshi loved her, and she wasn’t skittish with him. He could pick her up and cuddle her, and she flopped around wherever he put her and eased into however he chose to carry her.

I fed her a treat before she licked my fingers, and I glanced out the glass door that led onto the balcony. Hizashi and Seirei stood close, their silhouettes framed by the city lights outside. Hizashi was leaning against the railing as his shoulders relaxed in a way that they seldom did when he was around most people. Seirei, though, was not most people, and it was becoming clearer by the day that she specifically wasn’t “most people” to my older brother.

Her arms were folded loosely across her chest, one shoulder resting against the railing. From the way they stood, I couldn’t tell it they’d been so close just that once or a million other times. Hizashi was talking, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, and Seirei just watched him with the hint of a smile on her face. Hizashi laughed, but it was soft. It wasn’t the booming voice he used in public or the sometimes cartoonish one he used when he was trying to entertain. That laugh was different, softer and gentle in a way that I hadn’t witnessed before. It was a laugh that didn’t belong to me, that his soul had clearly reserved for someone special.

Just as her smile wasn’t a kind I’d ever seen on her face before. It made her look like a girl who had never been touched by the world. It was a rare sight to see her like that. She was typically wound tight as a spring, ready to snap at anyone who got too close, especially men who got too close. She wasn’t like that with him, though. They had both known such intense and raw anger, such deep pain and rage. There was peace in the air around them, like two souls finally colliding.

Hizashi said something else, much quieter, and I saw his hand move slightly along the railing until his fingers brushed the back of her pinky. It was so light and delicate that it even made my face warm at the thought of being touched by someone like that. It was like watching that one old movie with Shota and Hizashi. I spoke through the whole thing after begging them to put it on since it was my favorite film at the time. I rambled endlessly about the set design, the way I wanted a dress just like that just for fun, how I wanted to dance with someone the way she did, how the main man finally gave in and danced with her at one point because he realized that it was the one way to get close to her, and he knew how much she loved dancing. I rambled and rambled and rambled, reciting my favorite lines and then explaining why I loved them so much, so they hadn’t truly experienced the movie.

That moment, witnessing my brother and my best friend on the balcony, was like watching that movie. It was a moment of softness, of two people who I loved so endlessly, two people who had sacrificed everything for me time and time again, finally seeing something that they both deserved.

Seirei stilled immediately, but her body didn’t tense. She didn’t pull away. Her emerald green eyes simply dropped to where their hands met. Then, her smile turned bittersweet. Then…just sad.

She said something that I couldn’t make out, and it made Hizashi’s face fall just as hers had. She pulled her hand away before his dropped down to his side. He shook his head, a stray strand of his golden hair falling down to frame his face. She smiled up at him with tears in her eyes as she tucked the strand back behind his ear.

She doesn’t let men see her cry. What is she doing?! What’s happening?!

I wanted to burst out onto the balcony, but I couldn’t. I wanted to ask her what was going on, why she was suddenly so solemn, but I couldn’t. I looked away because I was too scared to face the possibilities that were suddenly running through my mind. Something in the air seemed to change, like it had grown thinner just in that moment as I stood in the kitchen. Jettie’s tail swished over my face, tickling my cheek. I reached up to stroke her fur. So much had occurred recently, but I couldn’t bring myself to add yet another weight onto my chest, so I just ignored it.

I pretended that whatever Seirei and Hizashi were speaking about on the balcony had nothing to do with what was going on with Ankoku, but I had a horrible feeling that it was all connected. Seirei never would’ve hurt Hizashi, that much was certain, so I didn’t understand what had just happened, and it wasn’t like I could just ask them either. “I saw you in a pretty emotionally raw moment with my older brother. What was that about?” didn’t seem like the most tactful question to ask, considering how sensitive Seirei was to being viewed as too soft.

But there was something in her eyes, something that told me she’d made a decision. I didn’t want to know what was about to happen. I wanted time to stop and give me one more moment of reprieve. While I didn’t know what was about to happen, I knew that something was. I could feel the change in the pit of my stomach. Seirei’s mind had been made up about something, and whatever that something was, I’d follow her lead.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

“You…say it again,” I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly painfully dry as I stared at her with wide eyes. My voice trembled, and I hated how I sounded like I was five all over again. I tried to swallow down my nerves, to pull myself together, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking since seeking that familiar certainty in her eyes. I shook my head again, the air on the balcony seeming to grow colder with every passing second, every flutter of my lashes that tried to keep my tears from falling. “I…I don’t think I’m…I-I’m not…I don’t understand,” I stammered, wondering if I was just dreaming or if this was some cruel joke.

She still stood against the railing, though her back was straight, and she faced me, her hip leaning against the cool metal. Hizashi had gone back inside before he instructed me to go talk to her. I tried to question him about why he looked so distraught, but he brushed it off before taking Jettie from my shoulder and cuddling her against his chest. She didn’t typically curl up in his arms the way she did in that moment, but she must’ve known that I needed her to take care of him.

I’m dreaming. She won’t say it again. She can’t say it again. She’ll know I can’t take these kind of jokes, at least not right now.

 She glanced out at the city for a moment as if she was looking for the courage somewhere far beyond the limits of the modest apartment. She wouldn’t find it within the four walls of our apartment, which was why…

When she looked back at me, the green color of her eyes made me realize I couldn’t possibly be dreaming. There was no way even my wildest dreams could produce the most beautiful shade of green I’d ever seen, the embodiment of springtime. There was no way my mind could conjure up that image of her, one that made me wonder if there was something greater than me—than all of us—just from the radiance I witnessed in that moment. It was love that I saw in her eyes, but it was also sorrow. It was an apology.

“I’m leaving,” she repeated, keeping her voice steady as she created the foundation for me to fall apart on. She had always looked so unbreakable, but now, she looked exhausted.

“No,” I replied, though I knew her words were final. She’d made her choice, and when Rei made a decision, she wasn’t changing her mind, not for anything. Not even for me. Still, I refused to let those words become truth, and I shook my head again. “No, you’re not. You’re-you…you can’t leave,” I insisted as if denying it hard enough would somehow push the cracking pieces of the universe back in place.

The mere thought of her leaving, the thought of not being with her when Ankoku was getting closer, was suffocating. The panic rose in my chest until it felt like I was choking on it, and I reached out for the cool metal railing, trying to ground myself, but I didn’t want to be tethered to this new reality she was creating. I didn’t want to know a life without my sister because that was what Rei had always been to me. She wasn’t Hana, but she was still my sister in all ways but blood. “You could die,” I pressed, the words clawing out of my throat. I needed to give her the brutal reminders so that she’d be more inclined to stay, to give up this idea of leaving me. I couldn’t sugarcoat anything. “You could die, and I–” my voice caught as my chest tightened.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lose her. I refused to lose her. My life was finally coming together. I had Hizashi. I had Tenko. I had Mirai. I had Hitoshi and Shota. I had Seirei. I had my family. Of course, Ankoku’s reappearance was looking over us all, but we’d be able to handle it, and if he got closer, if he targeted anyone I cared about, there would be a reckoning. If he was coming for me…

My blood ran cold at the thought.

“You could die out there, and I wouldn’t even know. I…Rei, I…”

“I could die walking back to Enji’s guesthouse tonight,” she reminded me of the daunting reason why I kept trying to convince her to let Shota drive her home when he offered. She didn’t even let Hizashi drive her home. She shrugged her shoulders, not careless, just honest. “I could drop dead right here and right now, but I’d rather die with a purpose. You understand that piece, Kiki. I know you do.”

She wasn’t wrong. I hated that she wasn’t wrong. I did understand. That was all I’d ever wanted: to matter. I wanted to fight so hard that dying felt like the last bit of proof that I’d finally done enough. I couldn’t let it happen to her, though. She was irreplaceable. She was one of the two people in the world who knew the girl I used to be before the basement changed me. I couldn’t let her go, not after I’d just gotten her back. I couldn’t let her walk out when everything else was falling apart. I refused.

I dug my nails into my palms as my hands balled up into fists. “He’ll recognize you. You know he will. He recognized me, and…if he’s still with Twister, you’ll be killed. You’re putting yourself right into the line of fire, and with Ankoku still on the loose-”

“You want to save him, too,” she interjected, her voice firm but gentle. It was a reminder, a reminder that Arehate was out there alone. He was one of my first thoughts after the Tartarus incident, and I had fully planned on tracking Ankoku’s movements. If he continued growing closer to me, I’d brace for impact, but if he began moving away from me, I’d follow him, knowing that he was possibly going to go after Arehate. I knew it was exactly what he was wanting me to do, that I’d be falling into his trap, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about self-preservation when the lives of others were at stake.

A sad smile found its home on her lips. “And besides, out of the two of us, I’d be the one most likely to become a villain,” she snickered, clearly hoping to lighten the mood in an effort to ease my anxiety, but I couldn’t stop the tears that rose to my eyes at the idea of watching her go. The fear that rose up within me, the knowledge that it had always been impossible to change her mind after she’d made a decision, was suffocating me. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I play the villain part pretty well. Just ask your future husband,” she grinned, jerking her chin back toward the sliding glass door where Shota prepared tea for Tenko and some hot chocolate for Hitoshi.

“He…he’s not my future anything!” I argued, my panic stuttering in my chest as I suddenly felt like I had to defend my non-existent relationship with Shota. My cheeks burned with embarrassment that flared up in the middle of the fear. Of course she’d call it out now of all times, clearly trying to take my mind off the massive impending loss I was facing.

“Oh, yeah?” she smirked, and I saw a flash of the old Seirei as she poked at my wounds just to make me feel anything besides terror and sorrow. “We were around a slew of…decent looking men during your birthday, Kiki—Tensei, Naomasa, Mirai-”

“He’s practically my father, Rei,” I reminded her as I recoiled. I couldn’t help the tears that began streaming down my cheeks. Despite being distracted enough to not continue the argument about how she couldn’t leave, I couldn’t keep my emotions from spilling out all around me. It was like my body wasn’t distracted the way my mind was in that moment, so I continued to cry as my shoulders began to shake. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t joke about crushes or future boyfriends when my world felt like it was falling apart.

She shrugged, still wanting to keep me on this track to give me a few more moments of reprieve from my pain. She reached forward and wiped my tears away with her thumbs. “Okay, well, Enji was there, too, if you’re into the angry, bad father types,” she joked, forcing a lightness into her tone, like if she managed to keep the conversation light enough, it would somehow keep us from facing the reality that was pooling at our feet. She didn’t mention Keigo—she refused to after what happened.

“Which I’m not,” I muttered with a strangled laugh. I was still spiraling, but she was still trying to save me in her own way.

She knew as well as I did that the only way to stop the spiral was to stay, to tell me she had just been telling a cruel joke, to tell me she was staying for good, that she was actually moving into the modest little apartment that we had like I’d originally wanted her to. There was the extra room that Tenko practically only used for storage of his clothes, but he never slept in his own bed unless Hitoshi and I made our way into the room with him. She didn’t say it, though, and I knew she wouldn’t. Nothing would’ve kept her here unless Ankoku showed up and was an immediate threat to my safety, and even then, she would’ve left as soon as he was dealt with in order to bring Arehate back.

She grinned, still holding onto the distraction. “The point I’m trying to make is that you only had eyes for that sleepy teacher. I suppose he’s not…” she paused, looking for the right words with a playfully mischievous look in her eyes, “…terrible to look at…if you close your eyes with the lights off.” The words were meant to be a jab, but they were delivered with a warmth that was unmistakable, a warmth that Seirei never had for men since I’d known her.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. I felt lighter for just a split second, as if discussing Shota had given me the strength to face the overwhelming pain I was feeling. It was no real surprise, though, since he was one of the things I held onto during my darkest moments.

“You won’t catch me dead saying nice things about men,” she spat out, though I knew it wasn’t entirely true. She softened when it came to Tenko, Hizashi, and Hitoshi. Someday, Hitoshi would be a man, and I knew she’d never say anything cruel about the boy she’d dedicated her new life to protecting. She was the coolest sort of aunt, the kind who always spoiled him. I didn’t say “no” to him, but Seirei went above and beyond just as Mirai had done for me—and now for Tenko and Hitoshi. Anything he even showed remote interest in, she made sure he had it. She had kept every single one of his drawings and kept his favorite snacks on hand.

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as ever as she glanced out toward the city for just a moment. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. Anyone else would’ve missed it behind the tough exterior, but I was attuned to her the way Hizashi and Tenko were attuned to me. “There are good ones, though, I suppose,” she added, her voice far softer than it had been before. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the armor slipping out of place, the wall that she attempted to hide behind crumbling ever so slightly.

“Shota’s one of the good ones,” I replied, the words coming out without thinking.

She nodded her head, “and so is Arehate. He just needs to be reminded.”

The words hit me like a punch directly to the chest, a punch that broke my sternum and made it nearly impossible to breathe. It was something I’d said once when we were children. She had been the one to argue his morality with me, but I had been adamant that anyone could be saved, and Arehate was worthy of that same salvation. He was the boy I couldn’t save, the one I felt I had failed after seeing him in Hiza City. He was the boy who went hungry for me, the boy who died for me once. She was reminding me that she remembered those words, that she believed in him and his goodness because I did, because she’d seen me fight for him when no one else was willing to when we were just children.

I wanted to cry, to scream, to beg her not to go, to stay, to be selfish and self-centered for once. I wanted to insist that this was a death sentence, that she was walking into the very jaws of death. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she was making a mistake. I wanted to make her stay, but I knew there was no way to stop her. She was going to save him because it was her way of saving me, too.

My throat felt like it closed up as grief and panic mixed together until the city lights blurred in my peripheral vision. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks once more as she stood before me, steady and unflinching, determined and brave in all the ways I couldn’t be in that moment. I couldn’t even move. I was frozen, stuck between the anger and agony that felt like it would consume me at any moment. The fear of being left behind, of being abandoned by the one person who had searched for me for over a decade, was so sharp, so suffocating that I wondered if it would kill me.

I hated her for it. I needed her for it. I loved her for it.

She was my hero because of it.

I didn’t wipe the tears from my face. I let her see every single one until she stepped forward once more and wiped them away with the pads of her thumbs. She deserved to see how much she mattered, how much her absence would hurt. If I couldn’t talk her out of leaving, I had to give her a reason to stay alive so she would return to me. She deserved to see how much she was needed, how my life without her would be grief and a little less bright. She deserved to know how much she was loved.

There was a small voice in the back of my mind, the one that whispered that everyone was destined to leave, that this was my fault, that I was too much, that all the horrible things that happened to those around me were my fault. It was the same voice that had whispered to me that I was too much and not enough all at once.

It was Father’s voice.

She was still there, though, so I clung to that moment with both hands, desperate to slow the hands of time even as it slipped through my fingers like smoke.

“But…but I just got you back, Rei,” I whispered, my voice breaking like the pieces of my heart as I fought against the tears, but they still spilled out, the words rushing out of me like I was a desperate little girl all over again. It was the little girl who first met her, who cried at the door of the basement for hours until they let her come back down with me after the other ladies had been butchered. It was the little girl who clung to her in that basement. It was the little girl who looked at her like the steady foundation she’d always been searching for. I was that little girl all over again.

“And I’ll come back once we have our missing piece,” she promised with an even tone, though we both knew it wasn’t a promise she could truly keep. It was out of her control. She still had to track down Arehate, still had to find a way to get through to him, and then make it home in one piece. Whatever her plan was had to be executed perfectly because any wrong move was sure to result in her death, and that was unacceptable for me. “You have people here to take care of you, Kiki. Arehate doesn’t have anyone out there. I trust Hizashi and Mirai and…as much as I don’t like him, I trust Shota.” She tried to sound flippant, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the guilt she carried for leaving me.

“I promise I’ll come back. You’ve lost enough. I won’t add to that list,” she promised, reaching out to hook her pinky around mine in the most sacred promise of all. Every promise, every secret, every time I forced her to vow that she’d come back to me, they were all sealed with the same gesture. The sacred pinky promise. I squeezed her pinky so hard I thought I could break it, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she continued speaking. “And you better be alive for me to come home to because…I’ve lost enough, too,” she reminded me, and I realized just how hard this would be for her, too. She wasn’t just facing down her own demise, she was leaving my fate in the hands of others, which was something she never did if she could avoid it.

The silence stretched for a moment as I sniffled, tears still streaming down my face as I gazed up into her eyes. My bottom lip trembled with the need to say something, to say anything, but I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. I couldn’t speak through the tears. She reached up with her free hand to brush my hair back, fingering the braid in my hair that I wore more often than not to honor the women who sacrificed for me, who showed me love that I never felt like I deserved. It connected me to the women who taught me that heroes weren’t just the people the public celebrated, but they were the ones who fought against darkness in the shadows, the ones who didn’t receive the acclaim despite their bravery and selflessness. The braid was the reminder that I was—at the end of it all—just a girl.

But girls were made to survive the impossible.

“What if I go with-”

“No,” she cut me off, her voice firm and final. I stalled, my mouth still wanting to move, wanting to argue with her, but she continued before I could, “I’ve lost enough sisters in my life, Kiki, and I know you’ve been through enough loss to last a lifetime. I just…I can’t bring you with me. I couldn’t protect my siblings before, and I won’t risk losing you, too.”

I shook my head, the tears falling recklessly, “I couldn’t protect mine either!” I argued, thinking of Hana, of how afraid she must’ve been in her final moments. Despite Tenko not meaning to hurt her, she still died. I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t save Tenko. I’d failed them both. I thought of all the people I’d lost, all the people I couldn’t save.

“Your other half is still in there, though. You may not have been able to save him from what happened after you thought he died, but you’ve been saving him for months now. I’ve seen how he’s changed, how he smiles easier, how he laughs, how he looks like he’s finally at peace, like he’s alive. He’s your person. Your people are here,” she reminded me again, glancing through the glass to where Tenko lifted Hitoshi over his shoulder as the two of them laughed together. Hitoshi called it “potato time” where Tenko would carry him around like a sack of potatoes and dump him into the pile of pillows on the couch.

“But I…I can’t do this without you. You’re also one of my people. You belong here, too,” I argued as my voice cracked and broke and shattered under the weight of my desperation. I knew that my love wouldn’t be enough to keep her here, but I just wished that somehow I would be wrong about it.

She glanced back inside the apartment, the golden light from the kitchen spilling out toward us as a sad smile spread across her face. She watched Tenko carry Hitoshi back toward the living room and watched Shota carry a tray of drinks out toward the living room behind them. “You have a kid now, Kiki,” she smiled, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it before. It was as if she was talking about a miracle, which was exactly what Hitoshi was to me. “That little boy in there looks at you like you’re the whole world, and I’ve had a chance to see you as a mom. That…has been the greatest gift I ever could’ve asked for—seeing you so happy,” she murmured, her voice cracking as her lips trembled at the corners. “And I’ll protect your peace with my life because that’s my job. It always has been, and it always will be. As someone who has only ever been this-” she gestured to herself, to her scars and stubbornness, to the rough edges and the love hidden underneath.

“My sister,” I corrected her with a sob as my vision blurred further.

Her resolve finally broke, and her eyes filled with tears. She tried blinking them away, but they fell before she could stop them. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done,” she whispered, her voice trembling as the tears slid down her cheeks, the streaks catching the light perfectly and making her look even more beautiful than she already was. I reached out, cupping her face in my hands as I brushed her tears away. She did the same to me, the two of us gasping and stuttering for air between our sniffling. Her eyes held a burning and devastating love, one that I’d seen time and time again whenever she looked at me, but that time felt too final. “I never needed to be a hero, Akira. I’m not…good the way you are. If I never did anything good with my life, I’d still be able to die with a smile on my face because being a sister was the only thing I was ever really good at. This…” she gestured between us as her lip trembled and her eyes overflowed with tears, “this is what I’ve always been best at. This is all I’ve ever wanted to be good at.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but her next words tore through my heart and left me breathless.

“You’re meant to be a hero, Kiki, and I’m meant to be your sister.”

A sob broke loose in my throat, spilling out past my lips as I threw my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You’re my hero,” I whispered, hoping that the words would be something she could hold onto when she left, a tether to home.

Her shoulders trembled, and I felt her fresh tears against my shoulder, “and that’s good enough for a girl like me,” she choked out a forced laugh that sounded like a desperate sob as she clung to me with the same desperation that I clung to her. “Now, I’m going to keep being your hero by going in your place because we both know that with Ankoku making his presence known again, one of us was going to go out there to find Arehate. I’ve decided that it’s going to be me.”

Those words landed like a thunderclap. It was final. There truly would be nothing to stop her from leaving. There was nothing anyone could possibly do to change her mind. It was true. I’d already been trying to figure out where Tsukauchi sent his undercover detectives to protect Arehate. I had a plan to take up a work study closest to where he was once I found out. Rei was just faster and knew me too well.

I sniffled, pulling back just far enough to gaze up into those green eyes. I wouldn’t be able to face the spring without being reminded of her. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” I asked, needing as much time as I could get with her before she left.

Her eyes softened, and she wrapped her pinky around mind once more, “until the very last second,” she promised before leaning her forehead against mine the way she used to when we were girls together. For a moment, I felt so much smaller than I was, so much safer than I had just moments before. “When you come back inside, Kiki, you have to stay present with your little boy, though. Taking care of him has always been your purpose…just like you’ve always been mine.”

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Shota

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Seirei was a stubborn woman, but watching her slip out of Akira’s bed that night hit me in a way I wasn’t entirely prepared for. She was quiet and careful, as if she was trying not to disturb the peace she’d fought so hard to build. I was in my normal spot, sleeping on the futon beside Akira’s bed. I hadn’t slept at all that night, sensing that something was wrong when Hizashi excused himself to the bathroom after his chat on the balcony with Seirei and returned with bloodshot eyes. I’d stared up at the ceiling, listening to the two girls whisper softly to one another in the bed. Seirei didn’t spend the night often, but when she did, Akira struggled to fall asleep as if she was afraid of her suddenly disappearing.

That night was no different, but when Akira’s breathing finally evened out and Seirei pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, I knew that those fears were about to become a reality. “I’ll see you later…I promise,” she vowed in a shaky voice before the lightest hush of “I love you” fell onto Akira’s sleeping ears.

When she slipped out of bed and moved around all the sleeping forms in the room, her feet nearly silent on the wood floor, She paused in the doorway to look back at the girl who I knew was like family to her. It was in that moment that I knew she wasn’t coming back to bed, that wherever she was going, she was planning on going alone and was perhaps even planning on never returning again. I waited a beat when she disappeared from the doorway before getting up from the futon and following her out to the living room.

The apartment was silent apart from the sounds of the city that never seemed to stop outside. There was a distant drone of a siren somewhere far off. I found her standing by the door, her shoes somehow already on, but she was just standing there, facing the door. She was unmoving, as if she couldn’t move even if she tried.

She didn’t turn around when I approached. Perhaps she knew I was there, or perhaps she was just so lost in her own head that she couldn’t hear my approach. I cleared my throat as to not startle her when I spoke, but she began speaking before I had the chance. “Don’t give me some big speech about how what I’m doing is reckless, okay?” she insisted, her voice low and ragged but still steady. It was a contradiction that only Seirei could pull off, one that made her such an enigma, even to me. “I already know, but I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons, really. If I don’t do this, she’s going to do this. She can survive without me, though, because she has the four of you. I have her. She’s my family.”

It would’ve been so easy to argue. I could have listed every reason why she shouldn’t go, every way she was gambling with her life and Akira’s happiness. Akira didn’t deserve to lose anyone else, and despite being consistently annoyed by her presence, Seirei was a vital part of Akira’s life. Still, I understood her in a way I wished I couldn’t. She was willing to put herself in harms way to minimize the damage to those she loved. She called it selfish, but I knew better. “I understand,” I finally blurted out, my voice rough around the edges from having not slept.

She turned around at that, her eyebrows raising as her green eyes flickered up to meet mine. “You…wait, you do?” she asked, shocked that I was capable of seeing her point, that I was capable of not arguing with her for once. It wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but I somehow managed in that moment.

I nodded my head, my jaw tightening. Despite how much I understood her reasoning, how much I knew I couldn’t fight against her, there was a piece of me that didn’t want to think of mornings without her flipping me off, mornings where Hitoshi didn’t crash into her and send her nearly toppling over. I didn’t want to think of the ways Akira’s smile would fade. “I do,” I answered, “you’re keeping her safe no matter the personal cost, and I know I can’t stop you because you’re just like her. Your mind is made up, and there’s no changing it. She must’ve gotten a part of that from you.”

There was a moment of silence as a fond smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Despite her quirk being tied to shadows, the light in her eyes in that moment made the room feel like it was filled with sunlight. It was the same look Akira had from time to time when she was truly at peace. “Take care of her, Aizawa. All of them,” she pleaded, her voice softer and filled with a gentleness that had never been reserved for me before.

“I will,” I vowed. We understood each other in that way. Seirei and I didn’t do half-measures with the people we cared about. Akira, Hitoshi, Tenko, Hizashi—they were my reasons for breathing, and she understood it because Akira was hers.

“I mean it,” she insisted, her eyes hardening as they shone with something fierce. I saw something vulnerable in her for the first time since I’d known her. It was bizarre that it could very well be the final time I saw her, but I didn’t want to think of that. I didn’t want to think of a world without her despite how annoying and frustrating she could be. She was someone to Akira, which meant she was someone to me. “Things are going to get bad, and she’s going to be scared, and it’s…” her voice stalled as tears welled up in her eyes but didn’t fall. She didn’t cry in front of people. I remembered it from the hospital. “It’s…killing me that I won’t be here to hold her hand through it. You may not be able to stop me from leaving, but you have to stop her, and if I don’t come back…”

I shook my head, “don’t talk like that.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, but the thought of her not returning was almost unbearable, like somehow we’d managed to build an unbreakable bone despite our clear differences.

She pressed on, though, stubborn as ever. “Just…listen to me. If I don’t come back, please be good to her. You’re the only person I could ever trust with that,” she murmured, and as I opened my mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, she smiled at my clear confusion and continued to speak. “You’ll understand what I mean someday,” she chuckled before turning back to face the door for just a moment.

The slight tremble in her shoulders told me what I didn’t need to see. She was crying. I wanted to close the space, to turn her around to face me so I could dry her tears the way I had to Akira so many times in the past. Seirei didn’t have that same gentleness, and she deserved it at least once before she left. Still, I stayed put, knowing that she wouldn’t have let me touch her anyway. She continued to speak, “Akira was my saving grace in this life. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to give up, how many times the nightmares of that basement called for me to do anything to stop them, but I didn’t give up because just the thought of her, the knowledge that she was out here somewhere breathing…it was enough to keep me going. We may not share blood, but she’s my sister in every way that counts. My world doesn’t turn without her, so please…keep her safe. She’s the hope in this world.”

She moved to open the door, and panic coursed through me. I stepped forward, “let me at least take you where you’re going,” I insisted, my voice coming out like a plea.

She snorted, turning back to face me, and I saw the tracks of her tears. She rolled her eyes, but there was a soft soft of affection under the bravado. Akira told me more times than I could count that it existed, that beneath the fire and fury that Seirei was, she had a big heart. “I’d rather crawl there on broken glass,” she shot back at me, covering up that big heart beneath that familiar fire once more, but it danced with a much more playful manner than it had before.

“Can’t even pretend to like me for what could be our last ever conversation,” I teased her, not sure if I was joking or pleading with her. There was a piece of me that didn’t remember what the world was like before she burst into that hospital room all those months ago. She had been in my life since Hitoshi came into my life, arriving only days after he did. She was there during my moments of fear that Akira could possibly never wake up after Hiza City. She was there as I took on the role of a father, and she supported me in the small ways, lecturing me about everything she could while helping me in her own way that was anything but gentle.

She was gentle with my son, though, and that was enough for me to consider her existence a gift.

She grinned, and for just a moment, I saw the girl she must’ve been before all the pain she’d endured, the girl she must’ve been before the basement. She had a dimple. She looked like a little girl for a moment, one who was afraid of the unknown, one who was still willing to do whatever it took to protect her sister. “You remind me of my older brother, Hikaru. He was a lot like you, one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met-”

“Wow, you’re really not holding-”

“And my best friend,” she finished with a smile, and my breath caught in my throat. I blinked, stunned for a moment, but then I noticed the tear that slid down her cheek. I couldn’t say anything. My words failed me as I witnessed the one thing she never allowed herself to do in front of me before: cry. The vulnerability of that moment wasn’t lost on me. Watching the tears stream down her cheeks as she forced a sad smile was distraction enough for me to not notice the way my eyes stung. The vision of her blurred as I felt the hot streaks on my own face. She’d never spoken of a brother before. “He wore his hair the same way,” she noted as if it explained everything we’d been through in our own strange friendship.

“Rei,” I murmured, stepping forward before I could stop myself. I wanted to say something, anything to comfort her. I wanted to pass along one final word of wisdom and watch her flip me off for it.

But she spoke before I could. “There are letters that I left with Endeavor. He’ll handle them if anything happens to me,” she explained, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she schooled her expression once more. My chest squeezed at the thought of receiving one of those letters. “Don’t let her our of your sight,” she insisted, echoing those words she’s uttered to me the night we all returned home, and she went back to the guest house Enji had prepared for her.

“I won’t. I swear it,” I promised, and I meant it. I’d carve that vow into my bones if she asked me to because Akira and Hitoshi were my family. Hitoshi was my son, and Akira was his mother. They were everything to me, so letting anything happen to them was unthinkable.

Her bottom lip quivered, and one final tear fell as she searched my eyes for something that she somehow managed to find. Whatever it was—faith, hope, reassurance—she found it. “And…take care of yourself, too, loser,” she smiled before holding up her middle finger.

I laughed, the sound coming out like a half-sob as I made the same gesture toward her.

“Right back at you.”

Akira

The basement was colder without the other ladies there with me. It still smelled of them, though, of what had been left of them. Blood, bones, death. The metallic tang of the air still clung to the insides of my nose and hadn’t faded since that day with Ankoku, the day he strapped me to the chair and forced me to choose. No matter how hard I tried to scrub away at the blood stains, at the cracks in the cement from where they had been beaten to death or even after death just to be cruel, to remind me that they were made to be discarded, it was never enough to wash away what had happened. It wasn’t enough to keep me from remembering the sounds of their flesh turning into nothing more than chunks of meat and crushed bones.

I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them so tightly that I was certain it was the only thing that could keep me stitched together. It felt like the only way to keep the pieces of myself from spilling out onto that cement floor the way they had. Chains still hung from the far corner, an ugly reminder of what had been done to us when we didn’t listen. The chains were empty now, though. They didn’t fit the smaller ones of us, and it was just Seirei and I left.

She sat so close behind me that I could hear every small breath as the gentle tug of her fingers was the proof of her working the second braid into my hair. Her hands were steadier than mine were, but she had always tried to teach me with the patience and kindness I didn’t deserve after my inability to choose left all of the other basement girls dead. I didn’t have anyone to practice on anymore. They were all gone.

Because of me.

She was quiet as she worked, humming every now and then, but the sound was soft. It was beautiful, but she had told me once that if I ever heard her father sing, I would’ve thought that she was horrible in comparison. She didn’t talk about her family much, but when she did, it was never anything but love from her mouth. I flinched whenever her knuckles brushed the back of my neck—it was where the men always grabbed me now.

“The stars are out tonight,” I murmured, wanting to fill the silence that seemed deafening. When it was too quiet, though, I could hear the cries of the other basement ladies. I could still hear their begging, Ankoku’s laughter, and Arehate’s sorrow as he was forced to hurt me in Ankoku’s place. All because he had to “learn.”

Her hands paused for a heartbeat, and I felt her glance toward the wall, toward the single, narrow slit of a window that wasn’t really a window at all. It was just a break in the foundation that let in a sliver of dirty light when it was daytime. There weren’t any stars in the basement, but I knew when they were in the sky. “You can’t even see them. We don’t even know if it’s nighttime,” she reminded me gently. Her voice was gentle, like she didn’t want to break something fragile.

I smiled, though, trying to make it as genuine as possible despite the basement causing my chest to feel hollow. The smile didn’t reach my eyes, but I was turned away from her, so I just had to maintain it for her sake. It was all I had. I had to smile through these hard times. All Might always smiled, even when things seemed impossible. I was going to be just like him someday, and that meant being strong like him. It also meant being happy and showing people that no matter what, things would get better. I had to show Seirei that things would get better because I refused for them to get any worse for any of us.

Closing my eyes, I pictured the sky outside of that small crack in the foundation. I pictured the vast expanse of the sky, the endlessness of it, all the stars I used to point up at with my brother right beside me, all the constellations we used to try to make together. I could see the sky as clear as day in my mind, and I felt the pull of those stars like they were drawing me toward them. “I can still feel them, though,” I whispered, hoping that the words comforted her the way the knowledge did me. If I tried hard enough, I could feel the stars like an itch under my skin, a humming in my chest like a reminder that they were always with me. It felt like hope that someday I’d be strong enough to change the circumstances surrounding me to make a better world. “Just because we can’t see them, Rei, it doesn’t mean they’re gone.”

She snorted, but it wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited. It was the sort of sound Hana made when Tenko and I spoke of being heroes, like she couldn’t imagine it the same way we could, but she still supported the two of us. “You always say things like that, like just knowing they’re there changes things,” she murmured, clearly lacking the same hope that I had. We were going to get out. I wouldn’t let her die down here, not when she was meant to be free.

“I say it because it’s true, and it gives me something to hold onto,” I replied, trying to get her to understand that my hope wasn’t blind and childish. There was a reason why I held on so tightly to the hope in my chest. It was what kept me fighting. “The stars are gonna help get us out of here. I’ll use them to protect us, and then we’ll run away,” I promised, like I could make it real just by saying the words.

“Where would we go?” she asked, tying off the second braid before smoothing it out over my shoulder. Her voice was tired. She was just as worn out as I was, but that was why I couldn’t give up. I knew if she felt she had a choice, she’d sleep the days away, but she still fought in her own way for me. She just couldn’t see the same light that I could.

I shrugged, “we’d go anywhere but here,” I answered simply. Any place was going to be better than the basement. Anywhere that we weren’t prisoners, anywhere we could live as people instead of as dolls and toys, was a place worth running to. I tried to picture what it could look like. It wouldn’t be the type of house like the one I came from. It wouldn’t have loud men who hit and touched. It would be quiet, peaceful. It would smell like flowers and fresh air because the windows would be open in the springtime and in the summer. There would be no chains and no need for braids in our hair, but we’d still wear them to remind us of who we were and where we came from. “We’ll find Koemi first,” I continued because that was the only thing I was certain of: Koemi had to be out there in the world somewhere. What if she was waiting?

“And then what?” Seirei asked, situating her body so she sat in front of me. She leaned forward, wanting to hear my plan. I didn’t know if it was to help convince herself that it was a good plan or if she was simply wanting me to work it out for the sake of my own hopefulness.

“Then, we’ll keep running until we find a good place to settle into. Maybe there’s a family out there who would take care of us. We’d grow up and be heroes together. All of us. Me, you, Koemi…” I paused, the name catching in my throat. “Arehate,” I added, his name coming out softer than the rest.

Her face twisted at the mention of his name. Her lips pulled down into a frown that she always used when she thought I was being too naive. Chiyoko often told her to fix her expression because it looked mean, but I knew it was never mean. Seirei wasn’t mean unless it was necessary in order to protect one of us. She shook her head, “Ankoku’s favorite? He’ll turn into the same kind of monster Ankoku is,” she insisted, her voice heavy with disgust. I wondered if that disgust was for Ankoku, the world, our circumstances, or if it was for me for the mere dream of something she’d deemed impossible.

My shoulders tensed. “No. He’s good,” I protested, my voice filled with the same conviction the other basement ladies used to say would make me a great hero but also a troublemaker someday. I refused to let anyone say anything bad about him, especially when he was so devastated by what happened to me.

She didn’t back down. She didn’t know how to. “You don’t know that, Kiki,” she argued, though the use of my nickname softened the blow of her words. She wanted me to be practical, to see things the way she did—grey and hopeless and already predetermined without us. I refused, though. I refused to accept that this was our fate, that the man who bought me had won, that Ankoku had won, that the men upstairs had won, that Father had won. I refused to believe that this was what we were all destined for, that the basement ladies who died did so for nothing.

I refused.

“I do know,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady and calm. I tried to remember that she had lost so much to the basement, that she came in with two sisters and was now alone. I tried to remember that she was still young, too, despite her being older than me. I felt that stubbornness Father always told me he hated, that I got it from his mother along with her face and the shape of her eyes and the wildness of her hair, though hers was black like Tenko’s. Now that I knew she had been a hero, though, I was glad that I looked like her. I was glad that I was like her in any way. It meant I was that much closer to being destined for something greater than the basement. It meant Father hated me, but if his hatred was because of my hopes and dreams to someday save people, it was a loss I was willing to accept. “Arehate is good because he gave me his bread yesterday. He said he wasn’t hungry,” I explained, hoping that she could see the goodness in him the same way I did.

“He’s starving,” she scoffed, looking at me like I’d just said the sky was as green as her eyes.

I nodded as my throat tightened. “But he still gave it to me because I was hungry,” I recalled the memory to her. I still remembered the way he pressed the crust of bread into my hand, his eyes darting around him to make sure he wasn’t caught, to make sure none of the men had somehow followed him into the basement without him knowing. He was so thin that it hurt to look at him, but he had given me the little bit he had without question, without me asking.

“Arehate’s good. He just needs to be reminded,” I insisted, no longer trying to convince her of his goodness but instead reminding the universe that he was a person who deserved far better than the basement and its cruelty. He was subjected to just as much as we had been, but he still did his best to protect us, to help us when he couldn’t even help himself.

Arehate was made to be a hero.

She was quiet for a long moment that time. Her eyes flickered up to the crack in the cement wall before turning back to me. “What if we don’t get out?” she whispered, the words trembling on the edge of her hopelessness. I knew she was trying to stay neutral for me, but she was always on that edge. I couldn’t blame her.

“We will,” I answered, and I meant it. I needed it to be true.

“But what if we don’t?” she pressed again, desperate for me to be rational like she was being. “Kiki, what if we never get out of here? What if this is it?”

I shook my head, incapable of even considering it. I didn’t let her words sink in, didn’t want them to grow roots inside my heart. I couldn’t let the darkness in when it was already all around me. “Then we just keep trying until we do,” I answered, certain of it, more certain of that than I was anything else in that moment. I knew we weren’t meant to die in the basement. I would die in the basement to ensure the rest of them didn’t. “I’m supposed to save you, Rei. I’m meant to save all of you because that’s what heroes are supposed to do. It’s what I’m going to do.” I promised. I had to be strong, even if I was too little to make a difference, even if my bravery was just pretend for her sake, even if I had no idea how to get us out of the basement. I had to be strong for the people who had been strong for me and for the people who would someday need me to be strong for them.

For a second, Seirei stared at me. Her wide green eyes shimmered in the dim light of the basement as her determination to remain practical fought against the desperation for hope. It’s what every single one of us craved no matter how loud the darkness was: a small flicker of hope. She reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be the greatest hero in the world someday, Kiki,” she whispered, just as convinced of that truth as I was of the one that we would get out of the basement.

“We will be the greatest heroes in the world someday,” I corrected her, determined for her to see that it wasn’t just about me. I didn’t want to die, but if that was what it would take to ensure their safety, it was a trade I was willing to make. My dream of being a hero only went as far as making sure the people I loved were safe.

My life only felt like it was worth something if it meant saving someone else’s.

The first week after the birthday party felt like living in a memory. It felt as if I was walking through a house that was both my childhood home and someplace I’d never been. Everything was familiar and yet impossibly new. People didn’t look at either of us differently despite the world having changed for both of us that day. Hitoshi started calling Tomura by his real name instead, referring to him as the “Uncle Tenko” he’d previously used for the picture in the locket. It wasn’t a huge change for him, and he understood the complexities far quicker than most children could. The change, however, was huge for Tenko and I. It was a reclamation of his name, the one he was given at birth, and a rejection of the name his “master” had forced upon him. It was also constant reminders that he was real, that my brother, my other half, my everything was still with me.

We became inseparable all over again. Even before I knew, I didn’t like being away from him, but this was an entirely new and old way of being for me. As a child, I’d scream and wail whenever Tenko was away from me for whatever reason, and it was as if I reverted back to that. Instead of screaming and crying, though, I became anxious and listless. There was an impending sense of doom whenever he was out of my sight, like I would lose him all over again if he wasn’t with me every second of the day. I found myself going so far as to sit outside the bathroom while he showered just as Hitoshi had done to me when he first arrived. Tenko did the same thing. Whenever we couldn’t be together, we were as close as we could be.

The first few days were nothing but tears and apologies and guilt from both of us. We cried together, for ourselves and for each other. I dropped off Shoto and Tenya at their respective homes after the sleepover, and despite how much it hurt me to do so, I left Hitoshi at home with Shota, Hizashi, and Seirei while Mirai took Tenko and I to his house for a few days. He wanted us to have some time to adjust without the weight of our obligations surrounding us. I had tried to argue that I didn’t need to be away from home, away from Hitoshi, but I knew that Mirai was right.

Mirai was always right.

That first night, sitting across from Tenko at Mirai’s dinner table, had been the hardest. It was the table I’d been at my first night at his home when I was just a little girl. It had been the first place I ever felt truly safe in my entire life. Father wasn’t around, the men weren’t around, it had just been me and Mirai. He had sat across from me, far enough to not crowd me but close enough that I could easily close the space if I chose to.

Tenko and I didn’t talk for a long time that night. All I did was stare at him, at his hands, requesting that he keep the artist gloves off so I could see them the way I used to. I’d memorized those hands a thousand times in my childhood, traced his knuckles whenever I was bored or scared or just needed to remind myself that he was real. They were different now—older and scarred in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand. Scars that I listened to every story of. Cracks that had begun healing with the lotions I’d gotten for him while he stayed with us, but it had been clear his master hadn’t cared enough for him to keep him out of pain. Hands that had destroyed things.

They were still my brother’s hands, though.

So I reached for them, toward the hands that never hurt me, and I laced my fingers through his bare ones. He’d panicked, desperately pulling his hand away to stop me from touching them without the gloves on. He’d always been so careful around me, never allowing more than two or three fingers to connect with my skin at once. I had never understood the weight of it until I understood our connection. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me as Tomura, but after finding out that Tenko held every ounce of his trauma because he thought he killed me with those hands, it made sense to me why he was so hesitant to touch me. He was terrified that he would do exactly what he thought he had done all those years ago, that he would have to mourn me all over again.

But I hadn’t held my brother’s hand in 12 years, and I wouldn’t go another second without feeling it again. “Tenko,” I whispered his name, a silent plea for permission to touch him, to hold him like I used to. “Please,” I begged him, my voice cracking from the desperation that built inside me.

“I-I can’t. I’ll hurt you,” he stammered, voice breaking with the same desperation that was reflected in my own. He wanted to touch me as much as I wanted to touch him. He wanted to close the years between us and make up for the pain and the loneliness that had eaten away at us both. “I’ll kill you, and…I-I can’t live…”

I shook my head, a smile that was more tears than anything else on my lips. “These hands have never hurt me, Tenko. They never will,” I whispered, turning his hand over and pressing my fingers against his palm as I stroked it gently. “You need to remember that these hands aren’t just made to destroy. These are the hands that held mine every night, the hands that made secret handshakes with me, the hands that drew pictures of us as heroes, the hands that were always there to protect me. These aren’t the hands of a monster, Tenko. These are the hands of my brother.” I looked up into his eyes before reaching down once more to press my palm flat against his own.

His eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for the impact of the pain he was convinced he would cause. “I’m so sorry, Akira! Please…please don’t be gone,” be pleaded to the universe as his voice trembled with fear. I knew he was afraid of doing what he thought he did all those years ago, what he did to the handler on the train, what he accidentally did to one of Shota’s mugs. I didn’t care what happened to me, but I wanted to feel my brother’s touch one more time, even if it was the last touch I ever felt in my life. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please! I’m sorry!” he panicked, his eyes still squeezed shut as he sobbed.

Mirai rushed into the room, concern etched on his face. When he saw our hands together, he moved to pull them apart, knowing as much as I did, that it was a risk to be touched by him. No risk was too great for my brother, though. No pain, no risk, no cost was too high for him. He was my life. He was my salvation. He was my purpose. One glance from me was all it took for Mirai to freeze, to linger in the doorway as he watched us.

Nothing happened.

“Open your eyes, Player One,” I whispered, watching as the sound of my voice caused him to slowly open them, his eyes focusing on me. “You didn’t hurt me, Tenko. You’ve never hurt me,” I reassured him, trying to get him to understand that his hands weren’t weapons as he’d been conditioned to believe. They were the tools of his love, something he’d been taught to fear for 12 years.

His eyes widened as tears began spilling from them yet again, and I couldn’t stop my own. He launched himself across the table, pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly, his fingers lacing through my hair and splaying over the small of my back. He buried his face in the crook of my neck as he touched me, and he didn’t stop for the entire week. His fingers explored the delicate skin of my hands, tracing lines on them the way he used to. It was as if he was remembering every moment with every touch. He touched my wrists, feeling my pulse whenever we were watching TV together, carded his fingers through my hair every night as we fell asleep with our pinkies intertwined. It was still a promise to never leave one another. A promise we never truly broke. Not truly.

We started eating mango ice cream together every other night, sharing small bowls instead of entire pints. It had been less about the flavor, which was still delicious, but it was more about the ritual that came with it, the act of reclaiming 12 years that had been taken from us. 12 years of eating ice cream and watching movies together.

There were days we didn’t talk at all, and there were days we spoke for hours on end, but the silence between us never felt oppressive. Loving him had always been at the center of who I was. I was built to love him, so silence was nothing to me. Silence with him was better than noise with anyone else.

When we did talk, it wasn’t about the easy things at first. We unpacked the night we thought the other had died first. He told me about the moment his quirk activated, about the horror and guilt that consumed him as he realized what he was doing but couldn’t stop it. Our family dog, Mon-chan, had been the first victim of his quirk, and he tried desperately to stop it from happening, but Hana was next. The only person he didn’t feel bad about was Father, and I didn’t blame him for that. Father had been the one who hurt him the most, had been the one who hurt me, and that was enough to earn him a death sentence in Tenko’s eyes. Still, it felt odd to hear such hatred on his lips, but I was no different. Hatred didn’t belong in his heart, but I understood it better now that we were older, now that I’d known hatred myself.

He explained how he sifted through the remains of the house, desperately searching for me. When he couldn’t find me, he lost himself in grief. He wandered the streets just as I had, and fate—the cruel and twisted hands of fate—kept us from crossing paths. No one helped him in those days, just as no one helped me. While I was taken in by the men from the basement, he was taken in by his master, the man who further convinced him that he was a monster, that his hands were nothing but instruments of destruction.

Something inside me hardened with every story he told, every time he tried to convince me that he was a monster, every time he looked at me like he was waiting for me to turn on him. He explained that he was afraid to tell me exactly who he was when he finally pieced it together because he didn’t want me to look at him as a villain when we’d promised each other that we’d be heroes together, but after finding out what had been done to him, what happened to him, it was no wonder why he’d succumbed to the pain and anguish he’d been through. Pieces of him were still that scared little boy that flinched whenever Father’s voice was too loud. He was still just a boy.

He was still my brother.

And that was when the line inside me became clearer. I felt myself inching closer and closer to it with every word he uttered, every time he flinched, every time he spoke of his pain, every scar I saw on his body. I always wanted to be a hero. We’d grown up with big dreams that destiny called us to follow. I had always wanted to save people, and Tenko was the first person to teach me about self-sacrifice, about the power that came with putting the needs of others before one’s own, about the strength of a hero who was willing to give up their life for those they loved. I took those lessons and applied them to my journey toward becoming a hero.

But the line inside me was sharp and dangerous, and I didn’t care if it cut me. I didn’t care if I bled out from the wounds it would inflict.

The people who hurt him, the people who took him from me and made him suffer when I dedicated my life to protecting him, the people who tried to kill away the boy I loved, who tried to erase him from the world were still alive and breathing. Ankoku was one of them. His “master” was another one. The people who took him from me weren’t people I simply wanted gone.

I wanted them to know what it felt like to lose everything. I wanted them to know suffering. I wanted them to know pain. I wanted them to break.

So I would break them.

I wanted vengeance in a way that felt terrifying, inevitable, and liberating at the same time. The heart of a hero wasn’t meant to be clouded with rage and hatred, but the more I learned of his past 12 years, the closer I drew to that line and the more tempting it became to cross it. It wasn’t with the heart of a hero, though; it was with the heart of a sister.

Because whoever tried to convince him that he was a monster, that his hands were meant to destroy, they would know that between Tenko and I, only one of us was a monster.

And it wasn’t my brother.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

We were all sitting on the couch together with the lights dimmed low. The TV painted the room various colors of the animated show Hitoshi had chosen along with the soft glow from the setting sun. Hitoshi was crammed between Shota and I, seated more on my lap than the couch. He was sitting on my left leg, and his legs were curled up toward his chest, his feet planted on the other side of my lap. His head was pressed against my chest, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of us, occasionally looking up at me to talk about the show or to tell me again just how much he loved me. It was as if he was trying to anchor himself to me before the world began turning again, and we both had to remember how to breathe separately.

School would start again in just two days. It would be my last year at U.A., and Hizashi had been struggling with the idea of me growing up just as much as Mirai was. Mirai had brought us back to Mustafu and made sure Tenko and I were settled back in the apartment before returning to his agency. It was still too far away. There was already a plan, though, for him to stay the night on my first day back so he could see Hitoshi and I both to school. I understood more and more why he got choked up with every first day because I dreaded bringing Hitoshi to school for his first day, too. He was growing up faster than I ever imagined.

Too fast.

We were lucky that my work studies had been suspended during the last week since it gave me time with Tenko, but it also gave me time to breathe before school started once more. It gave me time to relax into the life I would have after school ended: being a mom. I got to make him breakfast every morning and sing him to sleep every night. I got to hold him whenever I wanted, which was all the time. I got to hug him and pepper his face with kisses while I tickled him relentlessly. I just got to exist with him, and it was a gift that time slowed down for me just enough to allow me to bask in it all.

Tenko sat on my right side, a blanket resting over his lap that he shared with Hitoshi and I without a second thought. Despite how close Hitoshi was to his “Uncle Tomura,” nothing could’ve prepared either of us for how immediately he accepted his Uncle Tenko, how wholeheartedly he’d found comfort in Tenko with the ease he did with Shota and I. He didn’t question it much past asking why his hair and eyes looked different than in the picture from the locket. They were even more inseparable than he had been with “Tomura.” Tenko shared with him the same way he did with me ever since we were children. The way he interacted with my son, the boy he’d affectionately nicknamed “Player Three,” made it clear that Tenko never lost his goodness.

He was still my hero.

Hizashi sat on the other side of Tenko, his arm wrapped around his shoulders. He had accepted him as Tenko far before I knew his true identity. It was as if Hizashi knew a kindred spirit when he saw one, and I noticed just how much he’d treated “Tomura” like a little brother. Seirei was on his other side, occasionally interrupting the show to talk about how much she loved it and how much she was rooting for the main female character. Seirei always found any way to support Hitoshi’s favorite characters, and Hitoshi was adamant that the character in the show reminded him of me, which made Seirei even more vocal about her support.

“See! She’s just like you, Mommy!” were words I often heard from Hitoshi during the show.

Shota sat on my left, his hand threading through Hitoshi’s hair. His eyes didn’t linger on the screen for too long, though. Instead, they kept drifting back to Hitoshi, Tenko, and me. I hadn’t seen him smile more than I had since my birthday party. They were soft, warm smiles, ones that reached his eyes and made them twinkle like stars. When I felt his eyes on me again, I glanced up at him, leaning over just enough to bump his arm with my shoulder.

“Do I have something on my face?” I asked with a playful grin. My voice was nearly silent so as to not disturb the show.

His dark eyes locked with mine, and a moment of silence settled over us. His expression softened further, and I realized with haunting clarity just how beautiful he was. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I felt the heat rising up into my cheeks. Not the time, Akira! Don’t do this now. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, the movement one he’d made countless times before, but it felt brand new in that moment as I stared up at him and he studied the movement of his fingers, careful with every touch.

“You’re happy,” he replied, and I melted. I forgot about everything except for the warmth that radiated from him, the warmth that those words planted in my chest.

“Nothing matters to me as much as making sure you live long enough to be happy, Akira! It’s what your brother and I have done your entire life! You may not think you deserve it right now. You may think that you’re a burden and don’t deserve to be here, but someday—I swear on my life—I’ll make sure you’re happy. I don’t care what it takes. You will be happy, Akira.”

Those words, the ones he said to me the first time we spoke after the incident in the bathroom when I was 13, were brought right back to me. He was smiling because he finally saw it. It was the thing he’d been working toward for the last 12 years, the thing he and Hizashi had fought so hard to give me. Happiness.

I nodded my head as a smile spread across my lips. “I’m happy,” I whispered, my heart lightening once more as I watched his lips pull back further, revealing his teeth. His eyes twinkled, and I could’ve cried then and there. I knew that a future with Shota as mine was something hopelessly impossible, but in that moment, the reality didn’t crush my soul. The yearning didn’t feel so bittersweet. I found myself lucky for the mere opportunity to gaze upon him, to witness the everything that was him. One could easily overlook his beauty, but it was the only thing I could see. Before I could think about the words coming out of my mouth, I spoke, “I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here. Mirai’s the only one missing.”

I melted into those moments with them, the most important people in my life. I smoothed my hand through Hitoshi’s hair, the soft strands slipping through my fingers like silk. Occasionally, my fingers would brush against Shota’s as he raked his own fingers through Hitoshi’s hair. During every mid-episode break that had a small mini-episode, Hitoshi nuzzled closer with a contented sigh. Tenko’s fingers laced with mine, the one touch that made him feel secure. It was the only one he managed without the gloves that he didn’t dust anything.

For a while, it was easy to pretend like nothing outside of the room could touch any of us.

Until my phone vibrated in my pocket against my hip. It was sharp and sudden, and I was thankful for both the show and the blanket that muffled the sound. I stiffened, but I forced my body to relax just as quickly, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone in the room. Despite not having seen the screen, I knew exactly who the text was from in the way that my heart felt like it plummeted into the pit of my stomach. My phone had spent more time on silent than not recently. I kept it tucked under pillows and buried in my dresser, nervous about anyone finding out about the texts. I’d gotten good at hiding things. Too good.

He’d requested it, though, and I knew his fear wasn’t unfounded. We were both aware that if anyone found out about the messages, they were sure to intervene. I wasn’t ready for that, though. Not yet. I wanted the space to attempt to handle it on my own first.

Hitoshi didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the anime and in me, but Shota’s sharp and questioning gaze flicked to me. I looked away quickly, too afraid he’d see the guilt written all over my face. I didn’t like hiding things from any of them, but I especially didn’t like hiding things from him. Part of me wondered if he already knew, if he could already sense that Keigo had clawed his way back into my life despite what happened a week prior.

The phone buzzed again—three times in quick succession—making it difficult for me to ignore it any longer. I coughed, desperate to cover up the sound and giving myself an out to get up and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. I hated how the simple knowledge that he wanted to talk to me made me feel anxious, like the weight of the world was suddenly on my shoulders. Everything had just been perfect until the moment my phone buzzed, and now nothing could pull me from my unease.

Keigo had never been good at staying away, despite me telling him how disgusting I felt hiding things from the people I loved. I felt like I was breaking their trust with every message I sent to him. All he could say to me when I confessed my grief to him was that he understood, that he knew how difficult it was for me to open up to him again after everything, that he knew it was an impossible request to keep this from my family. He always countered it by reminding me that it was why I was going to be a great hero someday: my ability to make those tough choices and to carry the weight of these difficult decisions on my shoulders.

Over the week, he’d sent me countless apologies, confessions, promises that he’d respect my space, and reassurances that he wouldn’t come back into my life if I truly wanted him to stay away. All he asked was that I give him an opportunity to see me one last time so he could apologize and say goodbye in person. I’d responded to a few of the messages because it was clear that he was having a hard time with the sudden distance after something that was clearly traumatizing to both of us. I couldn’t imagine making such a colossal mistake that hurt someone I cared about, and I wasn’t given the opportunity to make things right. But how had it been a mistake if I said “no” as many times as I did? Did I have to say it just one more time for him to hear me? Did I have to struggle harder? Had I not said it loud enough? I couldn’t imagine not being able to fix my mistakes, but I also couldn’t imagine making a mistake like that in the first place.

Keigo had apologized to me before, but I couldn’t help feeling that this time was different. It felt so much larger, like he truly understood the gravity of what he’d done, and he was willing to stoop to something close to groveling just to make things right between us. At the end of every text was some version of “text me when you’re ready. I’ll always be here.”

I caved earlier that morning, sending him a single message that made my hands tremble just to type. It was unlike my other responses, which were my attempts to soothe him. Instead, the one from the morning was a simple: I’m ready to talk. I wasn’t. I didn’t know if I’d ever truly be ready to talk to him again, at least not the way we used to. The idea of talking to him again, of trying to go back to the way things were before everything happened, felt like an impossible task. What if we couldn’t go back to the way things were? It would be like mourning a friend every single time we spoke. I didn’t know if I was capable of carrying that kind of pain, not when there was the pain and guilt that came with hiding it all from my family.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” I murmured, coughing again as I felt the phone buzz in my pocket once more. I forced a reassuring smile up toward Shota who had been too perceptive to miss the sudden change in my demeanor. “Does anyone need anything from the kitchen?”

Hitoshi shook his head, squeezing me a little tighter, but his eyes didn’t leave the show. Tenko gave my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, but Shota’s eyes never left me. Still, he said nothing. As soon as I was out of sight, I pressed my back against the wall and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up, and Keigo’s name filled the message preview bar that was overflowing with the evidence of a conversation I had to keep private.

He’d sent me at least a dozen messages since my simple “I’m ready to talk” earlier that morning. Some were frantic and overflowing with the kind of raw, anxious caring he never showed to anyone else. Others were filled with guilt for breaking the rules, for not respecting my boundaries, and for putting me in a position where I felt trapped and scared. He was also apologetic for needing to talk to me when he was supposed to be letting me go. There were also messages of gratitude.

Keigo: I know I’m still not supposed to be texting you. I just can’t leave it the way it was left, Akira, not when I care about you the way I do. I know that has gotten me in trouble already, but I can’t sleep at night thinking about how I hurt you. I can’t eat when all I can do is think about whether or not you’re okay. I know I don’t deserve it, that I only deserve your silence if that’s what you want, but I’m just asking for a second chance to make things right between us.

I scrolled through the texts that were similar to the first one. Some of them were reminders of our old conversations in a desperate attempt to cling to that familiarity. He sent me a picture of the sky from the cliff where we had that first genuine connection, and it made my stomach drop. Things had changed so much since then. There was a part of me that wanted to run back to the couch and bury myself in the comfort of my family that had never hurt me the way Keigo had. Another part of me wanted to answer him, to let him back in because I’d been given second chances before. There was a part of me that missed him, that yearned for what we had at one point. And there was a part of me that hated myself for missing him in the first place.

My fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment, starting and stopping on the keys as I tried to think of what to say. I could still hear muffled laughter from the living room, but it felt like a world away when the only thing I could focus on was Keigo’s words and the uncertainty of my own feelings. Another message came through.

Keigo: I shouldn’t have touched you the way I did. I crossed a line, and I know that I scared you. I hate myself for what I did. I was drunk and jealous and stupid, but none of that is an excuse for what I did and how it hurt you.

My hands trembled. The words were heavy and raw, digging right into my chest and burrowing beneath my skin. I could practically hear his voice in my head, thick with regret the way he had been when he apologized outside of his agency. There was a desperation to be forgiven, to be seen as anything but the villain he feared he’d become. He had always been so good with words, so good that I struggled sometimes to separate what was genuine and what was just part of the charm that made him so desirable to me in the beginning. I could feel my pulse in my thumbs as I messaged back.

Akira: I’ve been around people who’ve had too much to drink before. Hizashi has had too many drinks, and he’s never acted that way. Sho said one thing to me when he was having a few glasses of sake with Hizashi, and he stopped drinking right then and there because he was so ashamed. It wasn’t even hurtful, but he hadn’t even had a glass around me since that night.

It was the truth. It was blunt. I didn’t want him to hide behind alcohol, to use it as an excuse for his actions. Hizashi had never acted the way Keigo had when he was drunk. Shota’s words were a mere throwaway comment about not taking on another internship after his experience with me. It was meant to be a lighthearted joke that I had started by teasing him for not wanting to do internships and work studies in the first place, but he made the exception for me. When I didn’t laugh immediately at his retort, he stopped drinking immediately and had never picked up another glass in front of me since.

His response was almost immediate, the blue bubble to indicate that he was typing appearing on the screen before I could even process the words I had sent him.

Keigo: You have to know that wasn’t me, though, right? You know how much I care about you. You’re one of the only people I care about, which is why I’m so afraid of losing this.

I could practically see him, raking his hands through his hair, pacing around his lonely apartment, those beautiful wings shivering with anxiety. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that caring about someone wasn’t supposed to hurt them. I did everything in my power to keep from hurting the people I cared about, would shoulder the burden of their pain for them, would drag myself through fire and flames just to ensure their happiness. Caring about them was a gift. I would’ve done anything to protect them all, to shield them from the kind of pain Keigo had willingly put me through.

I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to respond, not really. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came to me. I didn’t know how to comfort him, not when I was still so lost in the ache of trust that had been broken, but I also couldn’t bear to leave him in that state. I couldn’t bring myself to dump my anger out at his feet, to show him the pain he’d caused, to tell him that I’d known from the beginning of my life that love would always hurt in the end. I didn’t want that to be true, but there was a part of me that couldn’t help but fear it.

He must’ve sensed my hesitation because a second message came in.

Keigo: Shota must hate me even more than before.

A sharp pang of guilt twisted inside me. He was right, and he was wrong. I hated that he was mentioning Shota, that he was pulling him into the conversation after everything he’d said about him on the landing. We hadn’t spoken much about it, but Sho had opened his door to me if I ever wanted to talk. He apologized for not being able to protect me and for allowing his anger to get the better of him when he was alone with Keigo. I didn’t hold it against him, though. I couldn’t be angry with him for protecting me the way I would have if the tables were reversed.

Keigo and I were both lucky it had been Shota and not Hizashi. Hizashi wouldn’t have stopped. While I thought Tenko had been itching to kill him upon seeing what he had done, Hizashi would’ve been calm and collected until went back inside before he unleashed the version of himself he kept hidden after Oboro didn’t come home. It was an anger that existed for the circumstances that befell both himself and the people he loved most. His anger was an emotion he seldom let show, but I had seen it in defense of me a handful of times, and I had felt it once after the incident when I was 13.

Keigo was lucky it was Shota because he knew how to pull his anger back in check even if it was consuming him. Hizashi didn’t have an off switch when that anger was triggered because of circumstances that involved me.

Akira: He was just trying to protect me.

I sent the message before I could even think about how it would be received. Part of me didn’t really care because Shota hadn’t done anything that needed to be defended or apologized for, but I was suddenly feeling like I had to defend him against Keigo. I hated that we were bringing anyone else into the spiraling mess.

Keigo: It makes him a better man than me. I deserved every bit of his anger, and I deserve every bit of yours, too. I just don’t want you to think I’m a monster. This isn’t the man I am, not truly. You got to see that man on the cliff, Akira, that’s who I am. This was the perfect storm. Alcohol, the time of year, being around you during this…time for you, it all just came together and made me act like a monster.

That message cut right through me. My breath stuttered as I stared at it. It was the most dangerous thing he could’ve said to me, the exact thing that always seemed to unravel my anger and steamroll my boundaries. I’d spent my whole life loving people who’d been called monsters. Hizashi had called himself one after Oboro didn’t come home. Father had called Tenko and I monsters more times than I could count. The men in the basement said it about the basement ladies when they fought. Hitoshi had been called a monster by his father. Shota’s mother called him a monster, and he often carried proof when he was younger that she treated him like he was one. I loved the people who’d been called monsters. I knew what it was like to be on the other side of that word.

Tenko had been called a monster all his life. He never had any reprieve. He went from Father to his master. He hadn’t meant to kill our family. He couldn’t control it, but that didn’t make him a monster. Not really. How could I call Keigo one when I’d spent my whole life forgiving the actions of the people I loved? How could I find it in my heart to love Tenko through his guilt, but I couldn’t offer that same mercy to Keigo? How could I call him a monster when he was begging for forgiveness?

My mind twisted his words around, searching for a way to justify the pain he’d caused, to forgive him for what he had done to me. I hated it. I hated myself for doing it. I couldn’t reply, not as my mind swirled with thoughts of how I could forgive him, of how I could try to understand him. The anger was no longer there for him, just a hollow ache in my chest and an emptiness where my voice should have been.

Keigo: Can I see you? Or can we just talk at some point soon? Your people wouldn’t be able to know since I’m sure they’d kill me this time, but I just want to figure out a way to make it up to you. Maybe I can offer up an explanation for some of the things I said. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to show you the man I can be.

My heart stuttered again, and I pressed my back against the wall even harder until I was reminded of what it felt like when he was standing before me, looming over me. Those hands. Those eyes. His mouth on mine, on my body…his hands on me. He had looked so hungry. My shoulders ached as I stared down at the phone. I didn’t know if the fear that pulsed through me was because I was afraid of being alone with him, or if it was because there was some small part of me that wanted to give him another chance.

I didn’t like hiding anything from my people, though, not from any of them. I knew, though, without the shadow of a doubt, that they wouldn’t let me anywhere near Keigo after what happened. Part of me knew that they were right to not trust him around me, but there was another part of me that wanted to figure this out on my own so I could finally show them that I was capable of handling my own life. It would be a gift to the people who had already sacrificed so much for me: to know that I was finally ready to take care of myself so that they could finally live the lives they always deserved.

My fingers moved.

Akira: I’ll figure something out.

I sent it. Simple. Loaded. It was a promise and a curse all at once. I closed my eyes for a second, envisioning my best self, the person I wanted to be. She was the type who was capable of forgiveness, but she was also the kind of person who would tell me to cut him off, who would draw a line in the sand and never let anyone cross it. I wanted to believe that what he’d done was unforgivable, but I didn’t know if I could. I loved those who were flawed and hurt, people who had hurt others because of that pain. Tenko was the prime example of my willingness and ability to forgive. I was eager to forgive him, to show him that he wasn’t the monster he believed himself to be.

Maybe Keigo deserved the same mercy. Maybe he just needed to be reminded of his own goodness.

I pressed a hand to my mouth and rushed into the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down quickly to hopefully keep myself from getting sick. My stomach twisted and churned with anxiety, but I forced it down. I drank down another half-empty glass, staring at my reflection in the window above the sink. I could barely recognize her in that moment. She still had the features of the woman Tenko, Hana, and I saw in that hidden picture of our grandma. I’d grown into her features, but that picture showed her resilience and joy. I looked like her when I was with my family, but in that moment, I looked tired and far too old for seventeen.

I wanted to save everyone. I wanted to save him. I just didn’t know if I could save him and save myself from him at the same time.

When I finally found my footing and my stomach settled, I returned to the living room, the weight of the conversation still hanging heavy over me. I barely registered the sudden stall in the laughter as I made my way back to the living room. Upon seeing the flicker of the TV and feeling the stillness of the room, I realized something was wrong. The instant I saw the red and blue pulse of lights of the screen, something inside me froze solid.

It wasn’t the show anymore.

It was breaking news.

There was a crawling banner at the bottom and a voiceover that was too calm and too practiced. The image on the screen was a cordoned-off alleyway, the kind I’d seen in nightmares and the ones I’d patrolled with Shota when I was doing my internship with him as a first year. Police lights cast shifting glows onto the brick walls, and the camera was set up perfectly to not show the ground, but there was blood splattered everywhere. So much blood.

My eyes immediately caught the large, unmistakable “4” that had been drawn in blood on the wall.

My heart stopped.

It lurched, and there was a sudden roaring in my ears. It felt like a lifetime ago that the countdown began with that jagged “5” on the wall at Tartarus. It felt like it had been so long since the world felt so unsafe. Of course, we were still taking precautions, but things had finally felt like they were returning to normal, like we were in the clear and perhaps he had just done it to scare me. I’d almost let myself believe that he’d given up.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

“Hitoshi, go brush your teeth and wash your face,” I insisted, my voice sounding strangled and foreign to my own ears. I couldn’t let him see it. I couldn’t let him see what I was about to become when Ankoku reappeared, but I also couldn’t let him see the parts of the world I would die to protect him from. Not my son. Never my son.

“But what’s happening to the TV? The show stopped, and-” he began, his face scrunched in confusion.

He’s too young for this. He’s still too young for this. He’s just a child.

“Sweetheart!” I interrupted him, knowing it was only a matter of time before the news began showing him the worst of humanity. My voice wasn’t loud but it was commanding in a way that it hadn’t been with him most of the time. It had only been that way one other time when he nearly walked into the road without me by his side. It got his attention now just as it had then. “Please, just…go brush your teeth and wash your face, okay?” I asked, trying to coax him out of the room, to give him something to distract him. I couldn’t tell him to leave my side without prompting a barrage of questions about what was wrong. 

He listened. I thanked the universe that he listened. He padded off toward the bathroom, promising to do it well. I didn’t dare to meet his eyes, too afraid that he’d see the terror in mine and stay beside me.

“Stars?” Hizashi murmured, already at my side as he pulled me against his chest. I let myself fold into him, feeling like I lacked a skeleton as I melted into every curve and line of his body. I wanted to disappear into him as I stared at the screen. The world had gone silent except for the reporter’s voice on the screen.

“We interrupt the regular programming with breaking developments regarding the Tartarus fugitive, Ankoku Shiroishi. Authorities confirmed moments ago that the large numeral “4” has been discovered written in blood at a recent crime scene wherein four people have been confirmed missing,” she said with a measured tone that made me feel sick to my stomach. They weren’t missing. I knew they were all over the ground and splattered across the walls. I knew how Ankoku worked.

Meat. They had been reduced to meat.

“The symbol appears consistent with the messaging left behind at Tartarus Prison several months ago during the escape of several high profile villains who are still on the run,” the reporter continued, her voice steady and unemotional, doing exactly what she was trained to do: inform the public in an attempt to keep us all safe.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t breathe. Police officers moved in the background, their faces grim and their movements swift and practiced. I could see the fear in the way they hunched their shoulders and swept their flashlights quickly, the way they didn’t linger in the dark recesses of the alleyway for too long. Hizashi’s hold tightened around me until it was almost painful. His fingers gripped my shirt, clinging to me as if letting me go would be a death sentence, as if he could shield me from the pain that had yet to come.

“At this time, Authorities have not released the identities of the victims connected to the scene, but investigators have confirmed that the blood used to create the message did not belong to Ankoku himself,” the reporter went on, telling me something I already knew. It was never Ankoku’s blood. He’d never maimed himself. The only person who had been able to hurt him like that, to cause damage his quirk hadn’t managed to heal, was me. I wasn’t there to bleed him, though, so of course it belonged to someone else.

More people were being hurt because of me.

The “4” was closer to Mustafu. Closer to us.

The basement, all those horrible memories, were suddenly so much closer to home than I had ever imagined they’d be. I kept the basement a secret for so long, still kept so much of it to myself, still never wanted to talk about the things that happened. I’d told them only the barest of details, only what I had to after the first news report about his escape from Tartarus.

Tenko’s tightening shoulders pulled me from Hizashi’s arms before I could even think. He’d been a victim of Ankoku’s wrath the same way I had been. I knew what he’d done to Tenko, to the other half of my soul, my Player One. I knew the pain he’d caused him, the monster Tenko’s “master” tried to create by allowing Ankoku to do whatever he pleased with my brother. I stumbled to the couch, collapsing beside Tenko and burying myself into his side. My hands shook as I clung to him. If I could’ve torn my chest open and hid him within my ribcage to protect him, I would have.

“Law enforcement agencies have also reported a sudden surge in Yakuza activity across several prefectures over the past several months since the breach at Tartarus Prison. We are unsure at this time if there’s any confirmed connection between these organized crime movements and Shiroishi’s reappearance in the public,” the reporter stated, as if they were discussing some sort of distant storm that might or might not touch down in our neighborhood. I knew it was coming, though.

My mind was racing, connecting the dots. I hadn’t wanted to see any of it. I didn’t want to see what I had as a child, and I wanted to close my eyes all over again and pretend it wasn’t happening, that it was all just a nightmare. I could still feel Ankoku’s hands, the way he’d smiled when I screamed, the way he’d cut me, the way his fingers felt. I could still smell him and the stench of blood in the basement. I could still hear him laugh while I wept, could still hear him tell me that I was his favorite, could still hear those first words he’d ever said to me: “You and I are going to have so much fun here, pet. I can’t wait to hear you scream.”

“Authorities are still attempting to determine when the message was written. Surveillance cameras in the surrounding area appear to have been disabled roughly thirty minutes prior to the discovery of the scene,” she added, shifting to gesture toward the alley behind her, “as you can see, police and detectives are working tirelessly with forensic teams to–”

She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes went wide, darting over the top of the camera. I felt my entire body tense, as if I could sense the shift, the sudden drop in temperature, the way predators made the world go silent before they pounced.

Tenko’s grip on me tightened further, his hand pressing into my side. Everyone on the screen froze, and I wondered if the feed had merely cut out.

It was silent.

Still.

“Did…did you hear that?” the reporter asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

A metallic clang echoed from somewhere deeper in the alley, and one of the officers in the background turned, his flashlight beam trembling as he moved forward a few steps.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he was just gone. One moment, he was there, and the next, he was nothing.

Gunshots began ringing out, sharp and shocking. Screaming echoed from the TV. Just like the screams from the basement. Shouts from officers to “stand down!” and “fall back!” filled the air. The chaos of bodies scrambling, running, falling. Some of it was happening where I couldn’t see it. The camera swung wildly as the cameraman fled. The world seemed to spin as people seemed to disappear in flashes. Then, the camera hit the pavement, falling sideways.

“Please! Please, I have a wife and daughter at home! Please! I’ll do–” the voice of the cameraman screamed before it was cut off abruptly, and blood splattered across the lens, thick and viscous. Wet, crunching, splattering sounds echoed through the speakers, and I couldn’t move. I wanted to forget everything I was seeing, wanted to pretend it wasn’t my fault, but I knew better.

It was all because of me.

Blood. Meat. Blood. Meat. Screaming. Crying. Begging. Meat. Meat. Meat.

Then, there was silence. It was the kind that was far worse than the noise. The camera, still broadcasting, showed the entirety of the once obscured wall. The numeral “4” was still there, but the blood that had dripped down the bottom of the number was a string of words that I hadn’t seen before. They were words that had been hidden by the angle like the bodies that were suddenly visible on the ground.

Piles of meat.

The words didn’t make my heart stop, though, not that time. I wouldn’t be so lucky to die before he found me. I was back in the basement all over again, my hands tied, my body weak, my mind screaming for mercy. I knew I wouldn’t know mercy from him, that no matter how much I wanted to gather my family and run as far away from him as possible, I knew there would be no hiding from him.

The second half of his message was a direct question just to me, so I couldn’t have any possible doubt about who he was targeting or about who was at fault for all this bloodshed.

Akira

Seirei kept me company for several rounds of me scrubbing my skin raw in the too-hot shower. She didn’t ask about what brought it on because she knew this process from the basement. I had done it before, and so had she. We would always wash the girls who were brought upstairs, but once they were awake, they’d take washing into their own hands as if it would remove the hands. She had taken the cloth from me after I’d completed four rounds of scrubbing, and she washed my back for me, wetting her clothes as she stepped into the shower alongside me. When she saw the blossoming bruises on my neck, she didn’t ask any questions.

This isn’t your fault, Akira.

I knew that look. I knew the words she wanted to tell me. They were words I’d heard in the basement, words the ladies would say to one another and me whenever we were taken. If it wasn’t my fault, though, then the fault could only be placed on one person: Keigo. He was my friend, though.

Friends don’t do that to friends. Friends would never do this to their friends.

The war in my mind raged on, trying to find a way to place the blame on my shoulders, desperate to protect the person who hurt me, desperate to save him. Why hadn’t he saved me from himself? Why didn’t he stop himself when I asked him to? Why did he do it? Why?

After the shower was finished, Seirei wrapped me in a warm towel and collected new clothes for me. The ones I had been wearing were discarded. She knew—without me having to tell her—that I never wanted to see those clothes again. She returned in a new set of clothes with a set for me. She made sure to check me over, set me in front of the window, and leave me to get dressed in the new clothes once the starlight healed the bruises on my body.

I was grateful for Mirai’s ability to redirect any questioning from the kids when I finally exited the bathroom and Hitoshi launched into questions about where Keigo was, if I was okay, if it would be alright for us to watch two movies instead of just one, if they could all sleep in the living room. Mirai was the one to redirect the questions by pulling the attention to himself.

While I had been in the shower, though, Tomura had managed to distract them while Hizashi was filled in on what happened during Mirai’s bandaging of cuts and bruises on Shota’s knuckles. I healed them quickly upon getting out of the shower, calling down the stars from the night sky to wrap around his hands, healing them without needing to inherit the wounds. I knew that my request for him to not hurt Keigo must’ve fallen on deaf ears, but I couldn’t blame him. There had been too much tension between the two of them, and whenever I was involved, it seemed to put Shota on edge to begin with. I also didn’t know if Keigo tried to instigate a fight. It wouldn’t have surprised me with the state he was in, especially since Shota was the one who ended up outside with him, and Keigo didn’t particularly care for him in the first place.

Hizashi didn’t say anything about it, though. He simply stayed close to me. It was just like when I was little, and I’d have nightmares about the basement. He wouldn’t pry. He’d wait for me to share as much as I needed to, and he’d only become what I needed from him. If I needed him to hold me, he’d cradle me in his arms. If I needed him to be present but far enough to give me space, he’d find a comfortable distance and just sit in the silence with me. I was never alone, though, and that moment was no different as we stood in the kitchen together.

“I think you were six when you got worried about the stars in the sky,” he recalled softly as I stared blankly out the window. “When you’d pull stardust down to heal yourself or to heal Shota and I, or that one time when Dad stubbed his toe so bad on the sidewalk that he broke it,” he added with a laugh that I met with a halfhearted smile of my own. “You got so nervous once and asked me if the stars would disappear if you kept using your quirk, if you were going to make them all fade away.”

“I did?” I asked, trying to place the memory in a lifetime of memories with him, but it was distant.

“Oh, you were very worried,” he chuckled before leaning against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “You were so afraid of doing something wrong, so I told you a story about this one particular star. You picked it out that night,” he recalled, making his way to the window to stand beside me. He studied the sky for a long moment before his eyes brightened. He pointed up at the night sky to the brightest star in the sky. “That one. Right there. I told you that it was a stubborn one. It’s not the biggest, but it shone brighter than all the others.”

My eyes left the stars and flickered over to him, hanging onto every word the way I had as a child. He continued, “One night, something down here tried to drag that star out of the sky, tried to lasso it like those old cowboys in the movies do. People down here envied the special spark that the star had, and they wanted to bring it down. They created smoke to hopefully blot out the light, hoping to rid themselves of the reminder that there was something more beautiful and powerful out there than they’d ever hope to be,” he explained, his eyes drifting back over to me, searching my face as his eyes began to water. “And this star—this beautiful, bright, stubborn little star—it was so defeated by the cruelty it faced that it tried to shrink. It tried to dim itself and tried to hide, hoping that it would become just another insignificant star in the sky because in doing so, it would be safe.”

A stray tear managed to escape my control, sliding down my cheek. I hadn’t even realized it until he reached between us and wiped it away with the gentlest touch of his thumb. “But the thing about that star, Akira, is that there were people down here who also looked to that star for guidance. There were people who grew stronger and more certain in their paths because of that star. That star led countless people home. That star was sometimes…” his voice cracked, and his bottom lip quivered slightly. He swallowed before continuing, “it was sometimes the only light they had in the darkest nights, and when that stubborn little star heard the cries of those people, it remembered its purpose. It remembered that its home was in the sky, that its purpose was to shine in spite of the cruelty and the darkness that sought to dim its light.”

“I told you that your quirk pulled stardust only from that one star,” he whispered, his voice quivering slightly as his bottom lip trembled once more, “the most stubborn one in the sky, the one that survived all the cruelty and darkness that came its way and continued to shine because that was what it was always meant to do.”

It dawned on me in that moment that he had never been talking about that star.

He was talking about me.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

The kitchen was warm and filled with golden light that caught the steam curling up from the saucepan I stirred milk and chocolate together in. Everyone else had gone home for the night, leaving just Hizashi, Shota, Tomura, Mirai, Seirei, the boys and I in the apartment. The boys were out in the living room with Mirai, Shota, and Seirei, desperately trying to choose what to do first: games or a movie. The laughter from the children and Seirei—hers being a laugh I missed so much because it wasn’t often I got to hear it—filled my heart with warmth. I wanted to return to normal after what had happened, so I refused to answer questions and just shoved the feelings of discomfort and shame I felt into the darkest corners of my mind, knowing that it wasn’t the time or the place to deal with them.

The scent of cocoa wrapped around me like a warm hug. Hizashi, as he always did, made himself at home beside me, his hand reaching into the bag of marshmallows each time I turned away from him. Each time I looked back, he’d look at me with a wide-eyed innocence along with a mouth full of marshmallows.

“You know, those are meant to go in the hot chocolate, not just in your mouth,” I reminded him when I caught him sneaking another small handful.

“It’s called quality control, Stars! You wouldn’t want to poison your family and the little ones, would you?”

I rolled my eyes, glancing back over at Tomura. He was already taller than me, but after pulling himself onto the counter, he was even more so. His legs swung back and forth, the black shirt and matching black pants making him look like a duplicate of Shota in that moment. He’d worn his hair back since the start of the party, mimicking Shota’s hairstyle that evening. He was in the process of breaking off small pieces of chocolate from the bars I’d set out, stacking them into a neat little pile. He never took much, just a small section of the smallest piece he could find and break. I’d offered him a bar, but he insisted he didn’t need anymore sweets, especially since the gift he’d gotten for me was going to put him over the edge anyway.

It was peaceful just to watch him. It was the kind of peace my Player One deserved to know. Each birthday felt wrong to celebrate without him, but this had been the first one that I didn’t feel so devastatingly sad during. Maybe it was Hitoshi, maybe it was Mirai spending more time in Mustafu, maybe it was Seirei returning to my life, or maybe it was Tomura. Regardless of what caused it, I was just happy to not feel so isolated.

Hizashi hummed as he continued to pluck marshmallows out of the bag, and Tomura’s eyes watched me softly. I was just barely filling the mugs out on the counter with the hot chocolate when I heard the sound of Hitoshi’s little feet behind me. I turned around immediately, seeing both him and Shota standing there. Everything around me seemed to soften the moment Hitoshi appeared. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you want to help me with the marshmallows and whipped cream?” I asked, waving him toward me.

He happily took over, placing exactly 12 of the small marshmallows in each of the cups for him, Shoto, and Tenya. He placed 17 in the cups for Tomura and I. 21 marshmallows overflowed Seirei’s cup. When he looked at the last 3 cups, Shota chuckled behind us, “you won’t be able to fit that many into our cups, sweetheart,” he laughed, recognizing that Hitoshi was trying to give people the number of marshmallows that matched how old they were.

“But then how will you know I was trying to make it special for you?” Hitoshi asked, his eyes filled with concern, as if the most important thing in the world was that people in his life knew that he cared about them enough to make things special for them.

“Oh, Peanut,” Hizashi chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his hair that I immediately fixed. “We’ll know it’s special because you did it. That’s what makes it so special. How about…for mine, you put 15 in. That was how old I was when your mommy first came into my life.”

“Then 15 for me, too,” Shota insisted with a soft and soothing voice before instructing him to put 12 into Mirai’s cup, which was symbolic of the years we’d spent together. After the marshmallows were finished, I applied the whipped cream and shredded chocolate to the top while Hitoshi stepped away from my side.

“Is it time for Daddy and I to give you your present?” he asked from behind me. I turned around quickly, seeing him standing in front of Shota with a long, black velvet box in his hands. He held it like he was holding a baby bird. My heart twisted in surprise. I knew they were planning on giving me my gift once everyone left, but I hadn’t anticipated it to be now.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, sweetheart. You know that, right?” I asked, wanting it to be clear that gifts didn’t earn love from me. He would receive unconditional love from me for the rest of my life, and I’d find a way to give it to him still even after I ceased to exist beside him.

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, looking down at the box. “We wanted to,” he replied, his small voice trembling with the anticipation of my reaction. He did it whenever he presented me with any sort of gift. He’d often request that Shota stop at flower shops whenever they were out together so that he could get me flowers, and if none of the flower shops were open, their journey home often led them down various routes as they searched for flowers to pick for me. “You give us…you give me everything,” he reminded me, but it was so far from the truth. If I had been able to give him everything, I would’ve gone back in time and would’ve ensured that he never knew anything but unconditional love and affection. I would’ve been able to give him friends long before Shoto and Tenya showed up, and I would’ve been able to give him a life of endless safety, but Ankoku was still out.

I stepped forward and knelt before him for a moment, looking up at him as I pulled him in for a warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his face into my hair, “you’ve given me everything, my sweetest little starlight. You gave me everything the moment you came into my life.”

That was the truth.

He was everything, and by choosing me as his person, he had given everything I’d ever dreamed of to me. He looked up at me, eyes shining, and for just a moment, all the noise faded into nothing. It was just my son and I. He was the most beautiful gift the universe had ever given me, so for him to offer me anything felt unfair for me to accept. “But…maybe I can give you one more thing,” he insisted, and the idea of turning anything down from him made my stomach twist.

Hitoshi pressed the box into my hands before stepping back and standing beside Shota at my side. They watched me with identical nervous anticipation. I stood back up and opened the velvet box.

My breath caught.

Nestled inside the box was a locket. It was white gold, gleaming softly in the kitchen light. Constellations decorated the outside of the locket. It was simple and impossibly beautiful. It was exactly the kind of necklace I would wear, but it wasn’t something I’d ever pick out for myself for the sheer knowledge that my money could be used for something other than luxuries for myself. It was exactly right, though. My thumb traced over the fine chain, the coolness of the metal grounding me despite my inability to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my voice trembling with awe. I glanced up at Shota, searching his face for some kind of answer, but he just stood there, watching me with that steady patience that always made me feel so safe. I wanted to understand why he’d choose this when I would’ve been happy with nothing at all. That was when I noticed the difference between the locket and the other piece of jewelry I’d received. The bracelet from Keigo. “You picked white gold,” I noticed aloud, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, his eyes softening as the side of his mouth tugged up into a smile. “You don’t wear yellow,” he replied, his tone so matter-of-fact that it made my cheeks flush hard. I understood what Mirai meant when he told me as a young girl that being loved came in a million different forms, but one of the purest is when we’re truly seen, when we’re known almost better than we know ourselves, when someone remembers the smallest things about us and things we never even had to say.

I ducked my head, trying to hide the way the heat bloomed across my face. I knew he’d seen it, but I didn’t want him to think anything of it because I knew it wasn’t meant to exist for me. Wishes didn’t come true that quickly or that easily, and if he felt anything for me that went beyond friendship, it would’ve meant that he wasn’t the man I wanted. He was still meant to look at me as his best friend’s annoying little sister, his most reckless former student since he would only have minimal say in my education during my third year, and the girl who made him never do another work study or internship again. He was safe to me because he didn’t share in my schoolgirl crush on him.

“You two planned this together?” I asked, my voice wobbly as I looked between the two of them.

Shota’s hand smoothed out Hitoshi’s hair before settling on his shoulder. He gave a proud nod, “he helped pick the pictures, and he insisted on the order they went in, too.”

Realizing that there was still so much of the locked I hadn’t seen, I opened it. There was a soft click, and what spilled out wasn’t just two small photos on either side of the locket. Instead, a shimmering holographic image flickered to life above the locket.

An image of Hizashi came first. He looked like he was caught mid-laugh with his guitar on his lap, plucking away at the strings. The next image that took its place after a few seconds was one of Seirei with the apron Hizashi had gotten for her as she handled a stack of pancakes on a spatula. Then, Tomura was caught mid-wave with a soft smile on his face and his other hand grasping a gaming controller. Mirai was much younger in his picture, kneeling next to a tiny version of me on my first day of school when he walked me up to the door of the school building. Another picture was one of Hizashi and I with our parents and Shota. I was sitting on top of Hizashi’s and Shota’s shoulders, my hands tangled in their hair as I steadied myself. It blurred into a picture of Shota with a soft smile as Jettie perched herself on his shoulder and disappeared into his hair. Both of them looked so content.

The next picture was one of Hitoshi. He was asleep and curled in my lap. His hair was a mess, and his face was soft. It looked to have been within the first couple of weeks of him being here. I was also asleep with my face buried in his hair. He looked so content, so safe in the way only a child could feel in their mother’s presence.

The last image was all of us pressed close together in order to make sure we were all in the frame. It had been taken during one of our many get togethers. Hizashi always set the phone up and then hurried to get into the picture, so he always looked so silly in the group photos we took. I remembered that picture, though, and he had tripped before falling into Seirei. She steadied him, and he didn’t want to look unprepared for the picture, so he scooped her up into his arms, and she yelped so loud, it caused us all to burst out into laughter.

That final image, I stood in the center, and my arms were thrown around Hitoshi with Shota’s hand resting gently on my shoulder. My smile was so wide, it made my heart swell even now. I looked so happy. I didn’t know I’d ever been able to look that happy after losing my brother. I didn’t know I was even capable of it, but that picture was a reminder of both that fact and a reminder of the family I’d discovered, the one that had been stitched together with tired, loving hands.

“Oh…” I choked out, my fingers pressing to my lips as a choked sound slipped out before my fingers managed to stop it. My eyes stung as tears gathered too quickly for me to blink them away. I wanted to thank them, but the words caught beneath the lump in my throat. 

Just when I thought it was over, that my heart couldn’t possibly handle anymore, Shota stepped forward and pressed a button on the locket. With one click, it shifted one final time to a picture of a little boy with unruly black hair and wide, shining grey eyes that sparkled with excitement. His smile was so bright, so full of life, it almost hurt to look at him. I knew that face. It was so much like the one I saw when I looked in the mirror.

My Player One.

I gasped, but it felt like there was no air in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I’d never had a picture of him. They were destroyed with the rest of my family. There was nothing left. It was as if all I was forced to live with were memories of him, memories that I held onto so tightly I bled because I refused to let the world erase him. And yet…there he was. Right in front of me. He was frozen in a moment of happiness, the dry skin surrounding his eyes that was proof of the scratching habit I’d picked up from him. The tufts of his black hair stuck up in all directions from the day we’d spent playing outside with Hana and Mon-chan. His cheeks were flushed. He was alive in that picture.

“H-how did you…?” my voice was a whisper, torn apart by the weight of both grief and gratitude. Disbelief settled in my chest as I looked up at Shota, desperate for an answer and to understand how he’d found this piece of my heart that I thought had been lost forever. Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. They burned as they streamed down my cheeks, as my face twisted in shock and confusion.

Shota simply stepped forward, reaching up to wipe my tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask me to pull myself together or hide my grief, didn’t shush me. He just stood there as I felt it. He allowed me to be in it, but he didn’t force me to be in it alone.

Hizashi gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving out of the kitchen with the tray of hot chocolates, ensuring that we could have a moment alone. I just stared at the image, at the first person I ever loved, at the person who taught me what love was. My other half. My first best friend, my first protector, my first heartbreak. He was exactly how I remembered him when we were alone with each other. He was happy. There was no fear in his eyes, but I knew that there were bruises on his body. Still, that moment that had been captured was one where there was no cloud of fear hanging over him.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, muffling a sob that broke free. It hurt to see him like that, so close I could almost touch him, but it was the kind of hurt that reminded me of how lucky I had been. I was lucky to love him, lucky to have been loved by him, and lucky to have been shaped by that love.

“Oh no! It’s okay! You don’t have to cry!” Hitoshi blurted out, panic rushing into his voice as he darted forward and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. His small hands clung to me as if he could keep any ounce of sadness away by sheer willpower. He was my little protector, “it’s meant to be a happy birthday, not a sad birthday!”

I dropped my hand from my mouth to rest it gently in his hair. I tried to find my breath, tried to steady the quake of my voice for his sake. “These are happy tears, sweetheart. I promise. Just…” my voice trailed off as my voice and words wavered once more. My thoughts and voice were thick with all the things I couldn’t say. I looked back up, meeting Shota’s eyes again, searching for all the million answers that I needed. “Why? H-How did you find this?” I finally managed to ask, the question trembling almost as hard as my body was. I had searched high and low for pictures, for anything that could possibly be left of him for years, so I knew it was no easy feat.

He watched me for a long moment, continuing to wipe away my tears. “You said once that you couldn’t remember his face as clearly as you once had, so I asked around. I had a lot of help,” he replied, his voice low and gentle, like he was handling something so fragile it could break apart at any moment. He continued, “I didn’t want that to happen. Not with someone so important to you…and not to someone so important to me.”

Tomura stepped up beside me, his gaze locked on the picture.

Hitoshi’s arms squeezed tighter around my waist as if he could hold me together singlehandedly. He looked up at me with the most earnest look in those violet eyes. “Daddy said this is your brother, the one that came before Uncle ‘Zashi,” he said, clearly clinging to the story he’d been told and seeking more information that Shota clearly hadn’t given to him.

My heart twisted, filling with the joy of being able to speak of him once more. I nodded my head.

“My Tenko.”

Tomura stiffened at my side the moment I uttered the name.

My thumb traced over the image, wishing somehow that I could reach through the light and feel him once more, like if I just tried hard enough, the universe might let me have him back for one more heartbeat. Tears continued to slip free, rolling down my cheeks before they were caught by Shota’s gentle fingers. “I thought…I thought I’d never see him again,” I choked out, my voice raw with emotion. They had given me the most impossible gift in more ways than one. “This…you have no idea what this gift means to me. You have no idea what you’ve just given me.”

I pulled Hitoshi even closer, gathering him into my arms and kissing the top of his head. I breathed him in like he was the only thing that kept me tethered to this moment, like I would fall back down into a world of memories my brother and I created if it wasn’t for him. He held onto me, wanting so badly to make it better, to protect me from the hurt he couldn’t understand, a hurt I never wanted him to understand.

My gaze dropped to the locket once more, and I caught the engraving on the inside of it: Anything. Everything. Always.

A fresh wave of emotion crashed over me like an ocean wave. I lifted my head, my breath catching once more in my throat as I met those tired black eyes. He just watched me for a long moment before his gaze softened even further. “It’s just a reminder,” he breathed out, “so you don’t forget what you deserve.”

I pressed the locket against my heart as if I could hold Tenko that way, like I could hold all of them, every person I’d lost and every person I’d managed to find again. In that moment, I felt so full that I nearly felt hollow. I gazed down at Hitoshi, brushing his hair back from his face as I tilted his head up to look at me. I needed him to see me, needed him to know I was okay. I just needed a moment alone with Shota because if I didn’t allow myself to fall apart in his arms, I wasn’t entirely sure I could ever pull myself back together again.

“Can you and Tomura go check on the boys for me, sweetheart?” I asked as gently as I could.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched my face for some proof that it was because I was upset with him. “Are you…are you made at me?” he asked, his voice so small and so afraid that my heart ached.

I dropped to my knees in front of him without second thought. I caught his little hands in mine, holding them tightly. “I could never be mad at this, my sweetest little starlight. I could never…” my voice broke, and I had to breathe, had to gather myself so he’d know how much I meant it. “My Tenko was my whole world. He was my very best friend. I loved him more than anything and anyone—I still love him with every fiber of my being. He was the very best part of me and the person I would’ve done anything for. I miss my brother every single day, and I lost the color in my world when I lost him. I got that color back when I met you, and you brought my Tenko back to me in a way I never imagined I could have him again. How could I ever, ever be upset at this?” I asked as tears of pure gratitude and joy continued to streak down my face.

He reached out his little hands to wipe my tears away, “but you’re crying.”

I smiled through my tears, reaching up to stroke my fingers over his cheek, “because I never thought I could be happier, and you always seem to surprise me,” I whispered. “You and Daddy and Uncle Tomura, everyone out in the living room…you’ve fixed pieces of my world that I thought I’d never get back.”

Before I could utter another word, Hitoshi threw himself into my lap, arms flying tight around my neck. His little body pressed against mine. He was so solid and so warm and so very much mine. He buried his face into my shoulder, his voice muffled but clear as a bell because his words were the ones I’d been waiting for for what seemed like my entire life.

“I love you, Mommy.”

I gasped. For a moment, the whole world stopped. It wasn’t the soft, sleepy murmur he sometimes let slip in the dark when nightmares caused him to cling to me. It wasn’t the half-conscious plea he’d utter in the middle of the night as his fingers curled into my hair. That time was different. He was awake, alert, fully conscious and present. And he’d called me Mommy. He’d chosen me, claimed me, and loved me out loud with all the certainty of a child who finally felt truly safe.

The dam inside me, the one I thought had broke at the images of my brother, truly cracked that time. I wrapped my arms around him, rocking him gently in my lap as the tears came harder but gentler. They weren’t tears of half-grief and half-joy. These were tears of utter relief that the universe had given me my reason to live, my reason to fight harder than ever, and it had given him something he could feel safe enough to love. I pressed a dozen kisses into his hair, breathing him in and allowing the words to settle deep in my soul where they would never leave.

“I love you even more, my sweetest little starlight…more than anything in this world,” I whispered, my voice thick with joy and gratitude and wonder. What had I ever done so right—so good—to deserve something so perfect? Nothing else mattered in that moment apart from him. There was only the weight of him in my lap and the thundering of his little heart against my chest. Those words somehow healed all the old places inside me that ached to belong. I belonged with Hizashi and Mirai and Shota. Above all else, I belonged with Hitoshi, as the one thing he’d chosen me to be: his mother.

I didn’t know how long I held him there in my lap, but all I knew was that I could’ve stayed there forever, just the two of us, my little boy and I in the small little world of our kitchen floor. Of course, the universe had other plans for us, though, and it came in the form of Tenya. He strode into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the emotional moment he’d just walked into. He paused for a prolonged moment and blinked as he took in the scene around him. Then, he composed himself and launched into a pre-planned speech. “I apologize for the interruption,” he stated with a slight bow of his head before straightening his shoulders and pushing his glasses up, “but Hitoshi, your Uncle Hizashi is requesting that you bring your Uncle Tomura to the living room because he wants to make a new world in a…block game?” The uncertainty in his voice made me laugh through the heavy emotions that were still settled in my chest.

“How is he struggling to create a new world?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

Tenya’s expression didn’t falter as Hitoshi pulled himself back up onto his feet, and I rose up with him. Shota quickly wiped my cheeks as Tenya spoke again, “Miss Seirei suggested he should do a ‘hardcore’ mode, but I believe he’s trying to sway the results of the vote since Shoto and I have agreed that he should do this.”

Tomura’s eyes lit up, and his mouth dropped open in perfect unison with Hitoshi’s. It was as if they shared a single brain cell—with me—when it came to games. “BECAUSE HARDCORE IS FOR TRUE GAMERS!” the three of us shouted out into the living room. The three of us had a long running hardcore world that Hizashi tried to play with us on, but he died when he encountered his first mob.

“I’m not one of those! I’m just a guy!” Hizashi called back from the living room, and I could practically hear the pouting in his voice.

I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me easily. I felt lighter than I had in ages. It was all so ridiculous and…us. Tomura and Hitoshi were already scrambling up, practically tripping over each other as they bolted for the living room, their teasing voices echoing back to us. It struck me in that moment just how alike they had become. Hitoshi made Tomura softer and younger. Tomura brightened since he came home with us.

Tenya glanced at me, concern flickering in his eyes, but after giving him a reassuring nod, he hurried out of the kitchen and after the others. It was where his duty called him to, and it left Shota and I completely alone in the kitchen.

I hadn’t realized just how tightly I was clutching the delicate locket until Shota reached out, his hand hovering in the space between us like an invitation. “May I?” he asked, his voice so gentle it felt like a secret between just the two of us.

My fingers tightened instinctively around it. I didn’t want to let it go, not even for a second. I knew those hands would treat the locket with all the gentleness in the world, but that locket was my only way to see Tenko again, the only piece of him I had left that didn’t exist solely in my memory or in the aching parts of my soul that missed him with the force of all the stars in the night sky. Despite my inability to move, though, Shota waited patiently. I swallowed hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as I brought my hand and locket away from my chest and pressed the beautiful necklace into his palm.

I let out a long breath, turning away from him. I didn’t like my back toward anyone, but it was different with Shota. I wasn’t afraid of those hands. Not his, not Mirai’s, not Hizashi’s, and not even Tomura’s. I knew the hands that were safe. I felt him step closer as the air seemed to thicken around us, like it was holding its breath along with me. He was suddenly so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was only ever that close a handful of times that weren’t because I was falling apart right in front of him or when we were training. We were never far from each other, but there was something different about that moment, about the way it felt.

I drew in a breath, no longer suffocating under the weight of the moment, but the scent that enveloped me was purely him. Coffee, jasmine, and coconut. It was a scent that shouldn’t have made sense for him, one that I wouldn’t have anticipated from the outside looking in at the man who was always dressed in all black with the most fatigued look in his eyes. Still, to those of us who knew him, it fit him perfectly. It smelled like home to me. I tried to focus on anything else, but his presence was overwhelming as he stepped into my orbit, pulling me into his own gravity.

Then, his fingers brushed against the side of my neck, moving my hair aside so that he could have easier access to put the necklace onto me. The moment his fingers touched my skin, the entire world narrowed to the light brush of his skin against my own, the warmth of us both colliding. My breath stuttered in my chest at the careful brush of his fingers. It was where Keigo’s hands had been, squeezing, digging in, grabbing at my neck for control. I hadn’t meant to draw attention to it, but it was audible in the stillness of the kitchen. Whenever he touched me, even when it was just in training or when he had brushed my hair as a girl, it was always as if he was handling something fragile and irreplaceable.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, so close to my ear that it made my spine tingle.

I shook my head, cheeks burning so hot that I was certain he’d be able to feel it. “It’s…I’m fine,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly shaky as it betrayed me the same way my face did.

The silence stretched once more, but nothing about that moment with him was uncomfortable. I could still feel the soft puffs of his breaths against my skin along with the heat of his knuckles as he gently fastened the clasp of the locket behind my neck. His touch didn’t linger against my skin longer than necessary, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake, a reminder that he was real and close enough that home never felt too far away. Every nerve ending in my entire body tuned into the points where he touched me, every thought turning messy and bright and tangled together in a web of my own hopes and dreams.

His fingertips hovered in the crook of my neck for just a heartbeat longer than he needed to. The warmth of his touch lingered even after he finally withdrew his hand, my skin still tingling and my heart still fluttering wildly like the wings of a butterfly even in the wake of his absence. It was as if he was trying to give me a silent reminder that hands were just hands, that it was who they belonged to that made them safe or unsafe.

The kitchen felt like it was walled off from the rest of the world, and I turned slowly, drawn to him like a tide to the moon. My breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. I looked up and searched his face, needing to see him—really see him—and knowing that he would let me in the same way that he saw me when he chose white over yellow.

“You found him,” I breathed out, my voice trembling with the heavy weight of everything I felt in that moment. “I thought he was lost forever, and you found him.”

He shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at me. His eyes were so soft that they could’ve undone me right then and there. He was my Achilles heel. He was my greatest weakness and my greatest strength. “When you’re the reason behind something I do, everything becomes possible,” he replied like it was a simple truth he had accepted 12 years ago when we first met.

A laugh broke out of me, half-sob and half-wonder, as I pressed my hand against my chest over the locket. “You don’t understand, Sho. I searched for years. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life looking for anything that could be left of him, and I thought there was just…nothing left, nothing left of my person, my other half, the person I loved first. I thought…I thought there was nothing left of the other half of me, and you…” my voice faltered as the unhealed parts of me rose to see the warm light of the kitchen.

Shota’s expression shifted slightly, and there was a kindness and hope in his eyes that I’d never seen quite like that before. “Life has been cruel to you—far more cruel to you than anyone else I know, Akira. You deserved something to hold onto.”

“You’re making a habit of this,” I muttered as my throat tightened. I didn’t know how to hold his gaze when so many emotions warred within me, emotions that would ruin our friendship but also ones that he’d never seen the extent of before. I was both a girl so close and yet so far to her brother, so deeply enamored by the man before me, and filled with so much light from the little boy who decided that I was worth a love so pure that he’d helped choose a gift that would hold more significance than any other I’d ever received. “You…” I sniffled, gazing down at the locket before looking back up at him, a stray tear cascading down my cheek, “you fix the things you never broke.”

“I’ve never fixed anything because you’re not broken,” he smiled softly, reaching forward once more to cup my cheek and wipe the tear from my face. “You’ve been hurt and changed by things that were out of your control, but that doesn’t mean that this world has to continue its cruelty. You weren’t made to suffer or just to survive, Akira. You were made to be happy.”

I laughed once more, but that time it was in disbelief. I’d believed my entire life was meant to build up to the next moment of suffering, that I was meant to strengthen my body in order to withstand more pain, that I was meant to be a hero to take on the cruelty of the world. It had been my purpose, but I questioned it in that moment when Shota Aizawa told me that I was made to be happy. “I didn’t even ask for this, but you somehow knew I needed it,” I confessed, wondering how he had been able to just know that this was what my soul needed even without my heart and mind knowing.

“Because I pay attention,” he responded with a crooked smile as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah,” I whispered with an easy smile of my own. I felt more unguarded than I had in the longest time. It was different with other people. I never felt like I had anything to prove to Shota in order to feel seen. I gazed up at him through wet lashes, “you always have.”

In that moment, I allowed myself to see it. I saw in his eyes the same future I saw when I first met Hitoshi. It was a vision of the future I so desperately wanted to come to pass. We were in a crowded bed together, surrounded by several children. Hitoshi was older than he was now, and there were children who finally looked familiar: a green haired boy, a boy with white and red hair, a boy with spiky blond hair, and a boy with dark blue hair. Those boys all seemed familiar to me now, but there were others who I hadn’t yet met. There was a girl with short brown hair clinging to my waist and a much smaller girl with hair almost as white as mine between Shota and I. We were surrounded by a little family of our own making, and I could only hope that it wasn’t just a dream, not when four more faces had become so familiar to me.

For that moment, he wasn’t my mentor or friend or Hitoshi’s other parent. He wasn’t the person who picked me up off the bathroom floor or the one who learned and trained me in all aspects of my quirk. He wasn’t the one who taught me how to throw the hardest punches I could that wouldn’t end up with broken bones. He wasn’t my past, present, or future.

In that moment, Shota was gravity.

He was the center of my universe, the pull I’d been orbiting for so long without letting myself see it for what it was, for what it had always been. I didn’t fight against it, didn’t think of how wrong it was for me to feel that way about him. It was something I couldn’t change, so I just basked in the warmth of it.

My breath caught as I tried to give voice to the magnitude of what he had done for me, “you gave me my brother back tonight. You gave me the one thing I’ve been missing for twelve years. You gave me back a piece of the other half of my very soul,” I explained, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “You at least made it possible for me to never forget his face or that…smile, and on top of all that, you didn’t even make it a big thing.”

“That wasn’t the point,” he murmured.

I blinked up at him, trying to understand this man who always seemed to move mountains for me but then shrug it off as if it was nothing at all. I wanted to understand what the point of it all was. I cocked my head, “what was?” I asked, unable to find the answer in those eyes.

His hand stilled against my cheek, and the world went completely silent. It was as if we were the only two people who existed. He gazed into my eyes, and his pupils seemed to open up into a void that pulled me directly into it, warming me and showing me the reason. In those eyes, I saw the flash of my own smile. “To see you smile,” he answered, healing so many of the wounded parts of me with a few simple words.

Those words sank into me and burrowed beneath my ribs until they hit my heart. From there, they beat through my veins, becoming the very essence of life within me. All he had done, all he had sacrificed for me, it was just to see me smile. It was so simple, so endlessly him, that I didn’t know what to say if there even was anything to say. All I could do was reach up and cover his hand with mine against my face. I grounded myself in the warmth of him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many confessions I wanted to pour out to him—thank you, I think I’m falling in love with you, I don’t know how to live in a world where you aren’t at the center of it—but none of it felt like enough, so I just squeezed his hand gently, hoping that he would understand how much he meant to me.

An easy smile formed on my face as I breathed him in once more. I had been lost for so long, and with him holding me the way he was, it was like I’d finally been found, like all the missing parts of me that had been lost to Father, to my master, to Ankoku, to the basement had finally come back to me.

The living room had been transformed into a fortress of comfort, a sleepover sanctuary that any child would’ve been ecstatic to find themselves invited into. Futons and thick blankets layered the floor in front of the couch, and pillows of every size and color were thrown haphazardly into the nest I helped the kids create once Shota and I returned to the living room. The air was thick with the scent of buttered popcorn and the faint tropical sweetness of mango from the ice cream Tomura had presented to me as his gift. It was the exact one I always got every year for my birthday.

I sat cross-legged on the pile of futons and blankets with Hitoshi on my lap and Tomura to my left side. Hitoshi’s head rested back against my collarbone, and the ease with which he melted into me told me that we had certainly been acquainted as mother and son in every other life before the one we found ourselves in now. Shoto and Tenya sat to my right side, Tenya sitting closest to me while Shoto sat with a little bit of distance between his own body and my legs. The kids argued over which movie to watch like it was the most important decision of their lives. On the couch behind us, Shota sat between Mirai and Hizashi, his quiet commentary with the man who was the only father I could ever truly consider apart from my Yamada family ran parallel to the chaos the boys created. Seirei sat on the other side of Hizashi, already halfway through a bag of her spicy chips that she teased him for not being able to handle.

The pint of mango ice cream made its pilgrimage between Tomura and I, the two of us passing it back and forth. He had insisted that I take the first bite of it since it was technically his gift to me for my birthday. When I told him that it was my tradition to share it with my brother, he wasn’t shocked by the revelation but told me that it was just his own personal favorite ice cream. That was when I’d decided that it was time to share it with someone else. Each spoonful had my eyes closing for just as second as the taste pulled me back in time to Tenko’s warm laughter, to the stray cat we found, to us chasing one another, to our art sessions when we frantically tried to decide on our future hero costumes. Each time we passed the pint back and forth, our fingers brushed, and despite the artist gloves he wore, he was still careful about making sure not to touch me with all of his fingers.

The noise around us wasn’t the overwhelming sound that came with the party earlier in the evening. No, these sounds were comforting. The giggles, the lighthearted bickering, Hizashi’s dramatic cries for democracy in the movie selection process, Mira’s dry retort about the futility of voting when children were involved, Seirei’s groan when Shota handed her a napkin for her hands and face. It was the sound of a life I hadn’t even been bold enough to hope for when I was a little girl.

“Mommy, can you turn the locket on again?” Hitoshi asked in a soft voice, but he never had to speak up to be heard by me. Whenever he even looked at me, the rest of the world faded out, and it was just the two of us. I nodded my head and thumbed the little button on the side of the locket, opening it and allowing the slideshow to begin. It played the way it had in the kitchen, stopping at the final picture of all of us. “Can you press the button?” he asked, and I did, watching the picture of Tenko shimmer to life once more. It stayed on him. It didn’t cycle back to the beginning. I knew Shota must’ve designed it that way because he knew I’d want it to stop on that picture most.

Once Tenko’s face came into view, he turned to Shoto and Tenya who were watching in awe. He squared his little shoulders and pointed at the picture. “This is my Uncle Tenko. I haven’t met him, but my mom talks about him sometimes,” he introduced the boys to a little boy he’d only ever know through my memories of him.

“You have a little brother?” Shoto asked as his curiosity piqued. It was asked carefully, like he knew there was potential pain just by looking at my face when I stared at the photo.

I smiled, the memories rising up so easily now that I had the picture of him. They weren’t jagged and raw. They didn’t make my nose and eyes bleed. They were suddenly just precious and present. “He was my twin brother, actually. He was 13 minutes older than me, and our mother used to tell us all the time that he wailed the whole time until I arrived. She said that he cried like it was the end of the world until the doctor put us together,” I smiled, gazing at his little face. We looked so different even in our youth with his black hair and my white, but he was all the beautiful things in the world wrapped up into one little body.

I allowed the memory to build once more, allowing it to fill the room the way Tenko’s laughter once did when we were trying to figure out our hero catchphrases. “You know, we used to eat this ice cream on every single birthday,” I explained, dipping the spoon back into the pint and taking a bite before passing it back to Tomura. The boys had elected to create their own ice cream sundaes with vanilla and strawberry ice creams. Seirei was the only one who went for the chocolate ice cream, and Hizashi insisted on mint, which was proof enough that there was no blood relation between us.

“There was this old weeping willow behind our house, and Tenko and I would sit under it, right at the end of the night on our birthday, and we’d share a pint just like this,” I recalled, envisioning the tree so clearly. The leaves were blues and purples and pinks. It was beautiful even after my life lost its color. I continued, not wanting to fall into the sorrow of those memories but wanting to recall only the beautiful pieces, “our grandmother would ask our grandfather for money to take us to the store, and Hana, our older sister, would tag along with us. She’d always run off to the candy aisle while we picked out the ice cream.”

I could still see it all so clearly. I could still see the cracked linoleum floors of the corner shop, the warmth of the spring sun mixed with the cool wind that bit at our cheeks, the way Tenko and I would stand shoulder to shoulder, debating for several minutes over which flavor to get even though we both knew we’d always choose that particular mango ice cream with the little brown lid.

“They had these little spoons that had cat and dog faces on them, and I was only allowed to pick one. I could never decide, but Tenko…” I laughed the kind of fond laugh that was only ever reserved for my most precious memories or when Hitoshi did or said anything. “He always picked the one I wanted most, just so I could have both of them after the ice cream was gone. He’d tell me all the time that since we were twins, we were meant to share everything, that life was built for two when it came to twins.”

I took the ice cream from Tomura again, scooping out another bite. His eyes locked with mine as something gentle and knowing flickered in those eyes. I wondered if we were so connected that he could somehow feel the echo of those memories, too, if some part of him could sense my brother without me having to tell him the stories.

“Do you like being a sister?” Shoto asked, his voice still filled with that innocent curiosity.

“Being a sister is the greatest thing I’ve ever done, right up there with being Hitoshi’s mom,” I replied with a gentle smile as I pressed my lips into Hitoshi’s wild hair. As my son gazed up at me with those proud eyes, I felt that same ache in my chest over a sweetness so intense it almost hurt. “Plus, I’ve had really good luck with my brothers. Tenko always let me have the first bite of our birthday ice cream, and he always-”

Tomura’s hand appeared in my periphery, holding out the pint of ice cream once more. Our eyes met once more, and the second seemed to stretch, like it was the moment right before something big happened. It was as if the universe itself was preparing for the sudden implosion. I reached for the pint and pulled it back over to me, dipping my spoon in as I glanced down into the carton.

There was enough for one more bite.

Something in my brain stuttered. My breath caught. I looked at the ice cream. I looked at the picture of Tenko. Then, as if drawn in by that invisible thread that pulled me to him in the first place, I looked back up at Tomura.

“And he…always saved enough for me to have the last bite.”

I stared up at Tomura for what felt like centuries. My heart slammed in my chest as the pieces began falling together. His willingness to sacrifice for me, the way he protected me, the way he counted the stars in my eyes, the way he looked at me, the way the universe pulled me toward him, the way I felt whole again with him, the way he slept with his pinky wrapped in mine. The room was silent as a pressure built behind my eyes. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff I hadn’t even realized I was approaching until I was teetering on the very edge.

“When…” my voice was unsteady as I tried to speak. My throat felt dry, and I reached up to scratch at my neck, but Hitoshi pulled my hand back down to his hair where I stroked his temple. I cleared my throat. “When exactly is your birthday?” I asked the question he refused to answer before, instead giving me a vague answer of “recently.”

That didn’t happen this time.

“It was yesterday,” he answered.

I gasped as my hand flew from Hitoshi’s hair over my mouth. The air suddenly felt electric, crackling with energy that had I thought had been gone. That was my birthday. It was our birthday.

My world contracted again, the rest of the room blurring out of view as my mind raced. Thousands of memories over 5 years flashed by all at once, overlapping and fragmenting and fusing together. I swallowed thickly, “and your sister…” I managed, but the words caught. I couldn’t ask. I was afraid. I was terrified to hope, terrified of being wrong now that the hope was right there. I’d spent 12 years believing that I was alone, that the person I was meant to live and die beside was gone forever. “W-what was your sister’s name?” I stammered, my voice giving out on me.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever until Shota’s voice cut through it from behind us. “You already know the answer to that question.”

I glanced back at him, at those eyes that held nothing but quiet support for me. There was something devastating and knowing in them, like he had pieced together this exact truth long before I had. Had he kept it from me? Had he…how could he have known? My vision blurred further as I stared back up into Tomura’s eyes. That name felt wrong, though. He’d winced the first time I said it.

“Your name…” I choked out with a trembling voice, “it’s not Tomura, is it?”

Tomura’s face was unreadable. It was a level of calm I’d only seen from him a handful of times, like he had finally accepted the path that these questions were pulling us down. It was as if he’d already come to the same conclusion Shota had, and he had just been waiting for me. He looked down at the ice cream before looking back up into my eyes. The tiniest, most bittersweet smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It’s been my name for the last 12 years,” he answered honestly, not a hint of deception in his tone.

“And before that?” I asked, my voice breaking as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. “What was your name before you were given this one?”

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Tomura

I stared down at her, at the most beautiful girl I ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon. The world seemed to narrow itself down to just the two of us, and everything else faded away. My hands balled up into fists as my fingernails dug into my palms, desperate for the pain I’d known for so long, for the grounding ache in my knuckles. I was still seeking the reminder that I was Tomura Shigaraki. For 12 years, I was a shell that had been molded, broken, and then remade a thousand times over.

Tomura Shigaraki. That’s my name.

Every second stretched thinner and thinner, somehow drawn out by the weight of her gaze, by the hope blooming in her eyes. She was terrified of the truth I’d known because Shota forced me to look at it. I didn’t want it to scare her, though. I didn’t want her to see me, to have her happy memories tainted because of what I had become. Those tears made my chest ache. I felt her hope like a knife against my throat and like the sun rising for the first time after a long night. I wanted to push it away, to disappear from its grasp, but I couldn’t look away from her. She was my hope turned flesh and bone.

A lifetime’s worth of memories crashed over me, desperate to keep me drowning. Father’s hand as it made contact with my cheek, the way he grabbed me, his words, the names he called me. I was born to be a villain, destined to destroy. I was a monster. The cold and echoing silence after Hana’s scream when I’d killed her accidentally after Mon-chan disintegrated in my arms. My mother’s arms that turned to ash before they could hold me. Father’s final words to me. The blood on my hands, sticky and impossible to wash away entirely. Master’s voice, his promises, his vow to provide me salvation when I knew better. Ankoku’s torture over and over and over again before he was sent away to Tartarus after breaking the toy Master promised me.

My name…is Tomura Shigaraki.

Even in the worst of it, especially in the worst of it, there had always been something lingering in the corners. There was a tiny, inextinguishable spark. It was made up of the memories of Akira’s laughter, the feeling of her hand wrapped around mine, the warmth of her body pressed against my side as we lay in the grass staring up at the stars, the whispered dreams of someday becoming heroes together, and the 71 stars in her eyes.

Master spent years trying to kill my former self. I’d clung to Tomura because Tomura didn’t feel pain the same weak way that Tenko did. Tomura was a weapon, a curse, a tool for Master’s plans. Tomura didn’t hope for much, only to punish the world for what it had taken from him. Tomura didn’t break at the thought of what he’d lost. He was strong.

My name is Tomura.

But as I looked down at Akira—at my sister, my twin, my other half of a soul that I thought had been shattered beyond repair, my Player Two—I felt Tomura slipping away from me. The mask I’d worn for 12 years fractured and crumbled beneath the weight of her hope, her love, and her memories of me. I tried to hold onto the pain, tried to wrap myself in the memories of it, to use it as a shield from everything I could possibly lose when she discovered that I had become nothing she could recognize.

Tomura.

My chest ached, and my throat burned. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t deserve any of it. I didn’t deserve her. I’d destroyed everything I touched. I was the embodiment of her pain. That was when I realized that keeping myself from her for another moment, keeping the truth from her, was the cruelest thing I could ever do. The walls came crashing down around me all at once as her laughter echoed through my memories. Her anger at the man who stole her brother—me—away from her, the kindness she showed to everyone and everything, the way she’d always reached for me first, the way our mother always told us we were two halves of the same heart.

My name…

I allowed myself to feel it all, the grief, the hope, the impossible relief of being seen for the first time in 12 years. In that moment, as I looked at my sister, I realized that Tomura Shigaraki had never truly existed at all. I was only ever her brother. I had been broken and lost, but I was still hers, still the other half of her soul.

Still alive.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Tenko

“Tenko.”

Akira

The scent of wax clung to the air from Tomura and I having blown out the candles simultaneously on the cake. I’d loved birthdays since being rescued from the basement and the first one I had with Mirai; however, watching Hitoshi with Tenya and Shoto, the boys laughing so hard that their cheeks turned red and their eyes sparkled with joy, felt better than any wish I’d ever made. I lingered by the hallway arch, soaking it in, my hands curled around a mug of tea that Shota had forced upon me when he saw me shivering.

Tomura was experimenting with touching things full-handed with his new artists gloves that Shota had gotten for him. The moment he slipped them on, he looked at me for a long moment, as if it was the solution to a problem he’d been having for years instead of just several months. He didn’t touch me, though. He was handling everything with all fingers as if he was still testing out the gloves before he even dared to get too close to me.

Once Nemuri and Tsukauchi left with final birthday wishes to both Tomura and myself, Hitoshi caught sight of me. He whispered a few words to Shoto and Tenya before crossing the living room to stand in front of me. There were grass stains on his knees from when the kids went outside with Shota, Hizashi, Tomura, and I to play. Tensei seemed calm about it, but I felt Enji’s eyes every second while I enjoyed taking on his responsibility of creating a safe place for his son to be a child. It was a responsibility he’d failed so miserably at and one I felt like I’d been created for.

A hint of frosting was drying on the side of his mouth from the piece of cake he insisted on sharing with Shoto after Enji cleared his throat loudly when Shoto went to grab his own piece. Seeing him so…kind after the world had given him so many reasons to be cruel made my heart swell in my chest. He glanced over his shoulder upon reaching me, making sure he was out of earshot from the boys, “I…I know it’s your birthday, and you’re supposed to be the one making wishes, but I…” his already whispered words trailed off.

I set the mug down, feeling Shota’s eyes on me immediately. I was always hyperaware of his gaze. Others were…just eyes. Mine flickered up to meet his, finding them instantly. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with Mirai and made his way over toward us as I lowered myself slightly to be more at Hitoshi’s eye-level. I reached up, tucking a wild strand of his growing indigo hair behind his ear, smiling softly to let him know that it was safe to say whatever his heart wished to make known. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re my greatest wish come true. You want something, and I want to give you whatever this heart desires,” I murmured, pressing my hand to his chest.

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before wringing his hands together. It was then that Shota finally closed the gap between us and knelt beside me to listen intently to Hitoshi. His little hands trembled, so I naturally pulled them into my own, grasping them just tight enough to ground him. “Well, Shoto, Tenya, and I were talking, and I thought it would be fun to have a sleepover. I just wanted to ask you if they could…can they maybe spend the night?” he asked, squeezing my hands gently. Before I could even process the swell of emotions in my chest, he continued speaking with a voice more frantic than before, “and I promise we’ll all be good, and we’ll be quiet, and we won’t-”

His words tumbled out of him so fast, and for the first time, I saw the little boy he was always meant to be: one whose biggest fear in that moment was whether I’d agree to him having his new friends over to spend the night. My throat tightened at the earnestness in his voice and the sweetness of the moment. “Of course they can spend the night!” I laughed lightly, the sound flowing from me easier than ever before. I wiped the frosting away from his cheek absentmindedly. “You don’t have to be quiet or anything, Hitoshi. I just want you to be a kid, and this is what kids do. Have they asked their people yet?” I asked, wanting to know how far into the planning process they were.

He ducked his head as his cheeks tinged pink. He looked back over his shoulder at them. Tenya was in the process of fixing the pillows on the couch, and Shoto sat almost completely still save for the way his fingers wrung together under his father’s ever watchful and scrutinizing gaze. “Shoto doesn’t want to ask his dad,” he murmured with a shake of his head.

The warmth from Shota beside me became hot with the same anger that filled me, but he didn’t let it show the same way I refused to. I had to be the foundation for Hitoshi, not someone who was unpredictable. I could remember what it was like to be afraid of asking for something so simple. I remembered what it was like to be incapable of even asking for food, the basic necessities of life, for fear of punishment for being greedy or for not having earned it. I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I’ll handle it, sweetheart. You just keep playing with the boys, okay?”

He nodded, and I watched as relief took the place of the anxiety that had been so evident on his beautiful little face. I stood up and pressed a kiss to his forehead before sending him back to play. Shota stood beside me, rising to his full height once again. “You’re doing it again, Akira,” he whispered for just me. I knew what he was talking about. I could never leave things alone when they didn’t feel right, which was why I had been searching for signs of the little boy from the train station. The one who flinched.

Katsuki.

“It’s what I’m good at,” I replied with a shrug of my shoulders as my eyes flickered up to meet his.

The moment our eyes met, he softened just as he always did. Hizashi often told me when I was growing up that I had a way of bringing the softest parts of Shota out into the light. He told me that I was the reason why they were so close…because he wouldn’t have known the truest parts of him if it weren’t for me digging those pieces out of him. I didn’t know how I managed it, and it was never intentional…it just was.

“Hitoshi is more than enough responsibility for an up and coming hero. I don’t want to see you throw away the life you’ve always dreamed of because you can’t help yourself when there’s a child in need,” he explained, keeping his voice quiet to not pull attention from anyone else but also gentle as to not offend me.

I scoffed at the worried tone in his voice, “it’s a sleepover, Sho. I’m not taking the boys in.”

“Not yet, but I know you. You already have that look, the one that tells me you’re willing to make any choices necessary to ensure the happiness of these kids despite what it costs you,” he argued back, crossing his arms over his chest, which made his shoulders seem even broader than before.

“You’ve trained me for the majority of my life to be a hero. You’ve been more than just my friend, you’ve brought the dream of being a hero closer to reality for me, and this…” I gazed over at the boys, at the way Hitoshi was trying so hard to make sure everyone was comfortable and happy. It came to me with sudden, absolute clarity that he was going to be a great hero someday. It wasn’t going to be because of his quirk or the way he’d learned to be brave in the face of things that made him afraid, but it was because he was going to be a good man. I turned back to Shota, “this is the greatest thing I can imagine doing with my life: protecting the children regardless of any personal cost. No sacrifice is too great.”

“Not if that sacrifice is your life,” he grumbled, his arms tightening over his chest.

I smiled softly, knowing that his insistence was just another way of showing me how much he cared and how much he’d already lost. “It’s just a sleepover for tonight, Sho. Maybe you’ll even have some fun,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood as I rubbed my hand over his back. I slipped away from his side but turned back just enough to cast my gaze over my shoulder at him once more, “but not too much fun. Can’t let any of our future heroes know you can experience positive emotions.”

I crossed the living room, standing beside Tensei against the wall. His arms were crossed, and there was a soft smile playing at his lips. He looked so at ease as he watched Tenya interacting with Hitoshi and Shoto. He had the look of a proud older brother written all over his face. He didn’t look at me as I approached, only offered me a glance once I stood beside him. It was clear that he noticed everything the same way I did with Hitoshi. I couldn’t blame him either. There was such a large age gap between himself and his little brother that he must’ve been like another parent.

“He wants to spend the night, doesn’t he?” he asked, his tone gentle as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me as well.

I nodded my head, letting my own gaze linger on the scene as Tenya and Hitoshi told stories back and forth to one another, urging Shoto to share some of his own. From what I could gather, they were talking about some of their favorite heroes. Tenya’s favorite was his older brother, which was obvious from the way he looked at him, and Hitoshi’s favorite hero was me with Shota as a close second. Tenya agreed quickly, and Shoto—when pressed—murmured something I couldn’t hear. Still, the scene left me feeling a sense of nostalgia for my youngest years with my twin brother and our older sister. The times when we were safe in the company of just each other.

“I’m more than happy to have him. He’s a good kid, and…with a quirk like Hitoshi’s, he’s a bit isolated from his peers at school. Finding friends isn’t easy for him since kids can be so cruel, but Tenya and Shoto are good. They don’t judge him for being different like some of the other kids do,” I explained, my heart clenching in my chest as I spoke of the most precious little boy I’d ever met in my life. It still shocked me that anyone could be cruel to him, that anyone could look at him and think that he was anything less than perfect. I just wanted him to feel like there were more people than just his family who saw him like that.

Tensei’s smile softened, “I had a feeling he’d take a liking to Hitoshi. Tenya has a hard time making friends, too, but it’s because he sets these impossible standards for himself. He thinks that if he’s perfect enough, people will stick around.”

The words landed heavy in my chest, feeling like it was crushing me beneath the weight. He straightened some of the snacks on the table even after Keigo bumped into it and sent a few of the crackers sliding out of place. Tenya didn’t sigh or complain, he simply asked if Keigo was alright—a question that was ignored—and fixed the table. “That’s a terribly heavy burden for a child to carry,” I murmured, my chest tightening with an old pain that seemed to reach into the depths of my memories to remind me that we weren’t so different. I’d spent so much of my childhood desperately chasing perfection, believing that if I just did everything right, if I was quiet enough, small, enough, obedient enough, smart enough…just enough, I could avoid the worst of my father’s rage. I’d hoped once that if I was all the things he desired, maybe Father could even love me just a little.

“He learned it young,” Tensei responded, letting out a long breath. He must’ve felt the same pressure to be perfect at one point in his life, but he was a far cry from Tenya. The younger Iida brother acted like his life depended on his ability to show that he was perfect, while Tensei was much more relaxed.

The urge to protect him from the weight of those expectations, to tell him that he could make a mess and would still be deserving of mercy, to show him that it was okay to be a child was overwhelming. I glanced at Tensei, wanting to do right by his little brother, to do right by all of them. “Do you want me to call your parents just to introduce myself and let them know that he’s welcome to stay?” I offered, knowing it would probably be for the best to at least discuss the plans with the people responsible for Tenya.

“They wouldn’t notice his absence.”

Tensei’s response was immediate, and the words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. They were so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it made the pain behind them all the more devastating. It was as if it was so normal for him to say, like it was something he’d come to accept about his family long ago. I stared at him, unable to process the enormity of what he’d just confessed. The wounds I carried that never healed despite the time that had passed began aching all over again.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, but the truth was that I just didn’t want to understand. I didn’t want to believe there were so many parents out there who were capable of overlooking their children. Tenya, a child who tried so hard it nearly broke him, deserved a family who put in the same amount of effort. I wanted to live in a world where every child was wanted, where every absence was noticed.

And if the world refused to become that for the sake of the children, I would change it myself.

“My parents should’ve never had another child,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders, but there was a heavy sorrow in his eyes that his tense expression couldn’t hide. He continued, “my little brother is my best friend in the world, and he’s my biggest fan. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t have him in my corner. I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world, but to our parents?” he asked, letting out a hollow and brittle laugh that made my skin crawl. “Tenya is just extra.”

My jaw clenched. Heat built in my chest and radiated up into my neck and face. I could feel it burning hot in my throat as my body tensed in response to the sudden and overwhelming emotions. The anger was for people who could be given something so precious and treat it like an afterthought. I scrambled for the right words, wanting to be gentle and not accusatory since I knew that Tensei’s parents had been so incredibly supportive of him. It was hard to temper the emotion in my voice, though. “That’s so-”

“Unfair? Cruel? Disgusting? Deplorable?” he supplied the words for me so that I didn’t have to feel guilty for being the one to accuse them. The smile on his face was tired and clearly practiced for the sake of his little brother. I had smiles like that for Hitoshi. “You can say it, Akira. I’ve thought all of those things myself. It’s nice to be so special to them, but when it’s at the expense of my little brother who has never been anything but loving and good…” his voice caught, thick with grief and guilt that he tried and failed to swallow down. He looked away, clearing his throat as his jaw clenched, and he straightened his shoulders.

I reached out, rubbing his arm the way I had done to Shota whenever I needed to calm his nerves. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, that I could empathize with him. I wanted to be able to take away the heavy burden from him. Tensei was many things to me: a mentor, a hero, and a friend. We weren’t as close as I would’ve liked to be, but he was one of the few heroes I’d trust with my life. He shook his head, “no child should have to earn the love of their family, of the people who brought them into the world. That much should be given without condition from the very beginning,” he huffed before his eyes found his brother again, “it’s why I don’t stop him when he gravitates toward places like this and…” his eyes flickered over to meet mine, and I watched as the corners of his mouth lifted just barely, “and toward people like you.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest. The sudden weight of responsibility pressed down around me, but it was a weight I knew how to shoulder, one I was good at carrying. In every moment I spent trying to make a home for Hitoshi, trying to make a place that welcomed the weary little souls that needed a place to feel like home, I was honoring the promises and wishes I’d made for myself and my Tenko when we were still small and invisible. He didn’t get to live out those dreams, so it became my responsibility to do with my life what we’d always dreamed to do together.

“I try to be there for him as much as I can. I have him with me at my apartment most of the time, but there’s only so much I can do with how busy the agency gets,” he continued, his voice almost apologetic, as if he had to offer up any sort of explanation to me as to why he felt he was failing in trying to raise his little brother. His circumstances were similar to Hizashi’s, a man who put his life on the backburner to take care of me. It suddenly became crystal clear why Tensei was withdrawn and was still unmarried and without any partners. He was kind, funny, handsome, and warm. He was someone that anyone would be lucky to end up with, but he would always come last when it came to his happiness or the happiness of Tenya. “Sometimes I worry I’m not enough,” he confessed, and my heart shattered.

Selfishly, all I could do was think of Hizashi. Had he experienced those same feelings? Had he stayed awake at night wondering if he was enough for me? My eyes flickered over to my older brother, the man who gave up so much of his life for me. “I can tell you from the perspective of someone whose older brother also sacrificed for me, we just want to see you thrive. We just want to see you happy as much as you want to see us happy. This is an incredible weight on your shoulders, but it isn’t something you have to carry alone,” I insisted before my eyes flickered over to Hitoshi. My heart lightened, “the only reason I’ve been successful with Hitoshi is because I have so many people in my life who support both of us.”

“I know you do this for a reason, Akira. You know how he feels,” he murmured, his voice soft as to not seem intrusive.

I nodded once, “plus some,” I admitted quietly. There was no reason to hide it. It was a part of my past. The ache of being the unwanted child was something I’d carried for so long that it shaped the way I saw myself and the way I loved. I didn’t want others to be changed the way I was…not if I could help it.

Tensei sighed, “I just want him to know what normal feels like. I want him to know noise and messes and routines that don’t involve structuring out the entire day, you know?” he asked, his voice thick with a longing to somehow go back in time and have that himself. Oldest siblings carried the weight of the world on their shoulders no matter how little those shoulders were.

I smiled softly as I watched Tomura hand a controller to Hitoshi who immediately handed it to Tenya. “He can have that here. I wouldn’t be taking him away from you because he’s lucky to have you, but anytime you need a break or anytime he needs somewhere to go that feels easier to breathe, he’s always going to be welcome here,” I explained, my eyes finding Tensei’s once again. “He walked through the door, and that’s enough for him to belong here.”

He huffed a soft laugh, “you sound like a hero even when you’re off duty,” he noted as he nudged my arm.

“I learned from some of the best,” I grinned as I bumped his hip with mine.

Tensei finally smiled for real that time, not the one he performed for Tenya’s sake. “Thank you, Akira. He’s going to end up talking about this night for months, you know.”

“Good,” I nodded, feeling like I was still on the right track. “Every child deserves memories like these,” I added, and the words made my heavy heart swell. I had so few happy memories from my own childhood, but I wanted something different for them, for all of them.

He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back. “Well, I suppose I should tell him he’s officially been granted sleepover clearance,” he laughed lightly, a playful formality in his voice that made me smile, like he was letting himself be young again, too. I watched him cross the room, calling Tenya over to him with a conspiratorial wink.

Enji was not so simple to talk to. Despite him being a gentleman when I pulled him out onto the balcony that overlooked the park—draping his jacket over my shoulders when the cool air hit me—his expression changed the moment I brought up Shoto.

“I suspected as much,” he grunted, his jaw tightening as he glared out at the horizon, “I knew it was a mistake to bring him along. He becomes…distracted in environments like this.”

“Distracted?” I echoed, trying to understand where he was coming from. I hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there could be something even just a little bit gentle beneath his severity, especially if he saw the same little boy I did that night.

His frown deepened. “He loses focus, and his discipline suffers because of it. He doesn’t need indulgence like this. He needs to prepare.”

“He’s a child,” I countered, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could even think to temper them.

“He’s my successor,” Enji argued back, his tone cold for how his flames licked at his shoulders.

“He’s your son.” My voice cut through the night air around us. It was meant to be a sharp reminder for him that family should come before any “destiny.” It was a line I refused to let Enji cross without some sort of resistance. I refused to allow him to speak of his son as nothing more than a chess piece he was playing with.

The flames around his eyes flickered. “Great heroes aren’t raised by soft hands,” he responded as if he was quoting some sort of scripture he’d written himself. He spoke as if pain was the only true path to greatness.

“I’ll be a great hero someday,” I argued back, meeting his fiery gaze without flinching.

His eyes narrowed slightly, “and look at the hands that raised you,” he bit back at me.

I froze. For just a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in my body felt like they seized as his words struck something deep in me. It felt like the words themselves somehow managed to cut through my ribs and pierce my lungs. I couldn’t breathe as I thought of those hands. All the hands that raised me, not just the gentle ones I tried to keep as close as I could but the ones I never wanted. Father’s hands. Master’s hands. Ankoku’s hands. The men from the basement. The hand in the crowd.

“That was wrong of me,” he muttered, stepping back from me. He must’ve seen the way I stiffened. It was the closest thing to an apology I’d ever heard from him for something he’d done. It was awkward and reluctant, but it was still real. I knew that the apology belonged to Shoto, not to me, but hearing it at all still startled me. There was a part of me that was still so torn. I was disgusted by him, furious with his cruelty, but I still couldn’t ignore the part of me that remembered the man who helped save me from the basement, the one who carried Arehate, the one who was gentle with me.

I felt like I owed him something, but I wouldn’t give him my silence, not when Shoto was just a boy and needed someone to fight for him. Drawing in a slow breath and grounding myself, I let my anger settle into my chest further. When I was angry, I was like Father. Perhaps Enji needed to meet him through me. “I know exactly what happens to children who are victimized, and I’ve dedicated my life to be the reckoning for those who deny them mercy and comfort,” I reminded him of the sacred vow I made to myself.

His jaw tightened, “you misunderstand my intentions.”

“No,” I shook my head, letting the word hang between us. “I understand them perfectly,” I added, stepping closer to him, refusing to let the space between us to separate him from facing the truth I was shining onto him. For all his size and presence, I’d learned that Enji only truly respected those who didn’t shy away from his heat. The first boy who ever kissed me burned brighter than Enji ever could, and if I could withstand his heat, Enji was nothing. “Shoto watches you before every decision he makes.”

“Because he respects me.”

“Because he’s afraid of you,” I corrected him.

Those words clearly struck the same nerve his words struck with me. I didn’t care, though, not as his flames flickered a bit more wildly than they had before. For a moment, I wondered if his composure would break, and he’d lash out at me. I didn’t flinch, though. I didn’t back down. He was used to physical violence ensuring submission from those around him, but I didn’t submit to Father, and I wouldn’t submit to him. He squared his shoulders, his voice growing even lower, “you presume too much about situations you know little about.”

“And you overlook even more,” I shot back at him, not raising my voice but also not relenting. I turned toward the glass door that led back into the apartment and gestured to where the boys were gathered on the couch with Tomura and Shota on either side of them. Mirai stood behind the couch, lingering just close enough to be a protective force around them the same way Shota was. Tomura was protective of the kids, Shota was protective of Tomura and the kids, and Mirai was protective of them all.

“Have you not taken one second to just look at him tonight? Not as your successor, but as your son? They’ve been laughing and building sandwiches out of crackers, and playing games they’ve been making up on the fly. They’ve been telling stories and talking about what city they’re going to have their future agencies in,” I explained before turning my gaze back up to Enji’s, allowing him to see the rawness in my expression. “This is what childhood is supposed to sound like.”

“Childhood ends quickly for those destined for greatness,” he argued back.

“Yes,” I nodded, not arguing the truth of it. I couldn’t. He was correct. “But it shouldn’t be taken away from them by the people who are meant to foster their innocence.”

“You’re growing attached too easily.”

“You misunderstand me,” I murmured, stepping closer to him once more until I was mere inches from him. “I protect easily, and I protect those who can’t protect themselves…without exception.”

He crossed his arms, the gesture making him look even larger. “You would threaten me over how I choose to raise my son?”

I didn’t waver, not in the presence of his heat or his obvious frustration. I couldn’t back down when I was the line between him and his son. I remembered the nights I spent in that basement, the nights I cried myself to sleep after Father’s punishments, but the way I refused to cry in front of him because I didn’t want him to know he had any power over me at all. I learned that pain and fear was something I was made to survive, not something I was made to surrender to. “If necessary,” I replied with a nod of my head. I stepped closer. “Enji, you forget that I survived men who tried to control me, tried to scare me, men who hurt me for the thrill of it. You know that I survived it because you were one of the people who saved me from it. I learned a lot about the world because of that basement, and I would sooner die than stand by while another child learns those same things.”

There was a long pause as the moonlight cast soft shadows over his face. His fire died out, making him look younger but more tired. He looked almost human for a moment, but I couldn’t see him as human in that moment when he was the man I was protecting his son from. He exhaled, “he’ll return home tomorrow morning…” he finally relented, each word heavy with the weight of his pride that had buckled a fraction under my scrutiny. He continued, “after breakfast.”

A smile spread across my face as relief washed over me. It wasn’t just a victory for Shoto, it was a victory for all three of the boys. They’d get to experience childhood for the first true time. In the silence that spread between us, I made a new vow before he stars: I would always fight for those children, no matter the cost.

“Thank you, Enji.”

The balcony door slid open behind us, letting out a little spill of golden light and warmth from the apartment. I glanced over my shoulder as Mirai stepped out and Enji stepped into the apartment around him. Mirai had two cupcakes balanced in his hands—one lopsided with frosting tilting precariously, and one so perfect it looked like something he bought out of a bakery window, but I knew better.

I blinked hard when I saw the fluffy frosting and the tiny candied strawberry perched on top. It was the signature cupcake. Strawberry with strawberry filling, just like the first birthday cupcake he’d ever given me. I was 6 years old again, still so small I had to climb onto the kitchen stool to see over the counter as he made dozens of cupcakes. I’d cried then, too, overwhelmed by the idea that someone wanted perfection for me, not from me.

He offered me the perfect cupcake, his eyes gentle as he noticed the tears in my eyes. “You cried the first time I gave you one of these,” he reminded me, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t bring any attention to it, though, knowing how uncomfortable I was with crying in front of anyone. “I was hoping not to make you upset again.”

A shaky laugh escaped me, “I only cried because you made so many and gave away or ate the crooked ones while I only got the ones you deemed perfect.”

“You deserved perfect,” he stated simply, as if those words explained everything he had done from the time I was a child up to that very moment. “You still deserve it, sweetheart. It’s just been a while since you’ve been reminded of that,” he smiled softly, his thumb still caressing my cheek.

I had no words to respond with, so I simply allowed the heat to bloom in my cheeks as I stared down at the cupcake, “why this one?” I asked, curious as to why he’d made a cupcake he had never been a particularly big fan of, “you haven’t made this one since I was little.”

He smiled through the mistiness of his own eyes, “that was the first one I got to make for my little girl,” he answered with a voice thick with emotion, “and this is also the last one I get to make for my little girl. Your next birthday, you’ll…be all grown up.” His voice wobbled as pride and grief tangled up with one another.

“Not for another year, though,” I reminded him, hoping that it would somehow help his grief.

He laughed. The sound was unsteady and trembling, but it wasn’t lacking the typical warmth I found in him. “And this next year is going to fly by because I want to slow the hands of time now more than ever before,” he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear before allowing his thumb to continue stroking absently against my cheek. “It was just yesterday that you clung to my knees when we went to the grocery store and wouldn’t let me walk until I picked you up and carried you, and now, you’re turning into the young woman you always dreamed you could be…the one I’ve always known you would become.”

There were so many things I wanted to say, but all I could do was stand there, desperately holding back the tears that betrayed me and streamed down my cheeks. He caught them all. The cupcake trembled in my hand as I allowed myself to be loved. Mirai had been the first person to show me that I wasn’t created to suffer, that gentleness was made for me, that someone would choose me over and over again, not because of what I could give them but just because I existed, and that was enough.

“Make a wish, Akira,” he smiled, nodding toward the flickering candle atop my cupcake.

I stared at it for a long moment, the soft glow blurring through my fresh tears that he continued to wipe away for me. “I don’t even know what to wish for at this point,” I admitted with a soft smile as I met his gaze. “I have everything I could’ve ever dreamed of.”

“There must be something,” he prodded gently, his tone more hopeful for my sake than insistent for his own.

I allowed my gaze to wander through the balcony door once more. My eyes caught sight of Shota laughing with the children and Tomura. The five of them looked safe and loud and happy together, just as children should be. He gave Tomura a place to feel safe, gave my son a man to look to as his father, and gave me something to hope for. My heart ached with the yearning I’d always felt for him. The quiet hope that someday the universe could be kind enough to open the door for Shota and I, that fate could give us even half a chance, came to life within me once more.

I closed my eyes and blew out the candle, wishing for the opportunity, for the courage, and for there to be a place for us…someday.

When I opened my eyes, Mirai was still watching me with those gentle golden eyes. It was a color that I’d added to my hero costume in the design process. Just as All Might’s blue was represented, so wasn’t Mirai’s gold from his eyes. They were my beginning. “What would you wish for?” I asked, wanting to give him the same invitation to dream after he’d ensured that I had 12 years of dreaming from the very moment we met.

“I already got the one thing I wished for,” he smiled shyly. I cocked my head as curiosity tugged at me. He glanced down at the lopsided cupcake in his hand. It was a testament to everything he’d ever sacrificed to give me the life he thought I deserved. “I wished for you when I was younger. I wished for the opportunity to be a father, to love someone unconditionally, to give them what I never had in this life. Then…I met you, and I may not be your biological father, but-”

I interrupted him before he could finish that sentence, “you may not be my biological father, but you’re my dad.” The words were some of the truest I’d ever spoken. He was the first man I ever trusted, the first man who taught me that love could be patient and gentle, that love could be something I didn’t have to earn or fear losing. He taught me that love was just something I could have. He loved me like it was as simple and as easy as breathing.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face into his chest as he hugged me back with the steady strength I’d always known from him, “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Forever and always.”

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

I hadn’t realized the party had thinned out so much until I felt the shift in the air behind me. There was that familiar, restless energy that always seemed to find me, and I could feel those piercing golden eyes from miles away. Keigo appeared beside me as if he’d been summoned by my silence. Throughout the night, he had busied himself with flirting with Nemuri who promptly dismissed any men who genuinely tried to flirt with her, conversing with Enji, and glaring daggers at Shota. He also spent a good amount of his time pouring drinks for himself.

I glanced over at him, surprised at how tense his shoulders looked and how deep his hands were shoved into his pockets. His wings cast a harsh shadow across the floor. Despite what happened between us recently, I still felt the pull to reach out to him, to run my fingers through the feathers of his wings. I wanted to comfort him, to take away whatever stress he was feeling.

“You know, I didn’t realize I had to schedule an appointment just to talk to you tonight,” he spat out, his voice sharp with a stinging edge. There was a lilt to his tone, the kind that invited me to laugh, but it also didn’t feel like a joke, not when his mouth didn’t even move to a lopsided grin.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I wondered if that was how he meant them. He couldn’t have meant them in a mean-spirited way, though. Keigo wasn’t mean. Sometimes, he was a bit…rough around the edges, but it was obvious when he was being pointedly rude. Still, I couldn’t figure it out no matter how much I tried to study him. The mask had been pulled back over his face, and the easy charm was plastered back over his features like his armor.

“You’ve been busy tonight. Important conversations?” he questioned as a thin smile plastered itself on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes, and his words dripped with something that bordered on anger. It was a familiar edge that I’d gotten used to. He had a way of making things sound like an accusation, no matter how gently he tried to wrap it. I knew the dance. He’d start with a light tease, but it always led to him pulling me into a corner after I got too defensive over something that was “just a joke.” It ended up becoming an argument that I’d end up apologizing for because when I tried to tell him that his joke just didn’t sound like one, I was made to feel like guilty because I clearly just didn’t understand him the way he thought I did.

I inhaled slowly, trying to keep my expression calm. I didn’t want to give him a single reason to think I was becoming defensive. I knew better than to defend myself over something that was possibly “just a joke.” Instead, I just smiled up at him. “Hey,” I murmured, stepping a bit closer as I grazed my fingers along his wrist before he could retreat into himself and his dark thoughts any further. His skin was warm and made the tips of my fingers tingle. My pulse didn’t quicken the way it did when we were on the cliff overlooking the city, but I knew it must’ve been because I was so overstimulated from the party already. “Why don’t you walk with me for a few minutes?” I suggested.

He hesitated for a beat, but I didn’t give him time or space to argue as I led him toward the front door of the apartment. I pulled him out onto the landing outside. The cool night air bit at the exposed skin of my face, neck, and arms, but the silence felt like a relief. Keigo leaned against the metal railing that stretched down the length of the landing, his wings folded neatly behind him. He looked restless, like he was trying to decide if he wanted to fight or fly away.

The gentle breeze brought the scent of him directly over to me. Alcohol. It was the sweet bite of whiskey that was barely masked by the cool night air. He’d been drinking. I didn’t know how I missed it before. Maybe I’d been too wrapped up in the swirl of the party, in Mirai’s cupcake, in Hitoshi’s laughter, in Enji’s heat, in Shota’s closeness. Perhaps I had been so caught up in being everything for everyone, or maybe I just didn’t want to notice that Keigo had been drinking and was fueling the ticking time bomb that he often was when he felt like he had been robbed.

“You’ve been drinking,” I realized aloud, the words slipping out quickly, but there was no point in pretending that I didn’t know the truth.

He shrugged, his mouth curling into a half-smile that was part wounded and part amused. “Barely,” he lied in an attempt to minimize the true lengths that he’d gone to when it came to his drinking. He did that about a lot of things. “I had to do something to keep myself occupied while you’ve been avoiding me all night.”

“Avoiding you?” I asked, a flicker of confusion crossing over my features. Disbelief struck my chest. “I’ve been trying to make sure everyone gets a piece of my time tonight, that’s all.” I hated the way I started defending myself before I could even help it, hated how easily he could make me feel like I owed him an explanation for every second I wasn’t at his side. He didn’t give me explanations about his flirting with Nemuri or the way he’d tried to flirt with Seirei when they first met or the way he’d flirt with his fans. I didn’t get explanations, but I was backed into a corner each time until I offered him a hundred different explanations for everything I did.

He cocked his head, “you made sure everyone but me had a piece of your time tonight.”

“I’m out here with you right now, so I don’t think that’s very fair,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady. I took a slight step back from him, not wanting to be beside him beside the railing.

He snorted, and the sound was meant more to mock me than anything else. “Isn’t it?” he asked, pushing himself from where he was leaning to straighten his shoulders. He turned back toward me, moving closer again. I almost didn’t register my body stepping away from him, as if my body could recall what danger felt like from a lifetime ago. Why am I doing this? It’s Keigo! He’s my friend! His feathers rustled behind him, “you spent half the night curled up with Mirai, then taking care of those kids, then having heart-to-hearts with Tensei and Enji. You seem to give pieces of yourself to everyone else, especially Shota,” he practically spit out the name as his jaw tightened. “I’m starting to feel a bit replaceable.”

The words were like a knife to my chest. “You’re not replaceable, Keigo,” I insisted, desperate for him to believe me. I wasn’t trying to make him feel replaceable or like he was second best. I’d been trying to spend time with everyone that night, trying to divide my time well. There were people I gravitated toward more than others, but I wasn’t trying to be cruel.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he scoffed before his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my upper arm. It wasn’t gentle, not like how he’d touched me on the cliff. It wasn’t even how he touched me in the car, not really. There was at least something akin to yearning in the touch he’d given me in the car. There was nothing tender in this one. His grip on me was rough and possessive, and even through my sleeve, I could feel the hot press of his fingers as if his anger could burn through the fabric. “I’ve barely had five minutes alone with you since I got here. It’s always you and that boy or you and that fucking teacher,” he snapped, his voice rising in volume as the words slurred around the edges from the alcohol he’d consumed. His breath was hot on my face, but the words were what truly stung.

My heart stuttered. I tried pulling my arm away, but his grip only tightened. Pain began blooming beneath his fingers, but it still wasn’t as bad as it could be. He was just drunk, and he was passionate. I pushed his buttons, and he was feeling unseen. He’d been vulnerable with me on the cliff, allowed me to see a side of him that so many others hadn’t been allowed to see. I knew the man he could be, so I just had to stick this out. I couldn’t hurt him, not for this. “Keigo, let me go. You’re…” I winced as his grip tightened further, “you’re hurting me.”

He didn’t let go.

If anything, his grip grew more insistent, like he wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape the trap he was setting with his words and his hands. “I’m jealous,” he spat out as if the confession could excuse everything he as doing, as if his jealousy justified the bruises already forming under his touch. “You made me like this, a pathetic mess of a man for you, and then you act like it’s a crazy concept that I want you as much as I do. I like you, and people typically notice me when I feel that way.”

“I do notice you,” I whispered, trying to keep my breathing even, trying not to let him see how rattled I was. I reached up, trying to undo the vice grip he had on me.

“Then why does it feel like everyone else gets pieces of you when I’m just stuck waiting in a line that isn’t moving? Are you trying to make fun of me? Do you think this is funny?!” he ground out through gritted teeth, his anger rolling off of him like a living thing. His grip tightened even further, and I flinched again, my eyes darting toward the door. I wondered if anyone inside would know, and I half-heartedly hoped they wouldn’t. I didn’t want to give them anymore reasons to dislike him, not when I knew he was better than this.

“Keigo, let go of me,” I tried again, making my voice firmer than before.

He was stronger than me, though, and he knew it. Without use of my quirks, which would hurt him, Keigo could overpower me in a heartbeat, and that realization made my stomach feel like it was being filled with rocks. It hollowed out my chest. Unless I wanted to make a scene—unless I was willing to hurt him, really hurt him—there was no way to get him off me by brute force alone. I hated the helplessness that crept back up after so many years of laying dormant. I felt like that little girl in the basement all over again. My body remembered what it was like to be powerless.

I desperately searched his eyes for signs of the Keigo I knew before this visit. I looked for the Keigo who sent me pictures of birds, good morning messages, letters, messages that meant nothing but to make me smile. I looked for the Keigo who once refused to kiss me because he wanted to protect me, for the man who made me feel desired but also safe. All I saw in that moment was anger and something close to desperation. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to punish me or prove something. I just wanted him to remember who he was—who I knew he was capable of being—and who I was to him.

“You take care of everyone else, divide yourself into pieces for everyone around you. Friends, heroes, strays, villains. I’m sick and tired of sharing,” he growled, and the hand on my arm tightened even further. It felt like at any moment, the bone would snap.

I tried to twist free again, but as I tried to pull away, I felt the wall against my back. It was cold and just as unforgiving as his golden eyes. The horrifying realization that he’d backed me into a corner without me noticing slammed into me and made my skin prickle. “I’m not something to be shared like a cake, Keigo,” I shot back, my voice trembling with the effort of holding onto some sliver of my dignity. Even when I was in the basement, I still fought to maintain some level of control over my own body, and when I didn’t have that, I had my words. He couldn’t take everything from me.

He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. It was an icy sound that made me even colder than I had been before. “You say that, but everyone gets a piece of you anyway,” he shot back, his smile matching the cruelty of his words. He leaned even closer, pressing his body against mine as he buried his face into my hair. I felt his breath against my ear, and I tried to push myself further into the wall in an attempt to get away from him. The closeness that would’ve once given me butterflies was suddenly suffocating. He breathed in a long inhale, and I watched as the feathers on his wings tremble. The angry heat from him became muddled with something else. “You know, with how much you give everyone else, I’m starting to think you’re not as untouched as I thought you were,” he breathed out into my ear.

Tears sprung to my eyes. It was a reminder of the more painful parts of my life, times when my decisions had been taken away from me, times when hands had touched me no matter how many times I told them to stop. The words stung, but the fact that they came from a friend was what made them hurt even worse. The sound of something close to desire made the panic flutter in my chest. I knew what men wanted when their voice dropped low like his had, but I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t do anything like that even while drunk. “Please…just stop,” I pleaded, my eyes wide as I attempted to push him away from me, but he didn’t move.

“You don’t mean that, not really,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to stare down into my eyes. There was no warmth left, not the kind I knew. There was heat, though. “You look at me like you want me around, and then you spend the whole night wrapped around everyone else. How is that fair?” he asked, his free hand coming up to my jaw. He tilted my face up so that I couldn’t even hope to look away. His thumb pressed against my cheek, but there was nothing gentle in the touch. His hand moved lower, and I stiffened as his fingers curled around my throat. It wasn’t tight enough to cut off my breath, but it was tight enough to remind me that I was still at his mercy, that I was powerless.

It was a reminder of how easily he could take everything from me if he wanted.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at that fucking teacher?” he asked, his voice dripping with venom and resentment as he spoke of Shota in a way no one else ever had. Not even villains had the heart to be cruel about him, not in that way. Every syllable seemed to tighten his grip on my arm and around my jaw and neck. “He’s always around, always watching you, always right fucking there! And you, like the fucking tease you are, blush whenever he talks to you, and you throw yourself at his feet every chance you get. The way you look at him, talk to him, talk about him, it’s as pathetic as I am when I’m with you because he doesn’t want you! He’ll never want you! But I do, and you treat me like I’m invisible!”

My breath stuttered as I tried to suck in a breath around the grip he had on my throat. I reached up to claw at his hand just enough for him to loosen it. “I don’t—I’m sorry, Keigo. I don’t want you to feel this way, and if that’s what I’ve–”

“I came all the way here for you!” he hissed, his voice cracking as desperation grew within him. His grip tightened further, slipping lower down my neck and crushing my upper arm. “I thought everything I’ve sacrificed would at least mean something to you. I thought that everything I’ve given to you would somehow be enough.”

“It is!” I sobbed, tears of fear and panic streaming carelessly down my cheeks. My chest heaved as I tried to somehow reach into his mind and pull him back from the edge he found himself on. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. Keigo wasn’t cruel. He was my friend. “You’re saying things you don’t mean because you’ve been drinking, and your feelings are–”

He didn’t let me finish, but I wished he would’ve just talked over me again. Instead, he surged forward and crushed his mouth against mine before I could even think to turn away from him. His lips were hard and just as cruel as his words and hands had been, as if he were trying to punish me for speaking and for mistreating him by withholding what he felt he was entitled to. This was my punishment for trying to maintain my own agency.

His hand trailed from being wrapped around the front of my neck to the back of it so he could control whether or not I was capable of pulling away. He held me in place, his body pressing me harder into the wall. His other hand slid down, ghosting over the swell of my chest and over my ribs, his fingers dipping below the hem of my shirt before dragging across the skin I’d purposefully covered up as to not invite hands that saw my skirt from the train station as an invitation. His hand seared across my skin as if he was trying to mold me into something else, something only he could touch and recognize.

I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid as alarms blared in my head. I have to stop this. I have to get out. It’s not supposed to happen like this. I planted my hands against his chest and pushed him but it was like trying to move a mountain. He didn’t move. His grip on me only tightened, and his body pinned me even harder against the cold wall that was somehow gentler than his hands and mouth were. I felt every desperate and angry beat of his heart in those hands. It wasn’t fueled by desire or love. His hands were spurred on by a need to control me, to force me into submission. I knew these touches once before.

He deepened the kiss, his mouth hot and violent. It was nothing like my first kiss. I tried to find that feeling again, the way his white hair made his cheeks seem even more pink when he pulled away, the way he pressed a cherry blossom into my hand, the way he looked at me like I was everything: his friend and his future. His kiss was sweet and gentle. It was an exploration of things neither of us knew about. Keigo’s was brutal. It was like he was trying to force me to explore a path I didn’t want to know anything about yet.

He tried to force my mouth open, pressing in closer to take what I refused to give. When I didn’t open up for him, he tightened his hand around my neck until the pain caused me to gasp. His tongue collided with mine, and I desperately shoved at him once more. The taste of whiskey coated my tongue as he deepened the kiss. The taste mixed with the force he used on me was repulsive.

His hand moved up the front of my shirt, and I tried sinking into the wall once more. I wanted the world to swallow me whole if that was what it took to get me away from his touch. He wasn’t like the men from the basement. He knew how to be kind. The men from the basement were never kind, but why were his hands making me feel the same way? If he knew how to be kind, where was that kindness? What had I done?

I whimpered against his mouth as his hand squeezed my side right beneath my ribs. His fingers dug into my skin as if he was branding me as his own, like he wanted to touch all the places no one else had until he could claim ownership over me. I managed to twist my face away, but his lips just attacked my neck instead of my mouth. “Keigo, please,” I pleaded, my voice strangled as his lips and teeth explored the skin of my neck. My body froze as the vulnerability became terrifying. I felt his tongue on my pulse point, and I realized just how much power he had over me in that moment.

“No one could ever want you the way I do. I want you so bad it hurts,” he confessed, and it hurt. I didn’t know what he meant and what was just the alcohol talking for him, desperate to hurt me the way he had been hurt.

Tears continued spilling over, and I desperately wanted to hide my face from him. I didn’t want to give him the gratification of seeing me cry, but I couldn’t stop it. I became a child again, something to be touched and scarred for the pleasure of others who had more power than I did. Pain bloomed under my skin wherever he grabbed, everywhere he squeezed, and the shame crawled up my spine. I survived worse, though. I survived my father. I survived the basement. I reminded myself of that over and over again, but the pride of those accomplishments couldn’t blot out what was happening with Keigo.

My vision blurred around the edges as grey fuzz bled into the corners of my world. My muscles locked up as if I’d been turned to stone by the sound of his voice. I didn’t fight harder. I didn’t scream. Fighting, I knew, only made them angrier, only made the pain sharper. Fighting made it worse. My body reverted to what it once knew in that basement: stillness. It knew that the shame would be over much faster if I didn’t fight against it. Sometimes, men even lost interest when I didn’t make a scene in the basement. I didn’t want to scream either because if Shota or Tomura or Hizashi…if any of them saw me like that, the shame would be reflected back at me every single time I looked at them again. Instead of fighting, I froze.

Like a doll.

I allowed myself to drift, my mind splitting away from my body. I watched what was happening to me from somewhere above myself, watched as Keigo pressed in closer, his wings caging me, watched as he mistook my silence for surrender. “There you go,” he breathed out, his voice ragged against my ear. “You make it so difficult when you play hard to get, but when you actually let yourself feel it, you know how good I can make you feel,” he murmured before grabbing my jaw and twisting my head to crush my mouth with his once more. He devoured me, his hands moving beneath my shirt as he groped and explored all the places that were supposed to be mine and mine alone, places that had been mine since the basement.

They told me how good I was when I was quiet and still. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to give him any more reason to resent me or to resent himself. This was the alcohol, right? Alcohol always made people do things they didn’t mean. Mom told me that once when Father drank. I just had to wait for it to be over.

His hand gripped my thigh, hard enough to leave more bruises, and he hauled my leg up, draping it over his hip. I felt something hard and foreign pressing against the inside of my thigh. The shock of it sent a jolt through me. My body snapped back together, and panic flooded every nerve ending. I flailed, wild and desperate. It was the one thing I had left, the one thing I could keep safe. I shoved at his chest with all the strength I could muster, and when he didn’t budge, I bit down on his tongue and simultaneously landed a hard slap across the face.

His head snapped to the side, and I watched in horror as his mouth curled into a triumphant, predatory grin. “There she is,” he taunted me.

My chest heaved with a newfound desire to protect myself, to preserve the last vestiges of dignity I had left. He wasn’t going to rob me of the final bit of innocence I had to offer, not when the world had taken the rest of it. So I screamed. “No! Get off me!” I shouted, shoving at him again, harder and harder. The power bit at my fingertips like a wild animal desperate to be let loose. I wasn’t a doll anymore.

Fear flickered in his eyes as his hand found my throat again. He didn’t want anyone to hear me, but when the door slammed open, I knew he hadn’t been so lucky.

Tomura was the one who surged out of the apartment first. Despite him also being only 17, the moment he saw the two of us, I was certain that the world could shatter beneath the weight of his rage. His pupils dilated. I’d never seen him look so unhinged, like he’d stepped right out of a nightmare and into the night. I wasn’t afraid of him for myself. I was afraid for Keigo.

Tomura’s red eyes were locked on him first, and then they flickered to me. I knew how pathetic I must’ve looked, small and pressed against the wall with tears streaming down my face. Shame crawled up my throat, but before I could speak, Tomura’s gaze cut back over to Keigo. Something inside him seemed to break right before my eyes. He slowly pulled off the black artist gloves Shota had gifted to him, the ones he was still testing before he dared to touch me. He didn’t tear his eyes away from Keigo as he dropped the gloves to the floor. There was a finality to it, like he had just etched Keigo’s fate in stone.

“You touched her,” Tomura whispered. The words were low and gravelly, scraping out of his throat like glass. I’d never heard him sound so calm and yet so deadly all at once.

“I told you once before, kid, she’s never complained when I’ve touched her,” Keigo smirked, and it became crystal clear that he didn’t know just how deeply he’d misread the situation. Tomura could take jokes, and he was one of the funniest people I knew, but jokes at my expense, anything that could hurt me, those were off limits. Tomura was protective of me, and the proof was there on the train when he’d killed for me after minutes of knowing me.

The taunting didn’t settle well within Tomura. He moved so fast, I barely had time to register what was happening. His hand was outstretched with his fingers splayed, and all I could think about was his handler: the way Tomura’s quirk had turned his body to dust. That was going to happen to Keigo because of mistakes he made while he was drunk. I couldn’t let it happen.

So I threw myself between them.

It was instinctual. It was pure and desperate for no one to be hurt or killed for their involvement with me in any capacity. I didn’t want blood to be on Tomura’s hands because they had been nothing but kind to me. All the blood belonged on mine because mine had been tainted long before I was ever a hero. Even after everything Keigo had done, I couldn’t let Tomura kill for my sake. Part of me wondered what it would feel like to crumble at his hands. His were the only ones I would’ve died happily by. It would’ve been an accident, and I hoped he’d know that every transgression had been forgiven from the very start.

My hair lifted from my shoulders as I tugged on the thread of Shota’s quirk, erasing Tomura’s decay.

“Tomura, stop!” Shota’s voice cracked through the chaos as he moved even faster than the boy I was ready to accept my fate from. His arms circled Tomura’s waist, holding him back with a strength that didn’t fully surprise me. His hair was also lifted from his shoulders, and I allowed myself to blink as the tears continued.

Tomura thrashed in his grip like a wild and rabid animal. “I’ll kill you! You touched her!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation to punish for that he’d witnessed. There was a pain I thought only I could understand. It was the same pain that had been in my Tenko’s voice when Father would drag me into one of the rooms and slam the door shut behind us. “I’ll kill you!”

Shota’s expression shifted, and his chest began rising and falling at a much quicker pace. “What?!” he barked, the words slamming into me like a train.

Keigo backed up, holding his hands up as a way of claiming innocence, “listen, we weren’t doing anything she didn’t lead me into. She wanted a bit of my attention, so I gave it to her. It’s not my fault she changed her mind last minute,” he chuckled, seeming much more sober than he had been when we were first talking, as if the appearance of men who weren’t afraid of hurting him sobered him up.

His words hit me like a slap. I felt humiliated. Had I? Had I invited it? I didn’t wear the skirt from the train station because it was too inviting. I dressed modestly because I didn’t want it to seem like I was inviting him in. I tried to do everything right, but…what if I really had led him on? What if it really was my fault?

“You sick piece of shit! She’s seventeen! I’ll kill you! She’s only seventeen!” Tomura shouted, surging forward again.

It took everything Shota had to keep him back, his arms locked around Tomura’s waist and chest like iron bars. “You’ll regret that for the rest of your life, Tomura. Just stop!” Shota commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Shota

I straightened my shoulders, forcing the tension down my spine and into the burning core of my body. I’d learned from my training that rage was a tool that could be used in situations like this, and I had enough rage bottled up to burn the world down. It clawed up my throat, but I kept my voice flat and cold as I stared at the man who so callously mistreated one of the only people I knew who deserved nothing but perfection until the day her life ended. She deserved goodness and light. She deserved peace, and he tried to destroy that. The sight of her cowering in on herself, unable to meet my eyes, etched itself into my memory. I’d live with the knowledge that I hadn’t been able to stop this before it happened for the rest of my life.

“Hizashi saved your life back at the hospital after Hiza City. Nothing can save you now.”

The air on the landing became even colder, and before anyone else could move, Mirai stepped out of the apartment. His presence was for all of us. Tomura protected Akira, I protected those two, and Mirai protected every single one of us. Before he could ask a single question, I spoke, “Mirai. Take Akira and Tomura inside. Now, please.” My voice was clear and unwavering. I wouldn’t argue. I didn’t have time for it. My rage, the volcano that was simmering to life within my chest, was meant for Keigo. No one else would be caught in the crossfire.

Tomura bristled, “I’m not going anywhere! Not after he touched my-”

“Tomura!” I warned him, my voice sharper than I meant. He didn’t wince the way I did at my own voice. He only had eyes for Keigo, fingers flexing at his sides and itching for blood. I couldn’t let him do it. I wouldn’t let him bear the weight of murder when his soul was still so good. Akira deserved her brother, and he deserved to remember himself.

“Shota, I can handle this,” Mirai insisted, moving to put himself between me and Keigo. “You shouldn’t have to-”

“You’re her person, Mirai,” I reminded him of one of the few undebatable facts I knew in this world. Akira could love the rest of us all she wanted, but when she wanted comfort, she gravitated toward Mirai. He was her first anchor after she lost her brother, and he protected her. “She’s going to need you most right now,” I added, my eyes flickering up to his as if willing him to understand that I had to be the one to do it. He’d called my son a greedy little monster, and he…touched Akira. My former student, the future hero that I mentored from the time she was just a little girl, one of my closest friends in the world. He hurt her.

Akira.

Mirai hesitated for just one more beat, knowing exactly what I was about to do. He looked at Akira, and his features tightened at the sight of her before they immediately smoothed over with the gentleness he only shows few people, but especially her. “Akira, come here, sweetheart,” he insisted, reaching his arm out for her to step into his embrace.

She trembled as she looked at Keigo, her shoulders shaking with all the adrenaline and fear that had nowhere else to go. She looked a million miles away as she stepped away from him with tiny, birdlike steps, afraid of shattering if anyone touched her. I hated him for it. I hated him for the progress he tried to take from her, all the trust he’d shattered. I felt her eyes on me as I glared daggers at Keigo. “Please, Sho…don’t hurt him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she pleaded, still trying to protect the man who just tried to break her into pieces. Her voice was so soft and raw that it scraped at something I’d buried deep in my chest after the first time she woke up from a nightmare after being taken into the Yamada family.

Hizashi had invited me over as he often did whenever he knew my dad was out of town for work. He knew how much I couldn’t be around my mom, so I was at his home a lot. Akira had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming and begging for it to stop. I didn’t know what was happening or why, but the nightmare had brought up a hundred different memories. She sat in the bathtub until morning. Her fingers were like raisins and her skin was red and blotchy from where she’d scrubbed herself raw when she finally exited the bathroom.

That was the sort of scream I heard from inside the apartment. We were lucky that Hizashi had been distracting the children at the time with Seirei. If Hizashi saw what I did, he wouldn’t have stopped Tomura. He wouldn’t have even thought about it. He would’ve personally saw to the pain and suffering of that man if he knew what he’d just done to his sister.

I broke eye contact with Keigo for just long enough to look at her. That was when I saw it. A dark, blooming mark on her neck, just beneath her jaw. My rage flared once more, and my chest tightened. It took every ounce of willpower not to snap then and there. I forced my voice to soften for her, “go inside, Akira.”

Mirai ushered them both inside, but not before turning to me and offering me one more piece of advice. “She still needs you, too, Shota. You’re also her person,” he reminded me before guiding them both into the apartment. It was his gentle way of reminding me not to lose myself in what I was about to do.

Once the door finally clicked shut, it was just the two of us.

Keigo and I.

He rolled his eyes, clearly not understanding exactly what was going to happen to him for what he did. He acted as if it was all just an inconvenience to him, as if he hadn’t shattered someone just for the sake of his own ego. “You always do this, Eraser. You step in like you have some sort of claim on her already,” he mocked me with a grimace.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m honest!” he laughed, but the sound was like broken glass. “I’ve been honest about everything! I’ve been honest about how much I care about her, how much I want her, and how much I can’t fucking stand you!” he ground out through gritted teeth as he stepped closer to me, his wings flaring like he could possibly hope to intimidate me at that point. That point had long passed.

I didn’t blink. “I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about Akira, and I care about what you did to her,” I hissed, my voice flat as all the rage I felt began compressing.

He grinned. Perhaps he noticed how close to the edge I was, and he wanted to push me. If I wasn’t already so close to killing him, I would’ve hoped for his sake that he would back off. Now, I was looking for any reasons to further justify my rage. “She wanted attention, and I gave it to her. That’s what I did,” he smirked, and though he was clearly just a showman, there was a piece of him that was clearly proud of the pain he’d dealt out to a girl who had already been through more than enough of it.

I saw red for just a moment, but I forced my voice to stay steady. “What you did…” I took a deep breath as I closed the gap between us further, “was cross a line that you don’t get to uncross. She may have a crush on you, but none of that grants you permission to ignore her when she tells you to stop. It doesn’t mean that you have unlimited consent to put your hands on her whenever you like.”

“This is ridiculous,” he scoffed before rolling his eyes again. “She’s blowing this completely out of proportion. You get it, don’t you? From one man to another, you can seriously sit here and tell me that she’s not one of the finest pieces of-”

The thread snapped.

I moved before I could think. My hand shot out, fisting tight in the collar of his shirt. I slammed him back against the wall so hard the stone wall cracked. The force of it rattled through my bones, but the pain did me well. His wings flared, but he didn’t move to fight back. Not yet. Instead, he glared back at me with narrowed and defiant eyes.

“First, your arrogance and recklessness lands her in a hospital, hanging on by a thread. Then, you call my son a greedy little monster. Then, you come around and create dissonance within my family whenever you visit,” I growled, leaning in as my voice shook with fury, “and then you come here, to a beautiful home, and you touch her. And then you ignore her when she tells you to stop!” I gritted my teeth, trying to keep myself tethered to reality.

She still needs you, too.

“So you will choose your next words carefully,” I growled.

He glared back at me, still not backing down. The challenge in his eyes was as obvious as the red mark on his cheek from where Akira must’ve struck him in a desperate attempt to fight back. “You think you scare me?” he spat out, his breath hot and sour with the whiskey he’d been drinking throughout the night.

“I’m trying very hard…” I paused, allowing the silence to stretch as I took a long breath, “…not to hurt you right now.” I whispered as my knuckles turned white from the grip I had on his collar. The urge to finish this—to end him—was overwhelming. I wanted to kill him, to shot him what happened when people tried to ruin the most precious gifts the world had ever sought to bestow upon me. I was her protector. I was created to protect the people I cared about, and she was one of them.

“You’re overreacting,” he sneered, but there was finally the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He didn’t believe it, not really. Not anymore. It took me threatening him to get him to understand the weight of his actions, but he hadn’t cared when it was Akira’s dignity and trust on the line.

“And you’re underreacting!” I snapped, my voice rising to a shout as I slammed him against the wall again. My rage was just as alive as I was, and I allowed him to see it in my eyes. I wanted him to know all the ways I wanted to hurt him.

He scoffed, but the bravado was fading from him with every passing moment. “What? Are you gonna give me a lecture? Tell me I’m not good for her? You think you’re better than me?” he spat, and I could see the threads of desperation beginning to weave into his voice with every word.

“I’m not better than you, Hawks. I’m worse, which is why I’m going to show you exactly how much worse I can be, so why don’t I make this a little more serious for you?” I asked, the words like ice as I leaned in, my eyes locked on his. My hand went to my thigh, fingers curling around the hilt of one of the many blades I kept sheathed beneath my pant leg. The movement was practiced, one I’d perfected to remain unnoticed by even the most discerning of eyes. In one motion, the blade was yanked free, and it was pressed hard against his throat, just beneath his jaw.

It was where the bruise had been on Akira’s neck.

His eyes blew wide as the reality of the situation finally sank through his drunken haze. His wings stilled as his cocky defiance drained from his face and posture. He suddenly seemed to remember the one thing that would’ve saved him had he only realized it sooner: I was not a man to be underestimated, not when it came to Akira. I spent years honing my skills, and while I never needed to kill anyone before, I knew exactly what it would take to do so. I’d prepared myself for it, and I wouldn’t think twice about using those skills if it meant protecting the ones I cared about most in this world.

“You’re leaving tonight, and you’re going back to Fukuoka,” I whispered, my voice low and menacing as I kept the blade pressed to his throat. “Don’t come back here, Hawks. Don’t call her. Don’t send her messages. Don’t even think about her.”

“She’ll come back to me,” he smirked, but the bravery behind his words was waning. “She always crawls right back to me, and I’ll be waiting.”

I would let him have his fantasy.

“And if she chooses to bring you back into her life after she processes what happened here tonight, you need to understand only one thing, and you need to understand it clearly…” I kept my voice slow and deliberate, as if every word was a promise. “If you ever take her choice away from her again, if you ever make her feel unsafe again, when her family and I have done everything and sacrificed everything to ensure that she never has that safety compromised the way it was when she was just a little girl,” I pressed the blade further into his throat just enough to draw a bead of blood, “I will not hesitate. I don’t care about rankings or reputation. I don’t care about whose blood ends up on my hands, not if it’s to keep her safe. You’ll wish I killed you tonight because what I do to you will make you wish you were dead.”

“You think she’ll thank you for this?” he sneered, but it was the last desperate attempt to cling to his pride.

I took a long breath, stepping away from him just enough to sheathe the blade back into its hiding place. “I don’t care about gratitude. I care about her peace, and I care about keeping her safe. I know that she’s safest when she’s far away from you.”

“So that’s it?” he asked, stroking his neck where the blood had started to trickle down. His voice was hoarse, and the eyes that met mine were no longer defiant but wary. “I just…get to walk away?”

I shook my head, cracking my neck once. “No,” I answered simply before my eyes darkened.

“You get to find out what it’s like when no one listens while you beg them to stop.”

He didn’t have time to process the words before I drew my fist back and slammed it into his jaw, all the rage and disgust and heartbreak at seeing that precious girl suffer at his hands unleashing itself in one fluid motion. I felt his jaw crack beneath my fist, and he stumbled backward, clutching at his face. I pulled him back up onto his feet as he blinked a few times, his eyes dazed and wide with shock.

“You’re…you’re making a mistake, Aizawa,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he spat up a mouthful of blood. “She won’t forgive you for this.”

I remembered Akira, trembling and pleading for me not to hurt him. I remembered Tomura’s desperate need to kill for her. And I remembered Mirai’s words, urging me not to lose myself to the darkness. Keigo hurt her, though, and her pain brought about that darkness within me. It was inescapable, no matter how many excuses she made for him or how many reminders of the “good man” that I was. It wasn’t enough to protect Keigo from my wrath after I’d seen her tears.

My gaze was like ice as I pulled my fist back once more, watching with a detached sense of satisfaction as he covered his face in preparation.

Seirei

We were the kind of family that only existed in stories, of that, I was completely and utterly certain. We were the sort of family one would see on the cover of a magazine, smiling in a spacious backyard with a fence Dad built and a garden Mom maintained. We were the family that left the doors unlocked and the windows open because there was nothing to fear. We were the family most families wanted to be. My siblings and I had sleepovers in the living room, and Mom and Dad would sneak downstairs at opposite times to sneak a few of our snacks and watch a few minutes of whatever movie we finally agreed on after spending the majority of time bickering and misremembering who chose last. Mom made sure to refill our waters and provide freshly cut fruit for us before returning upstairs.

We were loved.

The kitchen floor was warm from the late afternoon sun that poured in through the windows throughout the day. I stood with Sakura’s small body in my arms. She hated when she wasn’t with me, Hikaru, or Mom. Her little fist was tangled in my shirt, and her head of soft pink hair rested on my shoulder. Mom worked around the kitchen, effortlessly dancing around all of us as she worked on preparing dinner with Dad. He was less graceful than she was, but Mom had been a ballerina when she was younger, so it made sense. Dad had been a singer, but it was just so he could make use of his quirk somehow.

Mom and Dad couldn’t have been more different. Where Mom had fierce features with dark black hair and striking emerald green eyes, Dad had pastel pink hair with streaks of gold and gentle grey eyes that crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled. Dad smiled all the time, though, especially when he looked at our Mom. Mom didn’t smile as much as he did. He smiled at rainbows and the flowers Mom chose to plant and whenever we drew him pictures and whenever he saw a butterfly. Mom smiled only for us, never for the world. She smiled for Dad and for my siblings and I.

Hikaru and Hideyoshi were both at the counter, conspiring with that sibling telepathy that my older brothers seemed to be born with. Hikaru was the oldest with long black hair that reached his collarbones. It was always in his face, hiding those tired, storm-grey eyes that he inherited from Dad. He looked so much older than his 16 years, already carrying the weight of someone who’d seen too much, even though I didn’t understand why. It happened after his first work study, and Dad tried to talk him into leaving U.A. and pursuing a different path with his quirk. It only made Hikaru more determined to pursue a life as a hero.

Hideyoshi’s hair was shorter but still hung into his face with streaks of pink amidst the jet black strands. It was a mess again after wrestling with Hiroshi . Seijun had just brushed it after lunch, and he always found a way to make it a mess within an hour. He had a smile that could get him out of anything, though, and since Seijun was the oldest daughter and second born after Hikaru, she melted for all of us…most of the time.

Hikaru and Hideyoshi continued to snatch bits of food from the counter when they thought no one was looking, but everyone saw them. Dad pretended not to notice, eyes twinkling as he chopped vegetables, hiding his smile by casting it at Mom instead. Neither of them ever said “no” to us when we were hungry. We never knew the feeling of empty bellies…not yet. If there wasn’t food to go around, the only ones who knew what it was like to go to bed without having enough were our parents.

Seijun floated through the kitchen with the same effortless grace as our mother. She was the spitting image of our mom, too, with the same long black hair that hung down to her mid-back and striking emerald green eyes that seemed to exist only for her siblings. We all loved our parents, but Seijun was like a third parent in the family, watching over us and sacrificing for us when we were too young to understand what it meant. She often decided that she didn’t enjoy her favorite things that much when there was only one of something left. She had always been a bit of a martyr, and when I cried to her once about it as a child, she told me that I’d someday understand when I became an older sister to someone.

I found out quickly when Hiroshi was born after me. The first time I held him when I was just 3 years old, I realized that there was a gift greater than being a younger sister, and that was being someone’s older sister. Hiroshi looked just like our father with none of the golden hair and just the cotton candy pink hair and soft grey eyes. He was Hideyoshi’s shadow, always trying to keep up with the third-born. Then, there was Sakura, three years old and always reaching for me. I was blessed to be the older sister to two siblings. It was the thing I was best at: being a sister.

As Hideyoshi pilfered another slice of fried sweet potato, making eye contact with me with a smirk as he held it out to showcase it teasingly, I hurried over to him, making sure not to trip over anything, especially with Sakura in my arms. “Gimme some,” I insisted, reaching for it with my free hand.

He grinned as he held it aloft, far above my head. He knew I couldn’t reach since he was so much taller than me already at just 12. “Short people tax,” he declared with a snort as he dangled the potato slice even higher.

I jostled Sakura on my hip and jumped for it anyway, causing her to giggle. When I didn’t reach it, I grimaced for a moment, “I’m 10! I’ll be taller than you someday!” I insisted, my voice filled with the determination I always had when speaking to either of my older brothers. My cheeks burned with frustration, embarrassment, and a fierce sense of competitiveness that only siblings could ever understand. It was a competitive drive I was born with as the fourth child and second daughter, a desire to stand out as a middle child.

I didn’t know then that I was right, that I would outgrow him, but it was only because he didn’t live to continue competing with me.

Because I was the last one left.

Hideyoshi popped the potato in his mouth before sticking his tongue out with a triumphant grin. I jumped around him before kicking him in the back of his knee just hard enough to make him stumble forward. “Ow!” he yelped, not really hurt. It was such a dramatic moment that it didn’t even garner the attention of our parents.

Hikaru smirked and grabbed another piece for himself.

Sakura giggled, her breath sweet and warm against my collarbone. I bounced her gently, feeling her legs swinging against my stomach as she pressed a sticky kiss to my cheek. Her mouth was sticky from the strawberries Seijun had cut up for her to tide her over between lunch and dinner.

Mom caught my eye, smiling softly as she handed Seijun some bowls to set the table with. “Be nice to your sister, Hideyoshi,” she instructed him, but there was no real bite to her tone. She knew it was how we loved one another—loudly, messily, with a hundred small acts of teasing and forgiveness. She knew what it was like to be the eldest daughter, but she also knew what it was like to be a daughter in general.

Hikaru stepped in, his movements as quiet as always. He was just as graceful as Mom was, but there was a way he moved that dominated the space around him, as if he was made to be an older brother. He wasn’t much of a talker, especially not with people outside of our family, but I was the one who got the most out of him. He handed me his own stolen slice of fried sweet potato, palm open with no hint of teasing. Hikaru was soft with my sisters and I, giving into our every whim the same way our father did, whereas Hideyoshi treated all of us like brothers. Hikaru was my guiding light. He was my sail and the wind in them. “You’re supposed to aim higher. Knees will only take them down for a second, and he’d still be taller than you, Rei,” he murmured with dry amusement dripping from every word. He always called me that, like he’d decided who I was before I even knew myself. It was the name I preferred.

I took the piece of food from him, savoring in the small victory of being loved enough to be sacrificed for. I shot Yoshi a glare, sticking my tongue out at him as Hikaru ruffled my hair. His long fingers mussed the braid that Seijun had done for me that morning. I smacked his hand away quickly, “you’re gonna ruin it!”

He grinned as his eyes flashed with a playfulness that didn’t come around as much since that first work study he had done. “Seijun braided it too tight. You’ll get a headache,” he teased, tugging gently at the braid.

“Girls always know how to braid hair,” I argued back, chin tilted with stubborn pride as I crossed my arms over my chest.

Hideyoshi piped up from the other side of the counter, mouth half-full of a rice ball. “Might be the only thing Seijun knows how to do,” he laughed, ducking as Seijun lobbed a kitchen towel at his head. She missed, but she didn’t care, stalking over to tug at his hair in retaliation, her face caught somewhere between a scowl and a smile. She rarely “punished” us, especially for teasing. The only time she’d actually use her stern voice was when were dangerously close to accidentally hurting ourselves or one another.

As Seijun grabbed Hideyoshi’s hair, tugging on it as a form of punishment and sisterly teasing, Hikaru chose that moment to ruffle my hair again, deliberately ruining the neat braid. I glared at him before checking that our parents weren’t looking. When I saw that they were still focused on dinner, I lifted my middle finger, the gesture aimed specifically toward Hikaru, the one who taught it to me in the first place. I’d caught him doing it to one of his friends when I was 6 years old and had asked him about it. He told me it was his way of speaking a silent language to his friends.

He said that it wasn’t a gesture to do in front of our parents or where my sisters could see it since it wasn’t really something girls should see…or do. It was a language for boys, but since he was my brother, it became a language between the two of us, a way of saying “I’ve got you” and “I love you.” It made me feel close and connected to him, which made me feel safe.

Sakura twisted in my arms, and I tucked the finger back down along with Hikaru, who had made the gesture back at me with a smirk. I pressed a kiss to her cheek as I wrapped both arms around her, keeping her tucked close and propped up on my hip. Hideyoshi and Seijun continued bickering, and Hiroshi jumped in, desperately trying to talk Seijun down from potentially killing Hideyoshi for his words. Yoshi just whined about having a “sensitive scalp” like he hadn’t started the fight in the first place.

“I should never worry about you, Rei,” Hikaru smiled, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear before gently tugging the messed up braid. “Wherever you go, chaos ensues. You’ll be just fine.”

Dad began humming quietly as he chopped up some of the vegetables. The sound was barely audible over our bickering and laughter, but Mom always seemed to notice. She glanced sideways at him, and he must’ve felt her eyes on him because he looked up with a sheepish grin as he continued to hum. That was one of the smiles that was reserved only for her. She rolled her eyes, but I knew even at that time that it was all for show. When she thought no one was watching, she leaned into his space, and he bent down to press a kiss to her lips.

Just as we were the family other families wanted to be, our parents were the couple that other couples wanted to be. Hikaru often told me when I was younger and made disgusted faces at Mom and Dad when they kissed that I should find someone who looked at me the way our parents looked at each other. He told me to find someone who loved me the way they did each other, someone whose existence was a balance to my own. He told me that he didn’t pray for much, but he prayed that my siblings and I would find that someday. I didn’t know who prayed for Hikaru, but from that day, I prayed for him, too. I didn’t know what I way praying to, but my nightly words in the silence of my mind were in the hands of the universe for him.

Hideyoshi groaned dramatically as he caught sight of the moment between our parents. “Again?! You’re so embarrassing!” he blurted out, making a face as he rolled his eyes.

Seijun just giggled and covered Hiroshi’s eyes as she watched our parents with the same eyes I did, like someday we could find someone to love us like that, with gentle hands and kindness in their heart.

Undeterred by our reactions, Dad took Mom’s hand and spun her in a wide circle on those warm kitchen tiles. She effortlessly dodged out mess and the stool that Hiroshi had left pushed up against the counter by her feet. The ballerina in her came out again as she turned the kitchen into a dance floor. She gazed back at him, pretending to be unimpressed with her nose in the air, but her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. Dad started singing, his voice smooth and bright with the depth that could usually only be achieved by a choir. Mom said he used to sing for thousands, backed by an entire orchestra, that people were so moved by his voice that they’d take their families to see him perform.

Now, Dad only sang for her and for us.

He sang the song he’d written for her, and she tried to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle. When he twirled her under his arm and dipped her low with a laugh of his own between the words of the song, she finally cracked, and a real laugh burst from her as she clung to his shoulders. “You may be an incredible singer, but you are the worlds worst danger,” she accused him, breathless and cheeks tinted pink.

He grinned, “well, I can’t be good at everything, and I decided to be the best at choosing a wife,” he winked at her, pulling her back up to hold her close before swaying with her gently.

“Smooth,” she teased him, but it was clear she had already melted for him. Her sternness slipped away like it always did when dad became playful.

“Besides,” Dad began, spinning her again before pulling her back in so her back was pressed to his chest, “you dance well enough for both of us,” he whispered, his voice soft and warm before continuing to hum as he nuzzled his face into her dark black hair.

She shook her head with a giggle, the sound soft and bright, like a melody of her own that matched his perfectly. “I’m just grateful our kids got my grace,” she teased him again before turning in his arms to face him once more in order to press her lips to his in another lingering kiss.

“And your beauty,” Dad murmured, his eyes sparkling with a look I couldn’t quite understand. It was like he was seeing the universe in her eyes, like every ounce of existence had been condensed down and lived within her, like it was a secret that only her eyes had the key to unlocking. His eyes glistened as we all became the background actors in their love story, our laughter and bickering accompanying their smooth steps. “And your laugh,” he added, kissing her once more before resting his forehead to the top of hers, “and your heart.”

They continued to dance, their steps not quite in sync but close enough to create a rhythm of their own, as if they were creating music in the way they moved together. Something ached in my chest, something that hoped I could someday have something like that. It was the piece of me that had prayed for Hikaru to have the same thing he prayed for me to have. Dad brought out the softest sides of Mom, the ones she never showed to the world, and I realized even then that love could be loud and bright and even a bit goofy, not just serious and stern.

It was Hikaru who finally corralled us all outside with Seijun’s help. They herded us out the back door with half-hearted calls for us to play outside so our parents could have a moment alone. Hideyoshi and Hiroshi bolted straight for the patchy grass, immediately locked in some imaginary battle. Sakura tottered after them once I put her down, arms spread wide, while Seijun chased after her to keep her from putting too many things in her mouth that she found on the ground. That left just Hikaru and I at the edge of the porch, sun slanting low and golden through the trees.

He nudged my shoulder, which was a silent invitation to what we both knew always came when we were away from our parents. They had wanted to give me a few more years of “just being young” in order to save me from the weight Seijun and Hikaru both carried. Hideyoshi didn’t want to be a hero the way I did. Seijun was already a hero in her own right, though she wasn’t nearly as successful as Hikaru was, instead having been accepted at Seiai Academy instead of U.A., but she didn’t care about the prestige of the school. She only cared that she was getting the best training for her quirk. She was capable of singing songs that could alter the moods of people around her, and with more intensive training from the academy, she had been learning to influence some of their choices instead of just their moods.

Hikaru, however, was the reason I wanted to be a hero in the first place. I’d watched his U.A. acceptance video until my eyes burned when he finally got in. Our quirks were so alike that our parents often called us two sides of the same coin. He could turn his into something incredible, something beautiful, and it made me believe that I could, too. I didn’t feel like I was invisible when his quirk was something that made him shine in my eyes.

Despite our parents insisting that I wait until I was a bit older to train as hard as Hikaru trained me, his eyes danced with mischief, “are you ready?” he asked, already rolling up his sleeves as his easy confidence radiated off of him.

I nodded my head, quickly fixing my braid so it was neat again. Braids made it harder to be grabbed, and even though my quirk made me difficult to grab, I was still trying to find ways to activate it on some parts of my body while leaving other parts of my body tangible. I just wanted him to be proud of me, and I knew I could do that by following in his footsteps, especially after he’d been so excited when my quirk finally appeared and was a close match to his own.

He moved first, melting into a blur I could barely track. He flickered in and out of sight, his quirk always so far ahead of mine. I concentrated as hard as I could, feeling my heart thudding in my ears and the energy humming in my chest. I spread my power through my arms. Each time his hand slipped through one wrist, I strengthened the power of one of my other appendages and used it to hit or kick him. When he grabbed me, I focused on the shade from the trees to melt into, escaping him completely and putting distance between us. It wasn’t perfect, but I was improving each time we fought.

“Not bad,” he smirked, “but you’re still a little slow.”

We moved together, falling into a rhythm that was so uniquely us: half-training that turned into half-game. He was patient with me each time I messed up a move he’d call out for me to do. He always stopped to show me how to fix my mistakes instead of allowing me to get frustrated with myself for failing in the first place. When I stumbled, he offered a hand. When I got it right, he grinned and swung a little harder at me to test the limits of my growth and to see how far I could push myself. He never stopped when I did well and only stopped once I began performing poorly so that he could provide direction.

My quirk first manifested during a time when Hikaru had been questioning his own purpose. I’d heard him speaking to our father about how his quirk was nothing flashy, which meant he wouldn’t be one of the greats in pro hero society, especially not someone who could compare to the likes of All Might. Despite Dad telling him that he didn’t need to be like All Might because being like Hikaru was more than enough, my brother still struggled. That was the day my quirk—a quirk that was just like his—manifested.

Suddenly, it was the quirk of a powerful future hero.

He had hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, spinning me in the air. I knew from our conversations with one another after the fact that he had felt when our siblings inherited quirks more similar to that of our father. He told me that it was what drove him to attending U.A. in the first place, what made him truly see himself as a future hero.

We practiced until my arms ached and sweat dripped down my back, until Seijun called for us to relax before dinner because too much rough-housing before dinner would make us sick when we ate. We practiced until Hiroshi and Hideyoshi were finally tuckered out enough to collapse into the grass and stare up at the sky with heaving chests from having run around in the garden.

Not wanting to upset Seijun, Hikaru pulled me off toward the grass by the berry bushes that Mom loved to nurture. He settled into the grass, picking one of the berries and handing it to me before picking one for himself. Hikaru always made sure I received the first and last of everything. He never ate until I had a full plate, and he told me that someday when Hiroshi and Sakura were a little older, I’d understand the pure joy of doing things like that for my littler siblings. “Do you think you’ll want to go to U.A. someday? Or are you thinking of Seiai instead?” he asked, his voice filled with nothing but curiosity about where I wanted my future to end up.

“U.A.” I answered without hesitation because the answer was truly that simple. “I want to be just like you someday,” I added, glancing up at him, my eyes wide with the dream of someday becoming a hero and working as a sidekick in his future hero agency because I just knew my brother was made to be a hero.

He nudged me as he huffed out a fond laugh, “I want you to be better than me. That’s the whole point of me doing it first…so you can learn from my mistakes before you make them yourself.” His eyes seemed to get a far-away look before he chuckled to himself, grabbing another berry for both of us, “you know, it won’t be long before you won’t even need me to walk you to school. You’ll be able to take care of yourself,” he added in a soft and gentle tone. The words and his lightheartedness were shadowed by something I couldn’t quite place with my inexperienced mind.

I frowned at the thought of being separated from him, picking at a blade of grass at my side. I didn’t even like imagining a world where he wasn’t there to guide me. I didn’t like going anywhere alone, and Hikaru didn’t like sending me anywhere on my own. We made the perfect team. “Well, what if I never want to go anywhere alone?” I shot back, not quite joking but keeping my voice light.

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness at the corners of his mouth. “Someday you might have to. If I’m not here to-”

“You’ll always be here,” I interrupted him, the thought coming out the moment he spoke those words. I didn’t like thinking of a life without my brother. He was as constant as the sunrise. Even when he was gone for school or work studies, some part of him was always with me, a piece of his laughter that matched my own or the way my hair fell in front of my face the way it did his.

He looked away for a second as if seeking all the ways to continue the conversation without upsetting me. “What if I become a really big-shot hero and have my own agency? What if I…what if I go far away?” he asked as if he was testing the idea on both of us, though it didn’t seem as if he planned on the hypothetical scenario ever becoming real. It was like he was trying to have a different conversation with me without saying the words he wanted to say. Instead, it was like he was hiding them behind simpler questions.

“You would take me with you,” I insisted. It was the only answer that made sense. Hikaru and I were a pair—every plan for the future started and ended with us together. I’d never connect to another person the way I connected with him. There was no one like him.

He chuckled, ruffling my hair again, but the laugh faded quicker than it normally did. “And what if you weren’t able to come with me?”

“I’d find a way to follow you,” I replied as I kept my chin held high, every ounce of stubbornness I inherited from him on full display.

When he looked at me that time, I noticed something heavier than that conversation in his eyes. It was something that was much more tired than normal, the exhaustion that came from his first work study. “There are some places that I might go where you can’t follow me, Rei. You’ll be able to take care of yourself if that time ever comes. You’re strong and smart and…fast enough for now,” he reminded me, trying to keep the conversation light despite the heavy sound of his voice, like the words had more meanings than just the ones I was hearing.

“Why would you even go somewhere I can’t follow in the first place? You love me, right?” I questioned as I studied him.

“It’s because I love you so much that I’ve already been so many places you can’t follow. That’s what heroes do, Rei. When I get my provisional license, I’ll go even more places where you can’t follow. It’ll be my job as a hero, but it’s even more my job as your older brother,” he replied with a gentle smile.

“Well, then I’ll just get really strong, and I’ll go with you. I’ll get into U.A., and I’ll be the best sidekick you could ever ask for, and we’ll go everywhere together,” I insisted with a determined look on my face.

He chuckled to himself, the weight finally lifting from his eyes as he looked at me like I was the sunrise itself, “until then, just let me do my job of being your older brother because it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m meant to go first.”

And he did.

Hikaru was the first to die the night they came for my sisters and I.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Akira

The last 3 days since Keigo arrived had gone by in a blur. Friday was my birthday, Saturday was the party, but Wednesday began the celebrations with Mirai having scheduled a private appointment at an upscale boutique for Tomura and I to be fitted for semi-formal attire. Tomura got his first ever suit, which was tailored to fit him nicely. I was measured for a custom-made gown of my own design. After insisting that it wasn’t necessary, I gave in when Mirai told me he’d keep the boutique closed all day until I spoke with the designer. I sat with her for over an hour, going over what made me feel confident and beautiful when it came to clothes while Mirai waited patiently. He hovered and watched like a hawk whenever either of us were touched, poked, or prodded, questioning the reason behind every mere graze against my body.

On Thursday, he took Tomura and I to my favorite local bookstore insisting that I purchase anything and everything my heart desired. When an armful of books wasn’t enough for his liking, he insisted on taking us to a second—much larger—bookstore where he followed Tomura and I around, purchasing any books that even slightly caught our eyes. While we had been out, he’d hired some woodworkers to craft custom bookshelves for both of our rooms.

Keigo had been frustrated that night when we went out for a private dinner that he hadn’t seen me for the entire morning and afternoon, and he felt like he was being forgotten. I spent the entire dinner trying to convince him that I was happy to have him visiting, and I wasn’t ignoring his presence.

Friday was the most extravagant day by far. Mirai hired a horse and carriage to show up outside of the apartment. He presented me with a bouquet of white and gold daisies, violet carnations, and blue roses. The bouquet was beautiful. Tomura and I were whisked away to a botanical garden that was decorated just for the occasion, complete with a live string quartet, string lights throughout the garden, and a full course meal prepared by some of the best chefs in the city. When Mirai arrived at the end of the dinner with Shota and Hizashi, we split up. Tomura was brought by my brother and Shota to a studio where a custom guitar was made just for him, while Mirai took me back to the apartment.

Upon going up to the roof with him, I found that it had been decorated with lights, balloons, and even more flowers. Littered along a walkway to the other side of the roof that overlooked the city were mementos. The fist blanket he’d ever gotten for me that I refused to part ways with until I was brought to the Yamada family, and then he didn’t want to part from it. There was the first picture I’d ever drawn for him, the first book he ever read to me, the well-loved stuffed bear he’d gotten for me the first night I spent with him after I was rescued. He didn’t want me to feel alone, so he had gifted me Mr. Night, the name having come from the bear being the color of his eyes, which were my favorite shade of yellow. It made me feel safe. There was my first ever hero costume along with all of the sketches I had sent to him prior to me even getting into U.A. as I planned for the future.

It was as if he’d laid out my entire life in front of me, reminding me that before I had ever been a hero, before I had ever been Stardust, I had been his baby girl. I had no shame as he walked me through the lines of pictures and mementos, holding me close to him as he reminisced on the moments that had shaped me into who I was. It was at that moment that I realized just how much I had been loved in my life. The first five years of my life may have been filled with fear, pain, and loss with only the purest love from my brother; however, I wasn’t lacking love after the basement. I had several homes after that, and Mirai’s heart was the first one.

My first birthday after the basement—the year I turned 6—I had begged my new adopted parents to allow me to spend the night with Mirai, and they’d agreed. He took me for the weekend, making sure I was pampered, and on the night of my birthday, he baked two dozen cupcakes until he got one just right before presenting it to me with a little candle. It had been a strawberry cupcake with strawberry filling and a fluffy frosting. It had melted in my mouth, and I’d cried as I realized just how much my life had changed. While he ate a lopsided one, he made sure I had the perfect one, and he’d smiled regardless.

There hadn’t been a single birthday after that first one that I didn’t have him. I’d spent the weekend of my birthday or the weekend after my birthday with him every single year without fail. He had been there for every single one of my big days, my first days of school, my last days of school, my ballet recitals, my elementary and middle school choir concerts, every time I played piano or violin in front of any crowd, he’d been there. He hadn’t lived with us, but Hizashi always let me know that it was Mirai who was the reason there was food on the table some weeks after his parents died. It was Mirai who paid for my piano and violin lessons. It was Mirai who bought most of my school clothes and uniforms. All he ever asked for as repayment from Hizashi was my newest school pictures each year.

Saturday was the birthday party. Seirei was with Tomura and I as we took Hitoshi out for ice cream. He dragged me along with laughter that made my heart ache with joy. When we reached the ice cream shop, he was practically bouncing with excitement as Tomura, Seirei, and I insisted that he order first. He made sure the woman filling our cones knew “it’s his mommy’s birthday.” He still hadn’t addressed me as his mother, only doing it about me and never to me. Even as I tried to explain that my birthday was the day before, and it was just the day of the party, she insisted that my cone was on the house.

Once we returned to the apartment, that was when the party began. I had barely stepped through the door with Tomura when chaos, color, and sound crashed over mem like a tidal wave.

“SURPRISE!”

The world exploded around me, voices overlapping, some too loud, some tripping over each other, as if the word itself was confetti that was being thrown at Tomura and I in celebration. I’d been expecting the party to be much later in the evening, especially since when we left the house to get ice cream, the apartment was quiet with not a decoration in sight. Now, streamers were tangled together to create blue, violet, and white spirals all throughout the room, a balloon archway was set up over the doorway, balloons that matched the blue, violet, and white theme were tied to the furniture, and a large banner reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA & AKIRA” hung on the living room wall.

The smell of pizza in boxes from my and Tomura’s favorite pizza place mingled with the scent of all too familiar colognes that Keigo, Enji, and Tensei wore. Those scents also mixed with the sweet scent of a cake, the fresh and sweet scents of cut up fruits, and savory scents of appetizers. They had done so much in such a short amount of time. Shota was even awake and had his hair pulled back. He was dressed!

As my senses were overloaded with the sounds, smells, and sights, I froze, desperately clutching Tomura’s left arm like we’d both dissolve if I let go. He reached across his body and ran the tip of his trembling finger over my knuckles in an attempt to soothe me. As Keigo began talking Enji’s ear off, Tensei became the voice of reason in a debate between Hizashi and Nemuri. She was dressed in her usual casual attire, which I was grateful for when I noticed that Enji and Tensei had both brought children around Hitoshi’s age with them. I was equally as grateful for the music that Hizashi must’ve put on since it drowned out a lot of the conversations that were being had.

I still scanned the room for my anchors. Mirai wasn’t difficult to spot being one of the tallest in the room. He crossed the room with a few short strides to stand right in front of me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. Even in the midst of chaos, his presence was enough to keep me from bolting. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, “happy birthday, sweetheart,” he smiled softly before gazing over at another piece of my soul that inhabited the boy beside me. He lifted a hand, brushing some of Tomura’s growing hair out of his eyes, “and happy birthday to you, too, Tomura.”

I felt Tomura’s body stiffen when Mirai touched him, but he relaxed just as quickly as I had when I was a child. He had been coming to realize that Mirai was just as much of a safe haven for him as he had been for me. We’d both been through unspeakable horrors at the hands of men, neither of us knowing the depths of the others pain, but he trusted my lead. The men in my life were good.

Most of them.

“Why don’t you go introduce yourself to the other kids? It looks like they might need some company,” I suggested to Hitoshi, knowing that it would be good exposure for him but also the other children. I knew Tensei’s younger brother was bound to be similar to him, and I knew all too well that Shoto would crave the presence of anyone but his father. Luckily, as long as Shoto was under my brother’s roof, he would be able to be a child.

Hitoshi nodded, immediately fixing his eyes on Shoto. It was as if he could sense who needed him the most. Like how his soul sensed that mine needed him when we found each other in Hiza City.

Once greetings occurred, which weren’t much for young boys, they made their way to the table that had enough food to feel a small army. That was when I noticed the cake. It was at the center of the dining table. It took my breath away. The top and bottom tiers were both deep and vibrant blues and violets, and the middle tier was where those colors bled into beautiful golden swirls that were like galaxies. White stars were painted on the cake. Decorating the cake were red and pale blue flowers, which were perfect replicas of Tomura’s eyes and hair. They curled along the edges and wound up toward the top tier of the cake. It was beautiful.

The view of the cake had taken my breath away, but the crowded room made it impossible for me to breathe again. The room felt like it was spinning as every voice became too sharp and too loud. The colors around me became too bright, and my heart began kicking against my ribs as if it was trying to escape my chest. I felt like I couldn’t pull in a breath, like my lungs were being crushed by the weight of the crowd. I didn’t want to be in a crowd again.

“Do you like the cake?” Mirai asked, his voice soft and soothing as it cut through the swarm of stimuli. My eyes immediately flickered up to his golden ones, and the weight on my chest was gone. I took a long breath, and the world began to right itself once more. I nodded, my throat too dry to form words, but I was present. “I made sure there were 71 stars on the cake, not one more, not one less,” he explained, trying to distract my mind from the panic that was finally dying down.

I stepped further into his warmth, pressing my face into his chest as I focused on the slowness of his breathing. He pulled me in a little closer, his long arms wrapping around my shoulders as he grounded me with that familiar warmth that only he had been able to provide me since the time I was a child. As the first man I ever truly trusted, no one else could ever give me that feeling. I was truly untouchable when I was in his arms. The steady beat of his heart had soothed me since I was little. I could remember the times when I would request him to hold me while I fell asleep because the sound of his heartbeat was the only thing that calmed me down and kept the nightmares at bay after the basement.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers tracing slow circles between my shoulder blades. “Just a deep breath, and you’ll be alright,” he whispered the words just for me. He didn’t want to make me feel like I was being watched or judged for my panic, which was why he was trying to keep the conversation between just the two of us. I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut, pulling air deep into my lungs yet again. “Just like that. Good job,” he praised me, his voice filled with the same pride as he had used the first time I managed to brave the grocery store with him as a child. He had to carry me the entire way, but I still managed to make it without a full-blown meltdown ahead of time.

As I exhaled, I turned my head to face outward only to catch sight of Shota. His eyes were focused solely on me, having closed the gap between us to drape his arm over Tomura’s shoulders. He stood close, his body a shield around the two of us. Tomura and I were lucky to have the two of them. I reminded myself over and over again that these were my people. Everyone in the apartment, they were my village. They weren’t just another faceless crowd.

As Seirei stepped around the two of us, already making a beeline for Tsukauchi who had been pulled into the conversation between Enji and Keigo, Shota cleared his throat. “Shoes off, Seirei,” he reminded her, his voice dry as ever.

I almost smiled at the fatherly or older brotherly tone he used with her, as if she was a child who was coming in from playing outside. She was already rolling her eyes and kicking her shoes off. She reached into the pocket of her jeans, “yeah, could you just hold this for me?” she asked before pulling out her hand with her middle finger raised at him.

Shota didn’t even blink, the gesture not surprising him. The ease with which they interacted was something that I had been grateful for from the beginning. Neither of them seemed to like the other, but they still found a way to make it work, and I knew that it was for my sake. Everything Seirei ever did since the moment I came into her life was for me, and Shota did everything in his power to make and keep me happy. I knew that if either of them tried to disturb the fragile peace Hizashi had so carefully constructed around me, my brother would have no problems destroying both of them. He was nice until it was time to be cruel, and he could be cruel when it came to protecting the people he loved.

Still, the absurdity of the moment caused me to laugh. The sound was shaky, but it was genuine, causing Mirai’s arms to tighten around me slightly as if he was trying to anchor me in the moment before it could slip away. Shota’s eyes found mine, and his gaze softened almost instantly, the sides of his mouth tugging into a crooked smile. Just as we stepped out of the doorway and I was approached by Tsukauchi who stepped forward to hug me gently and pat Tomura on the shoulder, my eyes caught sight of Hitoshi at the snack table. Tsukauchi began discussing a case with Mirai that was in the works. I didn’t focus on it, too distracted by the sight of three boys at the snack table.

Hitoshi stood closest to it, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to stack a tiny sandwich: cracker, cheese, slice of meat, and another cracker. Every move was careful, as if he were a doctor who was performing a life-saving procedure instead of just being a child building a snack. Next to him, Tenya and Shoto stood, still glancing around them at the wide array of food, decorations, and people all in one place. Shoto’s face was the one that snagged me, though. His eyes continued to drift toward his father, and there was a visible flicker of something I recognized all too well in his eyes. It was the only time I hated Enji: when I thought of the type of father he was. I didn’t have to see bruises or hear screams in order to know that Enji was cruel to Shoto.

When Shoto’s eyes flickered from the food on the table with a longing that no child should experience before checking to see if his father noticed him, my chest filled with a furious heat. I recognized looks like that, looks that told me that food was a privilege and not a right in his home, that food was used to reward good behavior and a lack of food was a punishment for being “bad.” I remembered those looks on my other half’s face when we were children, the way he looked so hungry, staring at the food our father ate in front of him, desperate for nothing more than scraps.

It made me want to break my vow to save my first for the man who took my brother from me.

Shaking the rage from my chest, I knew that it was more important for me to foster something soft than give the children something else to fear. I wasn’t about to let a single child feel hungry. Not in my home. Not ever.

I crossed the room, peeling away from Mirai for the first time since the party began and the sounds overwhelmed me. He let me go with a bit of hesitation, offering me a final squeeze of my shoulder before noticing where I was going and loosening his grip. Even if he were to forget everything else about me, the one thing I was sure he’d remember was my inability to mind my own business, especially when children were involved. Putting on my warmest smile, I planted myself behind Hitoshi, pulling the cracker sandwich from his hands and fixing it without a single word before presenting him with it. “I see you three found the best section of snacks,” I smiled softly, running my hand through Hitoshi’s hair.

He beamed up at me, his violet eyes shining with pride. Tenya and Shoto just stared up at me with mouths half-open as if I were a legend and not just a student who was on her way to becoming a hero.

“You’re Stardust!” Tenya gasped before immediately bowing at his waist. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am!” he declared.

Hitoshi didn’t miss a beat as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “She’s my mommy!” he announced as if that was the answer to every question in the world. His mouth was full of the cracker sandwich I’d given to him, so I brushed off the pieces of crumbs that ended up on his cheeks and chin.

“Your mom is a hero?!” Shoto asked as his head tilted and curiosity mixed with disbelief.

“Yeah!” Hitoshi exclaimed as his chest puffed up with confidence and pride. I understood in that moment what Shota had meant the day after we brought Hitoshi home when he told me: “this was always what you were fighting for.” He understood me before I even did. By my side, my son had pride and confidence. He was courageous, and someday, he’d be all that even without me. Not for a long time, though, I hoped. He continued, “she’s gonna be the best hero in the world someday…even better than All Might!” He looked up at me with a wide, lopsided smile on his face.

My heart nearly burst.

I ruffled his hair before smoothing it back, wanting my touch to linger. He grounded me as much as I did him. “Maybe until you boys are heroes someday, and then I’m sure I won’t be able to keep up,” I smiled softly, wanting to build their confidence while Hitoshi wanted to put me on a pedestal that I had no right to exist on. “First and foremost, though, I’m Hitoshi’s mom. That’s more important than anything else,” I reminded him gently, hugging him a little closer as I felt the shiver pass through him that was a precursor to a few tears. He burrowed into my side, wrapping his arms around my waist. It was his safe place, so I simply rubbed a soothing hand through his hair and over his back.

Tenya was staring up at me like I’d placed every star in the sky. It was the same way Hitoshi looked at me since the very night we met. It put an incredible responsibility on my shoulders, and though the weight of fostering the hopes and safety of children crushed my father once upon a time, it was an easy weight for me to carry. “You must be Tenya,” I beamed, and his eyes widened as I used the name he hadn’t told me. His jaw hung slack for just a moment before he righted himself. “I’ve worked with your older brother a few times, and he talks about you every chance he gets.”

He stepped forward, “my older brother, Tensei, has often told me that you’re who I’m meant to keep up with.”

“You Iida boys are fast, though, so you’ll have no problem catching up,” I smiled before reaching out to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. His shoulders immediately straightened even more, and a hint of pink tinged his cheeks. I didn’t want to tell him that Tensei was wrong, but he was. Tensei was heroic and kind. He was soft with those he saved, and I had even witnessed him sitting vigil in the hospital until he knew that those he rescued were safe. He was also patient and kind with me, reaching me even while we worked together. Tensei built me up, but he was who I put onto a pedestal along with a handful of other heroes.

I turned my attention to the boy with the red and white hair that hung over his grey and turquoise eyes. That turquoise. It was just like the first ever boy who kissed me. The only one. The sweetest boy I’d ever known. That was why it hurt so deeply knowing that Enji was so cruel to Shoto…because all I could think of was Touya with his sad eyes. “And you’re Shoto,” I smiled softly at him, watching as a spark of hope lit up his face for just a second.

“My dad probably told you about me, didn’t he?” he asked, his voice low and uncertain, almost defeated. It was the same reaction I had when people recognized me from my father when I was little. I didn’t like being associated with him, that they saw me and thought of him. Shoto clearly felt a similar way as his fingers twisted together and his shoulders fell.

I’m supposed to make him feel confident. That’s my job.

I shook my head, “I make it a point to know as many future heroes as I can, so I ask about you a lot. I want to know who to look out for.” When I reached out to brush his hair out of his face, I made sure to move slowly, so he could step away if he wanted to. It was how Hizashi moved when I was first brought to him, how Mirai had treated me in the beginning. His eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, as my fingers carded through his soft hair, he let out a long-held breath. His features softened, and his shoulders eased.

I knew it was time to break the tension. Children deserved joy, not heavy hearts at a party. In an effort to do just that, I turned my attention back to the table of appetizers, determined to give them something lighter to focus on. “You know, I used to make sandwiches out of these crackers all the time, just like Hitoshi’s been doing. My brother and I did it all the time,” I smiled fondly, though I didn’t burden their hearts with the reasons why we used to make the cracker sandwiches, that it was because sometimes that was the only food we could scrounge without being noticed, and we’d hoard it in our room. Those were my burdens to bear.

Picking up a cracker, I held it up. Tomura joined the group, stepping to the other side of me. “I was just about to show the boys how my brother and I used to make these sandwiches, so you’re just in time for the demonstration,” I laughed, which caused his lips to curl into a smile that brought me right back to my happiest days with my other half, times when he would laugh and smile like there wasn’t a monster living in that house with us. He gestured for me to continue, so I showcased the cracker to everyone, “I used to pretend the crackers were slices of bread,” I chuckled, letting a little bit of the nostalgia color my voice.

The four of them watched me with a kind of intensity that was usually only reserved for magic tricks. I picked out a piece of sliced meat and laid it across the cracker. “Shoto, what kind of cheese should I use for this one?” I asked, wanting to give him the power of choice, which was something I doubted he often had with a father like Enji, which was already too close to having a father like mine.

He pointed to a thin slice of cheddar, “that one.”

“Good choice,” I praised him, picking up the exact slice he had pointed to before placing it atop the meat. I could already feel Enji’s stare from across the room, but I refused to give him even a flicker of my attention when Shoto was in such dire need of it. As a mentor, Enji was one of the best I could ever ask for, but when his son was involved, I couldn’t care less about the number two hero. “And what makes this sandwich even better?” I asked, looking around at each of them for an answer.

“A pickle,” Tomura piped up as if the answer was so obvious.

I whipped around to face him only to find a look of nostalgia clear in his eyes as well, as if watching me brought him back to a time that was just as precious as my time with my brother. I nodded, “that’s right…a pickle,” I replied, still shocked that he’d been able to guess it so easily when it had been such an odd combination the first time I forced Hizashi and Shota to try it. Hizashi ate it immediately, but it took an elbow to the ribs from Hizashi to get Shota to eat his. Ever since then, he’d request one specifically from me, so I made a mental note to make him one as well.

Once I added the pickle to the top, I placed one more cracker on top and turned to face the youngest Todoroki. “Shoto, would you like to do the honors?”

He hesitated, and I watched him turn his head to the side toward his father. I felt that old but familiar heat inside me again, the urge to step between a child and every bit of the world that threatened to hurt them. So I did. I shifted my weight, blocking Enji’s line of sight. I leaned in a little closer. “No one ever has an empty tummy in this apartment, Shoto, and you won’t be the first, okay?” I asked, making my voice as gentle as possible. If Enji needed reminding of that, I wouldn’t be so gentle with him.

“But my dad-”

“Is here to celebrate my birthday,” I interrupted with a warm smile, “and it’s my birthday wish for you to eat and enjoy yourself while you’re here. That’s all.”

I placed the makeshift sandwich in his hand. For a second, he just stared at me, and I could see the worry slide off his face as something new replaced it. He took a bite, and as he chewed, a smile broke through that wasn’t rehearsed. It was genuine.

I did it.

Instead of drawing attention to him, I turned to Tenya who had been watching the whole exchange with wide eyes as if he was witnessing something far more grand than just the construction of makeshift sandwiches. “Tenya, would you like to try one?”

He straightened his spine immediately. “Yes, ma’am. It would be an honor to try one of the sandwiches you and Mr. Present Mic came up with!”

I had to stifle a laugh at the name. “Just call him Zashi. Mr. Anything makes him sound way too old, and our parents were the Mr. and Mrs., not us…not yet,” I laughed before picking up a new cracker, “besides, this wasn’t a recipe Hizashi and I came up with. It was my twin brother and I.”

Tomura stiffened beside me.

The entire time we were opening gifts, I sat between Mirai and Tomura with Shota on the other side of Tomura and Hizashi on the other side of Mirai. Hitoshi sat in my lap while Tomura and I took turns opening gifts. I’d received a wide array of gifts. Keigo got me a golden bracelet with a pair of wings on it that matched his, which was a gold bracelet with a moon on it. It would be the first yellow gold piece of jewelry to add to my collection…and the first bracelet since I typically wore rings or necklaces. Enji gifted me a pair of reinforced gauntlet bracers for my hero costume that were designed to draw in the power from the stars at night and store the power for daytime use. He also brought a box from his other children who he didn’t bring with him. Fuyumi had made me a homemade scarf, and Natsuo made me a handmade patch for my hero costume. It matched the blue, violet, and gold accents of my white hero costume.

Shoto’s gift brought tears to my eyes. It was a small, hand-carved charm that was shaped like a star. At the center of the star were cherry blossoms inlaid in resin as the core of the star. The cherry blossoms looked like the same ones from the mountain my first love took me to…where he picked the same cherry blossoms for me. I couldn’t help but hold him after he gifted it to me, hugging him tightly as if I could somehow reach my Touya with that embrace.

Tensei and Tenya presented me with a new mesh bodysuit that was lightweight and was meant to be worn beneath my hero costume. It was designed to make me lighter while exerting energy, which would make me move faster. Leave it to one of the fastest men I knew to think of ways to make me even faster. Seirei provided me a ring that matched hers, telling her that it would always be a tool for us to find our way back to each other, no matter where life took us. I didn’t like the sound of that, but she commissioned them from the David Shield. Shota, Hizashi, and Nemuri all provided help with detailed information about my quirk. They were meant to enhance our quirks when there was distance between the rings, which was another worrying component that she described to me.

After she gave me the rings, Hizashi sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and instructed none of us to cry as he laughed and pulled out his most well loved guitar. He began playing a song I hadn’t heard yet, and my older brother always brought me in on his creative endeavors, asking for my suggestions and seeking my approval. That song, I knew nothing about. It started out upbeat, and he used the guitar to thrum his fingers on the worn wood while also masterfully plucking and strumming the strings. His voice was soft as he sang.

It was for me.

The whole song was about the journey of a flower that didn’t wither in the winter and eventually became serious with every pass of the chorus that had changed just a bit each time. Eventually, it was clear that the song wasn’t about a flower. It was about me, how he saw me, how I had somehow inspired him when in reality, he was the one who had inspired me. He made me want to create after the world took away so many of my passions for anything. He drove me to hope when all I had been doing was surviving. I ended up with a few stray tears streaming down my cheeks, ones that were mirrored by Hizashi’s, but Mirai quietly wiped away mine with gentle swipes of his thumbs. I clung to Hizashi after when he stood up and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Once I had managed to compose myself, Tsukauchi stood up and destroyed me again as he handed me a thin rectangular box that was heavier than expected. “This one is from me and…an old friend,” he grinned, and the moment I opened it, it sank in exactly who that friend was. Disbelief flooded me as I gazed down at the deep blue fabric. It was rich and familiar, and when I ran my fingers across it, I was brought back to a different lifetime when that cape had been used as a safety blanket of sorts, something that was draped over my shoulders when I had panic attacks immediately after being rescued from the basement. Tomura gasped beside me, finally piecing together exactly what it was.

As a lifelong fan of All Might, I knew exactly where the cape came from. Despite it being from a retired costume, he had worn it the night he rescued me. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t even breathe. It had to be a mistake. Mirai’s arm tightened around my shoulders as he reached over with his free hand to stroke his fingers over the fabric. Memories must’ve flooded him the same way they did me, different ones, of course, but memories all the same.

“…Naomasa?” I murmured, worried that it had all been just a dream, that the entire day leading up to that moment was nothing more than my own imagination because it couldn’t possibly be true.

“There’s a note,” he revealed, pointing at the box. “Mirai helped coordinate everything.”

My teary gaze flickered up to meet Mirai’s, desperately seeking a reality check or perhaps comfort when I discovered that it truly wasn’t real. He just nodded his chin toward the box with a smile. “Go on,” he urged me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

With trembling hands, I lifted the weighted fabric just enough to find the envelope underneath it. I tore it York and unfolded the letter.

Akira,

I count myself among the luckiest people in this world that I got the chance to bask in your light for even a short time, long before the world learned your name. The night I first met you, I knew you would shine brighter than any other hero who came before you because you reminded me of why I chose to do what I do.

I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, but the tears continued, my emotions already raw from Hizashi’s song. Tomura’s hand smoothed over my hair, keeping his pinky and ring finger up at all times, and Mirai worked diligently to dry my tears. I stared back down at the letter.

This cape carried me through my youth. I hope it carries you even farther. I’ll see you at the top, Stardust.

Forever,

All Might

“It’s…it’s…” I couldn’t speak through the lump in my throat, clutching the letter to my chest.

Tsukauchi leaned forward, “it’s from his early years,” he offered up in place of my own failing words. I nodded as I lifted the fabric from the box. It looked brand new, as if it had been untouched. I hugged it close to my chest as I used to when I was five years old because I wasn’t 17 in that moment. I was a little girl again. I breathed in the familiar scent of the ocean, fresh laundry, and a warm cologne that made me feel like I was being hugged. It was what All Might always smelled like. It was a familiar scent that lingered like a memory in the back of my mind the same way Shota’s coffee, jasmine, and coconut did. “It’s been tailored to fit you. I had it reinforced and restored with the help of quite a few people. I made sure it wouldn’t get in the way of the wings, either.”

“We’ll have to test it, but I gave my input already,” Shota piped up, bowing his head slightly when I looked to him with hope-filled eyed. It was clear he didn’t want to take any of the praise of appreciation for the gift.

The blue matched the blue accents on my hero costume. The base of my hero costume was white with patches of violet and blue. The patches of color were accented with gold. The blue for the costume was meant to represent my beginnings since All Might was the driving force behind me wanting to become a hero in the first place. He was the hero my brother and I dreamed of emulating in our future, and I wanted to give the same feeling to the other children who could potentially look up to me someday. It was my way to pay homage to All Might in a subtle way.

I clung to the fabric like a blanket just as I had when I was a child. “He kept it,” I breathed out, burying my face into the fabric.

“Some symbols aren’t meant to be retired but…passed on, and he clearly believes you’re the one to carry it next,” Mirai responded, and there was a look of something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place, like there was a future waiting for me that I was close to but still so far away from. He knew something I didn’t, but I didn’t have the emotional capacity after the last several days to figure it out.

Shota and Hitoshi insisted that they present my gift in private later, and Tomura also asked to present his gift later. It left Mirai who wore a crooked smile as he pulled out a box. Upon opening it and seeing the green shade of his hair, I was transported 9 years in the past.

“I don’t want hugs, ‘Zashi! I want my daddy!” I wept, my voice shattering the silence that had been consuming the apartment for the night prior to my waking from the nightmare. The apartment was dark except for the light from the moon and stars that crept in through the windows. I could barely breathe, but I had been sobbing harder than I had since losing my brother. I didn’t want Hizashi to touch me. I sobbed until my nose bled and my head throbbed, until I couldn’t tell if the nightmare had been real or if the real world was the dream.

Hizashi still didn’t leave me, hovering like he always did when I broke apart. He had been pacing for 20 minutes, trying everything he could think of to soothe me, before making a call to seek advice from someone he deemed more capable of handling this situation. Our parents were typically capable of handling my meltdowns, but this wasn’t one that could’ve been soothed out of me with our mom’s hand stroking my temple or our dad’s corny jokes. “I just don’t know what triggered it, and I don’t know which dad she’s talking about. She just woke up from a nightmare and hasn’t stopped crying. She hasn’t done this since-” Hizashi’s voice was low and desperate, speaking to a mystery person on the other end of the line.

I couldn’t hear the voice through my own sobs. I just wanted Mirai. I didn’t want anyone else. He knew how to make the bad dreams go away. He was the first one to ever chase them. I wanted my daddy. I didn’t want anyone else. Every time Hizashi tried to come closer, tried to smooth my hair back, I shrank away, curling in on myself even tighter than before. I had never done that with him before, always seeking his comfort before anyone else’s, but when I wanted Mirai, nothing would suffice apart from him. I especially couldn’t be comforted when the nightmare had been about losing him. I needed him. I needed to see him.

Sobs continued to wrack my body, causing me to shake and my chest to ache. I continued to beg for him as if begging the universe to close the distance between us would somehow make him magically appear. I wanted to tell ‘Zashi that it wasn’t his fault, that I didn’t know why the fear wasn’t letting me breathe despite his constant reassurances that it was a nightmare and that I was safe. I didn’t care that I was safe, though. I needed to know that my daddy was safe.

Time blurred as Hizashi sat beside me. I couldn’t let him touch me, though. After some length of time passed—all I knew was that the sky was still dark—there was a metallic click of a lock, and the front door to the apartment opened. My sobs faltered, catching in my throat. Mirai stood there. The universe heard my pleas and answered me for the first time since All Might brought me out of the basement. He looked exhausted with his coat askew and his hair disheveled. He panted like he had just run a marathon.

“…Daddy?” I asked, barely able to speak. I was terrified that if I allowed myself to hope, that if I buried my disbelief and found myself basking in something good, he would vanish. The fear, longing, and disbelief all crashed together inside me as I scrambled off the couch.

Mirai immediately dropped his coat to the floor, not caring where it landed, and he knelt down onto the floor. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered, his eyes taking me in the way they always did, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The sound of his voice broke whatever was left of my fears to hope for anything good. I didn’t care if it was real or just a dream, I had him there. He was with me somehow. I ran to him, my bare feet stinging against the floor, and I threw my body into his arms so hard I nearly knocked him over. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck as I buried my face into his shoulder as I sought the proof that he was real.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me so tightly that I could feel his heartbeat echoing against my own, syncing with mine. It was like a call and response before they converged into a harmony of their own. His hand smoothed over my hair as he grounded me. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here,” he murmured into my hair.

I started sobbing all over again, but that time, I felt less alone. “I missed you so much! Please don’t go again! I don’t like it when you leave me,” I choked out, the words tumbling over themselves in a desperate mess.

I clung even tighter to him, terrified that the nightmare would somehow come true, and if I let him go even a little bit, he’d slip away again. He didn’t hesitate before scooping me up, one arm tucked beneath my knees and the other cradling my head against his shoulder. He was so gentle that I almost cried even harder just for how safe it made me feel. My fingers twisted into his shirt, bunching the fabric and holding onto him as if the whole world would stop spinning if I let him go.

He moved us over to the couch, sitting with me curled in his lap, my head pressed against his chest as I curled into him. He continued to stroke my hair back, pressing soft and gentle kisses to the top of my head as I tried to steady my breathing. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just had to go back to the agency for a few days, but I was going to come right back as soon as it was safe for me to do so,” he explained with a soft and gentle voice that was meant to soothe me. He always spoke to me like I was a growing child, never like I wasn’t worthy of the truth and like he was meant to keep things from me. He made it manageable for me to understand as a child, but he never treated me like a dumb kid.

“W-why can’t you take me with you?” I asked, sniffling through the stuffiness in my nose.

He let out a soft sigh, “because sometimes the things I have to do and the jobs I take on are dangerous, and I can’t ever put you in danger. Plus, Shota and Hizashi are here, and I can’t take you away from them,” he replied as his fingers continued to card through my hair, his long fingers gently braiding a section of it the way he had learned when I was even smaller. He took a class one evening and asked All Might and Detective Tsukauchi to keep me entertained while he took the class. They let me pick the movies that night, and Mirai ended up scolding them when I chose an action film that they both sang the praises of.

I shook my head, “but…but…” my voice cracked, the words dissolving into another wave of tears that I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful because I didn’t want to leave Hizashi and Shota, but I also didn’t want him to keep leaving us. There was no good compromise. If he took us all in, Shota and Hizashi would have to move away from their home, and if Mirai moved to Mustafu full time, he would be far away from his agency and his work.

He pulled me even closer once the braid was completed. “What happened, baby?” he asked, his voice soft and coaxing. He didn’t rush me. There was only patience and love in his tone.

I hiccupped, trying to catch my breath. The sound made his arms tighten around me, and he pressed his lips to the top of my head. My words began tumbling out in shattered pieces. “I had…I had a bad dream, a-and you got hurt really bad, and I had to s-say goodbye to you…forever.” The fear of it, the memory of the nightmare, the knowledge that it could become reality with him being a hero, made my chest ache all over again. I pressed my face into his chest again, sobbing so hard my shoulders trembled violently.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me in an even more all-encompassing way, as if he could shield me from the world itself. For that moment, I let myself believe that he could. If anyone could keep the world away, it was my daddy. He just let me cry as long as I needed, never shushing me even when my sobs grew louder. He just held me, his embrace warm and welcoming. It was home for me. He acted as if his entire existence was made solely for that, to be the anchor I so desperately needed all my life until the very day he came into my life. It was only when my sobs slowed that he shifted a little, so I could see his face. He brushed a few strands of hair from my face, wiping away the tears from my cheeks, “You’ll never say goodbye to me forever, sweetheart because…even when I’m not where you can see me, I’m always right here…” he whispered, pointing to my heart. “It’s just like how you’re in mine when I miss you and can’t see you.”

I looked down at his hand before back up into those gold eyes. “I don’t like being away from you, though. I like when I can see you,” I whispered, my voice still shaking from the intensity of my emotions.

He smiled, and it was just for me. It was a tired smile, one that reached his eyes that were shadowed with some dark circles. “I don’t like being away from you either, Akira. I never like the time I spend away from you.” He continued rocking me, the steady motion managing to soothe the lasting panic within my chest. “I brought you something,” he revealed once I had calmed down enough to focus on something other than the nightmare and the overwhelming relief of having him close to me again. I didn’t move. There was nothing in the world that could’ve gotten me to let go of him in that moment, not even the promise of a surprise.

He didn’t try to lift me off him, simply requested that Hizashi bring him a carefully wrapped box by the front door. He settled the box onto my lap, and I gazed up at him. He gave a nod of permission for me to open it. Inside was a bear that was the shade of green that his hair was. When I pulled it out of the box, I saw that it was nearly half my size. “It’s so you can hug me even when I’m not here,” he smiled, which caused me to laugh. The bear, no matter how much the fur looked like his hair, couldn’t possibly be the same as hugging him.

He reached between the bear and I, pressing his thumb to a spot hidden in the bears paw. There was a tiny click, and then, I heard his voice. It wasn’t the one in the room, but it came from the bear.

“You’re being so brave. I’m so proud of you, Akira.”

My breath caught, and my eyes widened. I stared at the bear in my lap before glancing up at him, unsure if I should laugh or cry.

“Give it a hug,” he insisted, nodding at the bear.

I did, pressing the bear to my chest as tightly as I could. Another click occurred, and a different recording played.

“I love you more than words, sweetheart. Forever and always.”

I gasped. It was like magic. My heart squeezed so tight, I was certain it would burst. I looked up into his eyes, the first man I ever truly trusted with everything, the first man I felt safe enough to braid my hair, the first man who taught me what a father was supposed to me. “You’re in the bear!” I beamed, the first real smile stretching across my face since the nightmare. The nightmare itself felt like a distant memory in that moment.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, proud and a little teary. “And every time you hug it or press the button in the paw, this bracelet will tell me,” he explained, lifting his wrist to show me a simple bracelet with a little blinking light that was the shade of my eyes.

“And you’ll hug me back?” I questioned, still in disbelief over the gift.

He cupped my cheek and nodded, “I’ll send you the biggest hug in the world. No matter where I am.”

I hugged the bear again, squeezing it until the button clicked and his voice played once more. “I love you more than words, sweetheart. Forever and always.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

The bear never left my side from the moment he’d given it to me. It was with me to and from school, to the store, to the train station, on the train, back and forth from his apartment to the one I shared with Hizashi. It didn’t matter where I went, the bear stayed by my side. The speaker eventually broke inside it, and after years of traveling with it back and forth, it was lost to me. I was inconsolable when it happened, feeling like I’d somehow lost a piece of him.

As I stared into the box with the oversized bear looking back at me, tears filled my eyes. I pulled it out, burying my face into the fur that was the exact green of his hair. I hugged it and heard a click in the chest.

Akira

Time passed faster than I ever imagined it could. Watching Hitoshi grow, I suddenly had a deeper understanding of why my adoptive parents always took so many pictures of Hizashi and I while we were growing up and why Hizashi did the same after they died. His cheeks had filled in, and he began sprouting up with the proper nutrition. It made me feel a sense of pride that I had managed to give him the life he deserved, and it made me feel a sense of nostalgia as I watched my little boy grow right in front of me. I kept track of his height on the doorframe beside my own from when I was first brought into the Yamada home. I watched as he outgrew the mark every time I measured him again.

Tomura had finally settled into the apartment, decorating pieces of the room he was given with his own personal touches. He had been dabbling in a bit of music. Hizashi had been teaching him how to play guitar, and despite Tomura’s aversion to touching most things, he allowed Hizashi to guide his fingers across the strings. Hizashi had been teaching him piano as well with the piano we had in the living area. Our dad had been the one to beg our mom for it. I remembered how childish he’d looked, but after watching our mom play it for the first time and the way his eyes had lit up, I understood why. He told me that women sometimes gave up the things they once loved when they got married and had children, and he wanted to make sure her song wasn’t forgotten. He told me that anyone worthwhile would make sure to learn my song and would remind me of it if I ever forgot the melody.

He painted the piano a soft gold, just like the color of her hair, and he painted her favorite flowers onto it. She taught Hizashi and I to play, and Hizashi continued to teach me after they weren’t around to do it anymore. It was one of the many ways he kept their memories alive. Watching him teaching Tomura was like watching our parents teach Hizashi when it was his turn for lessons. He taught in the same way he always did: with patience and excitement. Even when Tomura’s fingers fumbled over the keys, Hizashi would pat him on the back and encourage him to try again.

“Even if it’s not the right note, you’re still making music, and you’ll figure it out with time.”

Tomura took time to adjust to being a part of the family, especially after an incident where he’d accidentally turned one of Shota’s mugs to dust. He apologized for it over and over again, and despite Shota shrugging it off, Tomura was mortified and kept his hands balled up into fists for weeks, unwilling to touch anything. He’d eaten in his room for those weeks, not wanting to be around any of us. It was as if he expected punishment from us, and when we didn’t fulfill those expectations, he’d punish himself instead. Seirei stayed with him during the days to help homeschool him. Hizashi and Shota figured it was for the best not to enroll him in one of the public schools since danger was so close. I had protection at U.A., but Tomura wouldn’t have had those same protections.

In order to keep a sense of normalcy for Hitoshi, though, we kept him enrolled at school, but Mirai had moved into an apartment within two blocks of the school in order to be close by.

Ankoku’s escape had changed everything, but it had also brought us closer together. I wasn’t allowed to pursue a long term hero work study with Hawks as it was too far away. Mirai was only in Mustafu for a couple of months before we had discussed the importance of him continuing his hero work closer to his agency instead of taking the train to and from as often as he did. While part of him wanted to stay, I’d been the one to insist he return to his agency. Mirai had never been able to say “no” to me, and he didn’t stop then. He’d insisted that he was only a phone call away and made it clear that he’d be checking in more often than not. He was around for dinner on Tuesday and Friday evenings, spending the night on Fridays and leaving in the morning on Saturday.

Fears amongst the general public quelled as no new incidents began arising with Ankoku’s escape, but I had a feeling it was only a matter of time. Shota and Hizashi felt the same thing, which was when my work study was split between Endeavor’s agency and Sir Nighteye’s agency. Mirai still returned with me every Tuesday and Friday for dinner when I was with him. Endeavor was intense about my training, pushing me harder than he ever had, especially with Ankoku being out of Tartarus.

While he was still rough around the edges, he was also still just as chivalrous as he had been when we worked with each other my first year. He had taken me out to dinner my very first night and continued to treat me by bringing me out, ordering in, or cooking for me. Since it was less than an hour away from home, I took the train after school most days—missing a few days here and there for especially important missions—and returned home at night. He allowed me to work on my homework for an hour during my time with him, and everything I didn’t finish, I wrapped up on the train ride home. He made it clear to me that if my grades began to suffer, he would have no problem tabling me, and I didn’t want a repeat of Keigo. Neither of us wanted me to be stuck behind a desk, though, especially since I had become recognized by the public.

I brought in a lot of good press to his agency, and Hizashi argued that my work study with him would benefit him as much as it would benefit me because of that. As the number two hero in Japan, he struggled to appear…heroic in the public eye. He wasn’t particularly kind or soft even when he was performing his hero duties. He was a symbol of incredible power, but the people would always look to their Symbol of Peace over power. I tried to embody All Might in every bit of my hero work with Endeavor because I remembered what it had been like to be saved. I didn’t like talking to the press, which meant Endeavor would often get himself into hot water by shielding me from them. It led to me having to go through press training with Hizashi and Nemuri despite Shota’s insistence that I didn’t need it and had every right to decline talking to the press.

Endeavor was protective, though.

Sir Nighteye had been no better, especially since my part-time work study with him typically meant I was away from home throughout the majority of the week. I’d be there from Monday after school through Tuesday evening when we’d return for dinner, and I’d be able to spend the night at home. Then, I’d return after school on Wednesday and would stay until Friday evening when we returned for dinner, and I was able to stay home for the weekend most of the time.

As months passed, the routine became second nature to me, and I fell into it easily. Hitoshi had a difficult time with any ounce of separation from me, but Shota was his comfort, and Tomura was his friend. He had been allowed to stay with me a few times when I was with Mirai, but it was only when he didn’t have school. If Mirai hadn’t been able to say “no” to me, it was nothing compared to how easily he gave into Hitoshi. Even as I neared adulthood, I just had to look at something in front of him with the slightest hint of intrigue, and it was mine. All Might once chided him when I was a child for spoiling me, but Mirai told him that he was no better, and the argument ended then and there.

While Keigo and I continued to text and call each other more often than I let on, Hizashi and Shota were both united in their insistence that I wasn’t going back to his agency. I had given them no reasons to oppose it, but I had given them more than enough reasons to worry about me. They handpicked Sir Nighteye and Endeavor out of the diverse pool of pro heroes who had offered to take me in for work studies with Tsukauchi’s help. He said that since Endeavor had been one of the two heroes to rescue me, and Sir Nighteye had been one of the people who took me in immediately after the basement, they were the best choices for the people to protect me apart from All Might himself. Whenever I asked about him, I was told that he had been continuing his patrols day and night in the area, but I hadn’t seen any new coverage of him. I had no reason to distrust Tsukauchi, though.

Faster than any of us anticipated, my second year had completed, and April rolled around, marking my 17th birthday and the start of my 3rd and final year at U.A.. Thoughts of the future were daunting. I had never planned on living so long, but what surprised me the most was that I was…happy.

Ever since Tomura had arrived, something changed, and over the months we spent as a patchwork family, the pain of my past became more manageable. I didn’t feel as if I was living as half a person. I felt whole. It was something I didn’t think was possible without my brother. His absence marked my death. Hizashi and Shota had breathed life back into me, but it was Seirei’s return as well as Hitoshi and Tomura’s entrance into my life that truly brought me back to the girl I always thought I could’ve been had I not lost my brother. With that, though, came a truly incredible level of fear. It was a fear that I could lose everything just like I had as a child when my family was killed. It was gone in an instant, and I couldn’t go through it again. I used that fear, though, to propel me toward the future, to fight harder, to grow stronger, to become the hero I had always dreamed of.

Despite my fears, I tried my best to make the most of every moment I had with them. I tried to focus more on what I was given, which was the gift of feeling like myself again.  I focused less on what had been taken away since I was blessed with finding a life that was worth fighting for. It had taken 16 years, but it was better to experience it late than never. I never forgot what was taken from me, though.

Someone was still going to pay with their life for taking my brother from me.

All those months, all the time that had passed, led us to the train station. Hizashi and Seirei had stayed behind at the apartment with Hitoshi despite his protests. Tomura was sent with Shota and I to the train station since we were also celebrating his birthday at the same time since it happened “recently,” but he didn’t want to give me the exact date because he didn’t want me fussing over him every year. I had rolled my eyes, insisting that I’d find out at a certain point.

Despite how much Hitoshi loved Hizashi and Seirei, he hated being separated from Shota, Tomura, and I even more. When they told him that they needed his help with some “big plans,” though, he finally managed to pull himself away from me with a few sniffles. Mirai, who had arrived that morning, had already insisted on accompanying me to the train station. He’d attempted to tell Shota that it wasn’t necessary for him to come along, but one stern look from Shota had made it clear that he wasn’t going to allow me to collect my other visitor without him.

Mirai, Shota, Tomura, and I stood on the platform and waited. The three of them stood back as the train approached, and I found myself in the midst of a crowd of people, which Shota attempted to pull me back from, but I brushed aside his nerves for that moment. He wasn’t fond of any of this, and he had been the one who initially rallied against it with Tomura, but in the end, he had given into my request and was lenient, especially since it was for the celebration of my birthday in a few days. Tomura tried to say that it was his birthday wish to not spend it with Keigo in attendance, but with one look, I managed to change his mind.

I scanned the crowd once, trying desperately to find him before he found me. I wanted to surprise him, especially since our last meeting had ended so abruptly when Shota ushered him out of the apartment after he’d sat a little too close during a movie. I thought nothing of it, but Shota had insisted at first that he sit between the two of us. I knew he didn’t like Keigo, so it didn’t make sense why he’d want to sit between us. Still, Shota had made the decision to practically throw him out of the apartment after Keigo adjusted on the couch to relax his arm behind my shoulders.

When Keigo immediately texted me after the incident to meet him outside, Shota went in my place, and I was mainly concerned they were going to kill one another. While Shota was level-headed, Keigo was defensive and a bit too eager to fight. Upon hearing the yelling from the apartment, Hizashi had attempted to go downstairs to act as the mediator, but he was stopped by Seirei. The moment she made it down to where they were, all the yelling had ceased, and Keigo had been sent back to his hotel for the night. Shota didn’t say a word when he made it back to the apartment, and he didn’t make eye contact with Seirei either for the rest of that night.

While they didn’t kill each other, the night had devolved into me defending Keigo yet again. The number of times I had to explain away his actions to Shota, Hizashi, Tomura, and Seirei had become…concerning. He wasn’t even truly doing anything wrong, but when he began letting his guard down and tried to get closer to me, that was when my family seemed to take issue with it. I didn’t want to hide anything from my family, which was why I had chosen to bring him to the apartment as often as I did. There wasn’t even anything going on between us. The closest things had ever gotten was the almost kiss on the last day of mywork study, but since then, things felt both hot and cold. Some nights saw texts that made my stomach flip, other nights I didn’t hear from him at all.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from Keigo, which made something brighten inside me, but there was also a heavy feeling that came with it.

Keigo: You should wear a hat more often if you’re going for the whole ‘inconspicuous’ thing, you know. You stand out just a bit.

My eyes scanned the crowd a second time until they landed on those beautiful crimson wings. Before I could even process what I was doing, I was already moving, weaving through the crowd at top speed, ignoring Shota and Mirai’s calls for me to stay put. I didn’t stop running until Keigo caught me in his arms with a grunt of surprise. He lifted me from the ground as he spun me around. His wings folded around my body, encasing me in his warmth as the feathers pushed toward me, stroking over my skin. His hands found the small of my waist, keeping my body pressed firmly against his own.

He breathed me in the same way I did to him, like every memory was flooding back to him all at once. The smell of a spring breeze and worn in denim still clung to him and sent a shiver through me. “Oh, I’ve missed you, baby bird,” he huffed against my neck, and I nearly leapt as I felt his lips brush against the sensitive skin at my pulse point. It had to be an accident. He’d never been so forward with me in a public space where both of us could be so easily recognized. I felt the heat of his cheek against my jaw and noticed the way his voice quivered as the feathers shivered as they touched me.

Before I could say anything, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Hawks,” Shota greeted him, making himself known behind me. His voice was tense and full of warning.

Keigo set me back on the ground and withdrew his wings from around me before finding Shota’s eyes. “Eraser,” he smirked, wrapping his arm around my waist, his hand finding my hip and playing with the hem of my shirt until his fingers found my skin. He told me all the time that touching me settled his mind, so perhaps this was what it was about. The moment his skin met mine, my cheeks became warm. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t speak, like I was the only girl in the world.

Shota didn’t miss a thing, though. His eyes immediately found where Keigo’s were on my body. “Careful where you put those hands,” he grunted before turning on his heel. Mirai was at least a bit more cordial, but Tomura didn’t say a single word to Keigo and instead followed Shota back toward the car.

“I’m guessing there’s more to this dynamic than I’m aware of,” Mirai sighed as he put his hand on my shoulder.

Keigo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he took a step back. The distance, regardless of how small it was, sent a sudden pang through my chest. He had only been off the train for a minute, and this was already starting again. I didn’t see what they were seeing, and I was starting to wonder if there was anything there at all. “I don’t know if I should stay if this is already starting, Akira,” Keigo murmured with a frown.

I shook my head, fear coursing through me as I thought of him leaving so soon after arriving. “No! They do this every single time you’re here, and it’s not fair! I’m not able to see you as often as I’d like, and when I do, this is how it always goes!” I snapped, reaching out to grasp his hand with my own.

“They’re just looking out for you,” he responded, his voice softer than before.

Something about the tone and the look in his eyes made me feel even more hostile about the whole situation. I wanted to fight it out with Shota, but I also didn’t like that whenever Keigo was around, it seemed to cause a rift between Shota and I. With my feelings muddled, tears of pure exasperation threatened my vision, but I blinked them back quickly. “It’s clear it doesn’t matter what you do, he’s always going to have a problem with me being happy if that happiness has anything to do with you,” I huffed out in frustration, though the words felt wrong to say because I didn’t even fully believe them. I was just upset.

“Why don’t you go get a snack and some water?” Mirai suggested, holding his card out for me to take. When my eyes flickered over to him, I noticed that he wasn’t even looking at me. His eyes were fixed solely on Keigo as if he was seeing something I was incapable of. When I went to open my mouth to argue, he extended his hand further. “My treat, sweetheart,” he insisted, which was his way of telling me to drop it and not make a scene.

I hesitated for only a moment before taking the card and turning on my heel, making my way toward the vending machines. Tomura was already standing in front of the one beside me, but I didn’t make eye contact with him. I wouldn’t be able to remain upset with him, and that was frustrating in its own way. He paid for two drinks with Shota’s credit card, which I was certain had been the only way Shota managed to get him to buy anything for himself. Tomura turned to me after another moment in tense silence as I tried to pretend he didn’t exist. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and–”

“And I have every right to be upset when I can’t even be happy about my friend showing up to spend a few days with us for my birthday,” I interrupted him, feeling the heat rising up in my chest. Upset was putting it lightly. I was angry. “You’re supposed to have my side here, and it’s like you and Sho hate him for absolutely no reason apart from the fact that he makes me happy,” I accused him, which I knew was completely out of line. It was a childish accusation, but I just wanted someone—anyone—to hear me for one minute. I hated feeling like I had no control over anything in my life, like all of my choices were being made for me recently.

“You think I don’t want you to be happy?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with a kind of hurt I hadn’t expected from him. It made me want to rip the words from the air around us, to take back what I had said.

I shook my head, averting my gaze back to the vending machine for a moment as I tried to center myself once more before I said something else equally as ignorant. “It’s not…I don’t actually think that, but it feels like the only thing that makes sense when everyone around me seems to dislike him when he does everything he can to make you all like him,” I explained, keeping my voice as even as I could manage despite the frustration that was still brewing beneath the surface.

“Do you not think I see that?” he asked, his voice devoid of the anger I had expected after I’d just been so harsh with my own words. He had every right to lash out at me, but he didn’t. Tomura was always more patient than I ever deserved. My eyebrows pulled together as confusion settled in. I didn’t even have to ask the question before he continued his explanation, “he’s a showman, Akira. He’s trying to make us like him with everything he does, but it doesn’t come off as genuine, especially not when I see the way he looks at you.”

I couldn’t defend that. Of all the things I had defended Keigo for, I couldn’t defend that. I didn’t see anything innately wrong about the way he looked at me, but I also couldn’t fault Tomura for being wary of it. He was viciously protective of me, had even gone so far as to kill for me. How could I expect him to not be protective of me when I was inviting someone he deemed as dangerous into my life?

“He looks at you like you’re something to be won, like you’re a conquest or…or a prize. It doesn’t happen all the time, but it’s like his mask drops for a split second, and I catch it,” he continued, his voice almost apologetic as he spoke. “I think you should have someone who looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, not something to be conquered. I know you have a crush on him, and I get that it would be hard not to when things are so…close between the two of you. I just think you should be careful and try to remember that the people who are concerned are the people who care about you the most.”

“I am being careful,” I replied, hoping he’d trust that I wasn’t being reckless with my life. I hadn’t given any of them reason to believe that I had much in the way of self-preservation, though, so it made sense that they were worried about me. I gazed back at where Mirai and Keigo stood.

Keigo had finally grabbed his bag, and Mirai loomed over him with an intense look in his eyes. It was clear the two of them were talking about something, but the moment I tried to make out the words from just the movements of their mouths, Tomura stepped directly in my line of sight, blocking my view. “Whatever they’re talking about is private between them. If Mirai wanted you in on the conversation, he wouldn’t have sent you away,” he tried to reason with me before I had a chance to question what he was doing. “I think he’s starting to see the same thing we’ve all been noticing, which is that whenever Keigo’s around, it seems like your relationships with the rest of us are a bit more strained, and it’s like he enjoys it in some way,” he added, his tone softening even more as he dealt the blow.

“You’re making him out to sound like a villain,” I argued back, even though there was a sinking piece of me that knew it wasn’t entirely baseless.

“And you make him out to sound like a hero,” he countered with a shrug of his shoulders. Before I could argue that he was in the top 10, he continued, “I don’t think he’s evil. With the amount of video games I’ve played, it’s easy for me to pick out patterns, and I’m just pointing out patterns I don’t like for you.”

I couldn’t argue it further, not when I would’ve thrown away a forever with Keigo for just one more second with Tomura. I knew Tomura for less time, but our connection was stronger than it was with almost anyone else save for Hitoshi. He was another piece of my soul that inhabited a different body, like we were fused together from the very beginning of time and had just…found our way back to one another.

My breath hitched as I stared up at him. “When is your birthday?” I asked as a fleeting hope arose in my chest. It had occurred more than a handful of times when Tomura and I spent time together, as if a puzzle was piecing itself together in my heart, but my mind kept trying to look for ways that it could be wrong. It was the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to even seriously consider, especially since I’d spent a lifetime believing I was alone in the world. Part of me feared that if I gave into the belief that Tomura was my…

If my brother hadn’t…died that night, there was a possibility…

“Anything good, sweetheart?” Mirai cut in, pulling me from my thoughts with a smile that made my heart feel lighter. He checked my hands, which still only had his credit card. “Here,” he offered, taking the card from me and immediately stepping in front of the vending machine, purchasing two waters before handing one back to me and keeping the other for himself. “Tomura, what would you like?” he asked, though his eyes were on the snack machine. He pressed the necessary buttons to retrieve a bag of chips and a fruit cup before handing them over to me.

Tomura shook his head, “I’m not-”

“Don’t,” Mirai interrupted, holding up a hand to cut him off entirely. “I know Shota told you to get a snack along with the waters, and you haven’t done it because you don’t want to spend his money. Now, I’ll ask one more time,” he pressed, his voice firm but with none of the edge that our…my father had as a child. He’d say something similar when I was a child, but it was usually with the threat of a punishment if we didn’t answer. The punishment for Tomura would be a snack he might not entirely enjoy. Either way, Mirai was going to be sure he was fed before the ride home.

“I really don’t need anything,” Tomura insisted. That response only caused Mirai to sigh dramatically before he began using his card over and over again for every different snack in the vending machine. “Wait! I didn’t say all of them!” Tomura gasped as the third snack was placed in his hands.

“And you also didn’t say which one,” Mirai pointed out with his usual stoic expression as he purchased a fourth snack.

“Stop! This is way too much!”

“Tell him what you want, Tomura!” I called out as I huffed out a laugh. It wasn’t the first time Mirai had done something like that. He taught me a similar lesson when I was still a child.

Tomura looked between the two of us as if asking me how else to stop it, but I shook my head. If I had to accept kindness, Tomura would have to do the same. “Fine! The candied mango!” he finally conceded with a defeated sigh, his eyes finding the armful of snacks he was now cradling.

I broke out in giggles, which was followed by a smirk forming on Mirai’s face. He always looked so much younger when he smiled, especially since it wasn’t all that often recently. It was one of the many moments when I was reminded of who he was when I first met him. Underneath the more stoic facade was a protective teddy bear who cared way too much about those closest to him. I was lucky enough to be one of those people.

He handed over the candied mango to Tomura. “Nice job, kid,” he praised him before reaching out to offer him a pat on the shoulder. When Tomura flinched, Mirai hesitated, his smile faltering only slightly before it warmed even further. He moved slower but still reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, clearly wanting to show Tomura that despite his concern, he wasn’t going to be hurt by those hands. Their eyes connected, and I could feel the warmth between them, like Mirai recognized something in Tomura the same way he had recognized something in me. “Let people take care of you, kid. The world is far too harsh to take it on alone,” he passed on that piece of wisdom before plucking a snack from his arms and walking back toward the car where Keigo was loading his bags into the trunk.

As I watched tears of determination well up in Tomura’s eyes, I stepped forward to stroke my fingers over his cheek. The skin around his eyes and on his neck had healed with time and a lot of moisturizer. It took a lot of catching him in the act of scratching, but I typically knew what would trigger it and could catch it before it started. There was still some scarring, but it wasn’t as dry and rough as it had been when we first met. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier…about you and Sho. It was wrong of me to accuse you of not wanting to see me happy, especially when I know how far you would go to make me happy,” I apologized, my voice wavering as a lump formed in my throat.

“When I tell you that you’re…” his voice trailed off as he averted his gaze for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He took a long breath before continuing, “when I tell you that you’re the most important person in my life, Akira…I mean that this world meant nothing to me until I found you. I will do anything to keep you safe, to see you smile, to ensure you can breathe a little easier. It’s why I’ve stayed.”

“You’ve stayed because going back to the streets would get you killed,” I reminded him in a solemn voice.

“But I would do it if it meant keeping you safe,” he admitted, and there was nothing but sincerity in those words. It terrified me. “I was going to leave when Ankoku escaped. Really, I was going to leave the night ‘Zashi and Sho picked us up outside that restaurant. I asked them to pull over because you fell asleep, and I was going to get out of the car and leave. If I thought that leaving would be the only way to protect you, I’d accept death with a smile on my face.”

“You…that’s not true. It can’t be true,” I insisted, unable to wrap my mind around why someone would willingly accept death for me. It was one thing for Hizashi, Shota, and even Seirei to say things like that, but Tomura had already had a horrific life. He’d known pain and abuse and fear the way I had. To willingly throw away a life of happiness after a lifetime of pain was unimaginable, especially when he would throw it away for me.

He shook his head, eyes shining with the same level of devotion Hitoshi’s did, the same level of devotion my brother had every time he looked at me. It was the same level of devotion that I felt in my heart for him. When I looked at him, I understood the reasons man created religion, the reasons people created prayers and gods. I understood what it was like to desire devotion to something greater than oneself when I looked at him, when I thought of Hitoshi or Shota or my family. When I thought of my Tomura.

When I thought of my Tenko.

Tomura understood that, too, but he understood it in a way that put me at the center of that devotion.

“It’s the truest thing in my life, Akira. I’d give up anything, every opportunity at happiness, every chance at a life worth living if it meant keeping you safe because you are what makes my life worth living,” he professed without hesitation. It was as if the words came directly from his heart without a single filter. There was no doubt in his voice, either, which caused my fear to bubble up.

I felt my breath catch in my throat, “you…but your…you told me that your sister was the only person you’d ever cared about enough to sacrifice like that for,” I whispered, trying to make sense of why he would say something so different now.

He nodded his head, his eyes boring into mine as if he was trying to tell me something without speaking the words. Before I had the chance to piece it together, Keigo called out from the car, “come on, guys! You two are taking forever!” His voice carried through the crowd, and I heard some of the gasps from people around us who noticed him before looking toward us, immediately recognizing me.

Without missing a beat, Tomura wrapped his arm around my shoulders and began pulling me toward the car, weaving through people who smiled and waved at me, mentioning Hiza City and various other situations I’d helped out with while working with Endeavor and Sir Nighteye. Despite Tomura acting as a bodyguard, shielding me from prying questions, eyes, and hands, I still managed to acknowledge those around me with polite words and waves, reaching out to shake hands when I could.

His hurried pace slowed when a young boy stepped out from the crowd with wide green eyes and a mop of green hair that looked to have been a mess simply from playing too hard. He looked to be around Hitoshi’s age, and something similar happened inside me as it had when I first met Hitoshi. It was as if something clicked, like this was one of those destined moments that would change the course of my life forever. I halted, causing Tomura to stop with me. The crowd gathered around us, voices still calling out for pictures and signatures, but my eyes were fixed solely on the boy in front of us.

He held a notebook in his hands, and stared up at me like I was the first rays of light after the longest night, “y-you’re…you’re Stardust. The Stardust!” he gasped, his eyes wide with something I could understand well having met my number one hero as a child. Before I could respond, he continued, “I’ve watched everything since your first year sports festival. The Hiza City rescue footage, the videos of you in Shibuya when you fought villains and saved people at the same time. I watched the second year sports festival when you nearly destroyed the entire stadium. I thought you weren’t going to make it to the finals when that acid quirk burned your hands, but I still knew you’d place first! And then when you went to Hosu to team up with Ingenium in Endeavor’s place! You’re her!”

This kid is passionate!

“I am,” I smiled, not wanting to squash his clear excitement. When I first met All Might, I hadn’t been able to believe it, but I also didn’t have the capacity to be excited right after being rescued from the basement. It took me a bit of time to process that I had been saved, but once the initial shock wore off, I was hit with an excitement and passion so deep that few could understand. This boy would’ve been able to understand my younger self. All Might never made me feel like I was too much, so I refused to do it to this boy. I knelt down in front of him, not wanting to stand above him, and I gazed up at him. “And you are?” I asked, waiting for him to introduce himself.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, another child pushed past him. He had spiked blond hair and crimson eyes. A wide grin was at home on his face. “Katsuki Bakugo,” the new boy introduced himself, his voice filled with the same excitement as the first boy, but there was a different energy laced into his words. His eyes blazed with a fiery passion, “remember that name because I’m gonna be the number one hero someday.”

“And I’m I-Izuku Midoriya,” the first boy added once he’d finally managed to find his voice again. I didn’t have a moment to greet both boys formally before Izuku opened his notebook and began flipping through pages. “I…sorry, um…your quirk output spikes after sunset, right? I-I charted it based on the level of power you’ve used during your nighttime fights with Eraserhead and Sir Nighteye versus the daytime missions you’ve been on with Endeavor and Hawks. It seems to relate to visible star density, but I was wondering—since the sun is technically a star—if you’ve ever considered trying to draw from that as well. Perhaps you could harness power based on proximity instead of just the number of visible stars. Because theoretically-”

A scoff from Katsuki cut him off. It was clear that Izuku was breathless and in a state of shock at me being right in front of him. I had been in their shoes before when I’d met my heroes. It was endearing and reminded me that I had people that I couldn’t disappoint. “You’ve done your research on me,” I smiled, my heart swelling with warmth that crawled up my neck and into my cheeks. I was flattered.

“I just…I want to understand how heroes use their quirks so I can-”

Katsuki cut him off, “Deku doesn’t even have a quirk. His quirk is taking notes and rambling about heroes all day.,” he teased with a confident laugh, “but mine is Explosion, and it’s strong. I’m gonna surpass everyone, even you,” he declared, his fists clenching at his sides as a look of determination spread across his face. There was no disrespect in his words, just a pure and earnest ambition. It was a necessary trait for someone who wanted to become a hero. We all had the things that drove us. I didn’t need to surpass others to feel accomplished, but I still wanted to be the strongest in order to save as many people as I could.

I reached out for the paper he clutched in his hands, and I began signing it, writing down his name and a note of encouragement as I spoke, “then I suppose I’d better keep training as hard as I can to make sure you have to train even harder in order to surpass me. I wouldn’t want you catching up too fast, huh, Kit Kat?” I smiled, handing his paper back to him.

He gazed down at it as his ears turned a bright shade of red. “Tch, you won’t have to worry about that,” he snorted before his eyes caught sight of the words. Those eyes, which had been set in pure determination, softened at the nickname and the words on the page. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he cut himself off as his bottom lip quivered slightly. He fixed himself before anyone else could notice, but I did. I always noticed. His eyes sparkled like Izuku’s had, but there was something else in his gaze that wasn’t just admiration. It was a look I understood from my own childhood.

He was waiting.

I had done that my entire childhood. I waited for my hero. I waited for All Might to save me. Something told me that he was waiting, too. I reached out and ruffled his hair, watching intently as he flinched every so slightly as I reached toward him. The moment my hand was in his hair, though, he seemed to relax into my touch with a soft smile forming on his lips. I didn’t like it when children flinched. It meant they had learned to brace for impact, and no child should’ve had to live like that. I didn’t know for sure, though, and there were no visible bruises or immediate signs of harm. Still, my heart ached.

I suppressed the feeling in my gut and turned my attention to Izuku, taking the notebook from him that he’d been holding out for me. “What about you, Izuku? Why do you love heroes so much?” I asked, writing another note of encouragement for him before signing my name, giving him a moment to think on my question.

“Because…well, because they save people. Even when they’re scared or even if it seems impossible. They smile so other people don’t have to be afraid,” he replied, straightening his shoulder.

My eyes found his soft green ones again, and I scanned his face. The freckles that dusted his cheeks were proof of his innocence, and it was another reminder of why I had become a hero along with the hero name he’d used for me. It was to create a better world for the children of tomorrow to inherit. It was for him. It was for Katsuki, for Hitoshi, for every little child whose name I’d never know. It was for children countries away and ones right next door. It was for all of them.

“Strength matters, and so does courage,” I replied, handing him the signed notebook back before tapping my finger on his chest, “but the part that decides whether someone is a hero…it’s here. It’s choosing to help when it would be easier to walk away or do nothing. It’s protecting someone even if no one ever thanks you for it. It’s always standing back up after you lose because loss isn’t failure, not truly. Losing is how we learn,” I smiled softly, my eyes flickering between the two of them before finding Tomura’s. His eyes were wide with something I couldn’t quite place, as if pieces of a puzzle finally clicked. I turned my attention back to the boys, “and it’s about going beyond, not just for yourself but for the sake of everyone else around you.”

Their eyes shimmered with wonder as they both clutched the signatures to their chest. “Thank you,” Katsuki finally spoke, bowing his head. Izuku followed suit, uttering words of appreciation as he bowed even lower.

Neither of them could possibly understand the gift they’d given to me, though, the reminder of why I was fighting and who I was fighting for. It wasn’t just for my brother. It was in his honor, but it was also for the younger version of myself and all the other children who had known childhoods like we did. It was to give them something good, to give them hope that there was something better out there for them. I bowed my head to them both, lowering myself even lower than they had. Soft gasps from the crowd followed, but I paid no attention, my focus remaining solely on my interaction with the children before me. “Thank you,” I murmured before straightening myself back out.

With a camera around Izuku’s neck, Tomura took a picture of us and then another one on my phone. They both hugged me as others in the crowd shouted for pictures. I ruffled Izuku’s hair, brushing sections out of his face. “Keep taking notes, Izuku. Observational skills are important for heroes,” I encouraged him as I stepped toward Tomura.

Shota finally managed to push his way through the crowd and came to stand beside Tomura, quickly checking him over and asking if he was alright. He wrapped an arm around Tomura’s shoulders in the way an older brother would as he pulled him against his chest. “Akira,” he called out for my attention, his voice filled with that protective edge that I knew so well. He was telling me without words that it was time to go, that he was uncomfortable with me being surrounded, especially with the extenuating circumstances of Ankoku being out of Tartarus.

As I stepped toward him, watching as Mirai finally broke through the crowd as well, Izuku’s small voice cut through the crowd again. “Do you really think I can be a hero? Even without a quirk?” he asked, his voice trembling beneath the weight of his hope and doubt.

This is my moment. This is where I stoke the flames of that hope.

I turned back around to gaze into those green eyes one last time, my chest filling with pride that I was able to pass along the same comfort that my hero had once done to me. Tears welled up in his eyes as I nodded my head, “I have a feeling you’ll be one of the greatest heroes this world has ever known…both of you.”

With that, Shota coaxed me into the crowd with him, prepared to lead the way back toward the car. I took one last look at the two boys who were excitedly chatting with each other, bouncing up and down with their excitement. A few other children approached them to participate in the excitement. I never denied children of my time and attention. Shota always shielded me from the attention of others, but children were innocent. He knew that I wanted to foster their curiosity and love of heroes. If I was blessed enough to be a hero in their eyes, I wanted to make sure that they never lost that sense of wonder. My heroes had given me that, and it was my turn to pass it on.

Mirai pressed forward, leading the way through the crowd. His mere presence alone was the steady assurance that always made me feel safe. His voice cut through the noise surrounding us. “Excuse us. Please, step back. Give us some space,” he requested, his voice calm but loud enough for the people around him to hear and separate just enough for us to pass through slowly. It still seemed so compact, though, despite his instructions.

Shota maintained a close proximity to me, blocking my right side with his body as we moved. His hand was gentle on the small of my back, steering me and also quietly letting me know that he was there, that he was protecting me. Tomura was on my left, his eyes sharp as he scanned the crowd like he was prepared to shove anyone out of the way and act the part of a villain if things got even a little more chaotic. I could see Keigo ahead, half turned away and laughing as he took photos with his fans. He was clearly oblivious of what was going on behind him. If he was aware of it, he would’ve been with us, surely…right?

“Stardust! Over here!” a male voice shouted from the crowd before a flash of a camera went off.

“Can I get a picture, too?” a woman called out, waving her phone wildly as we passed her.

I didn’t like ignoring people. I still tried to smile and wave at everyone we passed, but Shota and Mirai moved too fast for me to stop and speak with the strangers. “Come on, sweetie! Give us a smile!” another man shouted. His tone was all too familiar. I knew that sort of entitlement. The men from the basement spoke to the girls that way…spoke to me that way.

I didn’t have time to process the words before the crowd seemed to press even closer. Bodies brushed against me. Hands reached out—some eager and other greedy. I tried to keep my head down, tried to focus solely on Shota’s hand and the heat of his palm that seeped through my shirt. Still, it felt like my breath was growing shallow as the air became thick and hot. Tomura shifted, pressing his body closer to mine as people pushed toward him. He shouted commands for them to back up.

Someone’s hand landed on my shoulder. Another hand brushed my arm as I tried to slip past them. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to continue walking. Someone else ran their fingers through my hair, causing a chill to run down my spine. My skin crawled with every touch, every unknown and unwelcome hand that grazed my body.

Maybe this is the first time they’ve been around an up and coming hero. Hawks said I was going to be popular. Maybe they’re just excited about seeing me. I’m just a girl, though. I’m not All Might. I’m just—

A hand reached lower. I didn’t feel it until it was too late. My skirt was quickly bunched up just enough for me to feel those fingers graze my thigh before the hand groped my rear. The touch was hard and rough, fingers digging into flesh. It was deliberate.

I yelped, the sound tearing from my throat before I could stop it. I jerked away from the touch, my whole body recoiling as panic erupted in my chest. The crowd became a blur of faces who were just staring at the persona, not the person. No. No, that couldn’t have just happened. Not here. Not with so many people around. There’s no way. It…it must’ve been anything else. Right? Maybe it had been an accident. Maybe someone tripped and…

Those fingers on my inner thigh. Those fingers reaching toward what wasn’t meant for anyone. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. That hand.

I scanned the crowd behind me, stumbling as I twisted, desperate to find the face that belonged to the hand. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the shouts and cheers. I couldn’t see. Everyone was pressed so tightly. Too many shadows and shifting eyes, too many people, too many bodies.

Shota’s hand pressed more firmly to my back, but I quickly stepped away from it, swatting his hand away from me. He reached up and pulled my hand from my neck. I pulled away from him again, my body acting on instinct. I knew those hands weren’t made to hurt me, but they were still hands. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

I gazed up at him, my voice shaking as I tried to find the words to say. Every word I could think of stuck in my throat, tangled up in the shame and the fear of those old memories of the basement. I’d handled a lot of them since Ankoku escaped Tartarus, but there were a lot of memories that I didn’t want to unpack, ones I didn’t want to think of again. Not for the rest of my life. Memories of hands, of fingers, of unwanted touches, of words meant to humiliate and degrade me, of shame.

Tears burned hot at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. It wasn’t fast enough to hide them from him, though, and concern caused his brows to pull together. Before he could say another word, I finally managed an answer. “Someone…someone touched me,” I managed to choke out, my voice barely making it between the short distance between us.

He stiffened beside me. I noticed the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the crowd, clearly looking for the culprit, for anyone who even looked like they might have been close enough. His hand didn’t find my back again, but it hovered near me. I still felt the heat radiating from it, but there was no touch again.

“Touched you?” Tomura snapped from my left side. His voice was sharper and filled with more outrage.

“Don’t react, Tomura. This isn’t the place for it,” Shota warned, forcing his voice to stay even. He was trying to keep things from escalating, but I could still feel the fury rolling off him. It was barely restrained, like attempting to capture a hurricane in a glass bottle. His rage was just as dangerous as Tomura’s, but he’d been more careful about how he expressed it.

Tomura bristled. “Not the right place?! Someone just put their hands on my-” he bit the words off as his fists curled at his sides. His face twisted with a helpless, murderous rage. For a moment, I saw my brother in him. I saw my Player One. I saw the first person in the world who would’ve burned the world down if I so much as requested it. I saw the boy who would’ve died if it meant protecting me from our father.

“I’d accept death with a smile on my face.”

Tomura’s words.

Before I could begin to piece it all together, Mirai’s head snapped around, his eyes finally catching the tension. “What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice louder than usual in an attempt to cut through the noise surrounding us, calls for me to smile, to wave, to say something, to perform. He looked at me, then at Shota as confusion and concern warred on his face.

Shota shook his head once, sharp and tight. It was a silent message that this wasn’t the place to discuss it, that we needed to keep moving. “We’ll talk in the car. We just have to make it back without another incident,” he insisted, nodding toward the car as he clearly struggled to hold together his calm exterior.

Tomura was trembling beside me, his hands twitching the way they always did when he was seconds from losing control. He hadn’t done it since the train, but I knew that if he lost control in a crowd, innocent people would die. I wasn’t worth the lives of innocent bystanders. “Who was it? Who touched you?” he demanded, his voice low and deadly, filled with a promise of violence. His eyes scanned the crowd just as Shota’s had as if he could pick out the guilty party by sheer force of will.

“Someone touched you?” Mirai repeated, his voice strangled with disbelief and anger.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t do anything apart from focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I could only focus on the way my body didn’t feel like my own anymore. I wasn’t seventeen anymore. I was five all over again. I was trapped in that basement. I felt those hands on me. I felt Ankoku’s hand on my thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh of my knee. The way his hand was trapped between my mid-thighs when I snapped my legs shut after he’d pried them apart.

“Anything I want?”

I was that little girl again. I felt just as helpless, just as out of control, just as trapped. I felt those hands, the hands in my hair when they first dragged me from the basement, the hands that pinned me down, the hands that hit me, the hands that held me down, the hands that hurt me, the hands that made me feel shame for the first time. I wasn’t seventeen. I was five. No, I wasn’t five.

I was just a girl.

A quiet girl.

A doll.

The world spun around me, and I felt myself slipping, the edges of the present blurring with the past. My heart pounded in my chest, causing the noises to become muffled. I could still hear their laughter, the laughter of the men from upstairs. I could still hear those jeers as they pushed me down every time I stood up. I could still feel those eyes on me. So many eyes on me. Always looking, never seeing.

Tomura’s voice bled through the noise, “I’ll kill them.”

Shota reached out and grabbed at his arm, attempting to keep him from doing something reckless. “Tomura, stop! This isn’t-”

“Everyone! Back up!” Mirai’s voice boomed, cutting through the noise. His calm professionalism was gone. For the first time since I’d known him, he was just a man protecting me. “This is a seventeen year old girl. She may be an up and coming hero, but she’s still a child, so back up!” he barked, and the crowd fell silent immediately. Some people stepped back, and I felt the shift. Though I was unable to look at their faces, I felt the energy shift from excitement to guilt and confusion. I still felt their stares, though.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling lightly as I finally stepped closer to Shota’s side. I hadn’t sought his touch immediately after, but I just wanted someone to disappear into. I didn’t want to be Stardust in that moment. I didn’t want to be anything but invisible. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, to leave behind the bruises and the shame that I’d carried with me for as long as I could remember, since the first time my father’s hands inflicted cruelty on my body, since the first time my voice wasn’t heard. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear.

But Shota wouldn’t let me, and a part of me sensed that I didn’t want to be let go of either. Part of me knew that I didn’t truly want to disappear, so it sought the one person who had never failed to see me in all the years we’d known each other. He didn’t see the broken girl, the hero, the girl on the bathroom floor, the aspiring hero. He just saw me. Every part of me.

He kept me close, his arm draping over my shoulders instead of resting a hand on the small of my back again. I was ushered through the last bits of the crowd, barely registering the shouts and flashes of cameras. I heard Keigo’s laughter somewhere up ahead—he was still busy charming his own fans, and I couldn’t even be mad at him for not noticing. I didn’t want anyone to see me that way, so him being distracted was for the best.

Mirai opened the car door, shielding me with his broad frame. He helped me slide into the middle seat as Tomura and Shota blocked the path behind us. I immediately curled in on myself, my arms wrapping tightly across my stomach as I tried to make myself smaller. Mirai followed me into the back, kneeling awkwardly on the seat and reaching for the buckle, his hands gentle as he clipped me in like I was five years old again, like our first car ride after I’d been entrusted to his care by All Might and Tsukauchi.

Once I was buckled into the car, he reached between us and cupped my cheeks in both hands. His touch was warm and solid as he tilted my face up. “Akira, look at me,” he murmured, his voice stripped bare. I had no choice but to meet his eyes as he cradled my face the way I did to Hitoshi. Those hands had only ever been gentle with me, just as my hands had only ever been gentle with my little boy.

For that moment with Mirai, I wasn’t Stardust at all. I was that little girl he’d once nursed back to near-happiness, the little girl he used to wrap in a blanket each time he carried me out of his agency or out of the apartment we shared at one point just in case it was too cold. I was that little girl he learned to make strawberry cookies for, the little girl he’d taught to laugh again. I was that little girl he’d never been able to say “no” to. I was never my birth parents’ baby girl…perhaps my mother, but her love was conditional when she chose to stay with my father over protecting my siblings and I from him. I was my adoptive parents’ baby girl, but I had lived longer without them than I had with them.

I had Mirai, though. I was still his baby girl.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice so gentle with the love that never disappeared or lessened over the years. It was the type of love that made my chest ache because I would’ve given anything for him to have been mine, for us to share blood so that my connection to him wasn’t viewed as bizarre from an outsiders perspective. In that moment, I realized that he didn’t care how it appeared to outsiders. He just cared about me.

I shook my head, knowing that if I told him about the pain where I’d been touched, he would’ve made sure the world itself paid for it. Mirai was a calm man, but I was his “weakness.” All Might had teased him about that once before Mirai shot back the same words to him.

My eyes turned as I watched Shota slide into the front passenger seat. Tomura settled into the seat on the other side of me, his body still vibrating with anger. Keigo was still outside, blissfully clueless about what had occurred. My hands curled into fists in my lap. I felt so raw and empty. It was settling into me, the realization that it would never matter how strong I was, how many villains I took down, how many smiles I forced onto my face. I could be Stardust, the hero, and still…someone would decide that I was just a body to touch, to own, to dominate. I’d spent my life believing that being strong meant being safe, but I wasn’t.

At the end of the day, I was still a girl.

The tears came, hot and silent, pricking at the corners of my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but it was useless. Mirai’s thumbs caught the tears before they even fell, wiping them away and saving my pride. “Th-this is just a part of it, isn’t it?” I whispered, my throat tight and voice trembling as my bottom lip quivered. “All of this…being out there, letting people see you, some of them are just going to see you as…something.”

Shota’s eyes were soft as he turned around in his seat. He shook his head, “no. This is part of them, not you,” he insisted, pausing as his eyes searched mine. He wanted to make sure I didn’t just hear him but that I was listening. “Fame magnifies everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“You aren’t responsible for the ugly parts of this world, though, Akira. That has never been your burden,” Mirai added, his thumbs still brushing gently across my cheeks, catching tears before they could trail down my face.

His words burrowed deep inside me. I nodded my head, knowing it was the truth, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like I was piecing myself back together with every breath. The pain was still there regardless of it not being my responsibility. Beneath it, though, there was a flicker of something else: resolve. I was Stardust. I was also Akira, and nothing anyone did to me could take that away unless I let them.

I squeezed my fists tighter, feeling my nails bite into my palms. I’d always thought heroism would be about fighting villains and inspiring hope, but it was more than that. Sometimes, it was just surviving. Sometimes, it was just refusing to break, even when they wanted to watch you shatter for their own entertainment. I met Mirai’s eyes again. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to be strong enough to handle both the good and the ugly.”

“Never alone, though, Akira. You’ll never handle any of this alone,” Shota vowed from the front seat.

Mirai nodded in agreement, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head, “never alone, sweetheart,” he repeated Shota’s words, smoothing my hair back. I leaned into his touch before he pulled away and climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. His words still wrapped around me like a warm embrace. For the first time since I’d been grabbed, I felt the air in my lungs again. I didn’t feel alone. 

In the side mirror, I caught a glimpse of Mirai as he moved to intercept Keigo. His expression wasn’t just stern, it was severe, the kind of look he typically reserved for villains who had incorrectly assumed they could talk their way around him. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was clear that he wasn’t sugarcoating anything. Based on the look on Keigo’s face, it seemed as if he wasn’t fully registering the severity of what was being told to him. With a careless flick of his hair, he opened the door and gave one final wave to his shouting fans before sliding into the seat beside me.

Once the door was closed and Mirai got into the driver’s seat, Keigo turned toward me. “Sounds like you finally got the full ‘welcome to fame’ package,” he smiled, and I didn’t know if it was his attempt at lightening the mood or just ignorance of how deeply it had bothered me. I’d hoped for the former because the latter would’ve hurt too much. I hoped that he would’ve at least empathized with me a bit more since he also didn’t like being touched. He had an aversion to it, which was why I always sat in the middle when we were riding in the backseat together. He didn’t mind my touch, but he didn’t want to be close to anyone else.

I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, picking at the edge of my skirt and pulling it as far down to my knees as I could without forcing it to trail from my hips. “Yeah…I guess,” I mumbled, my voice smaller than I’d meant for it to come out. I didn’t want to talk about it, not when he treated it like a mild inconvenience when it was far more than that to me.

“Trust me, it’s not personal. People get a little grabby when they think you belong to them or they deserve a part of you,” he added, his tone smooth and practiced. It was a similar tone he used for interviews and fan events. It wasn’t the Keigo I’d gotten to know over the course of our friendship. It was as if his interaction with his fans had put him into a different mindset that he just couldn’t pull himself out of right away.

I stiffened, the words scraping against those old wounds. “Belong to them.” That was what it felt like, like they saw me as something to be owned and touched, not someone. Just like the men from the basement.

Just like my master.

Keigo glanced at me again, flashing that easy smile at me, but I couldn’t return it. “It just means you’re doing something right, you know?”

In the front seat, I noticed Mirai’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. I saw the way his fingers strained, how his jaw worked as he barely held himself together while maneuvering through the traffic. Shota’s jaw also clenched, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he glared at the dashboard. I could feel the anger simmering within the car, which was a stark contrast to Keigo’s lighthearted attitude toward the whole situation. Perhaps that was why he was being so lighthearted…because he knew that the mood needed to be lifted somehow. Keigo either didn’t recognize the anger simmering in the car, or he didn’t care.

He bumped his knee against mine. “Come on, baby bird. Lighten up a bit. You’ll get used to it.”

I knew the words were meant to be reassuring, but they landed with a heavy thud. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he let his hand drop to my knee, palm resting on the bare skin just below where my skirt ended. I froze, every muscle growing rigid. I didn’t want to be touched—not now, not like that, especially not after what just happened. My skin crawled, and I fought the urge to pull away from him, to shrink into myself. I stayed still, not wanting to make a scene, not wanting to draw even more unwanted attention to myself after everything that had just transpired. I already felt enough shame to last a lifetime.

Tomura noticed immediately. I saw the way he straightened, his eyes narrowing at Keigo’s hand on me. He did it often when Keigo would visit, his anger boiling whenever he saw Keigo touch me. This was right in front of him and right after the incident in the crowd. I knew that Keigo found peace in touching me, that it was something that brought him a sense of calm, but he was just oblivious to the pain that seemed so close to the surface as he began rubbing slow, lazy circles against my knee with his thumb, trailing his hand a little higher up my thigh. It was a familiar gesture, one I’d daydreamed about once when the idea of being desired by Keigo was thrilling instead of suffocating. Now, it felt wrong.

I didn’t want to be desirable. I just wanted to feel safe.

My thighs squeezed together, an instinctive barrier, hoping he’d get the message, but he didn’t move his hand. He didn’t seem to notice the tension radiating off me. I stayed silent, swallowing the words I wanted to say, the scream that rose in my chest. I learned in the basement that good girls were quiet, and…I wanted to be good for the people who were good to me.

I still felt the ghost of the hand from the crowd, and Keigo’s touch only made it worse, blurring the line between what I wanted and what I couldn’t bear. It was my fault, though. I was the one who had led him to believe that touching me was okay. I’d let him touch me before, let him stroke my hair, let him touch my pinky, let him tuck loose strands of hair behind my ear, let him hold my hand when we were certain no one would see. I had given him no reason to believe that touching me was off limits, so…he was just doing as he always did because I opened the door for him.

I shifted slightly in my seat, and his hand slipped from my leg. It was a small mercy, one I didn’t deserve. Tomura’s voice was low and dangerous from where he was seated to my right as he took the moment to target Keigo as the pro reached for my leg again, “do it again.”

Keigo’s eyes found Tomura’s as his mouth tugged into an amused smirk, “do what?”

“Touch her again. I dare you,” Tomura challenged, his voice dripping with a desire that I hadn’t heard from him before. When I turned to look at him, he was watching Keigo like a predator about to strike. I’d seen it before, though, from my Player One when I was much younger. It was a look he had when he stepped between Father and I. It was as if he was looking for a reason to destroy something, looking for an outlet for his anger. I felt the tension rolling off him like something wild. He wanted Keigo to do it, not to hurt me, but to give him an excuse to explode.

Keigo rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by threatening me, but I’m not afraid of you, kid,” he scoffed as he rested his hand on my thigh again. His fingers reached in toward my inner thigh once more, and I squeezed my legs together. It wasn’t high up on my thigh, but I still didn’t want any hands on me…not his. Not when they were filled with desire. Mirai’s hands were hands of love and protection. Shota’s were the same. Keigo’s…I knew what his hands were.

“When it comes to Akira, you should be,” Tomura warned him, his eyes focusing on Keigo’s hand again.

The winged hero laughed beside me, but the sound didn’t reach his eyes. He was still in his public facing mode: cocky and self-assured. “She’s not made of glass. She’s a hero, and you should start treating her like one,” he instructed the boy who was just trying to protect me. The words stung. It was as if being a hero meant I couldn’t be hurt, couldn’t break, couldn’t…feel.

“And she’s not your property,” Tomura shot back, his voice shaking with restraint that I knew he was picking up from Shota. The more time they spent together, the more Tomura tried to emulate his mannerisms. The two of them had been training outside of our normal home life. I’d requested to watch, but there were only a few times that Shota had allowed me in on the training sessions.

Keigo’s smile tightened, “I never said she was. She can make her own choices about who she belongs to and who gets to touch her.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for us, “and between you and me, kid, she’s never complained when I touch her.”

My heart dropped. I stared down at my hands, shame burning up my neck. He was right. I’d never complained. I’d let him. Over and over and over again. And why? Because I wanted him to want me. I wanted to be desired by him because his eyes made me feel beautiful. Now, those eyes made me feel vulnerable in a way that felt like I’d been flayed alive. Those hands made me feel dirty. It’s just because of what just happened. It’s not Keigo. It’s just the aftermath of the incident in the crowd. I like Keigo. He’s good to me.

“If you touch her again without her asking you to, I will kill you,” Tomura promise as he leaned in just like Keigo had done.

Keigo’s eyes lost all playfulness and sharpened. It was as if he became territorial or…hungry. “Is that meant to impress her?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower as his hand trailed further up my leg. It was like he was touching me in that moment to prove a point, not to seek solace. Maybe he liked knowing other people wanted me. Perhaps it made it easier for him to want me.

“It’s meant to warn you,” Tomura snapped, not backing down.

“Tomura,” Shota’s voice cut in from the front, his tone a warning, like a leash snapping tight. It was the only thing that kept Tomura from doing something none of us could undo. He would only listen to me so much, but he made it clear that when it came to protecting me, he was one track minded.

I wanted to speak, wanted to make it stop, to tell them both to be quiet, but the words just wouldn’t come out. I kept trying to open my mouth, but every single time I tried, the shame and guilt knotted tighter in my chest. I was the reason they were fighting. I was the reason Keigo was so careless. Maybe if I’d worn something else, if I’d pushed his hand away sooner, if I’d just said something, none of it would’ve been happening. Keigo had already told me that skirts and dresses made his thoughts about me “less than professional” and “for late night texts” that we never truly had.

I hadn’t set boundaries with him. I still felt like I couldn’t, like it wasn’t right of me to tell him to stop touching me when everyone else in the car seemed to be so upset with him. This is his peace. He’s finding peace in touching me, and I can handle it. I can do this! I wanted to be good, to not cause trouble. Good girls didn’t make a scene.

Mirai’s eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. They were sharp, clear, and calculating. He was watching everything, not missing a single twitch or shift. I could sense the way he was measuring Keigo, cataloguing each word and gesture, deciding how far he’d let things go before stepping in himself. He was also waiting for me to speak up, having faith that I’d be able to do it myself.

Keigo finally pulled his hand away from my leg with a rough, irritated huff. There was something sharp in the motion, like he was the one who’d been wronged. I felt the old, familiar urge to smooth things over, to say something that would make the air lighter, that would make him feel less upset. Despite what it had done to me, I didn’t want him to be upset with me or with Tomura.

“You’re all acting like I did something wrong,” he huffed in annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You did,” Tomura snapped back without hesitation.

Keigo scoffed, not even looking at me, “she didn’t say anything. If she didn’t want me to touch her, she could’ve just told me to stop.”

I froze again as my breath caught in my throat, and I felt the air in the car go still. He didn’t realize what he’d just said, didn’t realize that every man in the car had spent years learning to listen for the things women didn’t say. Shota had always had me. Mirai had raised me from the broken pieces of myself after the basement and before I was brought to the Yamada family. Tomura had a sister once, and now, he had me. They’d all learned that silence was its own kind of scream, that silence wasn’t consent to do whatever they wanted.

He was right, though. I hadn’t told him to stop. I’d never told anyone to stop, not really. I didn’t do it in the basement because I knew that if they weren’t doing it to me, they would do it to one of the other girls, so I turned into a doll. I’d learned many lessons from the basement, and some of them stuck.

Shota was the one who finally spoke up for me. “You don’t wait for someone to say ‘no’ when they’re frozen,” he snapped, anger slicing through the cold air that seemed to surround us in the car. He turned halfway in his seat, his eyes burning into Keigo as if daring him to argue.

The car was silent for a moment. Every breath felt heavy, and every second stretched between us too slowly. I felt like I wasn’t even there, like I was just a prop in their conversation, something to be fought over, something to be touched or protected or claimed. Never just a person, though.

Keigo’s voice broke the silence, his tone still defensive but a little less sure of himself, “I was just trying to make her feel better.”

Mirai’s voice was calm when he spoke for the first time, “every moment of failure is an opportunity to learn how to do it better in the future. Next time, try asking her what she needs instead of assuming you already know what’s best for her.”

Keigo’s eyes finally found mine, confusion written all over his face. I could tell that he didn’t get it, didn’t see how this time was different from all the other times he’d touched me, how the world had shifted beneath my feet. To him, it had been light and harmless—the way things always were between us. To me, it wasn’t harmless. To me, it brought back all the times I had hands on my body that I didn’t want.

I looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes, and I finally forced the words out before I lost my nerve. “I don’t want to be touched right now,” I murmured my first words throughout the entire conversation that had been transpiring about me without me. My voice was quiet, but it was mine.

He didn’t apologize. Not even close. He just let out another huff, almost like my boundaries had inconvenienced him, “you’re gonna have to build thicker skin if you want to stay in this game, baby bird,” he warned, and my stomach dropped. His voice was flat and practical, as if he was doing me a favor by “toughening me up.” He didn’t sound cruel, just…matter-of-fact. It was clear he didn’t see himself or his words as anything but helpful. He hadn’t been there in the crowd, though, hadn’t been the one to be touched the way I was.

That was the divide in the hero world. It took that experience to solidify it. Men were pillars—untouchable, respected, unbreakable. Women were spectacles—watched, judged, touched, taken.

“She doesn’t need thicker skin,” Mirai cut in through Keigo’s dismissal. When his eyes found mine in the rearview mirror, there was only gentleness there, the kind that made my chest ache with gratitude. He had always been my safe place, my proof that gentleness was strength. Having him on my side gave me back my sense of personhood, like I was worth defending and worth listening to. Mirai may not have been my father, but he was better than that man had ever been to me. He was the closest I had to that.

Akira

I didn’t remember crumpling to the floor, but I registered Shota’s arms around my body, pulling me from landing on the glass of the bowl. He settled me onto the floor, collecting my face in his hands. He spoke to me, but I couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in my ears. I could see him, but everything else was hazy. The world was spinning, so I clung to his black shirt with hands that couldn’t even feel the fabric beneath them. I gripped his shirt so tightly that my fingernails bit into my palms through the fabric, but I still couldn’t even process that I was holding onto him at all.

The world was quiet. The ringing in my ears dissipated, but the world was still muffled. It was as if I had been dragged underwater by the news broadcaster. It wasn’t his fault, though. He was just the messenger of horrific news. The sound seemed to have been sucked out of the room. I still couldn’t hear the news and barely even processed Hitoshi and Tomura around me.

“I’m…I’m okay,” I insisted, though I wasn’t sure if the words came out clearly since it sounded like my voice was miles away. The words were more for Hitoshi, but his gaze was still filled with concern. Did I even speak? Is any of this real? What if I’m still sleeping, and this is a nightmare? It has to be a nightmare.

My eyes caught the broadcast again as Hizashi rushed into the living room, his hair still dripping wet from the shower. He fell to his knees beside me, trying to comfort me. Tomura led Hitoshi back to the couch, attempting to distract him from the television, but Tomura’s eyes flickered to the news and back over to me consistently, never looking away for long. Hizashi cleaned the bowl and cereal from the floor with a towel as I just stared at the screen and clutched onto Shota’s shirt like it was my only anchor to reality.

Then, the picture changed to a grey wall with the number five written in blood.

Just as it had when I was five years old, the sudden counting shocked my system. I was suddenly that little girl again. I was back in the basement, strapped to the chair with blood in my mouth as he counted down. It had been a choice: Koemi or Ayane. One to live. One to die. Ankoku had made it into a game, and I never forgot those rules.

Five.

He’d written it for me. It was a message…a promise. I’d always known it was a matter of time. After what I had done to him, I knew he would come looking for me. He was relentless in the basement, so why did I think anything could’ve changed outside of the basement? My peace had existed for 11 years, and I had naively thought it would last for longer. I thought I had atoned for my sins, but the world had a way of reminding me that there was always work left to be done.

I couldn’t breathe, could barely even think. I couldn’t move from my spot on the floor except to stare at the number on the wall. I wanted to scream or run or do…anything at all. All I could do was just kneel on the floor, completely still.

Like a doll.

I needed Hizashi. I needed Shota. I needed Hitoshi and Seirei and Tomura. I needed them surrounding me. I needed to touch them, hear them, make sure they were breathing and still real. I needed to make sure they were still alive and tangible. They were my links to goodness, to my humanity, to the world that was still kind because it was filling with fear and despair by the second. They were my anchors and the people who pushed me toward the life I wanted to live, the person I wanted to become.

I continued to cling to Shota’s shirt, unable to move. I saw my phone nearly vibrate off the coffee table, but Hizashi caught it. He glanced at the caller ID, then answered it, holding it up to his ear. Through the muffled sound, I heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but I couldn’t string it all together enough in that moment.

“She’s okay…” “not able to talk…” “there’s a couch…”

The sound of the front door slamming open was what finally snapped me out of the trance the news broadcast had put me in. My eyes found Seirei as she burst into the apartment. Hizashi attempted to slow her down as she rushed to me, but her quirk activated, and his hand phased through her wrist, allowing her to keep moving as if he wasn’t even there. She threw herself onto the floor beside me, wrapping her arms around me, holding me tighter than she’d ever held me before.

She was shaking, or…perhaps it was me. Maybe we both were. I let her hold me as I wrapped my free arm around her, still unable to let go of Shota’s shirt. She buried her face into my hair, “I’m so sorry, Kiki. I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over again, her voice cracking beneath the weight of her grief and guilt. We had both been children when we were saved from the basement, so she had no reason to apologize, but the guilt was still there for both of us. It was a guilt born from allowing him to live. I had been one of the only people who was capable of fighting back, but I hadn’t managed to kill him that night despite my best efforts to make him suffer.

Ankoku, to my knowledge, had never specifically touched Seirei as she was “saved” from the basement that fateful night. He’d only ever touched me, inflicting physical and emotional wounds that would never heal. Perhaps that was why she was apologizing. Despite her voice and arms around me, I wasn’t truly present. I was still in the basement, still watching Ankoku butcher the basement girls, stabbing them, beating them, laughing. I could still feel the ropes against my wrist, the way my skin tore as I tried to escape, the sound of his voice counting, the way he taunted me.

Through those memories, I heard other words breaking through.

“The braids are how we take care of each other, but it’s also how we stay connected to each other.” Yoshiko whispered as she braided my hair back.

“Someday…when this is all over, I’ll be your biggest fan because you’re going to be the greatest hero in the world. I just know it,” Tamika smiled, taking my pinky in hers the way she’d seen Seirei and I do.

“I don’t have to be a hero to anyone else in this life as long as I’m a hero to you and the other girls down here. I found my purpose,” Ayane promised, pressing her lips to the top of my head as she held me close to her chest. She was taken upstairs again that night.

“You give me something to fight for. We’ll make it out of here, Kiki. I promise,” Seirei whispered the night before Ankoku arrived, and we fell asleep with our pinkies intertwined. We didn’t know what was coming next.

“I’ve never had sisters before. You’re my first ones.” Koemi smiled at me and Seirei as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

“Be good, my sweet girl.”

Ankoku’s memory couldn’t possibly snuff out the gifts of love I’d received from the basement girls. I didn’t have Tamika, Yoshiko, Ayane, Chiyoko, or Koemi anymore, but I had Seirei. I still had myself. For both of us, I had to be the strongest person I could be. I had no choice but to continue fighting even if it hurt, especially if it hurt, because the world had given me the gift of sisters, and I wouldn’t dishonor them by letting Ankoku win.

So I got back up onto my feet.

From the still open door, a new body entered the room. I hadn’t seen him in person in years, but I got a call from him every few months to check in. Detective Tsukauchi’s voice was just as gentle as it had always been as he closed the distance, “I was hoping to get here in time to be the one to break the news, but it looks like I’m too late,” he apologized, though it was unnecessary.

Hizashi stuck his hand out to shake and pulled him close, patting him on the back with his free hand while he murmured something meant only for them. I couldn’t hear it clearly enough to make it out, but Tsukauchi nodded. He introduced himself to Shota and Tomura before kneeling down in front of Hitoshi, holding his hand out. “Hey, little guy! You must be Hitoshi,” he greeted him with a warm smile.

“How do you know my name?” Hitoshi asked, his eyes wide.

“It’s my job to know everything about your mom, and that includes knowing the little things about you, too,” he answered with a wink. “My name is Detective Tsukauchi, but you can call me Naomasa,” he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head.

Hitoshi took his hand, shaking it politely. “Are you Mommy’s friend?” he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

The name. It pulled me right back to everything that was important to me, everything that was worth living for. I straightened my shoulders and pulled myself together as best as I could. Seirei continued to hold onto me, supporting me the way she always had, but I also held onto her as a support. She was just as much my responsibility as I was hers.

Tsukauchi smiled as his eyes flickered up to me before finding Hitoshi’s again. “I think that would be a good way to put it,” he replied, his voice gentle and kind before rising back up onto his feet. He closed the space between us, his eyes remaining locked on mine. He was older than the last time we’d seen each other, but I suppose so was I.

Shota’s shoulders squared in that way they always did whenever he was preparing to fight off the world. He didn’t know my history with Tsukauchi, but he was still willing to protect me from him if he needed to. I wanted to tell him not to bother, that Tsukauchi was a good man, but I knew it wouldn’t have mattered in that moment. Shota had already seen so much from me that morning that he wasn’t about to take any risks. He didn’t understand what was going. Hizashi, Tomura, and Hitoshi also didn’t understand. Seirei and Tsukauchi were the only people who could possibly understand the weight of this moment for me.

Tsukauchi’s arms wrapped around me in a tight hug, and I let go of Seirei’s body to wrap my own arms around him. He was stronger than he appeared, but he was typically still careful with me. In that moment, though, he held me so tightly I could barely breathe. He had been there to help Hizashi after our parents had died. Tsukauchi was around consistently through that entire time, helping us navigate our grief and helping us rebuild our lives. He’d also been one of the three people who supported me after the basement, having taken me in along with Mirai and All Might in the aftermath while he searched for the best family for me.

He was even there after All Might’s visits had come to an end. Naomasa, despite being a detective, had never lost his kindness. He never let the world harden him, even when he was confronted with the worst of it, like my stories of the basement.

“I’m sorry we’re meeting again under these circumstances,” he murmured into my hair as he smoothed his hand over my back.

I just nodded, unable to make my mouth work. I couldn’t even make a sound. My tongue felt like lead, and my throat was raw with the effort of keeping myself from screaming. My eyes burned, but I didn’t cry. I was past the point of tears. The kind of fear that coursed through me didn’t have room for tears, only for adrenaline and the instinct to survive.

Sensing that there wasn’t much room to discuss the reality of the situation with Hitoshi still in the room, Hizashi took charge. “Hey, how about you go get changed back into your comfy clothes, Peanut? No school today,” he suggested in a gentle voice, leading Hitoshi down the hall despite his protests.

“But I want to know what’s going on. Is she okay?” Hitoshi asked, his voice filled with concern as he looked back over his shoulder at me.

Hizashi ruffled his hair, keeping him from being able to look at me as my hand flew to my mouth. I bit down on the skin of my palm, desperate to keep the sob from clawing its way out of my throat. I felt powerless in that moment, like the odds were stacked against me, like the forces of the world were far too powerful to overcome. I was just one person. I was supposed to make Hitoshi feel safe, but how could I do that when my existence was going to put him in danger?

“Everything’s going to be fine, Peanut. You never have to worry about her as long as Shota and I are around,” Hizashi reminded him of something I’d heard him say more times than I could count. He’d said it to me all the time when I was younger, too. You have nothing to be afraid of as long as Shota and I are around. Nothing will hurt you. It was a beautiful lie, or at least a truth he thought he’d be able to uphold.

I knew evil, though, and the forces of evil were strong.

There was a pause, and I imagined Hitoshi’s little face as he considered Hizashi’s words. I imagined his brows furrowing in that stubborn way he had, which Shota often said he’d picked up from me. He’d refuse the comfort if it meant being separated from me. I knew that feeling well. “I don’t want to be away from her. She’s scared, and she said that I make her feel brave,” Hitoshi protested, his words cutting through me like a knife.

It was nearly enough to unravel me. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. I’d told him the truth. Hitoshi did make me feel brave. He reminded me that there was still light in the world, that there were still people who needed to be saved, and I had to stay strong for them.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I saw a text message pop up from Keigo. I didn’t move to open it, not yet. I couldn’t bring myself to be strong for anyone in that moment. I couldn’t even be strong for myself, but I was gathering up the pieces once more, stacking them back together the way they had been before the nightmare began.

Hizashi’s footsteps made their way back down the hall, and he appeared in the room again. I sat between Shota and Seirei on the couch. Tomura was on the other side of Shota, his eyes fixed on me in silent concern, but there was something else in them, too. Fear. Hizashi and Shota didn’t know who Ankoku was, but something about Tomura’s reaction told me that he understood the severity of the situation far better than Shota and Hizashi. I wanted to explain it all to him, to tell him about the basement, to confide in him just how scared I was, but the words were stuck in my throat.

Hizashi perched himself on the arm of the couch beside Seirei, studying Tsukauchi who laid a folder onto the table. I knew what was in that folder. It had been collected when I was 5. There were pictures. There were statements. There were names. It was the basement. I glanced up at Shota who had a million questions brewing in his eyes, but Hizashi was the first to demand them. “What the hell is going on, Tsukauchi?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest, voice low and tinged with a growing anger. “What does any of this have to do with us?” he pressed even further.

Tsukauchi’s gaze left Hizashi’s yellow-green eyes, flickering to mine as if seeking permission. I gave him a small nod, unable to speak without feeling like the water would rush back into my lungs and drown me. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he began before nodding his head my way, “but it has everything to do with Seirei…and Akira.”

Shota’s body tensed beside me, and I watched as Tomura’s hands clenched into fists on his lap. It was another sign that he knew more than what he was letting on. He was trying to be brave, but I could practically hear the storm raging within him.

Sensing the questions that were already forming in the minds of the others, Tsukauchi began speaking again, turning his attention solely to Seirei and myself. “If you’d like, we can go back to my office and discuss this in a more private setting,” he suggested, knowing full well that this was a conversation we’d never even brought up in front of other detectives. I only discussed the basement with Tsukauchi. Seirei had been more comfortable dealing with it on her own, not wanting to discuss the details unless I was in the room with her, but even then, she hated talking about it and often refused. Arehate had also found comfort in Tsukauchi’s gentle nature, but he spoke to more than just him. I was the only one who solely confided in him. He knew it would be a difficult conversation for me to have with the others, so he offered me an option of having it alone.

I wanted to nod, to let him bring me away from my home, to hide me away. I almost allowed myself to be kept small and protected. I almost let my fear take the wheel, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I had to involve them since they would be involved in the danger that was to come. I shook my head, finally finding my resolve, “this is my family. They deserve to know, too.” Even if it meant that they finally learned the dark truth about my past.

Tsukauchi nodded his head and sat back in the chair, folding his hands in his lap. His eyes remained locked on me, “Ankoku Shiroishi escaped Tartarus in the early hours of this morning,” he began, and my shoulders tensed. “It was a coordinated attack. There was someone helping him from the outside, perhaps more than one. There was only one broadcasted message at the scene, but we received some additional information from a source within the prison as well,” Tsukauchi continued, leaning forward to open the folder to the final page. He pulled out a photo and slid it across the coffee table toward me.

It was a picture of a piece of paper. Written on it were the words: “You and I are going to have so much fun, pet. I can’t wait to hear you scream.” They were some of the first words he’d ever said to me in the basement before the torture began, before he tried to break me for my owner. If I hadn’t been completely sure of his messaging up until that point, I was certain of it after reading the note. It was for me. A chill crept up my spine, but I refused to let it take root. I wasn’t a child anymore. I wasn’t powerless. I was surrounded by my family, by people who would fight and bleed for me, just as I would for them. I had to be strong. It was my only choice.

Shota’s hands copied Tomura’s as he balled them into fists on his lap. “Why would he be targeting her?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the detective. Despite Tsukauchi being on our side, he was still the one delivering us such devastating news, and Shota wasn’t going to let any question go unanswered.

“We’ll…we’ll get to that,” Tsukauchi said, clearly not wanting to reveal too much too soon, especially since the topic of the basement was a sensitive one for Seirei and myself. “He killed three guards on his way out of the prison, and he was in the process of breaking out several other inmates from their cells when he finally managed to escape. There have been ongoing reports of several inmates who’ve gone missing since his escape, but they’re yet to be identified.”

There were other men from the basement who went to Tartarus, ones with quirks that were powerful and too dangerous for the regular prisons in Japan. They were ones who had killed and tortured. “We’re not sure who helped him escape, but-”

“I do,” I responded, my voice filled with certainty as I remembered the man who tasked Ankoku with breaking me. All For One. My owner. My…Master. The memory of him, his seemingly gentle hands but the unforgiving look in his eyes, made my stomach churn.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears, doll.”

Before anyone could stop me, I was running. My feet barely touched the floor as I bolted to the bathroom. I made it just in time, throwing myself onto the floor in front of the toilet as I emptied the contents of my stomach into the bowl. I didn’t stop until there was nothing left, just shaking limbs and the sound of my own ragged breathing. It couldn’t be. I still felt his hand in my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear. I could still hear his voice. I could still feel the chill of his presence, the way he lowered himself down to my level as he pretended to be gentle. He had killed Burgundy that day we met, but upon meeting Ankoku, I understood that my owner had done so in order to prove to me just how strong he was. It wasn’t to protect me.

I barely heard Hizashi come in after me. I just felt his arms around me, strong and warm, pulling me close as I continued to dry heave into the bowl. There was nothing left to void, but my body still tried to purge the poison of those memories. Hizashi held me the entire time, rubbing my back and holding my hair from my face in the same way he had when I got sick as a child. I was still a child. I was growing, but I wasn’t grown yet. I still felt so small, and the world still felt too big to survive.

Once the wave of nausea passed, he cleaned my face off and flushed the toilet before pulling me even closer to him. I leaned back against him, hiding my face in his shoulder as I focused on slowing my breathing, trying to find something solid to anchor myself to. My owner was powerful. He was the definition of power with more than one quirk at his disposal, but…so was I. Perhaps the time to be protected had passed, and perhaps my time to protect myself had finally come.

“I’ve got you, Stars,” Hizashi murmured into my hair, his voice soft and soothing despite the weight of everything that was happening. He didn’t let anyone else into the bathroom. Seirei had been the first one in the hallway, but Hizashi shook his head and pressed me closer, allowing me to hide in the shelter of his arms as if they were enough to keep all the monsters at bay. I allowed myself to be small while I was in his arms, letting him hold me in a way that he wouldn’t be able to do for long. I needed to give him as much time with me as he had left because if my owner was truly involved, it was only a matter of time before I’d be with him.

When the worst of it had passed, I pulled in a shaky breath, and Hizashi helped me stand. I cleaned my mouth out with him by my side the entire time, caring for me and supporting me as I cared for myself. When we found our way back out to the living room, Hizashi’s arm remained tight around my shoulders. Everyone wore worried looks, desperate to understand. I couldn’t even look at them in that moment as I settled back down between Shota and Seirei on the couch. I silently tried to gather the pieces of myself once more in an attempt to stack them up into something resembling a person again.

It was clear that I wasn’t in a place to explain what had just happened, so Shota broke the silence with a question directed at Tsukauchi. “I don’t understand who this man is and what makes him any different than any of the other villains who’ve escaped prison. Is it just because it’s Tartarus?” he asked in a voice laced with uncertainty, but there was also that familiar stubbornness beneath it. Shota hated showing his fear of what he didn’t know, but that moment was different than others had been before.

“It’s because Akira was his favorite toy,” Seirei answered for me, her voice trembling but strong as she reached out to grasp my hand in hers.

I watched as Shota’s eyes widened with the realization hitting him like a slap to the face. “From the basement,” he breathed out.

I nodded my head, unable to speak as I stared at my hands. One was still holding onto Seirei’s, and the other was gripping my own thigh as tightly as it could. I needed it to hurt, to keep me grounded, to remind me that I wasn’t in the basement. “The number five is a message directly to me,” I managed, my voice coming out in a whisper that I barely recognized as my own. I heard the questions without them needing to be asked. “It’s a countdown…just like he did in the basement. He…” my voice broke as I tried to tell them, almost as if my body was trying to protect me from the fallout of those memories.

Seirei’s hand tightened around mine, and I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to let him break me anymore. “The men in the basement were monsters, but when I met my owner for the first time, I understood what true evil looked like. He asked me about the men who…whose hands…” my voice cracked as the shame of my childhood rushed back into me, the shame of what had been done to my body.

The silence that fell around us was suffocating. No one even moved. Shota, Hizashi, and Tomura all stopped breathing. They knew what I meant before I even spoke the words.

“Whose hands had touched me, and he killed one of them right in front of me that day. He told me he was going to take me away, and I demanded that the other girls be freed as well. That was when Ankoku was called. My owner must’ve known about the problems I created for the men from the basement, and he didn’t want me creating any problems for him, so Ankoku was called to break me before my owner collected me,” I explained, speaking of the memories as if they belonged to someone else.

“You were just a child,” Hizashi breathed out in a shaky breath.

“A disobedient one,” I corrected him in a hollowed out voice. “I was property to him, something he needed molded into the perfect little doll for him. I showed him that I was capable of fighting back through what I had done to some of the men.”

“W-what did you…” Shota’s voice failed him, as if he was afraid of the answer.

Seirei stepped in, sensing my inability to respond. “Do you remember when I told you about the braids?” she asked him, her voice strangely soft for an interaction with Shota. She was typically much more reactive with him, but that wasn’t the proper moment for it, not when I was so close to breaking down completely. The conversation must’ve been one I wasn’t privy to, but Shota nodded anyway. “Akira used to fight for us, to keep the men from hurting me or the other girls. She’d fight them every single time they came down to collect one of us, and she’d be beaten for it every single time, but she told us that she could take it and promised to save us no matter what it cost her. Sometimes she’d be taken in our place, but there were other times when she’d just fight until they beat her so badly she’d pass out. There were times we thought she was dead because no normal child could’ve survived the things they did to her.”

“It’s because she’s a girl,” Hizashi murmured, and I could feel his eyes on me. It had been one of the daily affirmations he’d used when I was growing up, reminding me just how strong girls were. It was one of the things he’d first said to me upon meeting me when he was told by his parents that I’d been through some dark times. His response: “and she made it out alive because girls are built to survive the impossible.” The mantra he’d created for me was “I’m a girl, so I can survive the impossible.”

I offered him a smile with trembling lips before continuing, finding that strength once more, “Ankoku tied me to a chair in the basement and tortured me all day. He…” I paused, remembering the feeling of him cutting into my body and shoving glass into my wounds before healing them closed and beating me once more, trying to inflict as much pain as he could. I remembered the nails, the tools, the sounds of my flesh ripping open, the stench of blood. “He told me that all I had to do was ask for it to stop, but I knew if I did that, he would’ve hurt the girls. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let anyone else be hurt if I was still breathing. That was when he forced me to start choosing. He wanted me to…to pick who died.”

Shota’s hand flew up to his mouth as he leaned forward, his eyes wide with horror. His hair hid his face from me, but I watched as his shoulders trembled with the effort to hold back the overwhelming emotions that had to be coursing through him. I reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. The memories had been my own for so long that I’d gotten used to them, but I had to remember that the people around me were hearing it for the very first time. I had to remember that they were processing it for the first time, and it was going to be difficult when they realized the depths of cruelty I’d been subjected to.

“I couldn’t choose, so he just kept killing them in front of me, telling me to pick…over and over and over again. It was…” my voice failed me once more as I tried to keep myself from falling apart. “I kept begging him to choose me. I was supposed to be a hero. I was supposed to save them, not choose one to send to the slaughter. He killed every single one of them, though, before we got down to the last two: Koemi and Ayane. That was when the counting started. He said I had to choose, or he’d kill them both. Ayane wanted me to choose her, so…I did. He may have been the one who ended her life, but I was the one who killed her.”

Seirei shook her head, pulling me into her arms. I let her hold me, let her shower me in reassuring words that lived on the surface of my skin, but I couldn’t feel the weight of them. I’d lived for too long with the belief that I had killed Ayane. If I’d chosen Koemi, Ayane would’ve lived, so I had been the sole reason for her death. I killed all of them. If I hadn’t fought, if I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I hadn’t been so determined to protect them, they would’ve lived.

“Ankoku is trying to tell me that he’s waiting for me to pick again,” I insisted, knowing these games. Just then, Ayane’s voice echoed in my mind, strong and sure: “We’re not victims, Akira, not anymore. We’re survivors.” I took a long breath and straightened my shoulders, “but he’s not going to win. Not this time.” The words were my promise to them, to the girls in the basement. I wouldn’t let them down again. They would be my strength, and I’d finish what I started that night they were killed. I would become the hero they saw in me.

Tsukauchi nodded his head, his resolve mirroring my own as the faintest hint of pride shone in his eyes. “We’re setting up protections, patrols, and surveillance, but I promised you when you were a child, Akira, that come any shadow or storm, you’d never have to face it alone. I intend to keep that promise,” he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

“And what about Arehate?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended as I realized there was one person who was still missing from the conversation. “He’s still out there, and he’s going to be the first one Ankoku goes after since he was his apprentice.” I could barely hide the edge in my voice, the panic that crept up in my throat and made my hands tremble. I didn’t even know where to start or where Arehate was. He hadn’t been apprehended after Hiza City, so he was still out there with Twister. I knew I had broken through to a piece of him that night, but I didn’t know how willing he’d be to step back from his current path. He was the only other person who had survived the basement, so we were connected in a way that I didn’t share with anyone else apart from with Seirei.

Hizashi shook his head as his jaw tightened. He knew what I was going to suggest, and he wanted to cut off my train of thought before it had time to fully form. “I know you’re worried about him, Stars, but our number one priority needs to be you right now,” he insisted firmly.

“And he’s my priority,” I retorted, staring him down and daring anyone in the room to argue with me. I would throw myself into the fire before I allowed Arehate to be burned again. Ankoku had taken everything from him once before, had gone so far as to kill him, and I refused to let it happen again. He would be safe as long as I was breathing.

“There are undercover agents—new and much older—working to keep him safe,” Tsukauchi cut in, sensing the growing tension in the room. The side of his mouth tugged up into a warm smile meant to provide a hint of comfort in my distress. “He’s not alone, Akira. He hasn’t been alone for 11 years. None of you have been,” he assured me, though I didn’t have time to ask questions before he continued, “the current plan is for Seirei to stay where she is with Endeavor, and she’ll be under his protection. He’s offered to take her on as a sidekick so she’ll work in his agency with him as well.”

Seirei was silent, not looking entirely convinced of the idea, but she didn’t argue against it. Not yet. Tsukauchi’s eyes met mind, and I felt a sense of safety wrap around me. “A number of heroes have opened their doors for you, Akira. Hawks has willingly opened his door for you to return. He wants you somewhere safe, but he’s not-”

“Absolutely not,” Hizashi interjected, his voice as hard as steel. “She’s not leaving my sight while this lunatic is out there.”

I felt an incredible sense of gratitude at that. Shota called Hizashi overbearing once, but I would’ve taken overbearing over apathetic any day. Hizashi loved me with everything he had, and I needed that in that moment, whether I admitted it aloud or not.

“Like I said, there are several heroes who know about the impact this will have on Akira in particular, and they’re working with the police force to make sure she’s protected. We have a few notable heroes in particular who are working on a patrol schedule,” Tsukauchi continued, his voice softening as his eyes found mine once more.

Shota bristled, folding his arms over his chest. “How could other pros possibly know more than we do?”

“There were two heroes who found us,” I answered before the lightbulb went off. It meant that Endeavor would put himself and others on a strict patrol schedule, but it also meant that he was working with the police department. “That means…?” I couldn’t finish the question as hope flickered in my chest for the first time since the nightmare began. He was the embodiment of my hope as a child, the hope my brother and I had clung to in the hell we knew as home.

Tsukauchi nodded, “All Might is working on patrolling the area as well. He’s already been briefed. He was the first person to reach out to me.”

That knowledge nearly undid me. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight slip from my shoulders. No matter how strong I became, no matter how strong I pretended to be in an effort to be brave, there would always be that little girl inside of me who had looked up to All Might, the girl who was saved by him once before. He was the man who carried me out of hell and into the light of my new life with Hizashi and a family that loved me. If it hadn’t been for him and Endeavor that night, I would’ve been with my owner. All Might saved me.

“Mirai…uh, Sir Nighteye has also reopened his doors to you. He’s relocating closer for the time being since he’s volunteered to take patrol as well,” Tsukauchi continued, and my eyes widened at the mention of him. It had been years since I’d seen him, but he always seemed to know when I was in need, and I’d receive a call, a letter, or an occasional drop in just to ensure I was doing well. “You have more people in your corner than you think. You’re not alone, Akira. You never were,” he reminded me, his voice filled with that familiar encouragement that he’d used every time we spoke of the more difficult parts of my past.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Ankoku isn’t just strong. He’s smart, so he’s going to wait until we let our guard down,” I warned them, knowing that he was a patient villain. He didn’t act out of desperation unless he was backed into a corner. Until that time, he’d be playing chess and would be several steps ahead. It was my job to get ahead of him first. I had spent my entire life learning how predators like him hunted because I was going to turn them into my prey.

“Then we don’t let it down,” Hizashi stated simply, his voice filled with the same conviction that he’d used when he’d first promised to protect me from the world when I was a little girl.

Shota leaned back and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “he’s not getting anywhere near you.”

It was a promise I didn’t know if he’d be able to keep, but for a moment, the fear didn’t feel real at all. In that moment, I remembered that I was more than what he’d done to me, than what any of the men from the basement had done to me.

I’m not done yet.

A fierce and wild thing took root within me. It wasn’t fear or sorrow. It wasn’t shame from my past. It wasn’t guilt. It was hope. Perhaps I wasn’t meant for the strict rules of hero society, but I knew that I could still be the hero I’d needed all those years ago, the one who didn’t wait for permission, who didn’t play it safe, who did whatever it would take to ensure the safety of those around me. No one else would be victimized by Ankoku’s twisted games. I was going to be the last.

Ankoku wasn’t responsible for taking my brother from me, but he was responsible for the deaths of the basement girls. He had also been an active participant in their abuse. What he did to me was nothing compared to what he’d done to them. The men upstairs treated all of us like meat, but Ankoku turned the girls into meat by the time he was finished with them. For that, I swore to punish him. Every single one of those men would see my face before they died. Once they were released from their cells, they would see me one final time. I’d remind them of the names of the girls who never made it out of the basement, and then I’d reintroduce myself as their judge, jury, and executioner.

They would know me by my rage.

Because violence against the weakest of us was unforgivable. They always called it a reckoning, spoke about women like they were disposable, like the basement girls were a plague on society. The basement girls were kinder to me than my family, though. Before the basement, they had been homemakers, teachers, students, caretakers, mothers, daughters, sisters. We were all someone.

And violence against one of us was violence against all of us.

Ankoku was the one who got out first, so he would be the one to know me first.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Tomura

The balcony was colder than I expected for it being so close to summer. Perhaps it was the chill of uncertainties that weighed in my chest. My fingers itched with the urge to destroy something, anything, just to make the ache in my chest go away. I knew it would do nothing but make me feel worse about myself, and Akira and Shota had both been doing so much work to get me to see myself in whatever lens they saw me through. They’d been so patient, so kind, so good to me. I didn’t want to ruin it, but there was a piece of me that wanted to destroy everything I had been given just to prove that I never deserved it in the first place.

I’d spent the entire day watching pro heroes cycle through the apartment like it was some kind of safehouse. Sir Nighteye, Hawks, and even Endeavor himself had shown up at some point to discuss plans and patrol schedules. She was cared for. She was safe for that moment. I watched as she threw herself into Sir Nighteye’s arms in a way she hadn’t done to anyone else, how Endeavor softened around her, and how Hawks…looked at her. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like the way he spoke to her or looked at her or breathed around her. It took everything in me to not reach out and touch him when he spoke over her when she was speaking to Tsukauchi.

The apartment had been the closest thing to safe I’d experienced since my sister died, but even that was slipping through my fingers. I didn’t want to be inside where my presence only served as a reminder to myself of what was coming. I didn’t like being away from Akira anymore than I liked being away from my other half, but I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it meant being away from her.

The sky was colored like the final bruises of the sunset, and the stars began to emerge one by one. No matter how beautiful the night sky could ever be, it couldn’t hold a candle to the stars that were in Akira’s eyes. She was beauty incarnate, a star in human form, and she was right inside. I could turn around and walk back into the apartment and be in her presence in a second, but that realization didn’t bring me peace in that moment. That realization brought me fear. This was about Akira, Seirei, and Arehate, a boy I’d met a few times when he was brought with Ankoku, who Master asked to teach me my lessons. I’d known him as “Boy,” though, and in Akira’s more detailed description of Arehate, I realized the two were one in the same.

I knew that Master didn’t do anything without a reason, so unleashing Ankoku from Tartarus was clearly part of a larger plan. The “5” on the wall wasn’t just a threat to Akira, it was also a warning to me. Master wanted me back. I’d been stupid to think that I could just run away from him, stupid to think that I could build anything good from the ashes of my old life, stupid to think that I could belong in a place like this. Ankoku would come for me if I didn’t go willingly, and if they somehow managed to protect me from Ankoku, Master would come.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to banish the memories of Ankoku’s hands. Master didn’t hit me often in the beginning and always told me that Ankoku was “teaching me” instead of calling it what it was: controlling me like Father tried to do. Ankoku was meant to scare me. It was why Master gave him other quirks, to make him more powerful so that he could make me fear him. I remembered the countless times I’d begged Master to save me from Ankoku, but he was always just a quiet observer, watching me suffer without ever intervening.

It was why I had to leave.

The mere thought of Akira being touched, being hurt, being punished the way I had been, it was enough to drive me mad. The scratching started as I thought of it in the apartment. It was all my mind could conjure up—images of her being tormented, of her begging for mercy and Master listening to us both in silence. Worse, I imagined the way she would fight to protect me, and I imagined what she’d look like after he got his hands on her. I couldn’t be the cause of her pain. I could never hurt her. I would destroy everything else in my life, myself included, in order to protect her from the pain I knew so well.

So I made the plan on that balcony. I couldn’t jump like I wanted. If it managed to kill me, Akira was sure to blame herself, and that would defeat the purpose of my intentions because I would hurt her. I planned a way back. I’d just disappear back to what I knew best: Master and darkness and the cold. I’d go back to where I couldn’t feel the light anymore. With Akira, it felt like I was finally a person again, not just a weapon or a means to an end. I wouldn’t give them any goodbyes or letters. There would be nothing to tie them to me if Master sent Ankoku looking for who harbored me. I couldn’t put my people in danger, and that was what they were to me. My people.

As I worked out the details, I heard the door slide open behind me. I didn’t have to look to know that it was Shota. My sister always told me that people were made of stars, that I had stardust within me the same way she had stardust in her veins. She told me that we were made of the remnants of the same star, which was why we were so attuned to one another. She believed that those remnants always tried to find their way back to each other and could just sense the existence of their other pieces. I believed Shota to be another one of those pieces. I didn’t learn who was around me based on the sound of their footsteps while I was in the apartment, but I could just feel their presence based on the way my soul—or whatever was left of it—reacted to theirs.

He leaned against the railing beside me in silence for a long moment as he let out a long breath. “I hope it’s alright that I’m out here. The apartment got busy with…well, with a certain personality,” he sighed, trying to be as lighthearted as possible despite the tension in his shoulders. Neither of us were particularly fond of Hawks, and as far as I could tell, Hizashi and Seirei weren’t either. Akira gave him the benefit of the doubt, though, so everyone else tolerated his presence. With my silence apart from a nod of recognition at his words, he continued, “you alright, kid?” he asked, and I realized that it was the true reason he left the apartment. He used Hawks as an excuse, but he was clearly worried about me.

“I’m fine,” I lied, not wanting him to worry. It was dangerous to care about me. I didn’t want him to get too close because I didn’t want anyone following me when I left, especially when that could lead to their deaths.

He didn’t move or sigh or even shift his weight. He just continued staring out at the city. He let the silence sit for another long moment before he finally spoke again, “you’re planning on leaving,” he stated in a voice so calm it could’ve been mistaken for apathy if I didn’t know his mannerisms well enough by that point.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. How had he been able to figure it out without me giving anything away to indicate that I’d finally made up my mind? It startled me how easily he could pull me apart without even trying. He’d figured it out because of course he did. Perhaps I wasn’t that good at hiding things, or he was just gifted with another quirk that allowed him to read my mind as well. I didn’t respond right away, and I knew that it was probably for the best that I didn’t try to deny it when I did speak. He didn’t deserve a lie.

He just stood there. There was no pushing or judgement. He simply waited and let me put my thoughts in order. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, searching for any anger or disappointment, but there was nothing there but a tired understanding. It looked like he’d been in this situation before, and his patience for me was born of a well of compassion that existed within him. Beneath the surface of his seemingly apathetic exterior, he was someone who cared too much about the people in his small circle. I was lucky enough to be one of those people, but he was cursed to have me so close.

My mind raced as I tried to reason with myself. It had been much easier when I was alone, standing on the balcony with nothing but my own thoughts to guide me toward the conclusion that it was best for me to leave. Now, I had to face the fact that Shota knew, and I suddenly cared about what he thought of my decision. Knowing that he was aware of my plan, I suddenly didn’t want to follow through with it. There was a part of me that wanted him to force me to stay because I wanted to. I wanted to stay, desperately.

This was the first place that ever felt like home. My sister was home for me as a child, but the house we were in never felt like home because of Father. I finally knew what it was like to sleep because just knowing Akira, the girl with my sister’s eyes and quirk, was across the hall from me was enough to comfort me. I slept through a storm for the very first time in 11 years because of her. It wasn’t until I came to the apartment that I felt wanted, like I was a part of a family, a real family. It wasn’t just a group of people who shared blood but a group of people who loved each other regardless of their differences.

Hitoshi looked at me like I was someone worth loving, like I wasn’t a monster. He looked at me like I wasn’t hideous or broken or unworthy. He looked at me like I was a friend. Hizashi treated me like he did Akira, teasing me and messing up my hair in the morning even after Akira had brushed it. He showed me his songs and even brought me out shopping for a guitar of my own when I watched him for 20 minutes straight while he plucked away on his. He wanted to teach me, but I had insisted that I didn’t want to potentially destroy any of his guitars, so he’d brought me out to look at other ones. We hadn’t yet decided on one yet, but it took him 5 minutes between noticing my interest and wanting to buy me one.

Then, there was Shota. He was everything I wanted to be and everything I ever wanted in a male figure in my life. He wasn’t loud and boisterous about his care, but he was strong and steadfast. He was a lingering presence. He didn’t ask me ahead of time if I wanted his clothes, but he brought me a plethora of black shirts and pants the morning after I arrived. They all smelled like him, and somehow, that smelled like home—the new home I’d been cultivating because of Akira’s kindness.

Akira was…everything.

I didn’t want to leave her, not when I finally found my purpose to breathe again. I didn’t want to leave her. The mere thought was enough to feel like my chest would cave in. Imagining a life without her light or her smile made me want to claw my heart out, to forfeit the life I had been given if the universe dared to separate us at all. If I stayed, though, I’d be signing her death warrant. I’d be killing all of them if I stayed.

My life felt like a game to Master. Ankoku was simply another piece he’d moved onto the board.

I squeezed my hands into fists as I fought back the urge to destroy something, to itch my neck, to do anything that would remind me that I was a monster, a liability, a danger. I wanted to tell him everything, that I was scared, that I didn’t want to leave, that I wanted him to pull me into an awkward side-hug and tell me that he had my back. I wanted to hug him and tell him that I wanted to stay because he was a part of what made me feel so safe for the first time in 11 years. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to leave Akira and go back to being half of myself again.

“It’s best for everyone that I go,” I finally said, trying to keep my tone flat, but the trembling in my voice betrayed me. I watched the words drift out into the darkening sky like smoke that only I could see, as if saying them would somehow make it easier to believe.

He didn’t miss a beat before speaking, “how do you figure that? Some of Japan’s greatest heroes are looking out for us right now,” he reminded me. There was an edge of skepticism in his voice, like he wasn’t convinced by my excuse, like no matter how much I tried to justify it, he would poke holes in every reason I gave him. There was a challenging tone in his voice, like he was daring me to try to convince him that it was the right thing to do.

“It won’t be enough,” I retorted, though my voice held a sharper edge than I intended. Still, perhaps it was for the best that I lash out as much as I could to push him away. Then, he wouldn’t care if I left or not. Part of me wanted him to be so removed from me that he’d help me pack my bag. It was the part of myself that was the most concerned about him. The selfish part of me—the part that wanted to stay—wanted him to argue with me until I caved and agreed to stay. I continued, “they’re going to come for me. This is what I told you when you first brought me here.”

“You told us that bad people wouldn’t stop until they got to you, and do you remember Hizashi’s response?” he asked, still not making eye contact. He knew it would be too confrontational, so he kept it as non-threatening as possible by continuing to stare out at the city and the sky.

“He told me that it meant I had a place here,” I muttered, almost too quiet for him to hear. I hated that he remembered those words, and I hated how easily they could be used against me. I never had a place anywhere before, but Hizashi had given me a place to call my own, and it was all because of Akira. I shook my head, “that was before Ankoku got out of Tartarus, though,” I pressed as my voice caught in my throat. I tried to bury the fear that clawed its way up my throat, but when I spoke again, my voice was still shaking. “You have no idea. This is meant to drive me back home.” The word tasted like poison. I didn’t have a home with Master. I had a cage. I had a prison.

“You belong here, Tomura,” he insisted, his gaze finally turning to meet mine, and it threatened to unravel me completely, so I looked away while he continued speaking, “this is your home. Akira is your home.”

I almost laughed at his insistence. I knew he was right. This would always be my home, and wherever Akira was would always be where I belonged. Still, part of the tragedy was hilarious. To have finally come into a life worth living after so many years of hell, only to have it ripped away before I got the chance to live it was truly the cruelest joke the universe could ever play. “Akira’s just a girl who took pity on me because she saw how one of my handlers treated me on the train,” I responded with a hint of bitterness in my tone at the memory of him.

“And you killed him because he targeted her,” he countered, reminding me of what I had done just to keep her safe. I had known here for mere minutes and hadn’t spoken a single word to her when I made the decision to kill for her.

My head snapped to meet his eyes, but he was looking out at the city again. My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel it in my throat, “how did you-?”

He shrugged his shoulders as a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I have my ways,” he answered without judgement. He clearly hadn’t told Hizashi, and I hadn’t been arrested, so it was safe to assume that he was keeping it to himself. It became crystal clear the lengths he would go to in order to keep her safe if he didn’t regard the lives of those who targeted her. He continued, “the point is that you and I both know she’s not just some girl who pitied you. She doesn’t do pity because she feels it does a disservice to those around her. She’s an empath. Pity isn’t in her nature.”

Killing my handler on the train didn’t feel like heroism. I’d done it because she was the only light I’d felt since my sister’s death. I felt nothing when I turned him to dust. I had no remorse, no guilt, just a sense of relief that I’d done something to protect her. I wasn’t a hero, but as long as I protected her, I felt human again.

“She shouldn’t care the way she does,” I insisted, trying to convince both of us. “She’s a stranger,” I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. I needed distance. I needed to hear myself say it, to hopefully believe it.

“Is she?”

The itch came back immediately. The question brought the desperate urge to scratch my neck, to tear my skin open, to bleed out and forget the pain. I had to focus on something else. “W-what are you trying to get at?” I asked, reaching up to scratch at my neck.

Without looking over at me, he reached out and pulled my hand away from my neck. I didn’t like when he touched anywhere near my hands. I didn’t like when any of them even reached for me since I was a walking liability. I had the power to kill them, to ruin the good things in my life. I’d done it before, and I was certain I could do it again. “I think you know exactly what I’m getting at, Tomura,” he replied in that steady and patient way he always did.

I hated him for doing that. I wanted him to push me away, to leave me alone. I also wanted him to stay. I hated him for making me care, for seeing me so clearly. I hated that he was right, so I lashed out again, desperate to keep him at arm’s length. “What? Is that why you’ve been trying to take care of me this whole time? Because you feel sorry for me, too? Because you think I’m the emotional stand-in for her dead brother?” I sneered, the words coming out sharp and cruel. I would’ve thrown myself off the balcony if she’d heard those words because I knew they would’ve cut into her heart, and I’d sooner die than hurt her.

Shota’s jaw clenched, and he straightened his shoulders as he stood up. He faced me fully. I’d pissed him off. Good. Hit me. Push me away. Make me leave. He took a long breath, “I care because it feels like the only thing I can do. I take care of you because it feels like that’s what I’m meant to do, just like how taking care of Hitoshi is what feels natural for me,” he replied with a gentle voice that didn’t relay any of the frustration my previous question had caused. Her brother was clearly a sore spot for everyone in that apartment. “You deserve to be saved just as much as anyone else,” he added, shifting closer to me.

“I don’t,” I argued with a broken laugh that hurt my throat. “I’m a monster,” I reminded him of a fact he refused to face. I stared out at the city, unable to look at him. I knew that if I saw his eyes when I uttered those words, I’d break, and if I broke, I’d never be able to put myself back together again.

“You’re a kid,” he practically spat out as if he was speaking to whatever unseen entity had been the one who had convinced me that I was a monster. That same violent protectiveness was only present when he interacted with Hitoshi and Akira, but it was there with me, too.

The word hit me harder than the first time he’d called me that. I recoiled, stepping away from him and meeting his gaze. I could feel the hot sting of shameful tears building behind my eyes. I felt ashamed for what I was trying to do, but I also felt the fear of losing everything I had been given. I stared up at him with desperation. I needed him to understand what I was. I needed him to let me go and push me away so that it would be easier to leave. “You don’t get it! You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up every single day, knowing that you could ruin everything you touch. I’m not just a a kid, I’m a monster. I don’t get to be saved after everything I’ve done, and it’s going to catch up with me and ruin everything good I have now if I don’t leave!” I snapped before dragging in a desperate breath, panting with both fear and exhaustion.

He didn’t move. He stood there, unmoving and unshaken. He wasn’t leaving. No matter how much I wanted him to leave, to give up on me, and no matter how many reasons I tried to give him to abandon me, he wasn’t leaving.

“I could kill you right now,” I hissed, trying to get him to understand the danger I posed to him. I wanted to give him all the reasons in the world to run, to leave me alone. I had to say it because if I didn’t push him away in that moment, I’d start crumbling.

“You could,” he agreed, “but you won’t…because you and your sister were meant to be heroes together.”

“We’re gonna be heroes together, Akira. Promise?”

I’d asked her to promise me, to swear that we’d live out our dreams together. She had looped her pinky around mine and promised it. She told me that no matter what, we’d never let anyone take that dream away from us. I hated him for talking about my sister, but I hated myself even more for failing to uphold my side of the promise to her.

My throat tightened, “my sister is dead,” I responded, every syllable heavy with years of grief I’d tried to bury with the memories of my childhood. She was every precious memory I had before her doppelganger showed up in my life.

He shook his head, “your sister is sitting in that apartment right now, talking about how to keep you safe.”

There was a long silence. I felt the cool wind bite my face, tasted the salt of my own fear on my lips. The words didn’t punch the air from my lungs. They were words I’d considered every moment since feeling the tightening of the string around my heart when I boarded that train and when it stopped to pick up that white-haired stranger. I felt my sister’s presence in Akira. It was as if my body knew the truth, but my mind was still trying to catch up, still trying to deny it. Hope was the most dangerous thing in the world, and I had been cut by it too many times to willingly accept it. “That’s not my sister,” I retorted, my voice cracking as I tried to deny the truth he’d so simply laid out for me. “She…it can’t be my sister.”

I needed him to tell me I was right. I needed him to retract his words and tell me that there was nothing special between Akira and myself because if it was true…if she was…I wouldn’t be able to leave. I’d never be able to leave her if she was my Player Two. I wondered if that was why I was so adamant about keeping her at a distance in my heart because if I allowed myself to believe what my heart kept telling me, I’d never be able to do what was necessary to keep her safe.

“Would it be so bad that you found your way back to each other?” Shota asked, his voice even gentler with a hint of sadness.

I shook my head, blinking back the sudden heat in my eyes. “It would’ve meant…” I swallowed hard, the words scraping my throat. “It would’ve meant he lied to me, and Master has only ever told me the truth even when the truth hurt,” I explained, though I wanted to tell him the full truth. Master was brutal with his truth, and if he’d lied to me, it would’ve meant that the pain was also for nothing. The pain was meant to teach me not to hold onto hope, that he was my savior, and he was trying to keep me from being a victim once more. If he had lied to me about my sister being dead, it would’ve meant that he wasn’t my savior at all. It would’ve made him my tormentor.

“Is he the one who told you that you’re a monster?” he asked after a long moment of silence to allow my words to settle.

I began scratching at my neck again, remembering the times he told me that I was a plague, that I was a monster, a cancer. I remembered all the ways he hurt me. My hands were pulled away from my neck without a word from Shota, but the words spilled out of me, “I wanted to look for her,” I confessed as the back of my nose stung with the threat of tears. “I wanted to find her because there was still a lingering hope that she could be out there somewhere. I knew that the day she died, the world would cease to exist. There’s no life, no world, no existence without her, so it didn’t make sense that she could be dead and the world could keep turning. Every time I asked to find her, he told me that she had been destroyed so completely that there was nothing left of her. The rest of my family, he had at least been kind enough to recover pieces of them, but they were also reminders of what happened that night.”

I let myself imagine it for just a second. I let myself imagine turning around and staring back into the apartment, finding Akira’s face and those forgiving eyes. I imagined her calling me by the name I’d long forgotten. I wanted to believe it so bad it hurt. I wanted her to be mine, to be the other half of my soul, to be the one thing I’d been searching for all my life.

Risking a glance at Shota, I readied myself for disgust or fear, but there was only understanding in his eyes. There was something in his gaze that looked like longing, like he would find a way to go back and save me if he could. He shook his head once as his brow furrowed, “he lied to you, Tomura,” he insisted as if it was just that simple, as if it was a fact he didn’t need any convincing of. He didn’t say it like he was trying to convince us both of its truth.

I shook my head, reaching up to scratch at my neck. He tried to pull my hands away as they itched violently at my neck to the point where the pain returned. Good! I need to feel it! I deserve this! The second his hands drew close to my wrists, I pulled away from him. It was the first time I’d ever done it so violently, and the look that crossed over his features—one of acceptance mixed with sorrow—made the itch even worse. I wanted to dig myself out of my own body. “He didn’t! He was protecting me!” I snapped, desperately trying to believe them myself. I needed it to be true. I needed Master to have one good thing for me, and protecting me from the disappointment that hope brought would’ve meant the pain was worth it.

“From what?” he asked, still not backing down despite the way my reaction to his touch made him feel. He still cared. “From being happy? From being with your sister again?” he pressed again, causing the itching to grow out of control. He tried to pull my hands away again, and I backed myself into the railing to put space between us. “Some people in this world are cruel for the sake of being cruel, for the sake of making other people feel small. Some people are cruel in order to gain power and control over someone vulnerable. First, it was your father, and now–”

“Master is nothing like Father!” I snapped, cutting him off as my anger flared white hot. I glared at him as his eyes widened, but it wasn’t the harshness of my tone. It was the word I’d used. Master. Akira had used it in the apartment earlier. Master was cruel, but as least I knew what to expect with him. I knew that speaking out of turn, raising my voice, saying anything he didn’t like, looking at him the wrong way, breathing the wrong way, expressing any emotion other than anger, expressing anger toward him, if he thought I was expressing anger toward him, existing…I knew it all led to violence, to punishments. I knew it all led to pain. He was cruel, but he never pretended to care about me. Shota pretended. They all pretended. They couldn’t care, not after everything I’d done.

“You and your sister were kept from each other as children,” he retorted, cutting off my train of thought. “Your father used to separate you both. This man is doing the same thing.”

“I-I can’t stay here,” I muttered as my chest heaved. I tried to step away again, but the railing was at my back. I had nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide from him, and that made me dangerous. It turned me into an animal. Please, don’t react. Please! Don’t hurt him!

“You can stay here. This is your home, Tomura. There will always be a place for you here,” he pressed before pausing for a moment. His features softened as he took another step closer to me, closer to the itching, closer to my orbit that pulled things in and destroyed them. When he continued, his voice was softer as if he was pleading with me. “Wherever Akira is…that’s where you belong.”

His words made me feel like I’d been flayed and was strung up above a fire like a pig being prepared for a roast. My chest constricted. I felt hot and cold all at once. The itching grew even more intense, and my heart raced as my breathing became more and more frantic. It felt like I was pulling air into my lungs, but I wasn’t breathing. “I’m on a path she can’t follow. If…if she is…if she’s my…” my voice broke, and I was suddenly sniffling.

It wasn’t until Shota’s hands were on my cheeks, wiping my tears away that I realized I was crying. How had he gotten so close to touch me? How had I let my guard down that much? That was when I realized that my left hand had left my neck, and it was wrapped around his wrist. My pinky was the only finger that hadn’t touched down. I pulled my hand away like I’d been burned. I never touched people. Akira was the only one I’d touched the night before, and that was because she’d cried. Shota didn’t even wince despite the very real possibility that I could’ve killed him had my quirk activated. At the very least, he would’ve lost an arm. He didn’t seem fazed, but I was well aware of what I had done.

The dam of tears finally broke, and I started crying. I hated myself for it. I hated the weakness, the hope, the despair, and the possibility that my despair could come to an end. I hadn’t cried like that since being unable to find my sister after what happened with my family. I hadn’t cried real, shaking sobs that made my whole body hurt in years. I wanted to scream, to tear the world apart, to stop feeling it all, to just stop altogether.

I hadn’t cried like that since being unable to find my sister after what happened with my family. I hadn’t cried real, shaking sobs that made my whole body hurt in years. I wanted to scream, to tear the world apart, to stop feeling it all, to just stop altogether. I wanted to be numb again, to feel anything but hope. That hope was only reinforced when Shota stepped beside me, leaning against the railing beside me as he draped his arm across my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. It was what I’d always desired: an awkward hug from an older brother, but I’d never been gifted a brother.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I was thankful for it. I just clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs as I cried. My knees threatened to buckle beneath me, but Shota’s strong arm around my shoulders gave me a renewed sense of stability.

“Your sister, Tomura. Your sister,” he finished my sentence for me, as if the truth had been there all along, waiting for me to finally accept it.

The words tore me open all over again, doubling over and covering my face. Father used to hit me for crying since he wanted to give me something to cry about. Master carried on the tradition. Shota, though, he just rubbed his thumb against my arm. I’d spent so long convincing myself that she was gone, that there was nothing left of her, that I didn’t deserve to hope. Hope was crawling up from the pit I’d buried it in, though, and it was in the shape of her with 71 stars in her eyes.

“If she is my…” my voice trailed off as I struggled to even speak the word in relation to anyone living. “If she is, I have to protect her, and right now, that means protecting her from me,” I choked out, my voice coming out thin and broken. The words were mixed with soft trembling and sobs. I was still clinging to hope that Shota would agree with me, tell me I was right, and force me to keep my distance from her. It was safer for everyone, and staying was selfish.

“There’s nothing to protect her from,” he replied, not letting go of his convictions. “If you leave, you’ll be protecting her from being happy, from sleeping through the night, from having her purpose back in her life, so just…stay. Stick around for a little longer, and let us show you that we’re capable of protecting you.”

“But what if Master-?”

“If your master comes for you, we’ll need every helping hand to make sure he doesn’t win. This is your home, and no one deserves to be taken away from their home. It takes a village to protect each other, and you have this village, this family,” he reminded me, his voice steady and strong despite the desperation in his eyes.

I shook my head, the tears still blurring the world around me and his face in the process. “What if he hurts you? What if he kills you?” I questioned, feeling raw at the thought of losing him. I couldn’t lose the family I’d found, but I couldn’t lose him. Losing him would’ve meant that Akira lost him, and I couldn’t watch her hurt.

He squeezed my shoulder, “then it’ll be for a worthy cause because it would be in the fight for a better tomorrow for my village. You’re worth every risk, Tomura.”

Those were the words that solidified it for me. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t leave, not when he was willing to fight for me the way he was. Master fought for me to keep me a prisoner. Shota fought for me to keep me free. “I don’t want to go,” I whispered, my voice splintering and chest aching with the weight of every moment I’d spent contemplating my future on that balcony. “I know that I shouldn’t get to have this, and I know it’s only a matter of time before-”

“Stay,” he cut in, interrupting the spiraling train of thought before it could consume me.

That was when something clicked. I was going to fight. I was going to stay for as long as I could. I wasn’t going to leave, not when I found my way back to the first place I’d ever belonged. “Can you…can you deactivate my quirk?” I hiccupped, frantically wiping my tears away with the backs of my hands.

His long black hair lifted from his shoulders, and his eyes turned red as he activated his quirk, erasing my own. He opened his mouth to question my reasoning, but before a single word came out, I threw myself at him, crashing into his body as I wrapped my arms around him. I buried my face against his shoulder and allowed my tears to continue falling. He didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. All he did was wrap his arms around me in return, holding me against him the way I’d always dreamed an older brother would.

Warmth washed over me, and I finally opened the door of my heart to hope despite the fear of the day. I allowed my heart to warm to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I had finally found my way back to the person I’d mourned for 11 years. I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to fight.

Akira

The storm continued for days, leaving us cooped up in the apartment. Tomura and I played countless video games in that time, and we even taught Hitoshi how to play the games we enjoyed. Tomura was always careful when he taught Hitoshi the controls, and he never touched either of us. Each time any of us even drew close to him, he’d tuck his hands away. Those hands had killed a man on the train, but I still didn’t fear them. I didn’t see the monster in him that he was clearly trying to protect us from.

It turned out that we had so much in common in the things we enjoyed. From video games to music to our taste in art and books, it was so similar, but we also introduced each other to new things. The storm seemed to make us closer, but as the days passed, he seemed to grow more and more tired. During the day, he’d blink more often, and sometimes, his head would fall forward as if he was falling asleep, which typically woke him right up.

That was why I wasn’t surprised after hours of lying awake when he showed up in the doorway of my bedroom.

Hitoshi was curled against my side. He always slept with one hand stretched out and off the side of the bed where his fingers would tangle in Shota’s hair on the futon below, as if he needed to anchor himself to him. Hizashi was on the floor at the foot of the bed, snoring quietly. Still, the storm kept me awake. Every flash of lightning lit up the room, and every rumble of distant thunder made my heart stutter in my chest.

I couldn’t keep myself from wishing for a different bed. Despite the house it was in, my childhood bed was the one I yearned for when the thunderstorms happened. My brother had always been afraid of storms—we had that in common—but I always pretended to just enjoy listening to them, insisting that they were like music. He’d always crawl into my bed in the middle of the night, clutching his stuffed cat to his chest. He always wanted a cat, but we never had one. We had Mon-chan, and that was enough for our family. Father punished us the one time we took care of the one we found.

He’s not here.

Having my brother in my arms was the only way I’d ever been able to sleep during a storm. I would just let my fingers run through his black hair, and the feel of him close as well as the sound of his soft breathing was enough to lull me to sleep. I could sleep through anything when he was with me, but he wasn’t with me, which meant I couldn’t sleep through anything at all anymore.

Tomura stood in the doorway, his pale blue hair catching the light from the moon nightlight that was still in the hallway. His eyes were wide, and his hair was a mess. Despite it nearly reaching his shoulders, it was sticking up in every direction. My Tenko’s did the same thing, which was why I loved watching Hitoshi climb out of bed in the morning because his was the exact same way. They both reminded me of my brother in one way or another. Tomura looked younger in that moment. He looked so much like my Player One despite the obvious difference in hair and eye color. My other half’s hair used to become unruly as he grew more and more tired.

He hovered in the doorway, gazing at the other sleeping forms in the room and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Jettie, sensing his distress, left her spot on Shota’s pillow by his head and moved like a shadow to wrap herself around Tomura’s ankle. He tensed as soon as her body brushed against his, and his hands clenched into fists that he brought up to his chest, hugging them close. He was terrified of his own quirk, but he’d used it so willingly on the train to protect me. He saved me without hesitation despite knowing what his quirk could do. Perhaps he was afraid of hurting Jettie, too, because for a moment, he looked like he was ready to bolt.

“She likes you,” I smiled through the exhaustion, though the expression felt fragile as my thoughts still lingered on my brother.

His eyes flickered to me the moment I spoke, no longer worrying about Jettie or all the unknowns. Another sound of thunder made him flinch. His shoulders tightened, and his eyes widened just slightly. Just as quickly as he looked to me, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he reached his fingers up to scratch at his neck. “Is…is it too crowded in here? Or…?” his voice trailed off, though it was just barely above a whisper in the first place. It was as if he thought that even standing in my doorway was too much of an imposition.

I shook my head, already shifting to make space for him on the bed. “Of course not. Come here,” I insisted, patting the spot beside me on the left side of me since Hitoshi was on my right. I lifted the blanket, inviting him into the warmth of the bed.

He crossed the room slowly, careful not to step on Hizashi’s sprawled out form or disturb the delicate arrangement of blankets all around the room. He continued to itch at his neck the entire way, tension building with every step closer to me. His other hand remained balled into a fist at his side. He never quite knew what to do with them, but he never let them rest. Once he was at the other side of my bed, he just stared down at me, the storm still raging outside. He paused, and I could see the war waging within him. He didn’t want to be a burden, but he could never be a burden to me.

“I want you to stay,” I whispered, hoping that the restructuring of the words could help him understand that I was also needing company.

He was hesitant as he slid into bed beside me, as if he thought I could possibly take it back. There was a small space between us, but it felt like a chasm at the same time. If I could’ve, I would’ve closed the gap without hesitation, but I didn’t want to scare him away. He didn’t deserve anymore fear than he already carried with him. Tomura was sent my way by my brother. I was certain he had a hand in it wherever he was beyond the stars. I knew that my brother had sent him with a piece of his soul connected to the one within Tomura. It was the only explanation for the serenity a stranger was capable of bringing to me.

I absentmindedly pulled his hands from his neck the way Hizashi and Shota usually did with me, the same way I used to do it for my brother. The next time a bolt of lightning lit up the room, he didn’t flinch. He only turned onto his side to face me, and his eyes flickered between mine.

“Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…”

He was counting. It was barely audible and had no volume to it, but I heard the numbers on his lips as he breathed. He was counting the stars in my eyes…just like my brother used to. Right? No, that’s not possible. That was something Tenko did. Tomura is his own person. Guilt flooded me because I felt whole for the first time since losing my brother. For that moment with Tomura, I didn’t feel like a piece of myself was missing. I felt like I was complete again. I couldn’t even bring myself to miss my brother. It was as if he wasn’t even truly gone in that moment, and that could’ve killed me if it wasn’t for Tomura’s presence.

Another crack of thunder rolled through. It was low and deep, not enough to wake or startle anyone, but Hitoshi still pressed himself closer to me, nestling his face into my side. His small fingers of his right hand curled into my shirt as he let out a soft sigh in his sleep. He clung to me, finding safety in me the way my brother used to. I smoothed his hair back with the arm that was already wrapped around him, running my thumb in slow circles at his temple the way my mother used to do for us when my siblings and I were scared.

Tomura’s eyes flickered between the two of us, watching the interaction with a softness in his gaze that I’d never witnessed before. It wasn’t the way Shota or Hizashi looked at me. It wasn’t the way Hitoshi looked at me. No one had ever looked at me like that apart from my brother. He always looked at me like I was the very first sunrise he’d ever seen or the last sunset he was ever going to witness. He looked at me like I saved his life by solely existing. It was the same way Tomura looked at me in that moment despite my attention being given to Hitoshi and not directed solely toward him.

“Who is he…to you, I mean?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the silence that settled around us. I knew he also didn’t want to risk waking Hitoshi up.

One of the things I noticed in the days we’d spent together cooped up in the apartment was that Tomura was especially protective and careful around Hitoshi. He watched Hitoshi, tracking his every move in case some unseen danger were to present itself, but it was also in the way that he’d unconsciously positioned himself between Hitoshi and any potential hazard. A precariously stacked tower of books, a cup of tea left too close to the edge of the table, even a small toy that could’ve been tripped over. No matter how small the hazard was, Tomura was always there to protect him. Between Shota, Tomura, Hizashi, Seirei, and myself, Hitoshi went from families that never cared to keep him safe to a family that was willing to do anything to keep him safe and happy.

The only times I’d ever witnessed Tomura’s hands grow close to Hitoshi was when he placed his palm over the corner or edge of a table or shelf to keep Hitoshi from bumping his head on it. It was in those soft, quiet moments that I knew Tomura could be a great hero.

A kind hero.

He was always careful not to touch him, but he was always so mindful of him. I’d often catch him watching Hitoshi draw, something soft lingering in his eyes. It was as if he was looking at the child he could’ve been, which made me feel an intense sense of sorrow and also a burning commitment to give Tomura the life he deserved as well. He’d just smile as he observed the easy joy Hitoshi took in creating. Then, after finding out bits and pieces of Hitoshi’s previous families and how they treated him, Tomura would save the last two cookies for Hitoshi and I and would always offer Hitoshi the very first and the biggest slice of pizza. He always deflected whenever I insisted that he take a slice before me or have another if there were only a slice or two left. He insisted that I eat another before he even considered taking another piece. He’d always mutter that he wasn’t even that hungry, but Shota always told him that he was going to wait until Tomura ate before he’d grab a slice of pizza.

No one was capable of winning a match of stubbornness with Shota Aizawa. Except for me.

Tomura was kind.

I glanced back down at Hitoshi, at the way his little lashes fluttered with every tremor of the storm. My chest ached with a love so heavy and fierce that it physically hurt me just to contain it. I could wrap my soul around his and feel him like he was a part of me, but it would never be close enough. It would never feel like I was showing him the amount of love I had for him because it was endless. I didn’t need to think about my answer for the question Tomura had asked me. It came spilling out of me like a floodgate had been opened.

“He’s my son,” I whispered, the words catching against the lump in my throat. “For all intents and purposes, he’s my son. We don’t share blood, but I’d give every last drop of mine if it meant keeping him safe,” I explained with the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I pressed a featherlight kiss to the top of Hitoshi’s head.

“How did you…?” his voice trailed off before he could finish the question, clearly looking for the right way to word it without being too intrusive; however, there couldn’t be anything too intrusive between us. Nothing about me was off-limits to Tomura, which would scare me with anyone else, but vulnerability felt right with him.

“I found him in Hiza City. He clung to me like only one other person has in my life. It was clear we had similar childhoods, and just like I always wished to save my brother and I from ours, I knew that I had to be the hero I always wished for for him,” I answered, thinking back to the day we met. It was filled with so much pain and fear and destruction, but it was also the day I found a missing piece of myself. I continued as my thoughts ventured to my other half, “it’s the first time I’ve loved someone like this since my brother. He used to get nervous during thunderstorms, too.”

Tomura nodded, glancing down toward the foot of the bed to see Hizashi’s sprawled out form on the floor. “It looks like he still does, or he wouldn’t be in here,” he pointed out with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Not Hizashi,” I clarified, not wanting him to misunderstand when there was such an incredible difference between my brother by blood and my brother by choice. I loved them both endlessly, but only one had completed me, only one felt like the key to all I was and all I could be. Hizashi was my everything, but Tenko…my love for him was similar to my love for Hitoshi; it was indescribable. I still felt the need to clarify in an attempt to protect the memory of my brother. “My first brother,” I explained myself further.

His brows drew together, his eyes searching my face. “Tell me about him,” he suggested, clearly wanting to understand more about me than I was willing to share. There was something raw in his voice, something that tugged at the thread that was wrapped around my heart and attached itself to him.

“I…I can’t,” I admitted with a shake of my head. I blinked back the tears that suddenly filled my eyes. The denial of his request felt like a betrayal of sorts, like I was withholding something sacred from him. For the first time, I wanted to share about my brother. I wanted to share all the pieces of him that I’d kept bottled up, the pieces of him that had returned to me in snippets since childhood, the pieces that had returned more and more frequently since Tomura had arrived in my life.

But I couldn’t.

The words, the memories, the stories of our life together all died in my throat, cutting into me like shards of glass. It was like no matter how badly I wanted to share, the act of saying it also felt like a betrayal of my brother’s memory, like I was giving someone else access to the only thing I had that was precious to me in my childhood. I loved Hana with just as much of my heart as I did my brother, but my brother was my soul. He was every star in the sky and every beat of my heart. He was the ocean and the sky. He was the endless night sky and the morning sun. He was everything I was, everything I wanted to be, and everything I had lost.

The kindness and patience in Tomura’s gaze undid me. Tears continued filling my eyes until his face blurred. Suddenly, he was so blurred that I could’ve easily mistaken him for a grown up version of my Player One. He was the echo of another boy, another pair of gentle hands I’d never get to hold again. He was a physical reminder of the boy I’d never get to grow old with. I continued, not wanting to leave him in the silence, “if you understood what we went through as children, you’d understand why I can’t talk about him, why he’s so sacred to me.” I tried to swallow, but the ache in my chest didn’t go away.

He was silent for a long moment, respecting my unspoken request to be in the quiet. Most people pressed. Most people asked or tried to push their way through. Most people pitied me. Tomura didn’t. He just waited as he watched the storm raging behind my eyes.

I let the silence continue to stretch between us, not wanting to fill it with words that would be too painful to say. I didn’t want to give him the burden of my past and the pain that came with it. My pain would die with me someday, and the people who knew pieces of it would remember me as a girl that had lived a life that was so full of everything the world had to offer: pain, loss, love, joy, grief, and hope.

Tomura didn’t deserve to shoulder my pain when he had enough that he tried to hide, but I saw it in the way he reacted when Hizashi’s voice grew loud when we played video games together, in the way he winced when Shota put his hand on his shoulder the afternoon they stepped out onto the balcony to talk in private, in the way he braced for impact that time he accidentally dropped Seirei’s backpack while trying to move it off the floor so that it wouldn’t get kicked or cause a tripping hazard for Hitoshi. I saw it in the way he ate slowly and pushed the food around his plate until he was certain everyone else had eaten enough. I saw it in the way he scratched at his neck. I saw it in all the ways he was still trying to survive when the apartment was a place for him to live.

My thoughts returned to my childhood when the silence grew so comfortable I felt safe to remember him. It returned to afternoons when Father was at work, and we’d run through the yard with Mon-chan. My mind returned to lying in the grass, counting the stars together. I found myself back in the kitchen with him and Hana, desperately trying to stack ourselves on top of one another in order to reach the top shelf of the pantry where Grandma kept her chocolates. I was back to sifting through old pictures with him, and Hana presenting the one of Father’s mother. I was back to drawing our hero costumes and coming up with hero names. Hana was going to be a hero even without a quirk.

I’d spent my life building a fortress around those memories, so long that I didn’t know how to let anyone else in. I didn’t know how to do it without being terrified that they’d see the memories and destroy him the way Father had destroyed us both. “I’ve only told one person about him in detail,” I heard myself say, though the words weren’t a conscious choice. I hadn’t meant to say them. They just slipped out, like my heart had decided to share about one of the other great losses in my life. I continued, unable to keep myself from speaking about him, “it was the last conversation we had before he died, but I knew he’d never be anything but gentle with the memory of my brother. Then, he died, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone else about him. I didn’t want to let anyone else that close again because losing him felt like losing a piece of myself in a way.”

“What was his name?” Tomura asked, his voice careful.

“Oboro.”

The name felt like it caught in my throat like I tried to swallow more shards of glass. For a moment, it was hard to breathe again. He was Hizashi and Shota’s best friend, their other brother. It was the three of them against the world. He was my friend, too. He was a safe place for me the way Hizashi and Shota were, but there was something different about Oboro. He was always capable of making me laugh no matter the circumstances. Hizashi had a similar superpower, but Oboro was the one who taught him. He was the best listener in the world, but when he spoke, people listened. He was like Shota in that way.

“Let’s say you’re wrong, Peanut, and your brother’s still out there somewhere. I promise that I’ll find him for you, and I’ll take care of him until you two are together again.”

It was his last promise before he died.

“I’m so sorry, I just…I have to keep my brother safe, even now. The memory of him is all I have left, and I…I can’t fail him again,” I sniffled before the tears began to fall freely down my cheeks.

Before I could wipe the tears away, Tomura moved. Despite knowing what he was capable of, despite bearing witness to his quirk turning a man to dust on the train, I didn’t flinch. He reached up, his hand hesitant as if testing the waters before diving into the deep end with no idea how to swim. Then, he touched me, and when the pad of his thumb brushed against my cheek, 11 years of pain vanished. He was so afraid of his hands, but they were warm. He touched me. It wasn’t a brush or a fleeting graze of his skin against mine. He made contact. He chose to touch me. He reached for me regardless of his fear, and with the gentle brush of his thumb against my cheek, warmth returned to me. It was the same warmth that last bloomed in my heart when I hugged my brother for the final time.

“We were twins.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “He was literally the other half of everything I am. When I thought of why I wanted to be a hero, it was to create a world where my brother would be safe. Everything I did was for him, so becoming a hero, dedicating my life to creating a better world, was the only logical solution for me. I would’ve done anything to keep him safe, so changing the world wasn’t too great a task,” I continued, smiling through the tears as memories of him flooded my mind.

“He was lucky to have someone like you, then,” he murmured, his thumb still gently wiping away the tears as they fell. It was as if he still hadn’t processed his fear of physical touch in that moment, like somehow my tears were enough to override everything else.

I shook my head, swallowing around the grief that never seemed to fade completely. “If he was lucky, he’d still be alive,” I argued, incapable of believing anything about my brother’s circumstances could’ve been considered lucky. I glanced back down at Hitoshi, making sure he was still lost in sleep. Only then did my body force more words out of me. “Our father used to…” I hesitated as the words caught in my throat once more. I didn’t want to tell him about my father but more about my brother. I didn’t want my brother’s memory to be overshadowed by the monster who lived in that house with us. Still, his story was interwoven with ours.

“The last day I existed on this planet with my brother, our older sister showed us a picture of our father’s mother. We’d always dreamed of becoming heroes together, of making our own agency, of being just like All Might. I wanted to become so successful that we got to meet him someday because we both idolized him. My dream was to create a better world for my brother, and his dream was to protect me,” I remembered aloud, giving Tomura access to memories that were more precious to me than any material thing could ever be. “Our father despised us for wanting to become heroes, so our older sister didn’t talk about it as much because she was afraid of him. My brother and I didn’t let his wrath deter us from dreaming, though. I was the rebellious one between the three of us, specifically because it usually made me a target for my father, but my brother took on that role as well.”

Tomura watched me like he already knew the ending, like he already carried it inside him, too. I wondered, just for a second, what kind of storms he’d survived and if they looked anything like mine. Part of me didn’t want to know, but another part of me already did.

“Father would…if he even thought my brother and I were thinking of it or talking about it, he’d beat us. It was brutal. He almost killed me a few times, but even when I felt death creeping up on me, I raged against her because death would’ve meant leaving my brother alone with him, and I swore to myself that I would take every punishment he could dish out so that my brother wouldn’t have to suffer,” I continued, my voice cracking. “The night my quirk finally activated was when Father had beaten me within an inch of my life. Then, I was suddenly awake, and my brother was beside me, crying over me. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I don’t remember the pain anymore, but I can still see my brother’s face when he realized I was okay.”

“Father was cruel to us both, but I was always capable of tolerating any punishments done to me. I couldn’t tolerate any sort of pain being inflicted on my brother, though. He was too wild in his love to be hurt in the ways I deemed myself deserving of. I wanted to create a little pocket of peace for him to exist in while we were in that house, so I kept my pain quiet. I just wanted him to smile. That’s all I ever wanted…because my brother was good.”

Tomura’s eyes never left mine, and I realized in that moment that I could tell him anything. I wanted to. My chest ached with the weight of it all, but there was something safe that came to life when I found myself in Tomura’s eyes. There was a relief that came with being understood, with telling someone about my brother, someone I knew that I could trust with his memory. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with concern, like he would lift the world from my shoulders if given just a moment. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he would.

I nodded my head, “I am now.”

Because he was here.

“There was that last day with him. Hana showed us the picture of our grandma, and we found out that she had been a hero. I couldn’t understand why Father would hate heroes so much if his mother was one. Father found out about what happened, and Hana blamed my brother. I knew she was just scared. We were all scared of him, but he always hurt us the most,” I recalled despite the trembling in my voice. “I tried my best to keep him from hurting my brother. I tried over and over again to stop him. It took him hitting me so hard that I passed out to get me to stop. When I came to, I found out that Father had thrown him outside, and I paid the price for trying to get outside. Once I did, though, I told my brother that I was going to pack a bag for the two of us, and we’d run away together like we always planned.”

Tomura’s eyes widened in that moment, as if it was a story he’d heard before, as if he’d lived it himself. His hand paused mid-way as he wiped away another tear from my cheek. He was frozen, unable to move even an inch. His breathing was shallow, and his pupils were dilated.

“He looked so scared in that moment, but he also looked so hopeful because he trusted me. I was the only person he trusted to keep him safe, and he was the only person I trusted to do the same. He had hope that we’d finally get out of the hell that our childhood home was. We would finally be free,” I remembered. I felt raw. I felt like I had been skinned alive by the memories, but there was something healing in the burn I felt, too. It was something only my brother could’ve healed, but Tomura was the one applying the balm to my weary soul in that moment. I looked at him, really looked at him, and I saw the same pain reflected back at me as if we were both staring at the same old wounds.

“What happened?” he asked, the words almost lost to the hush of the storm that was still raging outside. It paled in comparison to the one within my heart.

It was the question I’d spent a lifetime running from, but with him, the answer poured out, clawing its way up my throat, desperate to be heard. “I was packing the bag. I remember folding up his favorite shirt, the one that had All Might on the front of it. We had matching shirts, and we kept them under our mattresses so that Father wouldn’t find them. I told myself that they were the most important pieces of clothing we’d have because it symbolized the future we were going to have. We weren’t going to have to hide anymore,” I smiled softly at the memory of buying the shirts with my brother and our grandma.

“Then, something started to happen. I didn’t know what, but it was this…horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, like someone filled my body with lead. The world felt heavy, and I felt like I was going to be crushed. I heard my sister scream, then my grandparents. My mother–” my voice cracked, and I had to stop for a moment, taking a long breath to steady myself in order to keep from falling apart completely. “She found me in the hallway and told me to run. She promised she would get my brother and sister and would follow me. She told me to leave, to run as fast as I could. I knew that if my mother was afraid…it was out of my control, and I had to get help.”

My voice broke, and I pressed my lips together to keep from letting out a sob. The memory was so vivid, I could still hear my mother’s voice, the terror in her eyes. I could still smell her honey hair and feel the warmth of her hands as she gripped my shoulders. I could still feel the grass and pavement beneath my bare feet as I ran faster than I ever had in my life. “I didn’t want to. Please…just know that I never wanted to. Part of me wishes I never did. Then, there was this feeling that something in the universe shifted, like something was suddenly…wrong. That was when I ran back. I had to make sure he was okay because that sort of shift had never happened before, and I was terrified that it meant something bad had happened to my brother.”

“When I made it back home, I saw that it had been destroyed. There was nothing left but a pile of ashes. Nothing left of my family. There was just…nothing..”

The silence that followed felt different than the others, like Tomura was purposefully giving me space to feel the grief that speaking of those memories brought to me. The look in his eyes, though, it was as if he was trying to tell me something without saying anything. He shook his head, eyes shining with something that looked like pain, like he connected to me even more so after hearing the memory, “you can’t possibly blame yourself for something so out of your control,” he whispered, his voice so soft it barely registered in my mind.

“Of course I can because I have for my entire life,” I choked out as the pain in my chest threatened to split me open. I continued, shocked by my own insistence, “it was my job to protect him.”

“It was your job to love him, and you did that better than anyone could’ve,” he argued, and the conviction in his tone felt like a soothing balm to my aching and raw soul. Why did he care so much? How could he hear that story and possibly think that I was anything but a failure? How could he be so sure?

I shook my head, tears sliding freely down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother to attempt to hide them. He was the first person I didn’t feel like I had to hide my pain from. It felt like he was well-versed in my pain, like he had lived through it himself. “Loving him was never a job. Loving him was as easy as breathing,” I whispered in a tone that was saved for something divine. “Loving him was the first thing I ever did, and it was the best thing I ever did. I just wish that love could’ve saved him because…if that was the case, he would’ve lived until the very last light in the universe burned out and then some.”

I turned my head, pressing a trembling kiss into Hitoshi’s hair, grounding myself in the life I’d been able to save. “We were never apart. My brother and I were inseparable, Tomura. He was the light of my life. I know you may think that I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. He was my very best thing, and I just know that in his absence, he sent Hitoshi to me,” I smiled at the memories that continued flooring me. “He was thirteen minutes older than me, which means…he knew thirteen minutes of life without me. I never knew what life was like without him. I never wanted to, and…I still don’t.”

Another crack of thunder rolled through, and Hitoshi flinched. His breath stuttered for a moment as he clung onto me a little tighter. It was as if he could feel the chill running through me even in his sleep, as if he could sense the way the memories hollowed me out. Each word that left my lips was a prayer, a confession, and a plea for forgiveness all at once. “He was everything. He was the first perfect creation of the universe, and it only happened a handful of times after that. I think sometimes the world just broke in an effort to hold him because he was too beautiful to exist in a world full of pain and suffering. I still talk to him, though, especially when the night sky is clear. It makes me feel closer to him,” I admitted, thinking of the countless nights I made my way out onto the balcony, requesting a moment alone when Shota or Hizashi tried to follow me outside. Hitoshi was the only one who could sit with me, and I’d speak to my brother quietly.

“What do you tell him?” Tomura asked, his voice filled with curiosity as his eyes searched mine. There was a hopeful anticipation that manifested in his gaze, like he was connected to my story in a way that went beyond simple empathy.

“I tell him about my life,” I answered, “I tell him about Hitoshi, about school, about every single thing that makes me smile. I tell him about the things I’ve learned and the people I’ve met. I tell him about Hizashi and how I wish…” I choked back a sob as the tears continued. The mere image of my first brother meeting my current one, it drove me to tears. It was the purest image I had of them, the most beautiful piece of fiction my mind could create. I sniffled, “how I wish he could’ve met him because Hizashi’s exactly the kind of person we deserved in our corner as children. He has stood between me and the world more times than I can count, so I’m certain Father’s hands never would’ve reached him if Hizashi was there. I tell him about my hopes and dreams, my bad days, my good days, my fears, and…sometimes, I tell him about how I’m doing in my journey toward becoming a hero in order to make a world he’d be proud of…even if I have to do it without him.”

There was silence. Tomura let me sit with it as he unpacked the depth of my love. “But…” his eyes filled with a hesitant kind of hope, the kind that you only find in people who’ve been burned so many times that they’ve learned to be afraid of it. He took a long breath before continuing, “what if he’s still out there somewhere?”

The question hit me like a wave, crashing into me with the force of a tsunami. I’d been asked the question before, but never by someone who felt like they were asking for themselves as well. Whatever piece of my story resonated with him, I wanted to hold him through it. Hope and pain collided within me. “You know, there’s always been a piece of me that’s held onto hope,” I admitted with a soft smile that was tinged with the sorrow of that hope being buried so deep that I couldn’t feel its warmth in my day-to-day anymore. “Oboro was the first person who asked me that. He said maybe I’d find him again—somewhere, somehow. With every beat of my heart, though, that hope dwindles because…if he was alive, I would’ve found my way back to him. I know I would’ve because…while this world can be cruel, it could never be so cruel to keep me from my brother.”

Tomura’s eyes softened, and a sorrowful understanding settled over his features. I watched the tears well up in his eyes as he searched my face, counting the stars within my own eyes. “Maybe he’s on a path you can’t follow,” he tried, his voice trembling with a vulnerability I hadn’t witnessed.

“I’d follow him through hell a thousand times over if that’s what it took to be by his side,” I breathed without thinking. It was the truest thing I’d ever said. “There’s nowhere he could go that I wouldn’t find him, nowhere too dark for me to follow, not if it meant I would be with him…because if it’s too dark for me, that means it’s too dark for my brother, and I’d never let him go through that alone,” I insisted, the words raw and aching with the truth of them. My love for my brother was unlike anything I’d ever known. It was a devotion that I only felt with one other person in my life: my precious Hitoshi.

“All I know for certain is that I’ll kill the man responsible for taking him away from me,” I vowed, the words leaving my lips with a cold finality that chilled the room around us. It was the one thing I had been certain of since the day I lost him, the one thing that was just as certain as the depth of my love for him. It was more certain than the sun rising in the morning. “I hated my father for separating us all the time as children, but the man who took my brother away from me…I hate him enough to kill him. I hate him enough to do it with my own hands, to look into his eyes as he dies and to make sure he feels every ounce of pain and fear my brother must’ve felt in his final moments.”

“Hate has no place in your heart.”

My breath caught in my throat. For the briefest second, I saw someone else in front of me. The lightning outside flickered, and Tomura’s features shifted. His hair darkened to a deep black, and his eyes turned storm-grey. He looked just like how my Tenko would’ve looked if he’d been given the chance to grow up. My brother, my whole world, my everything was suddenly beside me, looking at me with love and worry and hope. It was wishful thinking, and when I blinked, the illusion vanished. Tomura was still there, but I didn’t grieve the loss of my brother in that moment because he suddenly didn’t seem as far away as he had been for 11 years.

“I told him that once,” I whispered, the memory of that moment so clear in my mind, like his words dragged it back up to the surface.

“It’s a good reminder,” Tomura smiled faintly as familiarity crossed over his features. He reached out, hooking his pinky gently around mine, locking us together. It was a promise, the same one I used to make with my brother every night before we fell asleep. We slept with our pinkies wrapped around each other, promising that we wouldn’t be apart, not even while we were sleeping. Nothing in the world could separate us as long as we held onto each other.

“You’re…you’re touching me,” I realized aloud. It had been one thing for him to brush my tears away, but that was different. His hand was locked with mine. His pinky was always lifted up whenever he touched anything else around the apartment, but in that moment, it was wrapped in a sacred promise. He made the conscious choice to touch me, to hold onto me, to promise that nothing would separate us.

“I’m not scared of myself…not if it’s for you,” he murmured, and though his voice wasn’t filled with the loud passion my brother’s had been when he said it, there was the same burning conviction within those words.

“I’m not scared of him, not if it’s for you.”

My eyes flooded again, but that time felt so different from the other times. It was softer and felt less like drowning and more like floating. I didn’t feel like the weight of loss was crushing me. I didn’t feel my brother’s absence. For the first time in eleven years, I felt whole again. I stopped bracing for impact. I stopped wondering when the other shoe would drop. I just let myself feel the present moment, the warmth of Tomura’s pinky, the little hand clutching my shirt, the soft snores from Hizashi, and the quiet presence of Shota.

“I just hope he knew how deeply he was loved by me. I hope he knows…wherever he is, that he was the very best piece of me, the best part of my soul,” I whispered, the words pouring out from the place where my brother used to reside in my soul.

It was a gift to not feel alone in the remembering, so I allowed myself to feel it all, knowing that Tomura was the one person in the world who now knew the depth of my love for my brother. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that he knew,” Tomura whispered, pressing his forehead against mine in a gesture that was as tender as it was sacred. It was something my brother and I had done countless times, a way to connect without words, to feel the warmth of each other.

My heart slowed, and my eyes fluttered closed. As the darkness pulled me deeper, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, as if the universe had finally righted itself after 11 years. I wasn’t capable of sleeping through a storm without my brother in my arms. With Tomura’s pinky wrapped around mine, though, my brother didn’t seem so far away.

So I slept through the storm.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Aizawa

“If he was alive, I would’ve found my way back to him.”

Akira’s voice echoed in my mind, replaying those words over and over again as I lay on the futon at the side of her bed. Hitoshi’s hand was still tangled in my hair, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the weight of all the words she’d shared with Tomura. She’d never told me the details, but I’d pieced together bits and pieces of her past over the years. It was even worse than I’d imagined, though, and there was a piece of me that felt like I was clearly failing her by not being someone she could trust with her pain. Hizashi and I had known her for 11 years, and it took her less than a week to confide in Tomura.

“I would’ve found my way back to him.”

Perhaps she did. Maybe, just maybe, it had happened after 11 years.

The ache in my chest was born from a helpless fury at what had happened to her. I wished for such impossible things in that moment. I wanted to go back and find her and her brother…her sister, too. I wanted to somehow find a way to prevent that night from happening, to keep that little family together. Hizashi’s parents would’ve taken on a dozen children and given them the life they deserved. They were good people. They wouldn’t have turned away anyone in need. I could only hope to be that someday because they’d given me hope during the turmoil of my life, too. I just wanted to save them. I never felt a call like that before, one that was so powerful and so all-consuming. I wanted to take out my anger on something, to fight something, to save someone. I wanted to find a way back to save them all from that monster of a man they knew as a father. I wanted to give them all the opportunity to know my father.

All I could do, though, was lie on the futon beside her bed and watch her sleep. It was so much worse than what I’d imagined. I didn’t know much about that night, only the small bits of what she’d told me after the training session several days prior. All I knew before that was that she didn’t have a family, and I knew that she’d lost her brother. I never knew that she’d also lost everything. Again and again and again.

I thought back to the training session, the way I’d pressed her, the way I mentioned her brother. I hadn’t known how deep that wound went, how it had never healed, how there was no healing it. I didn’t know just how much weight that burden carried for her, how it would’ve inevitably brought up thoughts of her sister, her mother and father, her grandparents. They were all intertwined. I’d been cruel in my delivery. She had lost so much, had endured so much, and that life was one she’d go back to in a heartbeat if it meant she could be with her brother again.

Guilt twisted in my gut. I’d wanted to push her, to make her stronger, to see the limits of her power so that I could help her control it instead of letting it control her. All I had done, though, was remind her of the one thing she couldn’t get back. I reminded her of something she saw as a failure. She regretted running that night, which meant she regretted not dying. If there was nothing left of her family, there would’ve been nothing left of her. The thought sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t imagine what my life would’ve become without her. She changed me from the very moment we met. She was kind and patient and forgiving, even as a girl, even when I was still a cold and distant kid myself. She taught me that I didn’t have to be afraid of every hand.

Hitoshi shifted beside her, murmuring softly in his sleep. Typically, it would’ve woken her up, but ever since Tomura’s arrival, when she slept, she slept deeply and soundly. She was capable of rest. She didn’t stir at all, and for that I was thankful. He sat up, rubbing his eyes slowly, hair sticking up in every direction. He looked so small, and the sight of him once again made me feel that familiar twist in my chest. It was the sweetest ache, something born from feeling a love so deep that no amount of expressing it could possibly be enough. Akira was the only one who could truly understand it. She loved him so fiercely that she’d stay awake in bed some nights just watching him breathe. She told me it was “because he just looks so peaceful, Shota! He’s so perfect! How could anyone look at him and feel anything but love?”

He scooted toward the foot of the bed, sliding off the bed carefully in order to avoid disturbing Akira, Hizashi, and myself. He avoided stepping on the futon mattress and padded over to the other side of the mattress with his little blanket trailing behind him. I’d bought the blanket for him with Akira when we went out shopping for new clothes on his first day home. He hadn’t separated himself from it when we were in the apartment. He kept it wrapped around his body or clutched tightly. “Are you okay, Hitoshi?” I asked, making sure my voice was quiet enough to not wake the others.

“Can I sleep with you?” he asked in a small voice, his eyes finding mine in the darkness that was illuminated by the moon nightlight from the hallway.

“How could you say no to that?”

Hizashi’s words echoed in my mind, and I had to stop myself from letting out a soft laugh as I realized that my best friend had been right again. I hated it.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I responded, lifting the edge of my blanket and making room for him.

He crawled into the warmth of the blanket without hesitation, curling against my chest like he’d only ever done in his sleep. He hugged me during his waking hours, but Akira was the one he truly clung to. He melted into her like he was made of a liquid. He’d done it to me on the occasions when he fell asleep in Akira’s lap, and I carried him to bed, or if Akira got up from the couch and placed him in my lap instead. He’d melt into me, and I finally understood my father’s love for me. I always believed myself to be exactly what my mother told me I was: a burden, a monster, a mistake. I never understood why a man like my father loved me as endlessly as he did.

Until I became one to Hitoshi.

No matter what he did, no matter what he said, no matter what he believed himself to be, I loved him. I loved him in a way I thought I was incapable of loving another living being. It was a ferocity that had no limits, one I didn’t know I could feel until I held him in my arms for the first time. It was one that grew with every passing day, and each time I thought I couldn’t possibly love him more, the universe showed me how wrong I was.

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” he admitted, pressing his face into my shirt as I lowered the blanket over his body, tucking it around him.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close and holding him firmly against my chest, though not firm enough to make him uncomfortable. I knew his history with his father after we received confirmation that he was a Shinso. I didn’t want him to feel trapped when he was in my arms. It was a miracle he allowed me close to begin with, so fostering that trust was of utmost importance. “Mommy doesn’t like thunderstorms either, you know?” I asked, hoping to ease his fear by giving him something to relate to, especially when that person was his hero.

“Are you afraid of anything?” he asked with a thoughtful tone.

I thought about it for a moment, not wanting to lie to him but also not wanting to make him even more unsettled. I used to be afraid of failure, of letting my friends down like I had Oboro. Then, I had been afraid of letting my students down and not being able to help them when they needed me most. Now, all my fears had faces—Akira, Hitoshi, Hizashi, even Tomura. The possibility of losing any of them was enough to keep me awake at night, staring at the ceiling. The mere thought in that moment made my heart stutter in my chest. The fact that Tomura, a boy who had been with us for such a short period of time, had such a powerful impact on me was proof of how much Akira’s love for him had changed the way I saw him.

“I’m afraid of a lot more ever since you came along,” I teased, ruffling his hair as I tried to keep my voice light.

He searched my face for a moment, “are you…scared of me? Is it because of my quirk? Some of the kids at school are scared of it, too, so they don’t play with me.”

My heart broke. I didn’t realize that my words could’ve taken on a different meaning to him than what I meant. “Of course not, sweetheart! You’ve just…” I trailed off, unsure of how to explain the way loving him had rearranged all of my priorities. I was unsure of how to explain how I’d gone from someone with fears that seemed so much more manageable to someone whose fears had become so intense because I realized just how much I could lose. He waited for me in the same patient way that Akira always did when she knew I had more to say. I took a long breath and continued, “my greatest fear is losing the people I care about. You, Mommy, Uncle Hizashi, even Tomura. You’re all people I don’t ever want to lose,” I admitted, the words feeling heavy but true.

“And Aunt Seirei?” he asked, reminding me of the bane of my existence.

Even then, I couldn’t completely write her off despite how much we didn’t like each other. She had protected Akira and endured horrors I’d never know about for the sake of Akira, and for that, she earned a lifetime of respect from me. “Even Aunt Seirei,” I added.

His arms tightened around me, and he buried his face into my chest as he hugged me. The small trembling of his body subsided. He turned his head, pressing his ear against my chest as listened to my heartbeat. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he burrowed in closer.

I pressed my lips to the top of his head, rubbing gentle circles onto his back. “I’m not going anywhere, little one. You’re stuck with me now,” I promised with a light smile. It was a promise I intended to keep for as long as I could. If his fear was losing me, I’d rage against death itself to keep that promise. I’d defy the laws of the universe just to stay by his side, and if death took me, I’d find a way back to him in some way.

I listened to his breathing even out and felt his little heartbeat slow against my chest. I listened to Akira’s breathing as well, thinking of her fierceness, her love, her strength in the face of endless grief. I thought of Tomura and the pieces of him that reminded me of the few stories Akira had shared about her brother. I thought of how their stories of their respective siblings had been so similar, of how they both fit into each other’s stories so perfectly. I wondered if we were all just trying to find our way back to something we’d lost in some way.

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I didn’t want to. I just held Hitoshi close and watched over all of them the way my father used to watch over me. I was incapable of protecting Akira from her past, but I was going to protect her for the rest of her life. I was going to protect Hizashi. I was going to protect Hitoshi.

And I was going to protect Tomura.

The next morning came quickly, too quickly. I felt every hour of lost sleep in my bones as I padded around the kitchen, nursing my second mug of coffee, but I didn’t regret a second of it. Hitoshi had slept soundly in my arms, not even stirring once. Hizashi’s music blared faintly from the bathroom where he was taking a shower before we left. Seirei was already on her way to spend the day with Tomura. Akira and Tomura were in the living room together, their voices low and drifting into the kitchen as they teased one another. All the sounds were punctuated by Hitoshi’s laughter as he perched himself on the couch beside Tomura who picked at his own toast. Akira stood beside the couch, eating her bowl of cereal and urging Tomura to eat the way Hitoshi did before stepping over to Hitoshi to wipe some of the milk off his chin with a napkin.

It was almost too normal. I’d grown so used to expecting disaster, but mornings like that, mornings that felt safe, were a rare kind of luxury. Being able to see Akira laugh so freely, to see Tomura smile and relax his shoulders, it was all a gift. For a heartbeat, I hoped that it could be that way forever, that the storm clouds had finally passed.

The news was on, and voices from the TV filled the space between their laughter and gentle teasing. Akira always kept it on in the mornings, scanning for trouble in order to plan the best route to school for us to drop off Hitoshi before making our way to U.A.. It had become a routine, like she was finding little ways of keeping control in a world that had taken it from her so many times before.

I was halfway through pouring another cup of coffee when my phone vibrated on the counter. I glanced down at the screen. Seirei. It wasn’t even 6:30, and she was already calling. She never called me, though. She always called Hizashi or Akira directly. Never me. The only time we even communicated via phone was through text, and I’d usually be the one to send her a text, which she would respond to with a middle finger emoji. My brow furrowed as I braced myself for whatever fresh hell she was about to bring into my day.

I barely had time to pick up and press the phone to my ear before she was speaking. “Where’s Akira?” she asked frantically, her voice tight and out of breath.

Shifting the phone to hold it to my ear with my shoulder, I continued pouring the coffee into my mug. I frowned, “she’s eating breakfast in the living room. What’s going on?”

“Turn the TV off,” she snapped, her tone sharper than it normally was. There was a hostility between Seirei and myself. She didn’t like me, and I didn’t like her. Still, we both cared for Akira, Hizashi, and Hitoshi, which meant we were often working together in some capacity, even if it was just to avoid conflict in front of them.

I straightened my shoulders, the tone and request drowning out the simplicity of the morning. “Why? What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to understand why it sounded like she was running. What was happening?

“Don’t ask questions, just listen to me for once! Turn the TV off,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice cutting through me like a knife. Despite our differences, I didn’t hate her in any capacity, and I even found myself wanting to comfort her for whatever she was going through in that moment. The mere idea of trying to comfort her made me bristle. She’d probably hit me for it.

I glanced into the living room. Akira was laughing at something Tomura was saying, and he was looking at her like the sun itself. Her eyes flickered back to the TV. “She’s just watching the news with Hitoshi and Tomura. It helps her plan the route we take to get Hitoshi to–”

“No! Turn the fucking TV off, Shota! Please!” she barked into the phone, and I heard the panic in her voice mixed with tears. She was crying. She was running. She was afraid. In that moment, she wasn’t above begging me for help, and that knowledge sent a jolt of adrenaline straight through me.

Before I could move, the newscaster’s voice cut through the living room. “Good morning. We’re interrupting our regular programming with breaking news coming in just moments ago,” the male reporter with bright red hair began, his voice serious and urgent.

Shit.

I moved toward the living room, stepping around the kitchen island. “Akira, I think that’s enough of the news for the morning,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm despite the growing dread pooling in my stomach. If she heard my fear, she’d surely insist on continuing to watch the news to figure out why I was so adamant about her turning it off.

She didn’t even look at me, which was unusual for her. Whenever I spoke to her, she made at least some sort of attempt at eye contact, wanting me to be sure that she was listening intently. When the camera cut to a wide aerial shot of Tartarus prison with the grey ocean waves still crashing against the massive walls, Akira’s knuckles turned white as she turned the volume up. Her chest rose and fell faster. Tomura, who had been watching her intently, turned his attention to the screen, his face losing all color along with hers.

My stomach plummeted.

“This is NHK Hero Network. At approximately 5:17 this morning, officials confirmed a large-scale breach at Tartarus Prison, Japan’s maximum-security facility housing the country’s most dangerous criminals,” the reporter continued, his voice filled with the gravity of the situation. Is this what Seirei was calling about? “Authorities report that multiple containment systems failed simultaneously, allowing at least one high-level inmate to escape custody.”

“Akira,” I tried again, stepping fully into the room and closing the space between us. I could practically hear the frantic pounding of her heart as she held her breath.

She didn’t move. Hitoshi was the only one out of the three of them who seemed to notice my presence at all. His fear was palpable as he glanced between Tomura, Akira, myself, and the television. He didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. I knew an escape from Tartarus was a big deal, but it wasn’t something that should’ve sent Akira into a state of shock like that.

The footage shifted to a view of emergency lights, sirens blaring, guards attempting to reestablish control, and chaos erupting in the prison before the camera of the live footage cut off. The screen returned to the news studio, where the reporter cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. He listened to something in his earpiece before he continued, “the inmate in question has been identified as…”

A picture popped up on the side of the reporter of a large man with white hair and a nearly snow-white complexion. His right eye was a lifeless grey while the left was a milky white—he had been blinded. He had a scar over the left side of his face that looked like he’d been burned before someone had torn at the burnt flesh with their fingers.

Akira’s bowl slipped from her hands and shattered against the floor. It was in that moment that I knew my hope had been for nothing. The storm clouds had not passed.

Akira

Akira,

I’m not very good at this sort of thing. Talking about feelings, writing letters, being sentimental—it’s never made much sense to me. I’m used to being in the air, to the speed of life moving fast enough that I don’t have to sit with my thoughts long enough for them to catch up to me. Writing slows everything down in the same way that your presence does. That’s part of the reason why I left so often without you, and it’s probably why I waited so long to do this.

I owe you an apology. Well, more than just one, honestly. I owe you several apologies. I’ve been cold to you for the past week, and I’m realizing how little time I have left with you here. I’ve not only been cold, but I’ve been cruel. I know how much power I hold by mentioning your brother, and I did it anyway. That was wrong, and there’s no excuse for it, but I hope that at some point, your ability to see through me can allow you to see the reasons behind it. It scares me to think that someday you’ll be able to see right to the core of me and realize that I’m not everything I make myself out to be. An arms length felt like a safe distance when I’ve learned before that letting anything closer can lead to pain and loss.

I want you to know that my decision to keep you at a distance was never because you did something wrong.

The truth is that I haven’t been able to get Hiza City out of my head. You almost died. That wasn’t just a hypothetical scenario. It wasn’t just some abstract risk that we could pretend comes with the job. I’ve seen people die before. I’ve lost people. I’ve been incapable of saving people before. Those people were never you, though. I mourned, and I pushed myself harder to make sure that nothing like that would ever happen again, but I was always removed from it. I couldn’t remove myself when I saw you in that hospital. I saw it. I felt it.

Heroes are supposed to accept that kind of thing. We’re trained—I was trained—to accept that kind of risk. I’ve done it for years, but not with you. I can’t understand it. Sitting here, thinking about it, I’m convinced that I could live a thousand lifetimes, and I’ll never be able to live long enough to understand why you matter so much to me.

Before you got here for a second chance at our work study, I realized how lucky I was to have another chance to make things right with you. I should’ve kept you safe from the beginning. I should’ve never brought you to Hiza City until I could be sure that I had the skills to keep you safe. Having you back after that, I wanted to make absolutely sure that there was no way I could fail you again. I started to view the friendship we were cultivating during your time away was me being selfish. Being close to you felt like I was taking another risk with your life.

My life isn’t clean, Akira. No matter how many jokes I tell, no matter how much I pretend to be a carefree, reckless hero, I’ve done things that haunt me. I can turn it off to get the job done, and you’ve seen that side of me in Hiza City with Electroburst. I think of that moment a lot, how willing you were to die for the sake of saving someone else, even if you were saving a villain from me. I can remember the look on your face with crystal clarity. I felt like a villain. I felt like I had failed you in more ways than one, and when I allow myself to hope for something good, I think of that moment. I think of all the parts of me that would stain you. I think of all the pieces of me that you shouldn’t have to see or carry or explain away to yourself just to keep believing that I’m a good man.

You deserve a future where your hands aren’t already bloody before you’ve even started. You deserve a future where your wings aren’t clipped before you even realize how high you can fly.

You are going to be a phenomenal hero someday, Akira.

Not because you’re strong or because you endure pain better than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re going to be a great hero because you care in a way that doesn’t shut off despite how inconvenient or dangerous it is. You’re going to be a great hero because you see people as people, not civilians or heroes or villains. You see everyone as someone worth saving. You’re going to be a great hero because you step up even when it’s not your job, even when you know it’s going to hurt you, even when the risks are high. You’re going to be a great hero because you’re willing to fight for people even when they’ve given up hope.

Someday, when you’re high above a world that trusts you, I’ll be proud knowing that, for just a while, I was there, that I helped you take even just a few steps toward that future. I’ve kept my distance because I want to protect that version of you. I could never ruin something so good, no matter how selfish I can be.

I’m sorry for acting like you didn’t matter when the truth is that you’ve mattered too much.

Take care of yourself, Stardust. I can’t wait to compete with you in the Top 10 one day. I know that day isn’t very far off because I’ve seen what you’re capable of, and I know that you’re going to change the game.

-Keigo Takami

The training grounds were empty, the early morning sun glinting off the steel beams and asphalt. Shota moved ahead of me, not speaking, not looking back, nothing. He was like a statue the entire way to the school, not even uttering a word to me in the car. The silence had been thick and heavy with all the words I wanted to say but was too afraid of. I could feel every ounce of his disappointment in every single step he took, and it felt like barbed wire tightening around my throat and reaching down for my heart. Perhaps it wasn’t even his disappointment in me but just my own reflection.

He barely glanced over his shoulder as he spoke to me, “don’t hold back. I want to see everything you’ve learned so far.” His voice was still so cold and detached. It was nothing like the man who had held me together in Hiza City or the man who carried Hitoshi to bed most nights when he’d fall asleep on my lap. He didn’t even feel like a stranger, either. He felt like my teacher—nothing more, nothing less. I wanted to scream at him, to get him to understand just how much the distance hurt me, how it felt like a rejection of my very existence. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know what I had done.

He disappeared from view in the blink of an eye. I didn’t bother warming up. I didn’t need to. I just let the power surge through me, the familiar warmth of stardust rushing beneath my skin like a river of fire was burning through my veins. I remembered the days when my quirk used to be a gentle, peaceful thing. I remembered the days when it did nothing but heal me from Father’s most brutal beatings, when it was nothing more than a beacon of hope. Now, it was a weapon, and I was its master. It felt like a hungry beast, a predator that I had trained to obey. At the end of the day, though, it was still a beast.

It was still hungry.

The first thing I did was concentrate the stardust into a single point on my back, feeling the wings form beneath my skin before protruding from my back. Stardust shimmered around them as they grew larger and stronger with each beat of my heart. The wings were similar to Keigo’s, but they were pure white and shimmered like the stars. They weren’t as powerful as his were, but I was still learning to control them. Despite the weight of the wings, I felt lighter, stronger, and faster. I beat them once, experimentally, and the ground beneath me scattered with stardust as I rose a few feet into the air.

I felt the stardust swirling around me like a protective shield. The tendrils wrapped around my arms and reached down to my hands where the stardust collected in my palms. “Not bad,” I heard Shota’s voice from behind me, but there was something in his tone that made it clear that he hadn’t expected it.

The suffocating feeling of having my quirk snuffed out let me know his erasure was active. The stardust in my veins flickered and extinguished, but I could still feel the remnants of it. The wings didn’t vanish like I thought they would’ve with his quirk, but I realized it was because the wings were a physical part of me. Just like he couldn’t erase the quirks that gave people multiple arms or legs, he couldn’t erase my wings. While they had been created by my stardust, they had become a physical part of me.

I didn’t turn around to face him before I used one of the wings to kick up a sharp burst of wind aimed directly at his face. He blinked on instinct, and for a split second, his quirk deactivated, allowing the stardust to flicker to life once more. I didn’t waste the opportunity to lash out at him. Lightning crackled at my fingertips—Arehate’s quirk. I tucked the wings close to me and fell to the ground, slamming my hand into the ground as I sent a wave of lightning through the ground and toward him.

He was forced to leap away, fading back into the shadows. Shota was fast, but so was I.

A hero? You?

Father’s voice propelled me forward. I closed my eyes and focused on my senses. I could feel the air moving around me, but I could also sense the vibrations of Shota’s movements, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin. I opened my eyes and focused on the direction he had disappeared into. I chased him into an alleyway, the walls closing in around me. Close quarters combat was his specialty, especially when he could hide in the shadows and strike from behind, but I wasn’t afraid.

I allowed my eyes to slip closed once more. Eliminating one of my senses forced the others to heighten. I heard the beating of his heart. My head snapped back in his direction, and I felt my hair lift off my shoulders as I attempted to disable his quirk before he could do the same to me, but I was too slow. He leapt down from where he was perched on the ledge above me, sending his scarf snapping out toward me. It caught my wrist, and a second of panic flared through me as I was yanked toward him. Ankoku’s face flashed before my eyes, and I was a trapped animal all over again.

Focus!

I didn’t let the panic take root despite the memory of my skin tearing open under the ropes that kept me in that chair. The night the basement girls were turned into meat. Piles of meat.

I moved on instinct, lifting my foot to plant it in the middle of his chest as he pulled me toward him. The kick was hard enough to cause him to grunt, but he didn’t miss a beat when he grabbed my wrist and twisted it before throwing me over his shoulder and onto my back. I rolled with the momentum, landing on my feet before glaring back at him. “Still telegraphing your attacks, I see,” he muttered, but there was a heat in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was taking me seriously.

Heat pooled in my palms, white flames blooming to life as I charged at him. It was a move that would only work once, to make him think I was going to fight him in close combat, but I had no intention of getting close to him. Despite not being white the way his had been, the flames still burned just as hot as his had. They just didn’t hurt me, not the way he feared they would. I flicked my wrist, sending the flames into the alley, allowing them to flare in his direction but not allowing them close enough to burn him.

He countered my attack with a feint, using the opening to sweep my legs out from under me, but my wings caught me mid-air before I hit the ground. I beat them once more, launching myself upward and away from him. My quirk was deactivated again, so I had no use of my abilities apart from the wings. “You’re angry,” he observed, his voice low and steady as he watched the way I hovered in the air, my wings beating steadily to keep me aloft. “Use it, Akira. Don’t let it use you,” he urged me, his voice carrying a weight that made me even angrier.

I ignored him, launching forward once more. I was a blur. I didn’t care about his advice. I didn’t care that he was my teacher or my friend or my older brother’s best friend. I didn’t care that he was the man my Hitoshi had been growing to view as a father figure. No, just a father. Hitoshi saw him as a father—his father.

I could’ve killed him in a dozen different ways, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt him, not really. I just wanted to be seen. I just wanted to be good enough for once in my life, to be something that couldn’t be dismissed or sent away. I didn’t want to be a liability. I didn’t want to be the girl he had to worry about whenever I left home. I wanted to be strong enough that Hizashi could go out on dates, so Shota could sleep, so everyone in my life could finally be free from the burden of me and have a moment of peace.

I could’ve killed him, but I was saving that…

For the man who killed my brother.

We fell into close combat again, fists and elbows flying. The entire world seemed to narrow to just the two of us. We were the only two people who existed. I was fast. He was clever. I was desperate. He was calm. We traded blows, both of us pulling punches, not hitting as hard as we could. Every punch I threw was another question: am I enough now? Do you see me yet? Are you proud? IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH?!

He caught my arm, twisted, and tried to pin me beneath him, but I broke free, the wings snapping out and cutting his cheek in the process. He didn’t flinch but stepped back, blood trailing from the cut. I wanted to reach out and heal it, but I knew we weren’t finished. Not yet.

We circled each other on the cracked asphalt. The air between us thrummed with every unspoken word and every wound from the past several years still bleeding into the present. His eyes were still unreadable. The teacher in him was still unbearably present, the man who’d always demanded more and more and more, the one who never let me settle for anything less than my very best. There was something even harder underneath it all, something that wanted to see just how far I could be pushed before I broke.

He didn’t waste words and just tilted his head with a flicker of provocation in his gaze. Then, just as I launched forward, he lashed out with a knife I didn’t know he’d been wielding but one that was nothing but words that lodged between my ribs. “You want to be a hero because you and your brother had this dream, right?”

My blood went cold. The wings faltered, and I fell to the asphalt, catching myself on my hands and knees. I glared up at him. “Don’t,” I spat out as power sparked at my fingertips. It was different than before. It wasn’t just the quirks I’d collected over my life but something else entirely. It was something I hadn’t felt since Hiza City when I saw Koemi’s body. The monster within me wanted to launch at him and tear something apart. I knew he wanted a response, so he got one. I lashed out, forcing my stardust into a razor-edged glass-like shard that I sent flying toward him. It nicked his shoulder, but it didn’t cut deeply.

“If you don’t fight to the best of your ability, you’re failing him,” he continued, his words and voice low and merciless. He’d never stooped so low as to bring up my brother in battle. I didn’t tell people about my brother because of that very reason. I didn’t want him to be used against me, to be used as a pawn the way he had been by Father.

The words hit their mark, though. Every muscle in my body coiled even tighter, and I could feel the power surging. Despite his hair being raised, deactivating my quirks, I could still feel the power. Just like Hiza City. The power I’d felt then, the one that had been untamable, it came rushing back into me. Anger rose up my throat, hot and burning. “Shut up!” I screamed, launching myself at him as a burst of power ripped through my body. The training grounds trembled, and he lost his balance as the ground cracked open beneath us.

When he blinked, everything let loose. Lightning crackled in a wave around me, stardust exploded from my fingertips and slashed through the air, and white-hot flames roared through the air, leaving trails of fire across the asphalt. I didn’t care what he dodged in that moment. I wanted to hurt him, to make him shut up, to make him see how much I was already bleeding.

You’ll never be a hero.

He saw the opening and went for the verbal kill. “It’s why you saved Tomura, isn’t it? Because he must remind you of him. I noticed it in the scratching last night,” he continued, his voice taunting me.

All you’ll ever be is just a broken toy who will someday become someone else’s responsibility.

“Sop talking!” I screamed, my voice raw with pain and rage. Stardust exploded from the center of my chest, and the wings sent it swirling around me in a violent storm. The power was out of control, wild and dangerous, like a wild animal that had been provoked. He leapt away from most of it, but the force of the blast sent him careening backward. He hissed as a piece of the swirling stardust grazed his shoulder, leaving a sizable burn.

You want to be a hero so bad? Get up and fight me like a hero.

With his focus broken, I burst through the storm of stardust and lightning, launching myself at him with everything I had. He blocked and pivoted, using my momentum against me. “How do you plan to protect him when you’re still too weak to fight me? How do you plan to protect anyone? Your fellow classmates? Innocent people? Hitoshi?” he spat out the question, staring down at me before pressing his foot down on my chest, pinning me beneath him. “And don’t even get me started on Hizashi! My best friend gave up everything for you, gave up his entire life to take care of you, and you’re going to tell me that this is the best you can do with that gift?” he shouted, his voice breaking with the emotion he was trying to suppress.

Crying already? I’ll give you something to cry about!

I snarled, launching myself back up to my feet, sending him tumbling back with a burst of stardust that knocked him off his feet. My wings sent a burst of air at his face once more, and he covered his face, blinking in the process. I didn’t hesitate as my fists flew at him, throwing blow after blow of stardust, lightning, and fire. I was a wild force of accidental quirks and raw, desperate anger. He dodged and ducked most of my punches, but some of them landed. When he tried to sweep my legs out from under me, I sent flames roaring from my palms, forcing him back.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t think of how much Hizashi gave up for me every single breath I take?” I screamed, my voice cracking with all the words I couldn’t say.

You don’t know me the way you think you do! You don’t know what I’ve lost! You don’t know what I’ve done! You don’t get to use any of them against me!

He seized the opening again, and his scarf snapped out once more. I grabbed onto it and pulled him toward me, taking control of his attack. I slammed my elbow into his side, but he rolled with it, catching my wrist and twisting until my knees buckled. I let the lightning loose, watching the blue-white bolts surge through my veins and into his. They crackled up his arm, and he grunted before deactivating my quirk.

“Is this is, Akira? Is this all you’ve got?” he taunted me as he leapt away from me once more. His breathing was ragged, but he was still standing. “You’re still holding back! You’re angry, but you’re still too scared to show me what you really are! You’re scared to lose control!”

You’re a monster. You and your brother. Monsters.

I screamed, the sound raw and broken, as the power surged through me once more. The ground around us cracked and split. The tendrils of stardust, lightning, and fire burst forth from my hands, wrapping around him tightly and pulling him toward me. I went blind with rage. Fire, lightning, everything began bursting around me. My body vibrated with power, panic, and fury. My hands were raw, and my hair was wild. My heart thundered in my chest, and the power alone felt like it was going to rip me apart, like my very bones were shredding to pieces as I let it all out.

You won’t grow up and destroy families like heroes always do.

We traded blow after blow, neither of us holding back anymore. At least not entirely. I could still feel him pulling his punches, missing me by fractions of an inch, but I couldn’t stop. I saw my brother. I heard his screams. I heard his laughter. I thought of the countless nights Hizashi stayed up, the songs he wrote for me, the life he gave up for me. He’d only been on one date because of me. He could’ve been married with children by now if it weren’t for me. He could’ve been happy.

I won’t have a hero in this house! Not with my name!

One hard punch to his jaw made his head snap to the side. It was my way of screaming out: I’m not weak! I’m not a failure! He spat blood to the ground. When he looked back at me, there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. “There you are,” he murmured, and the weight of it all flooded into me.

Be good, my sweet girl.

Chiyoko’s voice echoed in my ears. 11 years later, and those were the words that pulled me back from my rage, from the monster that wanted to tear everything apart. The lightning vanished, and the fire extinguished itself. The stardust calmed before breaking down the wings on my back and retreating into my body. The power receded, and I fell to my knees, clutching my chest as the tears spilled over.

“You have no idea what I lost, what I would’ve given to keep my brother alive,” I whispered, the thoughts of him flooding back to me. “You have no idea the ways I suffered just to keep him safe, just to keep my father’s hands off him. I would’ve done it all a million times over if it meant I could have just one more moment with him. I would’ve done anything, given anything, sacrificed anything just to keep him alive, and I still lost him, so please…please don’t talk about him. Please don’t use him against me. Please! He was so little, so good,” I sobbed uncontrollably as I clutched my hand to my chest and bent in half, my body crumpling into itself. “He would’ve grown up to be the kindest, most perfect hero in the world. He was…please don’t use him against me, Shota,” I begged, my voice breaking with each word. “You don’t know what I lost. Please, you don’t know.”

“Akira, I…” the words died on his lips as he stepped toward me. They wouldn’t have been the right ones, but I didn’t care. I knew that he did what needed to be done in order to provoke my very best. He hadn’t spoken about my brother or the sacrifices people made for me because he wanted to hurt me. He mentioned them to make me fight harder, to push me to my limits, to make me see that I was stronger than what I even believed.

He knelt down in front of me before wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me into his chest. I broke down completely. The weight of the world crashed down around me. My brother, my family, the basement, the loss of my adoptive parents, the weight of all my choices, the people I couldn’t save, the weight of new motherhood, the daunting task of living up to the promises I made to the people who I loved and lost. It was as if it was all finally settling on me in that moment. “It should’ve been me,” I sobbed into his chest, the words ripped from the very depths of my soul. “Why wasn’t it me?” I cried out, the question echoing through the countless years I’d asked it in silence.

Shota’s arms tightened around me, and I felt him let out a long breath. “I may not know everything that you’ve been through, and I may not know all the pain you carry. What I do know, though, is that you have never been alone, not since you were brought into Hizashi’s life, and I may not know your brother…the first one…” he paused, and I let out another sob, which caused his throat to tighten. His arms trembled, “but what I do know is that if he were here to see just how much you’ve grown and how hard you’ve fought to become a hero, to do the right thing…I’m certain he’d be even more proud of you than I am.”

We’re gonna be heroes together, Akira. Promise?

Shota just held me in his arms as I cried. I didn’t shy away from his comfort. I wasn’t angry at him. I wasn’t angry at anyone. I was just…exhausted. It was an exhaustion born from 11 years of grief and mourning that had just continued to build up within me. I didn’t know how long we sat there, but I healed his wounds over the course of that time, remembering those words once more. Be good. I owed it to everyone who didn’t make it through all the chapters of my life to remain someone they would recognize.

I was going to be good.

I promise, Tenko.

A storm chased Shota and I out of the training grounds and into the safety of U.A. where we both recovered from the intense training session. Recovery Girl took care of me since I’d already taken care of Shota’s wounds by inheriting them onto my own body. She was impressed with the amount of damage I’d managed to do, but she also scolded Shota for pushing me so hard. I was just quiet. I didn’t step in to defend him or to acknowledge her words. I just listened. I was too numb, too exhausted, too emotionally spent to do anything else.

Shota didn’t leave my side the entire time I was recovering, which was both a comfort and a torment. He sat beside me in Recovery Girl’s office, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the rain that streaked down the windows. Before she yelled at him, we had been betting on which beads of water would reach the bottom of the window first. Shota managed to revert back to the boy I’d known before time and circumstances forced him to grow up. Oboro used to win most, but it was because he said he liked to root for the underdogs, so he chose the ones the rest of us overlooked. I once asked him how to find the underdogs, and he said to look at Shota and Hizashi. He told me to look in the mirror, and I’d find them.

“It’s why I’m rooting for you, Akira. It’s why you’re going to be my favorite hero someday.”

Recovery girl fussed over my bandaged arm while Shota and I made a game of the rain, and once it was finished being bandaged, she turned to him. “I don’t care that she’s your student, Eraser. At the end of the day, she’s still just a girl. Your job is to push her, but it’s also to protect her. Your job isn’t to push her so hard that she breaks,” she scolded him, her voice so sharp it managed to cut through the haze in my head that was born from my emotional exhaustion.

Shota didn’t look at her. He just grunted in response. His mouth was a thin line. I waited for him to snap back at her, but he didn’t. Perhaps he knew he’d pushed too far. Maybe he agreed with her. Maybe fighting with her was too much effort when he was already so exhausted.

I stared at my hands, flexing my fingers. I had a few burns and cuts that were still healing beneath the bandages, but it would take time and energy from my body. It would be fine once nighttime came and the stars healed me, but that wasn’t for several more hours. As I flexed my hands, I felt the throbbing pain in my left forearm by my elbow. Shota’s limp was gone, but my ribs throbbed with every breath I took. I had hit him hard. The pain was a reminder that I fought, that I truly fought him.

When she finally left with a sigh, the room was quiet again, thick with all the words neither of us could bring ourselves to say. I wanted to apologize for hurting him, but I knew that it was one of the last things he would’ve wanted. He actively pushed me in order to get me to fight, so apologizing for doing it would’ve been an insult to his efforts and the pain he’d gone through to make me stronger. I could also sense his countless apologies in the way his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, in the way his jaw was clenched as if trying to hold back a storm of words he didn’t want to throw at me.

“You know, it looked like he managed to train you well even with tabling you for the last week,” he finally broke the silence.

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to understand how he could possibly know about the last week of me being away. He hadn’t read the letter, of that I was certain. Even then, it wouldn’t have provided that much context for the week I was away. “How did you know about that?” I asked, studying his profile as he kept his gaze fixed on the rain outside.

He didn’t hesitate, “because I’m the one who told him to do it.”

My jaw dropped, lips parting slightly as I thought of the sudden change in his demeanor from the texting prior to my work study to the way he’d acted during it. That must’ve been the trip he took prior to my second chance work study. It suddenly made sense why Keigo had suddenly stopped texting with me conveniently after Shota was “away on business.”

Before I could ask, Shota continued, “that kid fought tooth and nail for you, though. He told me how unfair it was to keep you caged up after you performed the way you did in Hiza City, but we both recognized that you pushed yourself too far. I’m just surprised he listened,” he admitted with a low chuckle, clearly having been caught off guard by the fact that Hawks had actually listened to him.

I thought of my conversation with Keigo the night we fought, the things I said to him about his restrictions being unfair and how it felt like I was being caged. I imagined that his words to Shota had been similar. A strange feeling twisted in my chest at the new information. “He never told me,” I murmured, still trying to understand why he would’ve kept it from me when he’d been on my side from the beginning.

“I figured he would’ve done that much,” Shota shrugged, his gaze flickering over to me but not quite meeting mine, “I can’t really understand why he’d take the fall for such an unpopular decision. I was waiting for the entire week to get a call from you to question why I had done it, but you never mentioned it.”

“Because he never told me. He just let me be angry with him,” I explained as I ran a hand through my hair. I had to ask him about it. I had to figure out why he’d let me think he was the bad guy for tabling me when it would’ve been far simpler to tell me that Shota was the reason for my frustrations with him.

“I’m sorry for-” we both started at the same time, our voices overlapping. We both stopped, our eyes locking in a moment of silence.

He shook his head, “you’re not the one who should apologize, Akira. Recovery Girl was right when she said I pushed you too hard.”

“You always push your students. You’ve been doing this since you started teaching here. It’s what you do,” I reminded him, trying to defend him because I understood why he did it. I understood why he was so harsh, why he expelled students, why he was strict and sometimes even cruel. He knew that the world was going to test us as heroes someday, and he wanted to prepare us. I understood his reasoning.

I thought I understood.

“I don’t push anyone else like this,” he admitted, and I heard the disappointment in his voice. “I thought I’d come to terms with what happened…when I found you…” his voice thickened and quivered slightly as his eyes flickered back out to the rain. I knew what he was talking about. When he found me on the bathroom floor. The memory made me wince. He cleared his throat, “but then we were in Hiza City, and…you were so willing to let go, so willing to leave your brother and I here without–” his voice broke, and I watched his bottom lip tremble slightly.

“Shota,” I whispered, reaching out to place my hand on top of his own. I didn’t want him to feel the weight of those memories when they were three years old.

He shook his head again, pulling his hand away from mine and wiping it over his face to somehow clear away the memories. “I was in a constant state of fear that you’d disappear again. Every dead body we came across, it felt like I lost a little piece of you again, like you were dying a little more with every body we found. I haven’t been that afraid since I found you in the bathroom, and I pushed you today because I was afraid that you’d slipped back into that place where you didn’t want to fight anymore,” he confessed, his voice so raw that his pain wrapped around my throat like a noose.

“I remember that day, Sho,” I whispered, remembering the sound of the running water, the way my reflection pleaded with me in the bathroom mirror, begging me to stay, to fight, to survive. I remembered the way I screamed at my own reflection before breaking the mirror. I remembered the way my hands had trembled as I sat with one of the broken pieces against my wrist for the longest time, trying to talk myself out of doing it but also feeling like I needed to if I wanted to be free from the pain and set everyone else free from the burden of loving me. I remembered carving my sorrow into my body. I remembered the pain. It had been so sweet, so grounding, so freeing. It was an end to my suffering, an end to my pain.

It was an end to me.

I remembered the way I faded in and out of consciousness, the way I felt warm and freezing cold at the same time. I remembered trying to crawl into the tub because I realized too late that Hizashi would probably find me, and I didn’t want him to slip in my blood. I remembered the faded sound of the front door bursting open. It was the only time Shota hadn’t knocked. I remembered the way he called out to me, how he pounded on the bathroom door, how the door gave way when he kicked it in.

I remembered the silence.

I remembered his trembling hands as he took long breaths to calm himself, how he frantically wrapped his capture weapon around my wrists to stop the bleeding. I remembered every word he whispered to me, every bit of pleading he did with both me and the universe to change what was happening. I remembered his apologies for not realizing until it was too late. I remembered the tears in his eyes as he cradled me in his arms and ran me through the streets, shouting for anyone to call an ambulance.

I remembered it all.

“Your heart stopped in the hospital, Akira,” he reminded me of the aftermath of Hiza City. “I sent you to a work study you didn’t want to go to, and you…I almost lost you again. I realized in that moment that I was to blame–”

“No,” I cut him off, my voice strong despite the tears in my eyes. I shook my head, grasping his hand again. When he tried to pull away, I tightened my grip. “None of what happened in Hiza City was your fault. You tried to get me to stop, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I still have pieces of my past that I can’t let go of,” I explained, trying to get him to understand without needing to explain the full extent of my trauma.

“What matters is that I failed you, but I didn’t truly see that until later. I had to comfort my best friend and the little boy who immediately saw you as his mother, and I had to come to terms with the fact that I sent you into this work study despite you begging me to let you stay closer to home,” he continued, his voice cracking, “and maybe…if I kept you closer to home, I could’ve protected you better than I could when you were so far from me.”

“Had you not sent me to that work study, Hitoshi wouldn’t be home with me now,” I reminded him, trying to ease his conscience. “Look at it that way, Sho. You saved me because Hitoshi’s my reason to fight. You also saved him. Hiza City wasn’t your failure, it was my choice,” I insisted, trying to get him to understand, trying to get him to see that he had truly done the right thing, that he had saved us both.

He shook his head again, “you were on the verge of death over and over again, Akira. You aren’t the one who would lose something if you stopped fighting, but we’d all lose our foundation without you. We’d lose…everything,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I pushed you here because I’m incapable of losing you again. There’s no universe that exists where I could just let you die, where I could just accept that you were gone. I pushed you because I had to make sure you were strong enough to survive because if I’m not there for the next Hiza City incident—wherever that is—I need to be sure that you’ll make it home. It was selfish of me to push you so hard, to use your brother as a weapon to get you to fight. I…” his voice trailed off as the lump in his throat choked him.

He was scared.

He wouldn’t say the words, but I heard them in his silence. He wasn’t only scared of me dying, but he was afraid of me disappearing, of me being lost to the world again. He was afraid of me becoming a ghost in my own life. I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of the same thing. I was terrified of getting back to that place, to the place where all I could think about was how to be with my brother again.

I wished I could just tell him. I wanted to explain to him that he was one of the many reasons why I couldn’t give up. He was one of the reasons why I kept fighting, why I refused to let go when it would’ve been so simple. Shota and I didn’t share many vulnerable moments with one another, but they were growing in frequency over time, so I steeled myself for another. I reached out and grasped his hand with my own. His watery eyes met mine, and I could see the pain and fear mingling together in his gaze. It was a look I first saw from him when his father died, when he didn’t know where to go or what to do because his world had imploded.

“I’m not done yet, Sho,” I whispered, my voice trembling under the weight of the words. I took a long breath, steeling myself to recall the memory that helped keep me tethered to my dreams. “Do you remember what you told me when you expelled me? What you said during our training exercise to see if I was ready to come back?” I asked, hoping he’d be able to recall the moment that had changed the course of my life forever.

“I don’t care what it is…” he began, his voice cracking as he remembered the words he’d spoken to me that day, “…but you need to find something to fight for because…” his voice broke off as a stray tear escaped and traced a path down his cheek.

I reached up and brushed the tear from his cheek, the sight of them causing my own to cascade down my own cheeks. “Because you need to be a hero for yourself and your brother…because I still need a number one hero,” I finished for him, smiling through the tears at the memory. It was what drove me. It was what made me realize that if I gave up on my life, I was giving up on the dreams my brother and I had shared, and I was the only person who was capable of fulfilling those dreams for both of us. “I remember those words every single time giving up feels like an option,” I admitted, the tears still falling freely.

He reached between us to wipe my tears away as I continued doing the same to his. “It doesn’t excuse what I did today,” he retorted, and I saw the shame in his eyes. “My reasoning was selfish and-”

“And exactly what I needed,” I interjected, cutting him off with a soft smile.

His pupils dilated, and he looked at me as if I had just said the most impossible thing in the world. He looked at me as if I was a different person than I was mere seconds before.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with an ache so deep that it felt like it had been carved into my very bones. He deserved some sort of explanation, so I steeled myself for it and spoke. “I was 5 when my family died,” I began, clearing my throat to hopefully manage a bit of distance with the story. Perhaps if I told it, I’d be able to treat it as if I were talking about the weather.

“You don’t have to–”

I shook my head, cutting him off with the simplest gesture. “I have to do this because after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve some context as to why I couldn’t just walk away from Hiza City, why I had to save every single person and body that I could,” I explained before taking a long breath that he mirrored. “My mother told me to run. She must’ve known something was wrong. I kept trying to get outside to my brother, to find him before we ran because if he was in danger, I had to save him. That was my life’s purpose. He was my purpose. My father had beaten him before that, and I’d been packing our bags to run away together when it started.”

“In order to get me to run for safety, my mother told me that she’d be right behind me with my brother, but I had to run and find help. I still argued, but then she yelled at me to go. I knew how serious it was because she never yelled at me. That was always my father’s job,” I explained, and Shota’s shoulders tensed at the mention of it. I couldn’t tell him the details of my father’s abuse, but it was clear enough that he wasn’t kind. “I got this horrible feeling as I ran, and I couldn’t make it too far before I turned around and went back home. I didn’t care what my mother said; I had to find my brother no matter what. I had to make sure he was okay. When I got back, the house was nothing but rubble. There was nothing left of my family, and there was nothing left of my home.”

“You didn’t want anyone in Hiza City to experience the same thing you did,” Shota murmured, finally grasping my reasoning for my seemingly self-destructive behavior.

I nodded my head, “there has always been a piece of me that’s wondered what happened to each of them, what happened in the end, and if they’re really gone or just out there somewhere, glad to be rid of me. I didn’t want anyone else to live with a lifetime of questions that had no answers. Their loved ones deserved closure, and they deserved to know that someone cared enough to find them.”

Another tear streamed down his cheek, and I reached up to wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. “You’re going to be a great hero, Akira,” he whispered, “and I’ll be able to say that I finally found my number one hero,” he finished with a soft smile.

“Well, are you always gonna be here to pick up the pieces?” I asked in a whisper, as if the question itself had been afraid to be spoken aloud, as if my heart knew that the desperation for an answer was a vulnerability I couldn’t afford. I tried to be lighthearted about it, but there was a depth to it as well.

He looked at me, and for a moment, the world shifted. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and I saw behind the exhaustion past the familiar stern facade of the teacher and the stoic mask of the pro hero. I saw past the almost impossible standard he held aspiring heroes to, myself most of all. I saw him. I saw the man who had never once allowed me to fall alone, the one who’d dragged me from the depths of the ocean when I was drowning, the one who had bandaged my wounds while we waited for the stars, the one who stitched me back together each time I broke open, the one who stood beside me in my darkest moments without a single word of judgement.

His gaze was unwavering. A thousand unspoken words felt like they were on the surface with every breath he took, with every beat of his heart, with every blink of his tired eyes. There was a tenderness that he never showed to the world, something that was only ever shown to Hizashi and I in private.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. The single word carried the weight of a thousand smaller promises. It carried the weight of a thousand memories. “As long as you need it.”

“Thank you, Shota.”

“Thank you, Akira.”

My eyebrows furrowed. I hadn’t done anything to warrant any thanks, especially not from him. The only thing I could think of was that I’d inherited his wounds until nightfall, but I’d always done that despite his insistence that I not. “For what?” I asked, desperate to understand.

The side of his mouth curled up into a small, tired smile.

Tomura

I watched them. I watched the way Shota had lifted Hitoshi’s little body out of the car, cradling him like he was a newborn baby. I watched the way Hitoshi melted into Shota’s arms even in his sleep, like he knew those were safe hands. I never knew safe hands apart from my sister’s. Even my mother, she allowed Father’s hands to hurt me, so how could I ever consider those hands safe? I watched as Hizashi lifted Akira’s sleeping body out of the car from beside me, and the sudden loss of her warmth made me ache, made me want to ruin his life for taking her away from me.

“Come on, kid. We’re home,” Hizashi murmured, locking eyes with me as he held Akira’s body against his own. His voice was soft and inviting, just like Akira’s had been on the train. My rage dissipated when I watched as Akira melted into his touch the way my own sister used to do with me. I realized that taking him away from her would’ve been similar to Father taking me away from my sister. It was the worst punishment for both of us, and I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her, not when she had my sisters eyes.

So I followed him.

Shota carried Hitoshi like he weighed nothing. After depositing the little boy off in the apartment, he met us again on the stairs. “Do you want me to take her?” he asked Hizashi, holding out his arms to offer help.

Hizashi shook his head, “she’s my sister. I’ve got her,” he insisted, and something within me understood him at the most fundamental level. He would’ve carried her through fire and brimstone if he had to. He would’ve carried her to the ends of the earth. I would’ve done the same for my sister. Without question. Without a second thought. I would’ve carried her.

I had carried her for years despite her hands being the only ones that were unrecoverable. I carried her in a different way than I carried the rest of my family, though. I carried her in the shattered pieces of my soul, in the bits of goodness left in me that still cried out to be seen. I carried her in my dreams, in the way I remembered the smell of her hair, in the way I still picked daisies whenever I saw them. I carried her in the small bits of mercy I gave to the world, even though I was still cruel.

There was a part of me that itched to laugh at Hizashi, to point out how weak he was to need someone that badly. The way he held onto her told me that she was one of the keys to his survival, just as my sister had been for me. Without her, he would’ve crumbled. How pathetic to need someone so badly, to be so weak that you couldn’t survive without them.

I didn’t survive after my sister died.

I died with her that night.

I wanted to laugh at them, but I knew that old habits died slow. They had been kind enough to bring me to their home, to offer me shelter. When we made it to the apartment, I followed them inside. It was warm. It was big but also much smaller than I anticipated for a pro hero like Present Mic. I envisioned something massive and much more extravagant, but it was cozy. The scent of her was everywhere. It was overwhelming to my senses. Daisies and cherry blossoms decorated sections of the apartment that felt the most like her. She was everywhere.

I tried to tell myself that I should’ve been grateful, but everything about the apartment made my skin crawl with shame. I couldn’t relax, not when every cell in my body screamed at me not to trust it, not to trust them. I couldn’t let my guard down, no matter how much she looked like my sister, no matter how much she felt like coming home. I didn’t belong in a place like that. I didn’t belong with good people. I belonged in the shadows, in the dark, in all the places where I couldn’t hurt them. I didn’t want to. I belonged in the cage that Master had built for me. It was where I felt the most safe, the most understood. It was where I felt like I was finally making up for what I had done.

Hizashi had given me a pair of his pajamas after depositing Akira in her bed with Hitoshi. I tried to deny the kindness at first, but he was insistent. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but this is how we do things here,” he explained, his voice soft but not condescending. “We take care of each other,” he added, and I knew he was trying to do just that. He was trying to take care of me.

I was shown to my room, which had been set up by Seirei, a blonde woman with a ponytail and a sharp attitude, specifically toward Shota. She had been kind to me despite her annoyance with Shota, and I knew that she was trying to make me feel at home in a place that didn’t belong to me. She left before I said anything to her, sensing that I was overwhelmed and needed space. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep, though. I couldn’t close my eyes. Every time I did, I saw her. I saw my Player Two. I saw her before the world had taken her away from me, before I destroyed everything good in my life.

I sat on the edge of the bed. My bed. I had a bed. I had a room of my own, like I was part of a family for the first actual time in my life. My first house, the one that came back to me in bits and pieces, was always just a place where I lived. My sister was my home. She was the only thing that made it feel like it wasn’t a prison. I was punished for being born, but not in that apartment. I wasn’t punished for being a monster.

Akira saw me kill my handler. She watched me turn him to dust with just a touch. She saw the monster that I was, and she didn’t flinch. She didn’t run from me. She didn’t scream. She brought me home. She was merciful, just as my sister had been. She made me think, just for a moment, that perhaps the monster was just who I had to become to survive until I found her.

From the hall, I heard Shota and Hizashi’s voices. They were wishing each other a goodnight. Shota murmured something about being exhausted, and Hizashi laughed in response, teasing him by saying that he was always tired. This was something I could have if I stayed. Maybe I can stay. Maybe they won’t find me, and I can have this, too.

How pathetic…to need something.

Their voices, despite being distant and new, felt like the lotion my sister used to apply to the dry spots around my eyes and on my neck. It soothed the burn that lingered just below the surface.

Unable to sleep, I pressed my thumb into the meat of my palm hard enough to hurt, relishing in the sharp pain that made me focus on something other than the memories of my sister’s face. The itching wasn’t overwhelming me the way it had for as long as I could remember. My skin was still dry and flaky, but the feeling of crawling insects beneath my skin was quieted. Everything was still.

I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t sleep. Each time I tried to lean back into the bed on my elbows, I heard the echo of familiar footsteps in the hallway. It was nothing. I was just hearing things. Still, I couldn’t relax without memories of the past threatening to tear me apart. I had to stay alert. If I slept, I wouldn’t be able to fight them when they came for me. They’d find me. They’d take everything away from me again. Master’s face blurred with Father’s, and I knew that just as Father had taken my sister from me, Master would do the same with Akira if she stood in his way. I knew she would, though, because my sister did the same thing.

It was a stupid thing to be afraid of—falling asleep—but fear was always stupid. It didn’t care how much you survived or how much logic you threw at it, and I’d thrown all of my logic at it for years, but it still clawed at me. I still flinched at the sound of doors slamming, of footsteps, of anything that reminded me of the past. I wondered if the others could sense it on me, if that was why Akira had taken pity on me in the first place. I wondered if they looked at me like a stray dog who’d been kicked one too many times.

The memories kept looping even as my eyes remained open. No matter how many times Master had told me to let go of the past, no matter how many times he’d punished me for asking questions about my family, no matter how many times he tried to weed out every memory I had of my sister, the moment I saw Akira’s face, I was falling through time again. I was back to talking about being heroes, talking about what our quirks could’ve been, designing our hero costumes, practicing catch phrases like All Might’s “I Am Here!”, and promising that we’d never let anyone hurt each other. I was back to falling asleep beside her every night, to our pinkies wrapped together in the most sacred of promises, to her brushing through my hair. It had been black once. I’d forgotten that.

They said I was safe in that apartment. They told me that I could rest, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking they were lying to me. Maybe they believed I was safe, but safety was a lie. Safety was something adults told children to keep them still while the wolves circled around them, and the adults had been the ones who had brought the wolves to begin with. My body didn’t believe in “safe” anymore.

I used to sleep beside her, but as the weight of loneliness pressed in onto my chest, I found myself hating them for being able to sleep. No, not hating them. I hated myself for wanting what they had. I hated myself for being so weak that I wanted to be a part of something that wasn’t mine.

I didn’t deserve it.

I was a monster.

I didn’t need them because I didn’t need anyone. I hoped beyond hope that if I said it enough, I’d start to believe it.

I didn’t even hear his footsteps when I noticed his shadow falling across the open doorway. I didn’t like how quiet he was, but…he also didn’t give me anything to fear by being that quiet. Father’s footsteps were loud and heavy whenever he walked down the hallway, and Master’s footsteps were always quick and sharp with the dress shoes he always wore. Shota’s footsteps were quiet, like he was trying not to disturb the peace of the apartment, but it also didn’t give me time to brace myself for what he would do. That was what I feared most: not knowing what was coming.

Before he spoke, he just watched me. I curled my hands into fists, bracing myself for whatever punishment he saw fit for me, but I didn’t want to hurt him in return. I didn’t want to hurt any of them, which meant I had to keep my hands closed. I didn’t want to touch him on accident, but I knew what men wanted when they came to collect me. They always wanted to hurt me, to punish me, to remind me of what I was. Master sent them sometimes, allowed them to hurt me until I killed them. He did it more in the beginning with one that he didn’t let me hurt. A tall man with white hair and red eyes. Master called him “Ankoku,” but he wasn’t around for long. Master said he’d failed and had lost his new toys. The men visited less frequently since I’d grown accustomed to my role as a villain.

I was never meant to be good.

My sister was my goodness, and she was dead. My goodness died with her.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he stretched out some of his muscles by rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. I stared at the ground instead of him. He didn’t push for an answer but allowed the silence to unfold between us. It wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, just…there. To me, the silence usually preceded violence because if I didn’t answer Master’s questions, I was punished. Things didn’t speak unless they were spoken to, but when questions were asked, the expectation of an answer was clear. I prepared for a swift and angry hand to come down on me, but it never did.

Instead, he filled the silence again, stepping into the room a bit further and not closing the door like I worried he would. Father used to do that when my sister and I were younger so that we couldn’t run from him because my sister would often provoke him and then beg me to run away. I never could, though. The choice was always clear to me when it came to her: I had to stay.

“New places are always hard. Hitoshi had a horrible time sleeping when Akira wasn’t around. He doesn’t sleep well if I’m not here, either, but it’s always worse without her. None of us can sleep well when she’s not here, actually. I always thought Hizashi had the hardest time with it, but it’s nothing in comparison to Hitoshi,” he continued before I snuck a quick glance up at him from behind my bangs. There was a calm, heavy-lidded patience. There was a steadiness about him that I hated because it reached out to me and tried to draw me in. He leaned his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, “I just miss my own bed sometimes,” he half-joked.

“Do you not…live here?” I asked, my voice cracking as the words felt dry. I hadn’t meant to say anything, but the gravity that pulled me in also pulled the words out of me. I fidgeted with my hands, unsure of what to do with them without the itching to distract me.

“No, but I might as well at this point,” he replied with a soft chuckle, his mouth remaining in a crooked smile that reached his eyes. Something about him made me feel that lie of safety. “I’m here more than I’m anywhere else, really,” he added, and I watched as his gaze flickered to Akira’s door. When the silence fell again, I heard the subtle shifting of a blanket. How did he hear that? He’s perceptive. It was…kind of cool. He turned his attention back to the darkness of my…the guest room before lowering himself down onto the floor, one leg propped up for him to drape his arm across and the other leg stretched out. He let out a sigh as if he was settling in for the long haul. Why? Why is he doing this? “I could tell you a bedtime story like I do for Hitoshi if you think that would help,” he offered with a voice that was far too serious for such a ridiculous suggestion.

I almost laughed, the sound coming out as a dry, cracked cough. “That’s for kids,” I spit out faster than I had intended.

Despite the harshness in my voice, he didn’t flinch, and he didn’t leave. He didn’t hit me either. I deserved it, though. I’d been alive long enough to know that I deserved every ounce of pain that came my way. After what I did to my Player Two, I deserved to be punished for every second I lived without her by my side. Shota shook his head just enough for pieces of his hair to fall down to frame his face further. He had bangs like me, but his hair was long enough to be pulled into a bun at the back of his head, too. Maybe I’ll grow mine out…Instead of hitting me, he spoke again, “you’re still just a kid yourself.” It was a gentle reminder, not a condemnation.

My jaw tightened, and my fingers dug into my palms. Don’t et your guard down. Don’t let him get too close. That’s how people wind up dead. Or worse!

He noticed the subtle tension in my body because of course he did. Everything in that apartment felt like it existed to remind me that there was nowhere to hide. He watched me the way Akira had, like he saw underneath all the layers, like he wasn’t looking at Tomura but…someone else. Someone whose name I forgot.

He sighed as I started drowning, pulling me back to the surface before I even realized I was about to drown. “Akira doesn’t like when I tell her that either. She thinks she’s fully grown,” he murmured, a hint of humor in his voice as he tilted his head, considering it for a moment. “She’s been through more than most fully grown adults I know, but that doesn’t mean she should keep growing up if there’s still any time left for her to be young. Hizashi’s done a good job at keeping her as young as possible for as long as possible,” he continued, and I felt the shift in his voice when he mentioned Hizashi. The bond I’d seen between them was something even deeper than friendship, something that bordered on brotherhood.

For a second, I wanted to ask why he was in my room in the first place. I wanted to know why he wasn’t afraid of me or of what I could do if I wanted to. For a moment, I wanted to show him what I could do, to prove to him that the smart thing—the right thing—would be to leave me. He called me a child, but that part of me had been snuffed out a long time ago.

He was weak. That was what Master taught me to believe. Giving into someone crying for help meant you were begging to be hurt. I hadn’t begged, but Akira gave into whatever it was that she saw in me. When she begged, Shota and Hizashi had given in. They’d risked their home and safety for a stranger who deserved none of it. It burned. I wanted to hate him for it, for not living up to my expectations of new people, for sitting with me instead of standing above me. I wanted to hate him for not being like the others, for making me hope for something other than what I’d always known. Still, there was that stupid, uncertain pull, and something about him felt familiar in a way that my sister’s soul did. No matter how much I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t.

Because I was weak.

“Do you ever think it’s a waste?” I asked, my voice rough with the effort of speaking. The way he sat with his hands loose and not a single flicker of fear, it frustrated the hell out of me. I wanted him to be afraid of me, to hate me, to leave me alone, but he looked like he’d already decided that I couldn’t scare him no matter how hard I tried. He tilted his head, waiting for me to continue. I did. “Is it a waste of time trying so hard to act like nothing scares you?” I asked in an accusatory tone.

He didn’t flinch. He considered the question—genuinely considered it—before answering. “I get scared all the time,” he admitted in a voice so vulnerable it felt like perhaps we were friends in another life. “I just try not to let it stop me from doing what’s right,” he added with a soft shrug of his shoulders.

“Sounds exhausting,” I huffed in a half-mocking tone.

“Sometimes it is, but…” he trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door of Akira’s room once more. When he turned back to me, his gaze was softer, “I’ve had good teachers throughout my life, people who taught me that some things are…worth all the effort in the world,” he finished, and I knew he was talking about Akira.

“Sounds like something a teacher would say,” I sneered, trying to find the cracks in his armor. There had to be something that would make him break, something that would make him turn away from me and leave me to my own devices. I couldn’t leave Akira willingly. I needed to be chased out, sent off on my own. I didn’t want to be found by the people who were undoubtedly looking for me, but I also didn’t want to leave, to abandon the girl who looked just like her.

He still didn’t snap and settled for a soft chuckle, “I suppose it’s a good thing I am one, then,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Would you rather me sit here with you in the silence? Or do you want to talk about why you’re still awake when you look so exhausted?” he asked, pressing me a bit. He wanted to help me. Idiot.

I shook my head. I didn’t want anything from him, from any of them, but the emptiness inside me still reached for it. “Do what you want. It doesn’t matter to me,” I muttered, trying to be as dismissive as possible.

He nodded, accepting my response like it was a real answer, but he didn’t move from the floor. He didn’t even look disappointed. He didn’t leave. He just…sat there. I expected him to get up and walk out after I shut him down, after all the ways I’d tried to make myself too prickly and too sharp for comfort, but he just stretched his legs out and settled in even further, like he was planning to outlast the night and my worst moods that could’ve come along with that. When his eyes met mine, I saw the exhaustion in them, but it was much deeper than just the last several hours. “You don’t have to keep fighting, kid. You can rest,” he murmured in that all too comforting tone.

I bristled again. Despite his words being soft, they were ignorant. They were the kind of words people said when they didn’t understand, when they thought that hope was something real, something you just had to reach for. It was infuriating. I had hope once, and it had only served to let me down in the most brutal way possible. It wasn’t because I didn’t reach for it because I hoped for it every night. I hoped for a savior every single night of my childhood, that someone would come and save my sister. I wasn’t concerned about Hana because Father preferred her over my Player Two and I, but…all I ever wanted was to save my sister. “That’s easy for you to say,” I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You’re not the one who-” I cut myself off, pressing my lips together as the words caught in my throat. I can’t tell him. I can never tell anyone else. They’ll find out on their own how much of a monster I am.

Shota’s mouth quirked, like he’d heard it all before, “I’m not the one who had to grow up in a house like yours, huh? Is that what you were going to say?” he asked, and I flinched. He knew. How did he know? He took a long breath, “Akira said the same thing to me once, that I didn’t know what it was like to grow up the way she did. To be fair, I didn’t. I don’t know the details of her life because she won’t talk about it, but I know that she gets nervous when men raise their voices or when they touch her without warning. She doesn’t like being touched by most people just in general. I know she won’t let most people touch her hair, either. I may not know the details, but I know the aftermath, the scars, the trauma.”

She had been hurt, too. What if…just maybe…she wasn’t just a girl wearing my sister’s face? What if I reached for hope hard enough that time that the impossible became probable? What if I was wrong about what happened that night? What if?

He sighed and continued, “from your point of view right now, I’m just a random guy who’s trying to be a teacher to someone who’s not his student. You don’t know me, though, just like I don’t know you, but what I do know is that this is the best place for you to be tonight,” he explained, his voice steady and calm. He wasn’t trying to win an argument or force me to see things his way. He wasn’t even telling me about himself to try to convince me that he did understand me. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, kid, but you deserve to stop running, even if it’s just until morning. You deserve to rest,” he finished, and the words landed on me like a ton of bricks.

I wanted to shout at him, to tell him that he was wrong. I wanted to convince him in all the ways that I could that people like me didn’t get to rest, that it was dangerous, stupid, and even deadly to even think about letting your guard down. I had survived 16 years of brutality with only 5 years of comfort within those first years, but after that, I survived by not letting anything close enough to hurt me. I slept with my back to the wall, and I never let myself fall asleep completely. I knew better. Still, the words didn’t come.

He waited and let the quiet settle in again, “you mentioned your sister in the car,” he said after a long pause. His tone was even softer than it had been before, as if he was handling a delicate flower. That’s what she was. She was a daisy.

The mention of her on another person’s lips made my entire body lock up, and heat flared behind my eyes. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I thought of anyone saying a single word about her. I didn’t even talk about her, and I refused to let anyone else have that kind of access to her. “Don’t.” I grunted, my hands curling into white-knuckled fists on my lap. “If you say one word about her, I’ll-” my voice cracked, and I had to stop myself from finishing. I could feel myself getting too close to the edge of something I couldn’t control. These are good people. Good people. I can’t hurt them. Not tonight. Not her. My pulse pounded in my ears, and every instinct screamed at me to lash out before he could use her against me the way Master did, the way Father did, the way everyone did.

Shota didn’t flinch, though. He didn’t scold me for being angry. He just looked at me with that steady and unwavering gaze, like he was seeing right through the mask I’d put up to keep people out. “Tell me about her,” he urged me as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if he actually cared.

I glared at him. “Why do you care?” I asked, forcing my words to be as razor-sharp as possible.

He still didn’t get defensive. If anything, his voice just got quieter and gentler. The corners of his mouth softened with the weight of grief. It looked old, like the jagged corners of it had been smoothed over by time, but it was still just as heavy as it had always been. “Akira used to tell me, especially after my dad died, that no one is ever really gone until they’re forgotten, so…I’d like to know about your sister if you’ll trust me with her,” he whispered, and I could hear the honesty in his voice. It wasn’t just a trick. It wasn’t just a way to make me open up. It was him seeing me. He saw my pain beneath the mask of anger and resentment. “Just so she’s not gone…not really,” he finished.

The fight was torn from me all at once, like a balloon popping. I moved back on the bed, getting as far away from him as I could. It put me up at the head of the bed, my back against the wall, and my knees drawn up to my chest. I leaned my head back against the wall and stared out the window at the stars that my sister and I used to watch together every night. She enjoyed watching the stars, but I just enjoyed watching her. My throat felt tight with all the words I wanted to tell him. I hated how much I wanted to say to him, how much I wanted to share her with someone who could spread her across the world in a way that would make her live forever.

I can’t! He can’t know! No one can know! It’s only a matter of time before they hurt her, too! These memories are all I have left, and I’ve ruined her enough already! I can’t keep ruining her. She was good! She was kind! She was everything I had!

“She was good,” I blurted out. I didn’t want to, but there was something about that welcoming silence, something about his steady presence that made me want to believe that I could say it out loud without destroying her all over again. “She was my best friend in the whole world. We…” my voice trailed off as the memories came rushing back to me all over again, but they were the happiest of them all. There were none of the memories of her screaming, of us being torn apart, of her body crumpling to the floor. Just her. Just us. “I taught her how to play video games, and she helped teach me how to read. She had the most beautiful singing voice in the world, even when we were kids, and she’d sing me to sleep most nights. She’d hum this one song that made her cry when we came across…it was one day when we were out with our grandma—our mother’s mom—and she stopped to listen to this man playing the violin on the street. He was playing that song,” I rambled, not caring that I’d gone from hostile silence to a flood of words that I couldn’t stop.

“We used to fall asleep together with our pinkies wrapped around each other because…it was a pinky promise to stay together, to never let anyone take us apart. Our father tried over and over and over again. He tried separating us…but, I don’t…I don’t want to talk about him,” I whispered, my voice breaking at the memories of her. “She was the other half of all that I am. She was my heart, my soul, my light. We used to lay in the grass at night and look up at the stars, and I swore they were put up there just for her. Then, her quirk activated, and she was…it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He’d beaten her within an inch of her life and threw her out into the yard. I thought she was going to die, but…the stars. They saved her. The sky just opened up, and…I watched her body heal itself in real time. It was…you’ve never seen anything like it,” I continued, the memory flooding back to me with a clarity that I thought was lost.

I listened as his breath hitched, and I knew he was listening to every word. I knew he was soaking it all in. “She was the kindest person I’ve ever met. She protected me, caught frogs with me, made me laugh—oh, she had the most beautiful laugh, too! It was like if the stars could play music, that would be the song they’d play. She was the only person I ever really loved, and she believed in me when nobody else even bothered to see me,” I whispered, my voice cracking with the emotion of those words. She had seen me for who I was, not the monster I became. If she could’ve seen me now, she wouldn’t have been able to recognize me. “She was convinced I’d grow up to be kind, but…but I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t tell him how I’d failed her, how even in her death, I couldn’t make up for the pain I caused her.

“You’re not done growing,” Shota said gently, his voice so soft it didn’t even hurt. Kindness was just the blow before the knife sank into your ribs, but his kindness was different. I didn’t feel the knife. I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt seen. His voice was so sure that it made something inside me want to crumble, to trust that the foundation he was building was sturdy enough for me to fall apart on. “You don’t have to live up to who she believed you could be all at once. People grow and change and learn. Sometimes, they just need a chance to start over,” he whispered, trying to get me to believe that it wasn’t hopeless. “Akira has always told me that, too, that no one is beyond saving, and if she could save me…I’m starting to believe that maybe she can save anyone.”

Part of me wanted to argue again, to tell him that monsters didn’t deserve a second chance, that people like me didn’t get to start over. I wanted to tell him that I’d already ruined everything good that I’d ever touched, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that would put more distance between us because for the first time since my sister had died, I was in a quiet room. For the first time, nothing burned, nothing itched, and no one was trying to hurt me. For the first time in years, I had someone to sit with me in the dark.

“Because you’re the fisherman, and she’s the light,” I murmured, the words slipping out of me before I had a chance to stop them.

“Because she’s the light,” he repeated with a nod.

I let my eyes drift shut. I still felt the weight of him in the room like a silent guardian to keep watch over me through the night. I didn’t know how much I dared to hope, but for the first time since my sister, I didn’t feel like I had to keep fighting.

Just for a moment, I let myself rest.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Akira

I woke up to a faint morning light pooling into the room as warmth seeped through the fabric of the blanket, which smelled exactly like how home always did. It was a mixture of so many different scents that were difficult to differentiate, but they all blended together to form a warm embrace—cherry blossoms, honey, daisies, coffee, jasmine, coconut, Hizashi’s hair gel, and a hint of vanilla. They were all soft and familiar, like the way my older sister’s hair used to smell when she’d pull me into her arms and apologize for not being able to do more to keep me safe.

For a moment, everything was calm. For a moment, I forgot the events that led to me being home with another new person in tow. For a moment, I forgot the train ride and only remembered the warmth that re-entered my life when Tomura did. I forgot the fear and the pain and the longing. I felt like I was just a girl again, like the world hadn’t already taken so much from me and forced me to grow up as fast as I had. For a moment, I was just 16. Then, it dawned on me that I was alone in my bed. I reached across the mattress, fingers searching, and all I felt were empty sheets.

My heart seized up in my chest. I sat bolt upright, my breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Hitoshi. Where was my boy? He’d been curled up in my arms all night, his little body tucked against mine, his fingers wrapped around the fabric of my shirt. The jacket Hawks had given to me was draped over the chair in the corner of my room. Hizashi must’ve known it would’ve made me too hot to sleep in. Still, no signs of Hitoshi. He always slept with me—always—especially after nights that were particularly emotionally heavy for either one of us. He didn’t leave my side after that, so…

He was gone.

Gone.

Nothing left. Nothing left!

He’s gone! I slept too deeply. I let my guard down, and he’s gone. I didn’t protect him. I failed him. I’m a monster. There’s nothing left!

It was just like when I was a child, and I’d wake up to find my Player One missing. It was just like when Father would drag him out of the house and I’d have to listen to his cries from inside the house where he’d caged me up in a room. It was just like returning home after Mother told me to run, but I couldn’t trust her to save my brother that night. It was just like finding out that there was nothing left of my family. Nothing.

The panic was a living thing. My ears rang, and sharp claws felt like they scraped at my ribs. I couldn’t breathe. The world felt like it was closing in around me but also tilting, like the floor was about to drop out from beneath me. I scrambled out of bed, my feet tangling in the sheets as I stumbled toward the door. I caught myself on my knees, not bothering to feel the sting as I hit the floor. I threw myself through the door, not bothering with slippers, not even thinking. I just moved. I moved the way I did in any emergencies. I moved on instinct and without a single moment of hesitation. I had to find him, to make sure he was okay, to keep him safe.

“Hitoshi?!” I called out, my voice cracking as I scrambled into the main living area of the house. I barely recognized the voice as my own. It sounded like a child’s voice. It sounded like the cries of an animal, desperate and wild.

The living room exploded in light and noise when I finally got my senses back. There was clattering, laughter, and the sizzle of something on the stove. Hitoshi’s head popped up from behind the kitchen island, his hair sticking up at wild angles, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and relief to see me. “Good morning!” he cried out as he rushed to me, jumping into my arms and throwing his arms around my neck. I caught him with ease, holding him close to my chest as I sank to the floor. My heart was racing so fast that I felt dizzy and didn’t want to drop him. “I’m so happy you’re awake!” he beamed, his arms tightening around my neck.

My arms tightened around his body, and I buried my face into his hair, inhaling the scent of him. He was safe. He wasn’t gone. He was in my arms. I didn’t lose him. Relief crashed over me like a wave, and I felt like I could finally breathe again. I clung to him as if I could fuse our bodies together, as if I could keep him safe forever if I just held him tightly enough. “I’m so glad you’re okay, sweetheart,” I whispered into his hair, my voice trembling as the last of the panic drained from me, leaving behind only the sweet ache of love.

“We’re making breakfast!” he announced, pulling back from me just enough to gaze into my eyes. The burst of life in his own drew me back to the present because he was completely unaware that he had just scared 10 years off my life. I couldn’t pass up the chance to enjoy his happiness, no matter what occurred before to drag out my fears from where they had been buried. “I’m even helping!” he added with a grin that lit up the entire apartment.

How lucky am I to have a heart so full of him? What had I ever done to deserve such a gift?

My attention turned toward the kitchen where Seirei was flipping pancakes with a spatula, her blonde hair thrown back into a messy bun and her face set into something that was both focused and something soft. In that moment, she looked like the girl I knew in the basement in the quiet moments, the one who was built to take care of people. Hizashi stood beside her, scrambling eggs and deftly handling rice off to the side.

Seirei’s voice was the first one to break through to me, “Hitoshi’s been such a big help this morning,” she smiled, her expression softening even further. I knew about her sisters, and she had become one to me in the basement. She was made to be an older sister, of that I was certain. Still, seeing her in a similar role, especially with the way she looked at Hitoshi, it warmed me like the sun.

“I wanted to surprise you!” Hitoshi chirped, his voice full of joy, as if holding onto me was enough to fill his little heart with enough joy to last a lifetime, as if that was all he’d ever need.

“We all got a wake up call at 5 this morning,” Hizashi added with a chuckle before nodding his chin over to Seirei, “so I called in reinforcements.”

Then, my mind began racing again as I scanned the kitchen, not finding the one person who seemed to make sleeping possible. Where was he? If Hitoshi was okay, that was one crisis averted, but—Tomura. Where’s Tomura? The fear twisted inside me, and I couldn’t stop it from creeping up my throat, nearly choking me. I reached one of my hands up to begin scratching at my neck mindlessly. “Where’s Tomura?” I blurted out, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. I scanned the room again, hoping that he had simply blended in so well to the surroundings, but half-afraid that he’d somehow vanished into the night.

Seirei didn’t even look up from the pan, “the dust bunny you guys brought home last night?”

“Rei,” Hizashi warned, shooting her a look that said “be nice.” He knew I’d have trouble setting boundaries with anyone, especially my friends, but when it came to Tomura, my protective instincts felt like they were on overdrive. Hizashi’s eyes turned back to me, “He’s just in the shower, Stars. And before you panic, Shota went home to shower and get a change of clothes. He should be back any minute,” he added, trying to ease my mind before I could begin to panic about the absence of my other person.

My shoulders dropped just a fraction as I stood back up, allowing Hitoshi to stay grounded. He pranced into the kitchen, already bouncing with excitement to continue helping. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and every muscle in my body sagged with relief. Hitoshi was safe, Tomura was safe, and Shota would be back soon. The world hadn’t ended again while I was sleeping. I actually slept. Real sleep. It’s been so long since I slept through the night! There were no nightmares, no waking up in a cold sweat, no hearing my brother’s screams, nothing. The only difference of that night had been Tomura’s presence in the apartment. Something about him eased the pain of my past, like he was a balm for the wounds that had never fully healed.

I forced myself to breathe again, to let the normalcy of the morning seep into my bones. Hitoshi was chattering to Hizashi, showing off his pancake-flipping skills while Seirei guided his tiny hands with the spatula. Hizashi hummed the tune to one of the songs he had been working on before I left for the work study, and Seirei pretended to be unimpressed, but she couldn’t hide the smile as she looked at him from behind her bangs every so often.

“So, how was it?” Seirei asked, glancing over at me with a sly grin, “working with the guy who broke into the hero Top 10 before he turned 20?”

I tried to play it cool, but my cheeks were already starting to burn as I made my way over to the kitchen island. “It was pretty inspiring,” I answered with a small smile, trying to hide the way my heart still raced from the memory of our flight and the cliff. “He’s…impressive. He’s sharp and always knows what to say to keep me on my toes,” I added with a shrug like it was no big deal.

The way she raised an eyebrow told me that she wasn’t buying it. She knew there was something more going on, “well, I hope you learned a thing or two because I’m still betting money that you’ll be the youngest ever in the Top 10,” she teased, helping Hitoshi flip another pancake.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. It was sharp and familiar. Why doesn’t he just use the key we gave him? Hizashi wiped his hands on a towel before heading toward the door to answer it.

I tried to find something to do with my hands, anything to mask the flutter in my chest. “There’s a reason he’s in the Top 10, though. He’s got it all: charisma, speed, dedication, looks…” my voice trailed off as my cheeks grew even hotter. Why did I just say that? Why did I just admit that he was good-looking? What’s wrong with me?! I couldn’t stop thinking about his golden hair, those sharp eyes, that wicked smile, the way his breath felt against my lips.

Seirei’s eyes lit up, and her grin turned mischievous. “Oh, do you have a crush on him?” she teased, her voice just loud enough for Hizashi to hear as he opened the door.

Just as it swung open, my eyes flickered over to see the early morning sunlight that caught on damp strands of the black hair framing Shota’s face. He stepped inside, eyes shadowed with exhaustion but still bright with a warmth that only he could possess when his eyes found Hitoshi. He wore a fresh set of dark clothes, and he looked impossibly, painfully, unfairly beautiful. I froze as my lips parted slightly, my words dying in my throat. Every thought of Hawks evaporated in an instant. I could vaguely recall thinking that I was capable of letting go of the pipe dream of being with him, but the moment I saw Shota open his arms to welcome Hitoshi’s enthusiastic tackle, I knew I was a fool to think there was ever a chance I could let it go.

Even if I tried to have something with anyone else, I was sure he was the one my heart would still cling to. No matter what I did, no matter who I was with, I would always be chasing the warmth he provided. He was my peace. Even if all he’d ever be was just a friend, I simply couldn’t picture myself with anyone else. I didn’t have the capacity to imagine a happily ever after that didn’t involve him. Even then, I struggled to imagine a happily ever after in the first place.

Seirei cleared her throat, pulling my attention back to her, and my cheeks blazed even hotter, but it wasn’t because of Hawks that time. I hoped she wouldn’t be able to tell that Shota was the one who had stolen my breath away. I knew how perceptive Seirei was, but I also knew how protective she was of me. When her eyes flickered between the two of us, I could see the realization dawning on her. No. No, no, no, no, no! A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “so? Do you have a crush on him? On Hawks?” she pressed, her voice laced with mischief, but I knew she was also doing it for my sake.

It was a good cover for the way my cheeks blazed and the way my heart skipped a beat, but I wasn’t sure if I could answer her without damning myself somehow. My eyes flickered back to Shota who seemed just as invested in the conversation as everyone else was. He lifted Hitoshi into his arms and carried him to the kitchen island where he set him on the counter and began fixing the collar of his shirt. “It’s…it’s not like that,” I stammered, trying to keep my face from turning any redder than it already was as I looked away from Shota and back to the pancakes Seirei flipped.

“Good, because you’re not dating anyone until you’re 98 years old,” Hizashi reminded me of the rule. He didn’t think it was fair to make me wait until I was 100 like he originally said he was going to, so he lowered the age to a much more reasonable one of 98.

“What’s dating?” Hitoshi piped up from his spot on the counter, his head tilting in curiosity. The conversation was clearly much more mature than he could understand, but I could see that he wanted to be able to participate.

Seirei grinned, delighted by the chance to explain. “It’s when two people like each other a whole lot, and they want to spend a bunch of time together, sometimes even their whole lives. Sometimes, they even like each other so much they get married and have kids that they take care of,” she explained, her voice bright and soft as she attempted to explain something that was so complicated in the simplest way possible.

“So…” Hitoshi’s eyebrows drew together as he looked up at Sho, then over to me, then back to him, “…are you dating Mommy?” he asked, using that name again. Did he mean it? Did he…?

Wait.

“What?!” Shota and I both yelped at the same time, our voices overlapping in a way that I could’ve found the humor in if I wasn’t so shocked by the question.

“You two like each other a whole bunch, and you spend a bunch of time together when we’re all here, and you both take care of me,” Hitoshi clarified as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief as my mind raced in search of an answer or for an escape. “No, it’s…it’s not quite what dating is, sweetheart. It’s, well, it’s a little more complicated than that,” I stammered, looking around the kitchen in hopes that just someone would throw me a lifeline. Hizashi must’ve explained this to me at one point, right? When I looked to him, though, he was just giggling to himself.

Shota cleared his throat and began rubbing the back of his neck in the way he normally did when he was trying to hide some of his embarrassment. I’d never seen him blush, but I was determined to see it at some point, and that felt like the perfect moment for it. Before he could speak to save me, Hitoshi piped up again, “you two care about each other, and you both take care of me together, and you eat dinner together, and you sit next to each other on the couch and cuddle me together, and you both argue about what movies to watch together, and you get really loud about what sort of ice cream to get from the store,” he listed off, his voice growing more and more excited as he went on, as if he was solving a previously unsolved puzzle. It was like evidence he was using against the two of us.

Seirei bit her knuckle, her shoulder shaking with barely contained laughter. Hizashi was trying to hide his grin, but I saw the way his face was tinged pink with the sheer effort of trying not to laugh at our expense. “That’s…not the same thing,” Shota finally managed, his voice strained as he tried to find the right words to explain that it wasn’t quite the same as dating, especially since we were all trying to explain something so complex to someone still so small with not enough life experience to understand the nuances of relationships. And he wouldn’t have romantic experience until he was 99 years old.

My cheeks burned so hot, I thought I could melt. “Dating is when two people have really special feelings for each other,” I said quickly, desperate to steer us away from the topic. I hoped that it would be enough for Hitoshi’s curiosity to be satisfied.

“Special?” he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yeah, like…romantic feelings. Like a crush,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady in order to move us past the topic.

He considered my words, and his eyes flickered between the two of us again, “so…you have a crush on Da—uh…Shota?”

I nearly choked on the air around me. “What?! No! That’s not—we don’t—that’s…we’re not-” I threw my hands up, words tumbling out of me in a frantic and jumbled mess, mortified as everyone in the kitchen watched me with half-amusement and half-curiosity.

The tips of Shota’s ears turned pink, but it didn’t reach his cheeks. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking almost anywhere but me, which only made my heart stutter harder. Was he angry with me? Was he disgusted at the mere thought of me having a crush on him? “People who are dating usually hold hands,” he tried to come up with a new argument against us being in a relationship.

Hitoshi—completely undeterred—started ticking things off on his fingers again. “You hold her hand when she’s getting out of the car, and we all hold hands when we cross the street or walk to the store,” he reminded us, completely dismantling the argument.

Seirei finally snorted, unable to contain her laughter any longer. The sound was so unexpected that it made the tension in the kitchen crack just a little. I shot her a glare, but she just grinned at me. “You’re not helping,” Shota muttered to her, giving her a side-eye that was almost too teacher-like for it being so early in the morning.

Behind Hitoshi’s back, I watched her flip Shota off, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like what the gesture stood for. “Rei!” I gasped, though I couldn’t keep the laughter from spilling into my voice. It was so unapologetically her that I couldn’t stay mad at her for long.

Shota just rolled his eyes at her.

Hizashi, sensing his moment had finally come, swooped into the chaos with a grin so wide it was almost blinding. “Don’t even listen to Sho’s definition of dating, Peanut. He’s never even been on a date before,” he teased, throwing a playful jab at his best friend.

What?!

Shota shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel, “that’s irrelevant,” he grunted, but there was something genuinely embarrassed in his voice that only Hizashi and I would be able to notice. His tone was defensive and a little wounded.

Seirei’s eyes lit up like she’d just been handed a new toy but told not to play with it. It was ammunition she could use against him at any time, and I knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t let him live it down. It was also news to me. I always figured Shota would’ve had a girlfriend or two before this point, especially considering how handsome he was and how much he cared. Before Seirei could fire off a comeback, though, Shota glared at her, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ve been busy with more important things,” he answered before she could even ask the question that also weighed on my mind.

Before things could spiral any further, Hizashi took over completely, launching into his version of the official explanation of what dating was. “Dating is a thing that grown-ups do when they have a crush on someone. They go out together and spend time with each other, but they do it privately and usually dress up for it. They buy each other little gifts and go on adventures together,” he explained, his voice filled with something bordering on longing as he explained it. Hizashi was a poet. He was a hopeless romantic, and the softness in his voice when he described dating made my heart ache. I couldn’t recall any partners in his past, maybe a few dates, but he had always been too busy taking care of me.

“They sometimes get each other flowers or little pieces of jewelry. Sometimes, they even…kiss,” Hizashi continued before making a face like he’d just bitten straight into a rotten lemon. His description of it was so romantic and so idealized that it felt like a fairytale, but I could see the part of him that was still just a little hopeful that one day he’d get to experience it himself. I couldn’t help but notice the smallest flicker of his eyes as he looked over at Seirei, but it was gone before I could be certain I had seen anything at all. He cleared his throat, “but it’s not something my little sister will be doing anytime soon because she still has about 82 years left before she’s allowed to date.”

“Now, how about you and I set the table?” Hizashi asked, clapping his hands together to change the subject and redirect Hitoshi’s attention to something more productive. His voice was bright and easy as he sidestepped the rest of Hitoshi’s lingering questions before ruffling his hair. He lifted Hitoshi off the counter and placed him on the floor, shooting a look that read “you need a minute—take it.” He reached across Hitoshi to hand me a letter off the counter. The handwriting on the envelope was unmistakable. It was the same handwriting I’d been reading over the last week on countless notes from Hawks.

I slipped away to my room before anyone could ask questions, listening to the conversation that continued to carry on behind me. “How many dates have you been on, Uncle ‘Zashi?” Hitoshi questioned.

“Well, there have just been so many, I don’t know if I can count-” Hizashi began, and I could hear the slight tremble in his voice that gave away how nervous he was about answering the question.

“One.” Shota cut in, deadpan. “He went on one date with a girl who was in our class during our second year at U.A. Her name was Yuki,” he recalled, and I remembered the girl. Hizashi had introduced me to her one day when he walked her home from school one day. She was sweet to me and even tied a yellow ribbon into my hair when I told her it was my favorite color. Hizashi had blushed the entire time. I never knew they went out on a date. I also never knew it was the only one he ever went on.

I knew I was the reason he didn’t go on more, but trying to bring it up to him would’ve been pointless since he would’ve denied it until he passed out. A small smile formed on my lips despite the heavy feeling in my chest at the thought of my brother sacrificing so much of his life to take care of me. He missed out on so much, and he did it all without question. He did it because he loved me, but I mourned the life he could’ve had, the life he should’ve had, if I never even came along in the first place.

I shook the thought from my head. It was best to redirect my attention before I ruminated so much that I brought it up to Hizashi. He was never violent or even aggressive with me, but I knew that questioning his choice to take care of me would be the one thing that could provoke his anger. I turned my attention back down to the envelope in my hands, turning it over as my thumb brushed across the seal that seemed far too delicate for the man who had written it. The wax seal had been stamped over a crimson feather that looked exactly like one of his. When I ran my finger across it, it felt like velvet, and it trembled lightly beneath my touch, as if it was alive. The little details meant solely for me caused my chest to tighten.

Turning back toward the door to ask Hizashi about when he had gotten it, I froze. Shota was already in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much at all the previous night, but his posture was still so effortlessly commanding with crossed arms and a set jaw. “It came this morning,” he grumbled without even a trace of warmth in his voice.

I glanced at the letter again, butterflies erupting in my stomach at the sound of his voice, the way he filled the doorway, everything. Then, there was also Hawks. He wasn’t a very organized man, but the seal looked perfect as if he’d practiced over and over and over again until he got it right. The thought of it made my heart lurch. He must’ve sent it on Saturday morning, the morning after I slapped him, for it to arrive this soon. My fingers fumbled with the edge of the letter, too aware of Shota’s eyes on me.

“Read it,” he instructed me, nodding at the letter, “but once you’re done, get dressed. We’re going to one of the training grounds, and you’re showing me what he’s managed to teach you. If it’s nothing substantial, you’re not going back to him for another work study.”

I blinked, the words hitting me like a slap. Was he serious? What happened to the tone from the kitchen? We had been having a good, albeit embarrassing, morning, and now he was back to being strict. His mood swings gave me serious whiplash. His tone was cold, almost clinical. My chest tightened, and a flicker of anger rose up to mask the hurt in my chest. “What’s your problem all of a sudden? It’s just a letter,” I snapped, defensive because he was being so harsh about a man who had been kind to me in the last night of my work study. There was something more that Hawks hadn’t told me about, something that led to his more distant behavior over the week I was there, but I’d discover it with time.

Shota’s jaw flexed, “the focus of work studies isn’t to develop feelings for the hero you’re studying under. If you haven’t become stronger under his mentorship, either he’s not doing a good enough job teaching you, or you’re too distracted to be learning anything at all,” he shot back, his voice clipped and sharp, reminding me that he was still my teacher at the end of the day. His eyes narrowed slightly, “either way, it would do you no good to send you back again next semester.”

I stared at him. His words felt like a punch to the chest, but it wasn’t just the words, it had been the way he said them. It was as if he was looking for something to be upset with me about, as if the lingering frustrations from the night before were bleeding into the morning. I didn’t think he was still holding onto his anger about Tomura, but there had been something. His eyes flickered over my shoulder, and I followed it to the jacket draped over the chair. I grimaced. He was angry at Hawks, and he was taking it out on me by keeping me at an arms length again. “You haven’t changed one bit, Mr. Aizawa,” I gritted out, using the name he’d specifically requested I only save for when we were at school. Because we had been friends for so many years, it didn’t seem normal to call him that outside of school, and he understood the need for me to maintain some bits of normalcy with him.

Part of me wanted to hurt him just a little. Part of me wanted to hurt him the same way he’d just hurt me.

His eyes narrowed again, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Breakfast is ready. We’re going to leave in 20. Don’t make me wait,” he grunted, his voice clipped and stern. It was the same tone he used when expelled me during my first year. Perhaps that was what I could expect if I didn’t live up to his expectations of my work study.

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how his words stung, “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I bit back in an attempt to match his coldness. It was exhausting to not know what version of him I was going to get from moment to moment.

He turned and walked out of the room without another word. I watched him cross the hall and stop in Tomura’s room before depositing a small pile of black clothes on the end of the bed from the bag he had slung over his shoulder. His movements were slow as he smoothed out the pieces of clothing. What the hell had I done to him? I wore Keigo’s jacket home, and Seirei had teased me about a potential crush on him. What else had I done?! I felt raw, like my skin had been peeled back, and my nerves were exposed. I wanted to scream, to cry, to run after him and demand to know what had changed overnight. I wanted to ask what I had done. I wanted him to hit me.

Why?

Why did I crave violence in moments like that? In moments of vulnerability and uncertainty? I didn’t want to be hit, but…there was that piece of me that almost…craved it.

Akira

The train station wasn’t busy. We’d gotten there just in time for the last train, and he waited with me, holding my bag. We had both been nearly silent the entire way back from the cliff, each of us lost in our own little worlds after what happened. He cleared his throat as the train began pulling up to the station. “Listen,” he blurted out, and my ears perked up, hoping he’d have some sort of romantic declaration like I’d seen in the movies. When my eyes met his, though, I didn’t see that familiar look that I had on the cliff. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “text me or call me for anything. If you’re ever looking for another work study or just…any sort of mentorship, my door is always gonna be open to you.”

“You’re gonna miss me that bad, huh?” I quipped back, falling back into the easy banter that we’d mastered with the time spent together. The side of my mouth tugged up into a half-smile, “now you have no one to do your paperwork for you.”

“That’s what I’ll miss most, I think,” he teased back with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

It felt like there were rocks in my stomach as I stared up into eyes that didn’t convey the man behind the mask. I didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him or even if I should, so I did the only thing I could think of. I bowed my head slightly, “thank you for having me…both times.” The gratitude was genuine despite the way my heart ached for what could’ve been in more ways than one. I didn’t know why I felt such a bittersweet pang in my chest over something I never even had, something that had been out of reach from the start.

“You don’t have to pretend to be grateful,” he laughed off my thanks, “I know this time around was boring, and-”

“And I learned a lot about more than just hero work,” I cut him off, hoping he’d understand what I meant without saying it. I learned about him. That was enough to be grateful for. “If I could go back knowing what I know now, I’d do it again.”

He reached up and rubbed his hand over his cheek with a sheepish grin, “I don’t know if I could take another hit from you, to be honest.”

“I’d have more patience if I had another chance,” I retorted with a smirk, trying to keep the mood light so that he wasn’t also left with the same bit of sorrow I felt. I wanted to go home to see Hitoshi, Seirei, Hizashi, and Shota. I missed my people, but…I’d miss Hawks, too. From having watched him and known him for a small chunk of time, I learned that he didn’t have people around. He was alone. When the cameras were away and the fans were gone, he had no one.

When the call for boarding was made, I gestured to the train. He handed me my bag, our fingers brushing against one another for a brief moment. I was transported back to the cliff with his pinky wrapped around mine and his wing curling around me. It took my breath away, and I was convinced that my cheeks had to be just as red as his turned in that moment. Did the brush of our fingers bring him back, too?

“Oh! Your jacket!” I gasped, hurriedly trying to pull it off of my shoulders.

He held up his hand, “you hang onto it for now. It looks better on you anyway,” he insisted with one of his signature winks that left me weak in the knees. I knew why so many girls fawned over him every time he looked at me. He shrugged his shoulders, “plus, if you have something of mine to return, it just means we’ll have to meet up again, right?” he asked, and I heard the hopeful tone in his voice despite his attempt to play it cool.

Butterflies surged around the rocks in my stomach. It was a strange sensation—a weightlessness mixed with a feeling of such deep longing that it hurt. I cleared my throat before bowing my head once more. “I’ll see you around. Thank you again, Hawks,” I smiled, allowing the warmth of the moment to fill my chest. I didn’t want to leave him with a sorrowful goodbye but one with a little bit of hope and gratitude.

“Keigo,” he breathed out before I could turn around and board the train.

“What?” I asked, confused by the name he’d just muttered.

The smile that spread across his face was finally genuine and filled with warmth that did reach his eyes. “My name…it’s Keigo,” he answered the very first question I’d asked during our very first meeting.

My heart felt like it came to a screeching halt. His name. He told me his name. “Keigo,” I repeated as a wide smile spread across my face. I didn’t even process my watery eyes or the wetness on my cheeks until Hawks…Keigo reached between us to wipe away a tear with the pad of his thumb. I let out a breath I’d been holding since first meeting him, and I allowed my eyes to flutter closed as I leaned into his touch for a moment, desperate to commit the moment to memory. “Thank you, Keigo,” I murmured into the silence between the two of us before pushing myself up onto the tips of my toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Leaving him frozen on the platform, I turned around and boarded the train. He waited until the train began pulling away from the station, our eyes locked until I could no longer see his face. It was strange not being in his presence, but his jacket still smelled like him, like the warm spring breeze, a campfire, and worn in denim.

I texted Hizashi to let him know I had made the final train to get back, and he already had the entire plan laid out for picking me up. The further from Hawks I got, the more bittersweet the feelings were but the more full my heart became at the reminder that I was returning to Hitoshi. I was returning to my family, the one I was lucky to have. Hawks didn’t have that. So many people weren’t blessed in the way I was, to have been taken in and loved after the basement, to have been given a home that I was then able to turn around and offer to others.

To take care of people the way I did my brother.

That was when a thread around my heart tightened. It was one I hadn’t felt since I was just a girl and the world felt far too big to ever understand. I tried to ignore it, clinging to the fabric of Keigo’s jacket, but the thread tugged harder, stubborn and insistent. Following the thread, I glanced over my shoulder to lock eyes with a boy my age sitting a few rows diagonally behind me.

He was beautiful in the most tragic of ways with pale blue hair that touched his shoulders and red eyes surrounded by dry, scratched skin. The colors weren’t familiar to me, but something about the sad look in those eyes sent a pain lancing through my mind. It felt like nails were driven through my eyes and into my brain as the memories tore through me, desperately calling my name, demanding to be acknowledged.

I was small again. Those familiar cries of my brother—my other half—pierced through the trees. He was finally allowed outside, or he was thrown out just as I had been. Either way, he was out of the house, and that was a small gift of freedom in and of itself. I rushed out of the tree line, following the thread that linked our souls, to find him on the ground by the shed. His hands were rubbing at his eyes, scratching at the skin around them as if the tears irritated the skin beneath them as well. I pulled his hands from his face and immediately pulled him into my arms. Instead of reaching back for his neck like he did when our older sister or anyone else pulled his hands away from his itching, he threw his arms around me.

That was home. In his arms. It was where I was always meant to be. His arms were the soft place I landed when I fell, when I was afraid, when I was sad, when I just was. His arms wrapped around me like a cocoon as if he’d keep me close and in turn keep me safe from the world that had already taken more than it should’ve from us. It took us away from each other time and time and time again by way of our father, which was the cruelest punishment of all.

Whatever sins I was atoning for, I hoped they’d be forgiven soon.

The late evening sky painted the world in golden and orange hues. His black hair was a stark contrast but no less beautiful than the colors of the sky, and those storm-grey eyes made even sadness look like something that belonged in museums. “What happened? Why are you sad?” I whispered into his hair before I leaned back to push it from his face to check him over for any injuries. I hoped our father had grown tired after the morning with me, but a red mark on his cheek was evidence that he hadn’t grown tired enough.

I’ll do better next time.

He sniffled as he tried blinking away the tears. His eyes met mine, searching them to ensure I was real. He was counting. “I’ve been without you all day,” he sobbed in a voice that shook as hard as his shoulders did. He threw his arms around me once more, pulling me as tightly as he could to his body. As his sorrow and panic surged, my own emotions settled in order to remain an anchor for him. When one of us was lost, the other was tasked to find. When one of us was falling, the other was meant to catch. We never even had to ask, it was just a natural response to one another. I knew what he needed instinctively, as if his needs were my own. He continued with a quivering voice. “I was so scared. I knew he hurt you and left you out here, and I didn’t know if you were okay or if I’d ever see you again.”

His grief lashed out at me and struck my heart like a whip. It cut into me. I didn’t care about the ghost of pain that happened that morning. I couldn’t even remember it when I was in his presence and he was hurting. No pain my father could inflict was ever as intense as the pain of being away from my brother, but above that, no pain was worse than knowing he was hurting. I kept our bodies pressed together as I ran my fingers through his hair, stroking back the strands at his temples. It was something I’d picked up from our mother and did for him whenever he was sick, sad, or scared. “I’m here now, though, and I’m not going anywhere again. No matter how many times he hurts me, we’ll always see each other again because I’m always wherever you are. I told you before that no matter what happens, you’ll only have to close your eyes, and I’m all around,” I reminded him, telling him what our mother told me once before when I cried to her about being outside without her.

She told me that she was in the gentle breeze that rustled through the leaves in the trees behind our house. She was in the songs the birds sang and the warmth of the sun on my face. She was in the light of the moon that filled the sky with light even when I felt lonely. She was in the world around me. I was also that for my brother, but I understood his fear. I understood it because I shared it whenever our father turned his anger onto him.

“But what if it’s worse next time?” he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his fears. “Closing my eyes isn’t good enough because…what if it’s forever next time?”

“Nothing could keep me away from you forever,” I promised, locking my pinky around his before taking a deep breath that he mirrored. “Father wanted to see my quirk. Him and Mommy talked about it last night, and when he wanted me to go out with him today, I knew he was going to be angry at me for having one to begin with. That’s why I didn’t want you to come with us. I didn’t want you to be around for when he got angry,” I explained, leaving out the part where Father had called me a little monster and used the metal part of the belt. He didn’t need to know. I never wanted him to know any of that.

“I can protect you, too, you know!” he insisted, his voice rising with desperation. He never yelled at me. Never. He was passionate, though. I got it from him. “I’m not scared of him, not if it’s for you,” he added, and I could hear the conviction in his voice, the certainty that he’d take on our father’s wrath if it meant keeping me safe.

It horrified me.

It rendered me completely still for a moment as fear coursed through me. He’d already suffered so much. Both of us had suffered, but my capacity for suffering was infinite when it came to my brother. I’d do anything, say anything, become anything, endure anything to keep him safe. If my body could be used as kindling to keep him warm, I’d let myself burn. If my soul was a shield for him, I’d gladly wield it with the knowledge that it would be cracked, broken, and destroyed by the time it was over. If my blood was the price to pay for his safety, I’d bleed out for him without hesitation. He was my purpose.

“I know you can protect me, and I know how brave you are. I just…” my voice trailed off as I searched for the right words to get him to understand that I was more durable than he was. With my quirk, I could handle more pain than he could before my body gave out. I hoped that using the mention of the quirk, he’d understand me a bit better. “I told you when my quirk finally showed up to let me take his anger. Besides, my quirk needs the extra practice because someday, maybe I can use the stars to heal more than just myself,” I explained, trying to make him feel better about the situation. I wanted him to give up on his desire to protect me despite knowing it was the one thing I couldn’t stop doing for him.

He clung to me again, and I could feel his silent tears against my neck. He shook his head, “you’re the only person I care about. I don’t care if you could heal anyone else because there’s no me without you! You’re my very best thing, Player Two.”

“Don’t say that,” I urged him, not wanting to hear him give up on our dreams so easily, especially when I was the reason for it. He didn’t care about the world outside of me. To him, I was his world. To me, he was the reason why I wanted to save the world. He was the reason why I wanted to be a hero. “We’re still going to become heroes together, and that means caring about other people and making sacrifices for others. We’re still gonna be the greatest hero team the world has ever known!” I beamed, hoping that my smile would lighten the burden on his weary soul for the night. I just wanted to see his smile. It was the most beautiful sight in the world. It was…everything. He was everything.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, not that time. “I can’t lose you, though, because…who would I talk to? Who would I play with? Who would I be? I’m nothing without you. I don’t exist,” he sniffled, and I watched those heartbreaking tears well up in his eyes again.

“You do exist,” I insisted, tightening my arms around his body. “And if you forget who you are…I’ll remember for both of us because no matter what our minds could possibly forget in this lifetime, my heart will always know you.”

Returning to my body wasn’t as painful as it usually was. There was the metallic taste in my mouth and scent beneath my nose, so I wiped it away with a promptly discarded tissue. It was as if my body knew something my mind didn’t quite pick up on yet, and it didn’t allow itself to feel the pain. I continued glancing back at the boy, the thread tugging at my heart over and over again each time I thought of looking away. Something in those eyes, in the beauty mark just below the right side of his mouth, the marks around his eyes and on his neck. He didn’t look like him, not entirely, but he reminded me of my brother.

When the man he was with scoffed at my continued staring, the boy’s eyes remained locked on me. They didn’t break away. My brother’s used to do the same thing. Even as our father would drag him away, even as he was beaten within an inch of his life, even as he was thrown out into the cold, even as he was…

Grabbed by the man who had scoffed at me!

I flew to my feet the moment the brunette man grabbed his arm, power flaring in violent pulses through my body. A mixture of the various inherited quirks I’d accidentally collected over the years began coming to life within me. There was a power I’d only felt when defending Hitoshi that rose up within me mixed with a vicious protectiveness I felt for my brother and the little boy who stole my heart in Hiza City. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that I was a hero in training. I didn’t care that I was in public despite being only one of three people on that train car. I didn’t care that the man was three times my size. I didn’t care that I couldn’t calculate his next move.

I was going to protect him.

“Don’t touch him like that again,” I barked out the warning, my voice laced with the danger of the quirks boiling to life within me. The tips of my fingers tingled as small bits of electricity danced around them, surging between my fingers. Stardust collected in my palms and swirled up my arms, reaching toward my elbows. I felt the heat through the tingling as white hot flames flickered around my fingertips. I clenched my fists, desperate to extinguish the power that was building, and I shook my head at the brunette man who turned his focus to me. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I would. I would do anything to keep my…to keep the boy safe. “You’ll regret doing it, so please…just sit back down,” I pleaded with him, my gaze flickering down to where his hand still clutched the boy’s arm.

“Get up,” he growled at the boy before delivering a scoff in my direction. He was ignoring my warning, and I could tell that it had done little to soothe whatever rage fueled his poor treatment of the boy. Instead, it seemed only to provoke him further. “We’re moving,” he hissed, giving a tug on the boys arm. It wasn’t as hard as it had been previously, but it was hard enough to make the boy wince.

As he rose to his feet, his eyes remained locked on mine. That was when he reached up and scratched at his neck. Just as I processed what he had done, the brunette man planted his foot in the middle of his back and shoved the boy forward, sending him stumbling to the ground in the aisle.

My body reacted on instinct. It moved before my mind could form any sort of rational thought. My hair lifted off my shoulders as I focused my gaze on the man, deactivating whatever quirk he had before he could even think to use it. Thank you, Shota. Holding my hand out toward him, tendrils of blazing white stardust erupted from my fingertips, anchored at my elbow and wrist. I watched as they wrapped around his body like a living thing, like the vines that grew on the trees near my childhood home before the basement. I gripped the tendrils in my hand, and I pulled him toward me with all the power I could muster, channeling the power that Shota and Hizashi had trained into me through the years.

With a side-step, I let the man fly past me and slam into the far wall of the train with a groan. As the tendrils of stardust retracted back into my hand and diffused into my body once more, I saw the burn marks on his skin. The stardust was white hot, almost as hot as the flames that had been a gift from the first—and only—boy who’d ever kissed me. He hadn’t given it to me on purpose and had been horrified when I told him about it since we’d both seen what his quirk did to his body. It was at that point—after the burn—that he began training with his quirk more often. For a fleeting moment, I wished that I could show him that his quirk wasn’t a curse.

I blinked before reaching down toward the boy, offering my hand to him. He just stared up at me with wide eyes, and I watched the way his hands remained clenched into fists in front of him. “Are you okay?” I asked, my eyes flickering over every piece of him that I could see. With his head tilted back to gaze up at me from where he was on the floor, his hair fell out of his face just enough to reveal the dry and flaky skin around his eyes and down his neck. I had a cream for that at home, which I’d used after my more intense days of scratching that left my neck raw and irritated. Cracked, dry skin surrounded his mouth. Then, there were the scars and a fresh bruise on his cheekbone, a dark purple mark that ignited a fire within me that I’d only known with particular people: my brother, Hizashi, Hitoshi, Shota, and the basement girls.

The thoughts that clouded my mind when his scars and bruises were revealed were reminders that I was, in fact, my father’s daughter. I had his rage. I had his violence. I kept it contained, but it still existed within me. I still had the capacity to hurt…the desire to hurt. Because when I saw those injuries, I didn’t just want to hurt the one who had caused them. I wanted to hunt them down. I wanted them to run, to feel fear, to beg. I wanted them to suffer.

My father had been right about one thing: I was a monster.

He nodded his head in response to my previous question and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I offered a warm smile, hoping to soothe whatever fears could be clouding his mind. He stood up on his own, shying away from my hand and keeping his own balled up into fists. I stepped out of the row of seats and gestured for him to sit by the window. He followed my wordless instruction without question, lowering himself into the seat and pulling one of his knees up to his chest.

I sat beside him, prepared to shield him from the man who would undoubtedly come back for revenge. I didn’t care because no matter what pain I could possibly endure at the hands of that man, I was certain that it couldn’t be worse than the pain of knowing the stranger with those sad eyes was hurting. I reached forward on instinct to push his hair away from his face, and he flinched as if I was about to hit him. Just as I would hunt down the people who took my brother from me, who stole his life before he could even live it, before he could know peace, I would hunt down the people who hurt the boy in front of me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promised, my hands moving slowly as I traced over fresh and old bruises on his face and neck, ones that disappeared beneath the black shirt with the loose neckline. Each bruise, each cut, each scar, it made my eyes sting with the threat of tears. I couldn’t cry, though. I had to wait until he was taken care of, and then I could feel my emotions fully.

With every movement I made, his eyes remained locked on mine. His eyes flickered back and forth between them just as my brother’s always did. I wondered if he was just as mesmerized by the stars as my brother was. I wondered if he was counting them the way my brother did when he was scared or sad. Something about the stranger felt familiar, felt like home. Despite the circumstances, something within me that had been dead for so long began to stir once more.

“No one has a right to treat you that way,” I murmured as I settled back into my seat. He was taller than me, that much was clear, but he looked so thin. Far too thin. It carved out something within me to look at the way his hands fidgeted, the way they reached up to scratch at his neck. I reached between us and moved his hand away from his neck without a word about it. I gazed up into his eyes before they flickered down to the beauty mark below the right side of his mouth. Perhaps he was a gift sent to me by my brother. It was the same mark he had.

It wasn’t until his body tensed that I realized his handler was back. I spun around to glare up at the brunette man who was panting from pain at the burns on his body. Good. His gaze was filled with malice as he glared down at me with just as much disdain as I had for him prior to him kicking the boy down to the ground. “Try to take him from me…” I challenged him, rising up to my feet as I prepared to face him once more in defense of the boy with the sad eyes. I narrowed my eyes, “I dare you.”

I’d made the threat to my father more times than I could count. Some of the memories came rushing back to me in that moment, but I didn’t think of his face. I could only see the one that I was protecting.

My Player One.

“You little bitch!” the handler grunted before the world slowed.

I thought of my brother as I straightened my shoulders, as the man stepped closer to me, as the stardust began building up at the tips of my fingers, as the hand of the brunette man found my throat, as my eyes widened when I realized just how strong he was, and as another hand reached out from behind me to stop him. Once the hand of the sad-eyed boy was on his face, I watched as the man’s body tensed and his eyes widened. In seconds, there was nothing left but ashes.

Nothing left.

My body whipped around to stare at the boy who was on his feet with me. His crimson eyes were wide with shock, almost as if he hadn’t expected that outcome. Then, there was a fear that settled into him. My eyes were wide, but the fear didn’t manifest within me. I wasn’t afraid of him. Despite what I’d just seen—a man reduced to dust before me by a mere touch alone—I didn’t feel afraid. Whatever star gave birth to my soul, it was the same one that gave birth to his. The only fear I had was the one that came when I thought of leaving his side and allowing him to handle whatever came next on his own.

There was no universe that existed where I could leave him.

Despite not knowing his name, despite not knowing where he came from, despite not a single conversation shared between us, something within him was familiar to me. Something in him reminded me of my brother, and that was enough. I couldn’t leave him. I refused to leave him.

“Come with me,” I urged him, haphazardly reaching for the hand that I’d just seen kill a man.

He backed away from me, pressing his back to the window of the train and cornering himself. He shook his head, “I…I can’t. They’ll come for me,” he panicked, his scratchy voice shaking almost as bad as his hands did when he pulled them toward himself in an effort to keep me from touching them. They balled up into fists that he clutched to his chest.

I smirked at his words, knowing in that moment that I’d move mountains, tear through the heavens and earth, and lay waste to the very fabric of reality just to keep him safe.

“Let them try.”

Because I was going to save him.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Aizawa

The call came much earlier than expected. Too early. Hizashi had the entire plan laid out for when he would leave to get her, so he wasn’t even dressed, and I had been in the process of tucking Hitoshi in for the night so that he’d be well-rested for the next day. Seirei had left only 10 minutes prior to the call, electing to stay for a bit to talk to Hizashi after I went into the bedroom with Hitoshi. After he’d asked for just one more story, I settled against the headboard of Akira’s bed, and he curled into my side. I rubbed my hand along his back and over his temple as I told him a story of a fisherman who was lost at sea. We had just reached the point where the fisherman saw a light in the distance when Hizashi’s phone rang.

The panicked sound of Hizashi’s voice was enough to make my blood run cold. The story was immediately forgotten as I rose from the bed and made my way into the living room. Despite insisting that Hitoshi wait in bed for me to return, he followed me into the living room and stood beside me as I listened to Hizashi’s side of the conversation. There was only one way he spoke to Akira, and that tenderness came out in his voice, making my stomach twist with the realization that something was wrong. Her call wouldn’t have elicited such a panicked response from him if something wasn’t wrong.

I could never let her out of my sight. I’d told that stupid bird days before her work study started that if he put her in any sort of danger again, I’d make him wish for death. There were a few other stipulations, but at the core of my warning to him, I made it clear that she was to be protected. I had trusted him with her, and upon listening to Hizashi’s voice, I had no choice but to believe that he’d failed me yet again.

“She’s okay,” he told me even before he tapped the screen to hang up the phone, not giving me even a breath to pepper him with questions. “There was some trouble on the train, and she had to get off, but she’s not hurt,” he continued as he quickly threw on his jacket and motioned for me to follow him.

The three of us were in the car, and based on the way Hizashi was driving, I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me. There was something he couldn’t say in front of Hitoshi, and I was both grateful for his protective nature and frustrated that I was being kept in the dark. Hitoshi sat in the backseat with one of his stuffed animals—a black cat that was a near perfect plush replica of Jettie—and kept his eyes facing out the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he rubbed the ear of the cat, his fingers going over the same spot repeatedly. He was anxious. This hadn’t been the plan, which meant something wasn’t right.

“Is Mommy okay?” he asked, his voice small and threaded with worry that didn’t belong anywhere in his heart. I hated that I couldn’t take it away. I’d do it in a heartbeat. Just as Akira had spoken about the lengths she would go to for him the first day we’d spoken about her attachment in Hiza City, I understood her. I would’ve done anything to ensure even a moment of peace for him.

Since I was unable to answer the question with the honesty that was required in that moment, Hizashi spoke up for me. “She’s just fine, Hitoshi,” he insisted in that tone he’d used with me in the hospital when she was 13. That was the first time I’d felt truly lost. He’d been the one to pull me back from the edge despite her being his sister. He still struggled to look at my scarf even after three years. It wasn’t even the same one I’d used that day, the one soaked in blood…so much blood.

“But then why didn’t she talk to me?” Hitoshi’s voice pulled me back to the present with him. I couldn’t think of that day in my waking hours, but my nightmares never let me forget. I’d wake up with the feel of her blood on my hands once more, the smell of it still clinging to my skin. Her and Oboro filled my most brutal nightmares. Not even ones about my mother could compare to the ones where I’d failed two of the most important people in my life. Hitoshi continued, keeping me tethered to the present once more, “Mommy always asks to talk to me,” he reminded us, and in that moment, I hated how observant he was.

It was true. Akira never missed a chance to talk to him. This was the first time that he didn’t take up even a second of a phone call when the typical pattern was that she would take up the entire phone call talking to him and would spend a minute or two with Hizashi or myself. Hitoshi was her priority, and the reminder of how out-of-the-norm it was made me even more concerned for her.

“You know how you get scared of the dark, and you only wanna talk to Mommy?” Hizashi asked, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to meet Hitoshi’s gaze. When Hitoshi nodded his head in response, Hizashi continued, “sometimes Mommy gets scared, and I’m the only person she wants to talk to. Sometimes Sho is the only person she wants to talk to, but…when Mommy gets scared, she doesn’t want to put that on your shoulders. That’s what makes her so good at being a mom.”

“But I…I want her to trust me, too,” Hitoshi murmured, and I watched as his bottom lip quivered, pulling down into a tight-lipped frown.

“She does trust you!” Hizashi insisted, his voice filled with a protectiveness that had only just begun with Hitoshi. His protectiveness over Akira was fierce, but there was something different about the way he looked out for Hitoshi, something even more complex. His love for his sister was unmatched. It fueled a strength in him that I doubted could be possible without her. Then, Hitoshi came along and became the child of his sister, something that was somehow just as precious but far more fragile. Seeing him as an uncle had been something I never thought I’d get to experience because I’d never pictured Akira with children of her own, especially since she was still a student. Hizashi continued, “you’re her baby boy, though, Hitoshi. Grown ups have to handle grown up problems so that kids can just be kids.”

“Is it because it’s dark outside? Is she afraid of the dark?” Hitoshi asked, trying to make sense of the situation in his own way.

That was when I pieced it together. The look in his eyes when Hizashi looked over at me told me one thing: Akira was afraid. What she was afraid of was the part I didn’t know, but it was the part that made my stomach sink like a stone. Akira didn’t have much that she was truly afraid of, but the things she was afraid of were always the things that would break her. I couldn’t let her break again. Not after Hizashi and I had finally begun piecing her back together after all these years. The pleading look in my eyes told him that I understood him but also needed him to drive faster.

“Maybe it’s the dark,” Hizashi nodded, but I knew he was only going along with it to ease the confusion in Hitoshi’s mind. I felt the car speed up just a little more, and I knew he was driving as fast as he could without risking getting pulled over. He was also maintaining a safe speed to ensure that Hitoshi wouldn’t be in danger. “One thing’s for sure, though, my sister is the strongest person I know. She’s always going to be okay,” he continued with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“But what if she’s not okay someday?” Hitoshi asked the question that weighed on us all more times than I could count. The last time we’d asked it was in the hospital after Hiza City, and she’d had so little time to even process what happened because she was in such a rush to take care of Hitoshi upon returning home. She refused to sit still for too long, to be in the quiet. Now, we were back to her life being in danger again, and my heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the reality that this would be her life as a hero.

“Then it’s my job as her brother to make sure she’s okay,” Hizashi responded, and I saw the depth of his love for her once more. It wasn’t hard to care about her. Only the most heartless people could even manage indifference toward her. Still, I’d never seen love like the one he had for her.

Hitoshi curled up with the stuffed animal once more, giving it a tight squeeze that I could only imagine was meant to be his way of hugging Akira for the time being. He smiled to himself, “and it’ll be my job someday, too.”

“But for right now, Peanut, your job is to just be little,” Hizashi reminded him, and I saw the way his gaze softened as he glanced into the rearview mirror once more. “You’re part of the reason why she wants to be a hero so badly, to make sure children can just be children. I know that’s what she wants more than anything in the world for you, kiddo. So just…be little for as long as you can.”

Hitoshi nodded his head as determination settled into his features.

“So no more vegetables?” Hitoshi asked, cocking his head. I furrowed my eyebrows, but before I could ask, he clarified, “you and Mommy say that vegetables will make me grow big and strong.”

It made Hizashi laugh, so the misunderstanding was a welcome one.

When we finally pulled up to a random late-night restaurant, I was out of the car before Hizashi had even put it in park. She had been leaning against a wall beside a hooded individual. As the stranger began to follow her while she ran toward us, my quirk flared to life as I deactivated his quirk. “Back up,” I growled, my voice low and threatening. He stopped and raised his hands in surrender, but I didn’t pull my eyes away from him. I didn’t blink. I watched him intently as Hitoshi practically flew by me, crashing into Akira’s body.

She lifted him into her arms effortlessly, spinning him around in a circle as he wrapped his arms around her neck. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much!” she cooed, pressing kisses all over his face as he giggled.

“I’ve missed you, too!” he squealed with the lightest giggle I’d heard from him as he leaned back to press kisses all over her face in return. She nuzzled her face against his, basking in his presence. Hitoshi continued, “Uncle Hizashi said you were scared, but I knew you weren’t because you’re the bravest person in the world!” he cheered, throwing his arms into the air as if he were celebrating a victory.

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid, my sweetest little starlight. Being brave means you keep going despite being afraid,” she reminded him with a gentle tone.

That was when he noticed the tears in her eyes. His brow furrowed as he reached up to cup her cheeks in his tiny hands. “Oh, no,” he murmured, voice filled with concern, “please don’t be sad. What happened?”

As she giggled at the question, I turned my attention back to the stranger who still had his hands up, but I noticed that he had his eyes on Akira and Hitoshi. There was something about the way he looked at her that made my senses go on high alert. A muscle in my jaw twitched as I watched him. If he moved even a muscle toward Akira or my boy, he wouldn’t even live long enough to regret it.

That was when I realized that he was wearing the same hoodie Hizashi had given to Akira before she left for the work study. Her pajamas were a mixture of her own and stolen clothes from Hizashi and myself, but he wore one particular sweatshirt the day we dropped her off at the train station that he’d pulled over her head before she boarded. He wanted her to be able to have something to remind her of home, something that made her feel close to him if she started to feel the distance a little too much.

“Why the hell are you wearing that?” I growled at him, my eyes narrowing as I tried to piece together the situation before us. Getting a call that Akira had to be picked up because of an incident on her train ride home and then finding her with a stranger who was wearing Hizashi’s hoodie…nothing about the situation sat right with me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it.

Akira stepped between the stranger and I—of course she did!—and held her hands up just as he did. Hitoshi stood to my side between Hizashi and myself, gazing up at Akira with all the wonder in the world, which was a stark contrast to the look I gave to her. “It’s okay, Sho. This is Tomura. He’s a…a friend I met on the train,” she explained, trying to ease the tension.

Despite her being reckless, her judgements were unmatched. I knew, logically, she’d never put Hitoshi in danger by bringing a deadly stranger close to him. Her guard wasn’t up when it came to the stranger, either, which meant she didn’t see him as a threat. Even then, there was something I couldn’t understand. Why had she brought him along with her when she ran from the train? What could possibly…

That was when he lowered the hood of the hoodie, revealing his face. My breath caught in my throat. I had no choice but to blink once, twice, a thousand times over just to make sure I wasn’t just seeing things. Pale blue hair and red eyes. Scratch marks on his neck and around his eyes. Akira would often get marks on her neck with too much scratching, but his were worse. He looked to be about her age, and their facial structure…there were similarities that I couldn’t deny. It can’t be. The way his eyes narrowed the slightest bit in a half-wince when she said the name told me that it wasn’t his real one.

His eyes refused to leave her, as if he was waiting for something. I glanced over at Hizashi, curious to see if he noticed the same things I did, but his eyes were on his sister instead. “Should I ask?” he questioned her, his voice tinged with the facade of severity. He wouldn’t lecture her, at least not until the following day. Typically, Hizashi allowed his relief to overtake his frustration with her in the moment, and he’d offer her some sort of lecture the next day.

She shook her head, “not…not with this one. Tomura’s going to be staying with us for a little while.”

Just like that?! Hitoshi, Seirei, and now a stranger who gave her a false name?! How many people are we going to collect?!

“Akira,” I sighed, stepping forward. She hadn’t spoken to either of us at all about the stranger. Despite her sound judgement most of the time, she was a bleeding heart for humanity, and she tried to see the goodness in everyone. She couldn’t just bring a stranger into our—well, hers and Hizashi’s—home without at least talking to him first. Especially when my boy lived there with her. I didn’t care about myself. I cared about the impact it could have on Hitoshi, how he could be hurt because, what? She wanted to keep being a hero to everyone she met? Fire burned in my veins, “you’re still a student. You can’t just make decisions like this without talking to Hizashi first.”

She narrowed her eyes at me as if accepting the challenge. “‘Zashi?” she asked, her voice coming out as a plea with just his name itself. She wasn’t even looking at me, and that alone frustrated me to no end. She knew the stance I was taking, and she knew that Hizashi wouldn’t be able to say “no” to her, especially with that look in her eyes.

That much was abundantly clear when I heard the soft sigh from my closest, most trusted friend. I could tell he was on the verge of giving in to her. It didn’t take much. I also couldn’t bring myself to say “no” to her most of the time, but I wasn’t about to let her get away with making yet another drastic—and potentially life-altering—decision. I whipped my head around to glare at him. “Seriously?!” I asked, my voice rising in disbelief that he was going to let her make such an irresponsible decision. It was one thing to bring Hitoshi home with her, to bring Seirei into our lives, to introduce us all to a new way of life that we’d never experienced before with her as a parent. it was another thing entirely to bring home a stranger, to bring home someone who was potentially dangerous into the home where my reasons for living resided.

“Seriously,” Hizashi murmured softly, his voice filled with a mix of exasperation and affection. His eyes were soft as he gazed down at her. Every memory flashed across his face, reminding me not only of the young woman she was turning into but also the girl she had been. He continued as he made a half-hearted gesture to her, “how do you say no to that?” he questioned as a fond smile spread across his face.

“Like this,” I grunted, stepping between the two siblings and breaking the eye contact that had magic and power in it. I knew better than to think it was a quirk despite how unpredictable hers was. It was just her. She had a way of lowering someone’s defenses with nothing more than a look. The only thing that kept me from folding under the weight of that gaze was the safety of the people I cared about most: her, Hitoshi, and Hizashi. I straightened my shoulders, and…

Promptly deflated a bit when Hitoshi jumped between the two of us, glaring up at me. He acted as a wall between her and I despite knowing that I wasn’t going to hurt her. Still, his innate distrust of men led him to the conclusion that if there was ever a confrontation between a man and her, he’d step in no matter who the man was. Even if it was me. The thought made my heart ache. “Don’t you dare!” he warned me, his voice calmer and more determined than I’d ever heard it before, like he lost every ounce of fear he had for men in that moment in order to be her protector. As if it hadn’t been obvious already, I knew who the favorite parent was in that moment.

Without the shadow of a doubt, he would choose her. Time and time and time again. For that, I was both grateful and terrified. I was grateful that he chose her because she was the very best thing that could’ve happened to him, but I was terrified because Akira had a gift for drawing trouble to herself. I wasn’t dangerous, not to the people I cared about, but there were other people out there who wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever necessary to get their hands on her, which meant possibly hurting my boy in the process. If he stood between her and danger, he would be the first one hurt.

Akira pulled him back to her side. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m okay,” she assured him as she stroked his hair back to get a better look at his face. She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before turning her gaze back to me and waiting for me to speak. That was when I knew that no matter how many times Hitoshi tried to put himself between her and possible danger, there wasn’t a single universe where she wouldn’t step back out in front of him.

“You haven’t spoken to us about this boy,” I reminded her, gesturing to the boy behind her who frowned when I cast him a questioning look. His eyes averted from her for the first time, casting down to the ground as he reached up to scratch at his neck. I watched the movement, the way his hand moved just like hers did, the way he was thin and underweight, the way he looked like someone in need of saving. When he scratched, though, I saw Akira. I wanted to help, to know the truth that seemed to be so close and yet so far. Part of me had a gnawing suspicion that I already knew, but I didn’t give myself hope, not when she’d been through enough heartbreak. When Hizashi gasped softly, though, seeing the same similarities I had, I couldn’t give up hope. I refocused and continued, “he’s a complete stranger, and you want to bring him into your home? You don’t know the danger that could put you in.”

“What about me? I was a stranger, too!” Hitoshi piped up, stepping around Akira once more to stand at her side instead of behind her. “What about the danger I could’ve put you in?” he asked, trying to find flaws in my reasoning for being harsh.

“That’s different, Hitoshi. You’re not dangerous,” I explained, trying to be gentle but firm. I didn’t want him to ever think he could possibly be a danger to any of us. He was already quick to believe those horrific words that Hawks said to him. I’d heard some of his whispered affirmations to himself, words that were unlike the ones Akira told him every single morning as he was getting ready for school. She had him repeat affirmations that she made up for him: I am strong. I am kind. I am enough. At night, though, there were times when he would whisper to himself that he was “trying to be good” as if goodness was a prerequisite to being loved.

Akira jumped in, “and how do you know Tomura is dangerous?” she argued, pulling Hitoshi back to her side once more in a desperate attempt to keep him from being pulled into the argument. We both knew how impossible it would be for me to win any sort of argument against her when she had Hitoshi on her side, and she didn’t want him to put himself in the middle of it. Despite our disagreements with one another, neither one of us could ever weaponize Hitoshi against the other, and I was grateful for that.

“What about his family?” I asked, looking for any other possible way to get her to see reason, to get her to understand that we couldn’t just take home every stranger who looked like they could be in need of saving. Hitoshi was the exception, of course. It took me longer than her to realize it, but we both needed him just as much as he needed us.

“I don’t…” the stranger’s voice trailed off for a moment, and all of us turned our attention to him. The way his bottom lip twitched before he shook his head. His eyes finally found mine, and I saw a pain in them that I’d only ever seen in Akira’s eyes when she so much as mentioned her home before the basement. I didn’t know much, but I knew enough to know that her home was similar to mine. While my saving grace was my father, hers was her twin brother. She never even spoke his name, but I knew the depth of her love based on the way she mourned him. After catching her telling stories to the stars about how her day went when she was just a girl, a tradition she continued into her teenage years, I knew that she was still trying to process the loss. “I don’t have a family,” he finally managed with a quivering voice.

When Hitoshi moved closer to Tomura, I surged forward. My quirk flared to life as I deactivated Tomura’s quirk and held my capture weapon at the ready. Akira didn’t move to stop Hitoshi but kept her eyes on Tomura, watching his every move. Despite her seemingly innate trust in the boy, she was still protecting her son. As Hitoshi reached out to touch Tomura’s hand, I watched as Tomura pulled his hands up to his neck and started itching in an attempt to stop himself from touching him. Hitoshi adapted and wrapped his arms around Tomura’s waist instead, offering him a hug that was filled with a level of understanding he shouldn’t have had to possess at such a young age. “I didn’t have a family either until they found me and brought me home. You don’t have to be alone forever,” Hitoshi murmured into the hoodie.

The scratching stopped. We all stopped breathing for a moment. The innocence of it all was almost too much to bear for any of us. As Akira’s hand reached up to cover her mouth in an attempt to hold back her tears, I watched as Tomura’s eyes widened as he looked at her. The moment he reached his hand out to her, my capture weapon was flying through the air toward his wrist. Before it could wrap around it, though, it stopped mid-air as Akira’s fist wrapped around it. How?! She wasn’t even looking at me!

She turned to me, her eyes fierce and filled with a determination that I’d never seen before. The moment I targeted Tomura, it was like I became her enemy. She’d protect him with her life, that much was certain in that moment. “Don’t,” she warned me in a low and dangerous voice that I’d never heard from her. Something was different about the way she protected him. She didn’t have a reason to protect Hitoshi from me, but I was willing to bet that if push came to shove, she’d end me before she let me hurt Hitoshi, and I’d let her. If I was ever a threat to him, I’d happily let her kill me. With Tomura, though, it was a surprise. She’d known me for 11 years. Tomura…

He’s familiar. There’s something about him…I wonder if she senses it, too.

Noticing the sudden commotion, Hitoshi pulled away from Tomura and stepped back toward Akira. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make anything worse,” he whispered with a trembling voice. “I just…wanted to help.”

Akira released my capture weapon and immediately turned her entire attention to him, dropping to her knees before him and grasping his hands in her own. “You were such a big help, Hitoshi,” she insisted with the gentlest tone she could muster after such a harsh warning to me. It was like night and day, and the sight made me shiver.

“But Da…Mr.-wait…” his voice trailed off as he fought to find the right name for me. The first one. I wanted him to use the first one he was about to say. I knew that my reaction to Tomura had likely scared him, especially after I’d confronted Akira so harshly. It made me want to take all of it back, but at the same time, I had to protect him. I didn’t mind what the consequences were as long as he was safe. He took a long breath and continued, “Shota got upset with our new friend because of me.”

That broke my heart.

“He got upset because he was worried about both of us. It just means he cares a lot, and how lucky are we to have someone like that?” Akira reminded him with a warm smile. Despite our differences in how we approached things, she and I were both trying to protect the people we cared about most. She didn’t place blame on me when it would’ve been so easy to do in that moment. She could’ve easily used the situation to make me out to be the villain, but she didn’t. We both understood that we were both on the same team regardless of our differences in approaching these situations. At the end of the day, we both loved him, and that was all that mattered.

“But maybe if I didn’t hug him…” Hitoshi began to argue, his voice soft and full of guilt that he shouldn’t have had to carry on his little shoulders. That was my fault. Why had I reacted so violently? Why hadn’t I thought of what it would look like to him before I acted?

Akira cut in before he could finish his thought, “you have a big heart, big enough to be the very best hero someday.”

“Like you?” he asked, gazing into her eyes with wide violet ones. His eyebrows lifted as he waited for her response, looking at her with all the hope in the world. For that moment, he forgot all about the disagreement and hostility that existed between the adults in his life. She was the center of his universe, so it was understandable how easily he could brush off everything else. She did that easily, though—becoming the center of gravity.

“Even better than me. I want you to be like you,” she smiled before cupping his cheeks in her hands. She brought his face close to hers and pressed a kiss to his forehead once more.

“But I want to be like you,” he insisted, his voice soft and full of wonder as he wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face into her shoulder. It was as if he became bashful whenever he had to say anything that could be considered too sweet or too vulnerable.

The sight of her holding him, of her loving him so infinitely, made my chest tighten. I wasn’t sure if I was jealous or just…proud. Part of me was jealous of her innate ability to be so good at being a mother when she was still so young herself, when she had so much exposure to the cruelty of the world by way of the adults in her life. I struggled with aspects of fatherhood, overthinking almost everything I did and worrying that I wasn’t doing it right, but she made it look so easy. Then, there was the jealousy that my own mother had never been capable of loving me the way Akira managed to love Hitoshi within seconds of meeting him. I was overjoyed for Hitoshi’s sake, especially after everything he had endured just to make it to her arms. Still, the little boy I used to be was hurt that I’d never been able to feel that kind of love from my own mother.

Tomura’s voice snapped me from my own selfish thoughts. How dare I make this about me. I’m an adult. Hitoshi is a child. How dare I forget that! Tomura’s voice was soft and gravelly, shaking with the effort of speaking. “I already told her that being anywhere near me would be a bad idea,” he explained, trying to get Hizashi and I to understand that he didn’t want to be a burden. That was…unexpected. Something in my heart tugged at the words he spoke, something I couldn’t quite explain. Akira’s eyes found his as he continued to speak, “there are people who want me back with them. Bad people who won’t give up until they find me.”

“Then you definitely have a place in our home,” Hizashi finally cut in again after a long silence, his voice filled with a warmth the way it had when he’d first met Akira. Whenever he spoke to her, pieces of that boy still came out.

My gaze snapped to him, “what?” I asked as my voice cracked.

His eyes snapped up to mine as I heard Akira let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding in for longer than just that evening. It was a relief I hadn’t even known she was in need of. It just further solidified something my heart had been so quick to piece together, but I was still hesitant to accept it. Tomura was more than just a stranger, at least to Akira. He had to be. Hizashi’s eyes were soft, but I could see the pain in them. “Stay with us for a few nights, Sho…just in case. I can’t…I can’t just-” the lump in his throat stopped him from finishing the sentence. His gaze flickered to Akira who was just staring at Tomura with tears of relief in her eyes.

That was when I understood my best friend. As I watched the tears well up in Hizashi’s eyes, I knew that it was because he saw pieces of Akira’s story unfolding before him. It was clear as day that he couldn’t stand to see anyone else go through the same things she had. The things she went through, despite neither of us having total clarity on it, were enough to break him every time he thought of it. No one was there to save her, and now, he felt like it was his responsibility to save Tomura because in doing so, he could save a part of her.

“I can’t leave him,” Akira choked out, standing up straight. Hitoshi’s legs wrapped around her waist as he clung to her. She sniffled, and I watched the tears begin to fall from her eyes. The mere idea of being separated from Tomura was enough to break her. A boy she’d just met. A boy who gave her a fake name. Hitoshi frantically lifted his hand to her face to wipe away the tears. “I don’t know what it is, Sho, but I just…I can’t. It doesn’t make sense to you, but it doesn’t make sense to me either. I know you might not understand why, but…if he…if he doesn’t come home with us, I’m not going home. I’ll protect him out here alone if that’s what it comes to,” she insisted with a trembling voice that was so full of determination that it was almost heartbreaking.

“And if she doesn’t come home, I’m not coming home either,” Hitoshi added in a voice that was filled with just as much conviction as hers was. His eyes met mine, and I felt like I melted into a puddle in that moment. I couldn’t say no to either of them. Not truly.

“How do you say no to that?” Hizashi teased, elbowing me in the side. My heart welled up with gratitude. I had trusted Akira’s instincts when it came to people for so long, so why would I stop now? If she could trust Tomura, then I had to trust her. As my hostility began to shatter, Hizashi continued with a grin, “like father, like son,” he murmured the words meant just for us.

I knew he was teasing me about Hitoshi’s stubbornness. I scoffed, “he gets this from his mother,” I retorted in a low voice so that neither Hitoshi nor Akira could hear me. Hitoshi’s stubbornness when it came to protecting Akira was a trait we both shared, but his immovable nature was a direct result of her influence. I stepped toward Tomura and lifted my hand. His body reacted as if he was preparing for me to hit him. That was when I fully understood what Akira saw in him. Despite not being able to connect in the same way, I understood him better than I had moments before. “Come on, kid. Let’s go home,” I invited him with a smile that I hoped would be reassuring.

When he looked up at me, I saw the same look of gratitude I’d seen in Akira’s eyes the first time we met, and it finally clicked.

~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~

Tomura

My body was stiff as I sat in the backseat with her head on my shoulder. I couldn’t move. Stillness was the only way to keep from hurting her, but I wanted to touch her. I wanted to feel her. She was fast asleep, her head resting against me like even gravity remembered what I was supposed to forget, like the universe had finally righted itself the moment she touched me. The little boy was curled up on the other side of her, his body pressed against hers.

I was afraid to even breathe.

If I breathed, I could move. If I moved, I could touch her. If I touched her, I would kill her.

Again.

My hands clenched together in my lap so tightly that my nails bit into my palms. My neck itched and burned. It felt like something was crawling around inside me, desperate to get out. I scratched at my neck, desperate to find relief as those thoughts found me.

Father was always first. Always.

His shadow filled the doorway back to the memories of the house that was never a home. He stood there like a wall, like a barrier between my sister and I, just as he had always been. He was the reason why she was dead. He was the reason why I was broken. Maybe my quirk wouldn’t have manifested so violently that night if he never hit her, if he never hurt her. I still felt the sharp sting of the belt against my skin as I tried to apologize.

My neck burned hotter, and I kept scratching, trying to peel the memory away.

Mother was there, too, but her memory was quieter. She was like sunlight trapped behind curtains. She was humming in the kitchen. Her gentle nature was what kept the house of horrors from crumbling before my quirk came along. She reached out to me, pulling my hands away from my neck and pressing a cold washcloth to my skin. I pulled away from her, not wanting to be touched. I didn’t like hands. She still smiled, but I knew it hurt her that I didn’t want to be touched by anyone but the only one whose hands had ever protected me. Mother’s hands comforted me after Father’s brutality, but they never kept him from hurting me.

I kept scratching. Harder and harder.

Hana burst into my memories, chasing Mother away. She was loud and bright and too brave, laughing like she could drown out Father if she was loud enough with her love. Mon-chan followed her, prancing behind her with his tongue out and tail wagging. She shoved a chocolate toward me, one of the pieces from her bar that she always saved for my other half and I because Father wouldn’t let us have any sweets, but Hana was the favorite. Mon-chan sat before me, wagging his tail and nuzzling his head against me. I didn’t deserve his kindness. Not in the slightest.

And then the itching stopped.

Because she was there.

Akira had always been there. The light that surrounded those memories, even memories of Father, was her. It was always her. The others were just the background, the supporting cast of characters. Akira was the star. When she burst into my memory in that moment, head heavy against my shoulder, I felt it all. I felt the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, the warmth of her hand in mine. The memories had always seemed so far away, but in that moment, they were close again. She was close.

My other half, the second beat of my heart that I could always hear when the rooms Master locked me in became quiet. Memories of her running to me, of her protecting me, of her throwing herself between Father and I, of her laughing with me. They came back in flashes. I remembered her hands, the way they felt when I held them. They were the last hands I ever held, the last touch of a human being I ever willingly invited. Those hands were always soft, always reaching for me. They were gentle. Those hands never hurt.

She never liked being alone. She hated being in the yard by herself. She hated being away from my side as much as I hated being away from hers. She had 71 stars in her eyes. I used to count them every morning during breakfast and every night before we fell asleep.

But she was gone.

I ruined it because I ruined everything.

I was just saved from the sight of it unlike Mon-chan, Hana, my mother, and my father. I didn’t have to see her body crumble to dust, but Master told me. He told me that my Akira’s hands were the only ones that were unrecoverable because my quirk must’ve destroyed her beyond what he thought possible.

The girl at my side couldn’t have been my Akira, my Player Two. She had her eyes, though. I’d counted those stars out of habit the moment I first met her. She looked just like how I pictured my sister would look if she had the opportunity to grow up, but neither of us had been that lucky. I destroyed the most precious thing in my life before she had the chance to be free of the cage we were in, and I was punished with living my life without her. I’d tried to join her, but Master wouldn’t allow it. When Kurogiri came to us, he took care of me the way I remembered being taken care of only by my sister. He never told me why, only that he made a promise.

When she shifted in her sleep, settling further against me like she trusted me despite what she saw on the train, I stared down at her. For just a moment, the world was quiet. The only sound was the soft hum of the car. The despair, the anger, the rage, it all faded. There was just her.

My eyes stung and grew watery. What’s happening? Not over a stranger! Not over a girl who’s not her! Then, I felt a small hand on my cheek, wiping the wetness from my face. I turned to look at the little boy who was so small but who had been so brave to stand between Shota and Akira, to advocate for me with her. “W-what are you doing?” I asked, my voice cracking as I reached up to wipe my own tears away, not wanting to be seen in such a state.

“I cry when I look at her sometimes, too,” he admitted in a soft voice as he pulled his hand away from my face. He continued with a little smile that formed the smallest dimple, “it’s really easy to love her, even if she’s not your mommy like she’s mine.”

My Akira had been easy to love, too. She was the only person I ever truly loved. She was the only person who had ever loved me.

But she was dead.

No, not dead. She had been destroyed. She was reduced to dust because of me. Master told me that. He told me that my quirk destroyed her. I was atoning for my sin of being born by living a life without her. Master told me, and Master didn’t lie to me. He was honest with me about how much of a monster I was. The only times he hit me were when he had to remind me of what I was or when I told him that I was going to look for her. He told me that there was nothing left for me to safe. He had done me a favor by keeping me from hoping for the impossible.

There was nothing left.

But this girl. She was breathing. She was warm.

She was alive.

My mind was screaming two different stories at the same time, and neither of them would fit inside my skull without tearing something open. She was just a girl who looked like my sister. She couldn’t be my Akira. I couldn’t have spent 11 years of my life believing that she was dead when she was still out in the world. If my sister was alive, she would’ve found me. We didn’t like being away from each other.

“She’s asleep,” I finally murmured to Hizashi, the one driving the car. My voice was hoarse and thin, raw from my quirk. “If you pull over, I can get out, and we can pretend this never happened,” I explained, wanting to end this before it went any further. Despite knowing that it was impossible, I knew a piece of me would start hoping that it wasn’t if I spent another second with the girl who wore my sister’s face.

Hizashi glanced at me in the mirror, his eyes sharp as he searched my own. “That’s not going to happen unless you genuinely want to leave. She could sense that you’re afraid of being caught by whoever’s after you. Hell, even I can see that you don’t want to be found,” he whispered, not wanting to wake up the girl at my side. Hizashi had called her his sister at one point, and that had awoken something protective within me. I didn’t know why, but it was as if he was stealing something from me by claiming her as his own. He continued, “if you truly want to leave, we aren’t gonna keep you against your will, kid.”

Shota’s voice followed, “what he’s trying to say is that we won’t let anyone get to any of you. We’ve done a good job with just Akira and Hitoshi. We’ll do it again with you.”

My fingers curled tighter in my lap, “you don’t understand,” I pressed as the world felt all too fragile with her at my side. “The people looking for me will do whatever it takes, and I don’t…I’ve known her for all of two and a half hours, but she saved me. She saved me without a second thought. She protected me when no one else in my life has ever done that apart from my sister, and she’s been gone for over 10 years,” I explained as my eyes flickered down to her. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder. Something within me twisted, and I felt a warmth that I hadn’t remembered existed. It was like feeling the sunrise after a night that never seemed to end.

Whoever she was, a girl who stole my sister’s face and name or an innocent stranger, I couldn’t let anyone get to her. I couldn’t let anyone hurt her. It was in that moment that my decision was made. I would face any pain to keep her safe because nothing could hurt me more than the idea of her being hurt.

At the mention of my sister, Hizashi and Shota both went completely still, sharing a look with one another that I didn’t understand. It was as if something began clicking in both of their minds, but I just didn’t know the secret and silent language they were speaking in. “Maybe we can try one night at a time instead of you making this big decision all of a sudden,” Hizashi suggested with a voice that I’d heard him use with Akira. It was gentle and full of patience, something I didn’t deserve.

“Da…um…Shota, can you finish the bedtime story?” Hitoshi asked, interrupting the tension in the car. “We were at the part where the fisherman sees the light,” he offered the gentle reminder.

Shota’s smile warmed the coldest corners of my heart. Whoever he was to Hitoshi, I always desired that sort of connection. My sister had left nothing to be desired, but I couldn’t imagine being a child with a father who was so protective and gentle. He began speaking, “okay, get comfortable, sweetheart. I’ll carry you and Mommy inside when we get home,” he promised, and I watched as Hitoshi buried his face into Akira’s side once more. “The light was far away and almost too faint to trust, but it was a light all the same. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t blinding. It was just…there.”

“At first, the fisherman thought it was a trick of his eyes, but his eyes had never been very good to begin with. He blinked, rubbed his face, even prayed quietly to the sea that the light would be real when he opened his eyes again. And it did,” Shota continued in a voice that could’ve put even me to sleep had I not been so entranced. “The light didn’t fix the storm or stop the rain. It didn’t quiet the sea or calm the waves, but it gave him direction, and that meant that he had a chance. That was when he took up his oars again. His arms were weak, and his hands were blistered and bleeding, but he started to row.”

I noticed Hizashi wipe his face in the driver’s seat, and I could see the tears in Shota’s eyes as well. “Lightning struck the water around him, but he kept rowing. When thunder cracked so loud that it felt like the sky was about to open up and crash down on top of him, he kept rowing. When his arms and hands and body began burning, and his shoulders were shaking, he kept rowing. Even when a bolt of lightning tore through his little boat and left holes in the boards, even when the seawater rushed in faster than he could bail it out, he kept rowing because the light was still there.”

It wasn’t about a fisherman or a little light.

“He rowed despite the storm, despite the pain, despite the fear. He rowed because the light existed, and as long as it did, the fisherman had hope that he could reach it. Hours passed, maybe even days—none of us will ever know. The fisherman lost track of time, lost track of everything except the light ahead of him. He didn’t know if he would ever reach it, but he had hope, and that was all he needed. Then, his oar struck something solid. Land.” Shota paused, and I could see the tears in his eyes that he fought back. He cleared his throat softly before continuing, “the fisherman pulled himself from the sinking boat and collapsed onto the shore, staring up at the sky with a smile on his face because despite the storm that continued to rage, it could no longer reach him. All because of that little light that kept him rowing.”

It was about him.

It was about Akira.

“This isn’t worth it if the cost is her safety,” I insisted after a long moment, my voice hardening as I turned my gaze back down to her. If they found me, she could be killed. The thought sent a wild jolt of pain and fear through me. “It’s not worth the lives of good people,” I insisted, tears filling my eyes again.

“You’re good, too,” Hitoshi’s small voice sounded once more, halting me completely.

No one had said that to me since my sister died.

No one.

I just stared at him, searching his eyes to find where the deception was, to find the lie. It didn’t exist. He believed it. He believed I was good. For the first time in 11 years, someone believed I had more to offer the world than destruction and pain. For the first time in 11 years, someone believed I was worth saving. For the first time in 11 years, I had hope again because I had my Akira…or the lie wearing her face. Either way, she was worth saving.

Akira

Sunday evening came faster than I anticipated it would. I stood outside the agency with my bag slung over my shoulder, waiting for the car Shota had arranged to pick me up. He didn’t want me walking to the train station alone despite my insistence that I was perfectly capable of doing so. I just stared up at the sky that was becoming darker by the minute, painted in the most beautiful shades of orange and yellow. I wished so many things were different. Part of me wished being home didn’t mean being cities away from Hawks. Despite his rough around the edges nature, there had to be a reason for it, and we all needed someone to hold onto us and the pieces of ourselves that we didn’t know how to handle. We all needed someone to search through the rubble for our goodness from time to time.

I wanted to be the someone for whoever needed one.

Then, there was also my desperation for things to be different between Shota and I. The conversation from the other night made it clear how close he was becoming to Hitoshi, how attentive he was as a father figure. It made me wish—more than anything—that I was older, that he wasn’t my teacher, that he didn’t know so much of my life, that we were far enough apart that there was still mystery that made me alluring to him. No, that wasn’t true. Not really. I just wanted there to be a chance. I just wanted there to be the possibility that our makeshift family could become something more. Each time I thought of Hawks, I thought of Shota.

I never thought of Hawks when my mind wandered to thoughts of Shota, though. I thought of him whenever I thought of my future, whenever I thought of what I wanted my forever to look like. Then, I was reminded how impossible that was, and I was brought back to the reality that he wouldn’t want me, not he way I wanted him. There were possibilities with other people, though, perhaps. Hawks made me feel something. He frustrated me, but he still made me feel something.

I wanted that with Shota, but I couldn’t be selfish. He deserved to be happy. I couldn’t bring about happiness, not with how I planned on my life playing out. I had to be a hero, but I also had to avenge my brother. From the moment I accepted his death, I decided that my life would be spent hunting down the people who took him from me. Vengeance led to a million little deaths, so pulling Shota into that life would be cruel to him, and I cared enough to protect him from it.

Hawks had asked me out to a final dinner to celebrate the end of my work study, but I didn’t feel like there was anything to celebrate since all I had done was paperwork. I had been nothing more than a glorified secretary for the last week. I felt like a…

A doll.

Searing pain tore through me as I squeezed my eyes shut. Images of him—the man with the white hair and red eyes—flashed in my mind. His smile. His suit. The way the blood splattered onto me.

I was a doll.

No! No, no, no, no, no! I’m not there. I’m not in the basement. He’s not here. I’m not a doll. I’m Akira. My name is Akira Yamada. What did it used to be? I’m a monster. Father says I’m a monster. No! I’m not there. I’m not a doll. I’m in Class 2-A at U.A. high school. I’m not a doll. I’m a hero in training. I have an adoptive older brother, Hizashi. I was bought. I was purchased. A doll. No! I’m not a doll. I have a son, Hitoshi. My teacher is Shota Aizawa. I’m not a doll. My owner isn’t here. I’m not a doll.

But I am a monster.

“Hey,” a familiar voice pulled me from my terror, and I opened my eyes to see Hawks standing at my side.

My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath. “Hey,” I responded, not even bothering to look up at him as I scrambled to find any ounce of control over the storm raging within me. The air around me felt thin, as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere.

Hawks leaned against the wall beside me, hands tucked into his pockets as his shoulder brushed against mine. Something about the unexpected closeness pulled me back to the present more than his voice had. It grounded me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than I had anticipated. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded. “I’ve been an ass,” he admitted, finally glancing over at me.

I felt the heat of his gaze the way I had for the entire week up until that point. Where he thought he had been consistently subtle in the ways he looked at me, I’d been fully aware of his eyes each and every time, I just hadn’t been fast enough to catch him. I glanced up at him, seeking that same grounding that I hoped would exist in the mere sight of him. He was an ass, but he was still beautiful. The only person who could deny his physical beauty was someone who was blind, and even then, I was sure they’d be able to feel it since they had superpowers of their own.

When my eyes locked with his, it took my breath away. He had always made a point to look away, to not meet my eyes when he had been staring at me only seconds prior. In that moment, though, he held my gaze. Golden eyes threatened to reduce me to nothing but ash. My heart leapt up into my throat, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. He was who every girl would fall for. On the surface, he was the perfect man. He was charming, good-looking, and had the capability to keep up with me in a battle of wits. He always had a rebuttal for every jab I made at him, and I was always able to return it.

But he wasn’t Shota.

He was also indecisive about who he was going to be on any particular day. The man from our late-night texts when I was away from the work study was someone I could’ve envisioned something with, but upon returning, he lost that warmth with me.

I nodded my head in response to his previous statement. “You have been,” I agreed without even a trace of hesitation in an attempt to spare his feelings. He hadn’t spared mine on Friday night when he spoke of my brother, so I didn’t feel like I owed him much in the way of grace.

For a moment, he said nothing, and we just stood in a comfortable silence. When I turned my eyes back to the sky, his stayed locked on me. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained. There was something oddly bittersweet about it, and it felt like exactly what I needed, especially after memories of my owner…after memories of All For One rushed back to me. It allowed my tangled feelings to settle and allowed space for us to hear the unspoken words of the other. I heard his apology in the words he didn’t say, and I hoped he could hear mine.

Guilt still prickled at the edges of my mind. I’d hit him. Regardless of what was said that elicited that reaction from me, it was still unacceptable. I was better than that. I had to be better than that. I wouldn’t end up like my father or the men from the basement. I wouldn’t become the very thing I hated, the very thing I fought against. “I shouldn’t have hit you the other-”

“Stop,” he cut me off, his voice firm but not harsh. There was a softness that made a lump form immediately in my throat. My head snapped up to meet his gaze again, and the man standing before me was the one I’d gotten to know through our texts and voice messages. It wasn’t the pro hero I’d just spent the last week with but the man who had sent me a picture of a sparrow. “Let me make it up to you,” he offered, his voice lower than it had been before, as if it was a secret between just the two of us.

My brows furrowed as I searched his eyes to find the meaning behind his words. Make it up to me? What did that mean? “With what? More paperwork?” I questioned with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

His smirk was small and hesitant. There was a hint of bashfulness in it, which was something I hadn’t expected to see in him, especially when he was so confident and self-assured on the surface. Who was he really? Who was the man behind the persona? With the way he looked at me in that moment, I realized that I was catching another glimpse of the man behind the cold exterior. His cheeks tinged a soft pink. “Nah, this is something way better,” he grinned, his voice dropping once more as he leaned in closer to me. Playfulness danced in his eyes as he looked down at me, and I leaned forward as my breath hitched in anticipation. “It’s something I think you’ve been missing lately,” he continued with a wink.

I made a show of checking the time on my phone—6:37 pm—before shrugging. “Sorry, but my work study officially ended about seven minutes ago,” I teased, trying to play it cool despite the heart ached with curiosity to know how he wanted to “make it up to me.”

“Exactly,” he countered as his grin widened, showing off those perfect teeth and that perfect smile. I wonder…what would it be like to kiss him? My cheeks flared as he turned his entire body to face me, his left shoulder still leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest, “come fly with me.”

A rush of longing crashed into me like violent waves against a rocky cliffside. I hadn’t flown since Hiza City. The longing was for more than just flying, more than feeling the wind in my hair and the freedom that came with not being tethered to the ground. The longing was also to be close to him again, to be seen by him again in a way he hadn’t seen me since Hiza City. We understood each other in a way. In the sky, it felt like he had been able to truly see me, and I had been able to catch glimpses of him in each smile. Still, I was terrified to allow myself to hope, scared that if I let myself dream, it could be torn away from me like it had been when I arrived back at the work study. “You…but you said I wasn’t supposed to leave the ground while I-”

“I say a lot of things,” he interrupted me with a shrug of his shoulders as he stepped closer until the heat of him surrounded me entirely. His right wing extended slightly, brushing against my shoulder as if he was trying to coax me into stepping closer and taking him up on his offer. I watched as he shivered at the sudden contact, but I couldn’t ask before he continued speaking in a nearly breathless voice, “you don’t belong on the ground, Stardust. You belong as close to the stars as you can get, so…let me take you up there.”

The way he said my hero name made every little hair on my body stand on edge. There was something about the way the name rolled off his tongue that made me feel like I was the only person who existed in that moment, like his eyes were made to witness me, and I was made to be seen by him. It wasn’t the way he’d said it when we first met, like he was trying to tear me apart for my choice of hero name. It was softer, like he was trying to piece together the fragments of me that were hidden in the shadows that I tried to pretend didn’t exist. He saw through that exterior the same way I saw through his.

My defenses felt like they melted from around my heart, leaving me feeling exposed in a way I didn’t like. I backed away from him, brushing against the wing that had caressed my arm moments prior. Despite the shiver that tore through his body again and the way his body stiffened and cheeks filled with color, I tore my eyes away from him. “I…um…I have to wait for the ride Shota arranged for me,” I stammered, trying to find an excuse to avoid the situation. I didn’t like the way my heart was pounding in my chest or the way my knees weakened in his presence. I didn’t like things I didn’t have control over, and I didn’t have control over anything when he was around.

I felt his sharpening gaze, setting my chest ablaze with curiosity and something like desire. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t want him the way I did Shota. Shota was like home. He was like the warmth of a fire in winter. Hawks was like the sun, and I was like a flower that yearned to turn its face in his direction. I was like Icarus, and he was the sun. “I cancelled the ride,” he confessed, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer once more. “I’ll bring you to the station myself once we’re finished, but I just…I’d like a few more moments before you go home,” he confessed as his eyes softened. All the sharp edges of him became smooth in that moment, and I could see the vulnerability beneath the surface, the pieces of him that he also tried to hide.

Wanting to believe that the distance between us could shrink, I forced thoughts of the impossible future with Shota to the back of my mind and focused on what was right in front of me.

I was in his arms before I even realized it, before I even realized I had stepped forward. His arms were strong, wrapped beneath my knees and around my back as we rocketed into the sky. I felt the wind whip through my hair. The rush of weightlessness and being so high up made my stomach flip over itself. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I clung to him tightly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I wasn’t afraid of the fall, but there was something about being in his arms that beckoned me to hold on tighter.

All my doubts and fears and frustrations with him faded away as we soared higher and higher, the city lights spreading out beneath us. 

“I forgot how good this feels,” I gasped out, the words stolen by the wind. We carved graceful arcs through the darkening sky, the world tilting beneath us in a dizzying, exhilarating dance. It had been so long since I felt this free, since the weight of responsibility and grief had lifted from my shoulders, replaced by the intoxicating lightness of flying away. Hiza City felt so long ago, but the weight of it all felt so close at the same time. I wanted to fly again, to feel the freedom that came with it, to let go of the crushing weight of the world and just exist. I could do that while I was in the air.

“Me, too,” Hawks murmured close to my ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. I felt the warmth of him, a fire licking against my skin despite the chill that nipped at my exposed cheeks while in the sky. It wasn't just the physical warmth that I felt from him; it was the warmth of his presence, the feeling of being seen by someone who had clearly been through his own hell and protected himself in similar ways that I did. He hid it. He masked it under grins and flashy smiles and sarcasm, but I could see it.

I stared up into his eyes, forgetting the world below us for a moment. As I smiled, I saw the teasing glint in my own eyes as that familiar spark returned to my chest. It was something that hadn’t been there since before Hiza City. While Hitoshi breathed life back into me, Hawks reminded me of the girl I used to be, the girl I was before the basement. “You fly all the time, so you must be used to it by now,” I challenged him, trying to bring back the banter that had been lost between us since I returned to the work study, “so how could you miss something you do all the time?”

His breath hit my neck like a secret between just the two of us—we were high enough in the sky that no one would ever know what he said apart from me—that sent a shiver racing down my spine. Part of the thrill was how this would be entirely against the rules. I was a student at U.A., and he was my mentor for my work study despite being only two years older than me. It would be frowned upon for us to be so close, so…reckless.

I didn’t care.

“I wasn’t talking about flying,” he whispered, the words laced with a hidden meaning that made my heart skip a beat. I could feel his gaze on me, intense and knowing, and it was as if he saw straight through the carefully constructed walls I had built around myself, down to the raw, vulnerable core that yearned for connection. His arms tightened around me as he kept me anchored to him but in a way that made me continue to feel weightless.

It stole the air from my lungs and left me breathless. It was more than just a casual remark; it was a confession, a glimpse into the depths of his own feelings that he usually kept so carefully guarded. The words hung in the air between us, charged with unspoken desires and a longing that mirrored my own. It was a dangerous admission, one that threatened to shatter even the nonexistent boundaries between us. It pulled me closer, tying a thread around my throat and tightening it until I could barely breathe.

With my consistent pleas for him to fly us higher and higher in an attempt to chase away the shadows that lingered on the streets below, I felt something shift between us. My fingers stroked the back of his neck where they tangled into his golden hair. The motions were mindless, but I couldn’t stop them even after I realized what I was doing. He obeyed my every request without hesitation as his power surged, and he brought us higher into the evening air, wings beating harder as the city lights became a glittering tapestry beneath us.

In his arms, I felt untouchable. In his eyes, I felt beautiful. In his arms, I felt like the only girl in the world.

“Now…” I breathed out as my heart pounded so violently it threatened to drown out the silence and gentle wind around us while we hovered in the sky, “…let me go.”

The words hung in the silence between us. They were stark and sudden.

“What?!” Hawks asked as he pulled back slightly, his arms tightening around me almost instinctively. His wide eyes searched mine as if looking for any sign of lightheartedness. I’d said a few things in our early days of my first round as his work study student that was just to get a reaction out of him or to test where the boundaries were and what could be considered too far. The amusement that had been dancing within his golden eyes only moments before had vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine concern.

A part of me reveled in the intensity, relished in knowing that I could evoke such a visceral reaction from him, but I pushed it aside, knowing I had to get him to understand.

“Drop me,” I insisted again as I gazed up at him. That familiar, reckless spark flickered alive inside me, igniting a fire within my soul that had been dormant for far too long. It was a dangerous game I was playing, pushing him, testing the boundaries of our bond, but a part of me craved the thrill, yearned for the freedom that came with defying expectations.

“What part of that sounds like something I would actually do?” he questioned as his signature bravado returned. He tilted his head, one brow cocked in that familiar, challenging way that always sent a shiver down my spine. He was teasing me, testing my limits, but there was something else there, too: a hint of intrigue, a spark of curiosity about just how far I was willing to go. Despite pushing me harder than Endeavor had, Hawks hadn’t pumped the brakes on my borderline self-destructive cravings like being dropped from the sky.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to get him to understand that I wasn’t afraid. “You pushed me off buildings when I was first exploring the other applications of my quirk and the possibility of manifesting wings in the first place,” I tossed back, my voice light despite the frantic thumping of my heart against my ribs. Memories of those early days flooded my mind, the trust he forced upon me despite our newness to one another and the camaraderie that had formed between us as we both pushed each other to our limits. He’d push me until my quirk was forced to adapt, and in chasing my plummeting body, he pushed himself faster and faster each time to ensure he made it to me in time to catch me.

“I won’t manifest the wings if that’s what you’re nervous about—I’m not even sure if I can anymore—but…” I shrugged again as a gesture meant to convey my nonchalance over the situation, but it still wasn’t enough to hide the determination burning within me that shone in my eyes. I saw it in their reflection within his own eyes. The truth was that I missed it all. I missed flying, the feeling of the wind beneath the wings, the rush of soaring through the sky completely untethered. More than that, I missed the person I was when I was free.

“I love the fall.”

“You love the rush,” he countered, his wings flexing as he dipped us back into a breathtaking dive, the city lights blurring into streaks beneath us.

I shook my head, my hair whipping around my face as the air rushed past, the exhilaration of the drop twisting through me like electricity. It was more than just the adrenaline, it was the feeling of being alive, the sense of defying gravity and expectations, of pushing myself beyond the limits of what was possible. “I love the life in it. I miss being free,” I finally confessed, hoping that he’d understand me, that as someone who had lived through his own hell, he could see my desire to shed those memories even if only for a moment.

His gaze dropped to me, and I felt exposed. The teasing glint had vanished from his eyes, replaced by something new, something raw that made my breath catch in my throat. There was a tenderness that I didn’t know existed within him. I met it head-on, feeling the twist in my stomach unravel and knot again as the unspoken words hung heavy in the air between us. There was an unspoken promise in that look, the kind of promise that only comes from shared pain and understanding. He saw me. For the first time, he truly understood me. He didn’t have to know my past, didn’t have to see the remains of the girl who had burned herself alive in a desperate attempt to provide warmth to those around her, especially in that basement. He didn’t need to know me to understand me in that moment.

“I won’t let you hit the ground,” Hawks finally promised, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against something deep within me, something that tightened in my lower abdomen. There was a weight to his words, a gravity that pulled me impossibly closer. He had my very life in his hands. He could let me go and just watch me fall. That sort of dependence on him was terrifying, but it was also thrilling.

I nodded once. “I know. I trust you,” I whispered back, the words barely audible as I lost myself in the intensity of his gaze and the promise behind those eyes. I knew he heard the words, though. It was a declaration, a surrender, and a leap of faith all at once, and I knew that he would catch me.

He let go.

The sudden freefall was a dizzying rush, a plunge into the unknown that ripped the breath from my lungs and sent my stomach plummeting towards my toes. The world spun around me in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations.

The city lights blurred into streaks of golds, blues, whites, and crimsons as I tumbled weightless through the sky. I slimmed my body into the fall, arms tucked close to my sides, as I picked up speed. The wind roared in my ears, but I laughed. It was the sound of complete and utter exhilaration. Nothing mattered but the sky and the wind and the feeling of letting go.

There was no fear, no panic, only a wild, exhilarating joy that burst inside me like fireworks, illuminating every dark corner of my soul. Shota told me once before that I shouldn’t throw myself toward death, but I wasn’t throwing myself toward death, I was clinging to the feeling of living. Truly living. That meant embracing every piece of it, which included the risks. If I wasn’t taking risks, was I truly living at all?

Shivers of pure pleasure spiraled down my spine as I surrendered to the sky, basking in the feeling of my fate being in someone else’s hands. Part of me knew it then that my recklessness was born from a deeper need to join my brother, and if someone stopped me again—as Shota had done years prior in the bathroom—I’d accept another day of life. I didn’t want to believe that those thoughts still lingered in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t deny them. It was part of the reason I craved the fall because there was a possibility that Hawks would be too slow.

And then I’d see him again.

My other half.

My Player One.

Before the ground could even register as a threat, those strong arms caught me. As quickly as thoughts of my brother had flashed through my mind, they were replaced by the heat of his body against mine. I clung to Hawks, breathless and dizzy. My heart hammered against my ribs like a hummingbird’s wings, a frantic rhythm that echoed the wild joy still coursing through my veins. His arms tightened around me as he molded me against him. His embrace was so tight that it felt like he was trying to fuse us together, like we were once one body that had been torn apart and he was desperate to stitch us back together.

Everything about the world itself seemed to ease in that moment. The wind died down to a gentle breeze, and the city lights no longer seemed as harsh as they had before. Despite not being close to the ground, I felt steady.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my voice husky with an emotion I hadn’t yet found the right words for—if there even was any. It was a tangled mess of gratitude, relief, longing, and something else entirely that I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t what I felt for Shota, and it wasn’t what I felt for the first boy who ever kissed me. I couldn’t name whatever the feeling was, but it was as exhilarating as the fall had been.

He searched my eyes, as if looking for answers to his own questions. Good luck. I can’t even figure out the answers to my own questions. His wings beat slowly, steadying us as we drifted toward the cliffs overlooking the city. “It’s like you were alive again for the first time since coming back,” he spoke softly as his eyes roamed over my face, taking in every detail of my features. I felt vulnerable, but I didn’t feel afraid of that vulnerability, which was strange. I didn’t feel self-conscious. That was something only a few people had ever managed to make me feel.

I didn’t respond to him right away, not entirely knowing how, really. I felt speechless, like just existing was enough.

He adjusted his hold as the air shifted around us while his wings beat slower and slower. They quieted around us, like he was trying to create a bubble of stillness in the chaos of the world. The gentle breeze still danced through my hair, but the wind no longer whipped across my clothes and face. I gazed down at the city once more, the one he was flying us to the outskirts of. It shimmered like a spill of glitter that someone had forgotten to clean up. As the sky grew darker, lights began flickering on in the buildings, and tiny moving headlights traced the lines of the roads below. It all looked so small.

I was so far from the world that cornered me once upon a time.

As he angled us toward the cliffs, I felt my body relax. I felt…safe. The thought of feeling safe with him—with anyone who wasn’t Hizashi or Shota—startled me. “Safe” wasn’t a word I gave away easily. It was something I rationed and clutched in both hands, hiding it behind my myself and out of sight because once people knew they were a safe place for me, they had the power to hurt me. I wouldn’t be a victim again. Safety existed in my apartment with Hizashi. Safety was Shota’s arms. Safety was laced into Hitoshi’s laugh, though I was the one who forced safety wherever he existed. I didn’t know what it was about Hawks that drew me in and made me feel the way I did.

I didn’t even know if it was true safety I felt with him or if it was simply familiarity.

He dipped lower as the cliff edge came into view. There was a flat shelf of a rock that jutted out over the valley, like the earth itself had leaned forward to watch the city below, itching to see the life that was just out of reach. The air smelled clean and fresh, laced with the scent of pine and earth.

He landed without a sound, but he still didn’t place me on the ground immediately, allowing me one more fleeting moment of weightlessness before setting me down. When my boots finally touched the ground, I felt a pang of loss. My stomach lurched as if it resented being tethered again. Despite having settled me on the ground, though, he didn’t unravel his arm from where it was still locked around the small of my waist.

When he did loosen his arm, I wanted to beg for the warmth once more. I cleared my throat before staring out at the city, like it could distract me from the way my skin still craved his touch, the way his hands had felt against me, the way his eyes had reduced me to ash, the way his arms felt around my body. “Why did you bring me up here?” I asked, careful not to tread too close to the edge of his vulnerability. I knew that asking too many prying questions could send him running back behind the walls he’d crafted with such meticulous care.

He stepped toward the edge with the casual confidence of someone who’d never been afraid of falling. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket as he looked down at the city while the wind tugged at his hair, lifting the golden strands and brushing them across his face. It took everything in me not to reach out and smooth them back, to cup his cheeks and just gaze up into those knife-sharp eyes. “I like coming up here to think,” he finally answered. His voice didn’t carry the usual bravado, just a quiet honesty that I’d been seeking from him since I’d returned to the work study.

The sky was growing darker, deepening into a cobalt color. On the opposite end of the sky, a final ribbon of orange stretched across the horizon, like the last breath of daylight before it whispered goodnight to the moon. “I’ve been coming up here a lot recently, especially after Hiza City, but…I’ve been here every night this week after you go to sleep. It’s just…it’s my own private little spot where I can just exist as myself. I’m not a hero up here. I can just be…me.”

My chest tightened at those words. For the first time, he drew the curtain back himself and let me see him. It wasn’t something I had to dig through the rubble to find. He simply opened the door and invited me in. I could understand that piece. The idea of taking off the mask and stepping away from the expectations that came with being something to anyone…I understood that. The idea of letting your raw and bruised self breathe for a moment was a luxury that heroes didn’t have, especially ones who were so well-known and so loved by the public like those in the top 10. Hawks was only two years older than me, which meant that he was also still trying to figure his life out on top of it all.

I swallowed hard as my eyes traced the slope of his shoulders, the way his wings tucked closer to him as if trying to shield him from the world. I’d watched those wings all week, even before during my first work study. They reacted to everything around him. They twitched when he was irritated. They flared when he was defensive. They tucked into his back when he was tired or calm. They went rigid and sharpened when he had the look of fear in his eyes.

In that moment, they were still, like he had finally stopped bracing for impact.

“Do you ever get tired of being everyone’s hero?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I had expected. It was threaded with nerves I didn’t want to admit to, once again remembering what happened when I dug too deep on my very first dinner with him. I remembered how easily his words sharpened when he felt cornered, how unsafe it felt to be in his presence, and the way he sought to hurt me in an effort to keep me at arm’s length.

His jaw ticked, and he lifted his chin slightly as if he was trying to keep the weight of his brewing answer from pressing too heavily onto him. His eyes narrowed at the sprawling city like it had personally offended him.

“Only when people forget that I’m still just a human being,” he answered after a long moment of silence.

The wind felt like it shifted, threatening to throw me off balance as I took in his words. Perhaps it wasn’t the gentle breeze that did it but instead the weight of his admission. One of his feathers trembled, and it became harder to breathe as I felt the vulnerability he had just allowed me to witness. I was in uncharted territory with him, and I didn’t know how to proceed, so I just turned my head to study him. Not the pro hero. Not the hero in the top ten. Not the grin or the swagger. Not the one who hid behind sarcasm and bravado.

Him.

A boy.

He was still just a boy who carried the world like it was both a privilege and a punishment wrapped into one package. He was still just a boy who felt like he had to be everything or else he was nothing. He was still just a boy fighting for his place in the world.

He was still just a boy.

“I don’t forget,” I whispered, the words coming out quieter than I had meant, like my voice was trying to honor the sacredness of the moment. The words had escaped me before I could filter them and decide whether or not they were safe to say.

His gaze snapped to mine, and for the briefest moment, the air between us tightened. It suddenly felt like I was standing on a tightrope, unable to see the other side or the ground below me. I didn’t have the safety of his arms to fall into or my own wings to catch me. I felt suspended, exposed, and unstable. It was as if we were both standing on the edge of something that wasn’t just the cliff.

“Yeah…” he finally exhaled, and the edge of the cliff felt a little further away than it had only a breath prior. Once more, his gaze softened as he turned back to the far-away city. “That’s what scares me most about you, Akira,” he confessed with a slight tremor in his voice.

There was a pulse of something warm that moved beneath my skin as if he was clawing his way beneath the surface and embedding himself into me. I scared him? Why? Because he couldn’t hide? Because I saw him? Because it meant that I could hurt him?

My eyes moved back to the city, like it was safer to look at the distant lights than to keep watching him and risk catching his gaze. He moved to lower himself onto the ground, sitting with his legs dangling off the edge of the cliff with a casual ease that made my stomach flip. Despite him having wings to keep himself from being hurt should he fall, my protective instincts still flared. His legs dangled over the sheer drop as they swung slightly. His wings shifted and adjusted until they settled comfortably behind him.

He patted the rock beside him once, a silent invitation for me to join him. I hated myself for hesitating as I stared down at the seat he was offering me. I didn’t know what he wanted from our time together, especially when the final train would depart in about two hours, and I’d have to catch one of them. Still, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sit beside him and see what else he would allow me to see.

The stone was cold as I sat beside him, allowing my legs to dangle over the edge with his. We were close, and the space we took up felt like a secret.

The night above us thickened as the stars peppered the darkening sky like someone was placing them with the utmost care as we sat in our comfortable silence. I found myself thinking of Hitoshi again, of how he was probably staring up at the same stars as I was, wishing to be in my arms almost as much as I was wishing to hold him. The thought steadied me.

When Hawks shifted his weight beside me, his shoulder brushed against mine the way it had when we were standing outside the agency. I believed it to be accidental when we were standing, but it felt more deliberate in that moment on the edge of the cliff. “You know,” he murmured, his voice turning back into its usual teasing tone, “the view’s even better from where I’m sitting,” he grinned, lowering the mask back down because the honesty of his previous confession had clearly cut a bit too close.

I shot him a sideways glance, a smirk playing on my lips. “Is that so?” I asked, my voice laced with playful challenge as I leaned a bit closer to him, testing the view out for myself.

He leaned back on his hands, allowing his posture to loosen a bit. He cleared his throat, “yeah…way better.”

“I think you just want me closer,” I teased with a soft laugh, the sound escaping me like it was easier than breathing. He made it easy to laugh with him. Sure, Hawks could be a jerk, but he was also still just a man at the end of the day. We were all entitled to our bad days.

He flashed a grin over toward me, and my chest tightened. “You can’t prove that, you know,” he countered in his usual smooth tone.

I rolled my eyes and tried to fight back the smile that was threatening to take over my face as I scooted an inch closer to him. And then another. The movement was small. I tried to make it seem like it was accidental, like I was simply trying to adjust and find a more comfortable position, but he and I both knew better. As I leaned back on my hands, mirroring his own position, I felt his pinky brush against mine.

The contact was barely there, and it was feather-light, as if he was asking a question that neither of us were quite certain we were ready to answer. It wasn’t even a full touch, just the softest graze of his skin against my own. It was too deliberate to be nothing.

My whole body reacted like it was an alarm, waking something up within me. It wasn’t loud or violent, but every nerve within me came alive all at once, like a spark had ignited somewhere deep within my core and spread outward. The heat pooled in my chest before spreading down my arms and into my fingertips where they tingled with the sensation of his touch. It was as if I could feel the warmth of him as deep as my blood.

My breath caught halfway in and stalled in my lungs like they were too afraid to finish the motion and let the moment pass us by. I froze. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe or blink. I couldn’t speak.

Hawks didn’t freeze, though. He didn’t look at our hands or shift away either. He didn’t brush it off and pretend it didn’t happen. Instead, he let the moment stretch between us. He allowed time to pass lazily as the air thickened with whatever was building within me. He allowed me the opportunity to decide whether I wanted to pull away or lean in. He gave me the power of choice, which was something I didn’t think many men had the capability of doing after the basement.

Then, his pinky drifted again. It was slow and deliberate, not searching or pressing. It was the soft, intentional slide of skin against skin, like he was tracing the outline of a secret he wasn’t brave enough to speak aloud. When he curled his pinky around mine, that was when the warmth and realization hit me at the same time.

I had never seen him let anyone touch him like that. Not fans who shrieked his name from behind barricades. Not the wide-eyed admirers who lunged forward with trembling hands and pictures clutched to their chests. Not the reporters who leaned too close, hoping for a soundbite and a brush of his sleeve to take home like a relic. Not even the people he saved who reached out to thank him with tear-streaked faces and shaking hands.

He always stepped back from everyone with a smile. He always calmed them with words before their arms or hands could reach him. He kept space between himself and everyone else. He never let anyone touch him, not even when he wore his hero persona. He was generous with attention, but he was not generous with touch. Shota had been the only other person like that. Hizashi loved physical affection, but Shota hated it unless the hands were familiar to him. I knew where it came from with him, and I could only imagine that Hawks had similar reasons for his aversion to touch.

There he was, though, letting his finger curl around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. He let us sit in the silence of that moment as if interrupting it with words would be sacrilegious. The realization of just how much trust he was placing in me made my breath stutter once more, and my pulse stumbled as well. It wasn’t pride that bloomed in me at the realization that I’d been trusted with such a rare thing. It wasn’t even a sense of triumph that I felt.

I was in awe.

I understood that his touch wasn’t casual or careless. His touch was intentional. It was an active choice he made, one that required a great deal of vulnerability on his part. To anyone else, it might have looked like a simple gesture, but I knew how angry a touch could be, and I guessed that Hawks had learned the same lessons that I had, too. His touch was like a prayer, a desperate plea just to be seen.

My eyes stung as something soft and aching unfurled in my chest. Warmth continued to ripple through me as I drew another inch closer to him, wordlessly accepting his silent offer of closeness. Every thought seemed to scatter in a million different directions, leaving behind only the awareness of his hand and the gentleness of his touch.

A shiver ran through me before I could stop it. His gaze flickered to my face instantly, studying my features with a look of immediate concern. “Are you cold?” he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness that I wasn’t expecting, especially after the week we had shared.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, though I wasn’t entirely sure if it was true. I wasn’t cold, or if I was, I couldn’t feel it to the point of shivering; however, I couldn’t tell him that the sudden shiver had been caused by the way his touch made me feel. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling with his touch.

He hummed like he didn’t believe me, but before I could protest, he was shrugging out of his jacket. The motion was quick and fluid, like he was used to the act of giving the shirt off his back to someone in need. He quickly draped the warm fabric over my shoulders. The motion was far too intimate after spending the week pretending I was nothing more than a stranger, but I couldn’t find it in me to protest, not as his scent filled my senses. A warm spring breeze, a campfire on a cool summer night, and worn in denim. I wanted to bury my face in his jacket and breathe him in like he was oxygen.

I wanted to push it back toward him, to insist that I didn’t need it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t do it after seeing the pleased look on his face as he watched me wrap the jacket tighter around myself. The wind brushed past us again, winding through my hair. It was cooler with the sun finally gone, and I felt the chill against the side of my face and neck.

One of his wings shifted behind me. The feathers fanned out and curved around my side like a wall, blocking the wind. It wasn’t as dramatic as it usually was when he was the pro hero Hawks. This was just him. It was instinct. It was protective in a way that didn’t require words or effort or permission. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d done it until the wing settled and his posture went still like his very body had betrayed him.

My throat tightened. “You didn’t have to,” I murmured softly.

“I wanted to,” he whispered back, his eyes remaining locked on the city, but his voice carried a genuineness that was becoming more and more natural.

The words landed in my chest like a stone that had been thrown into a lake. It caught my heart before sinking down toward my stomach. Wanting was dangerous because wanting led to needing and needing led to loss. I couldn’t let myself need anyone, not the way I had already found myself needing Hitoshi, Shota, Hizashi, and Seirei. I couldn’t need more people. I couldn’t need Hawks like that. I just couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that fate, either. It was always a more merciful fate to escape my life when people had the chance.

I couldn’t pull away, though. I couldn’t find the strength needed to break the connection that had formed between us in that moment, so I just watched the city lights and tried to pretend that I couldn’t feel my own heartbeat in the tips of my fingers. As his wing curved around my body even further, I glanced up at the crimson feathers. They looked so soft, softer than what seemed possible since they could lift us both into the sky. I lifted my right hand slowly, and felt his pinky tightening around my left one as the tips of my fingers hovered near the edge of his wing.

I didn’t touch it—not yet—but I simply reached for it, testing to see if he’d pull away.

He didn’t.

So I did what my body had decided on before my mind and heart could catch up with the idea. I allowed my fingers to brush gently over the soft edge of the very tip of a feather. It was softer than anything I’d ever felt before. I’d never felt it with my skin before, only ever over my clothes. It wasn’t like fur or silk or anything I’d ever touched before. It was warm and soft like the petals of the cherry blossoms my first love gifted to me on Sekoto Peak when I was only 10. The boy with the broken quirk.

The feather I touched gave beneath my fingertips, bending slightly as I stroked it. It sprang back into shape once I pulled my hand away. Hawks didn’t move, not at first. The only sign that I hadn’t imagined the moment was the sudden and sharp stillness in his body, like he’d turned to stone beneath my fingertips. The feathers all trembled, a wave of fluttering passing through each of them, but his body had gone rigid. I’d crossed boundaries before without meaning to, and I’d hurt people without meaning to, like when I slapped him.

I started to pull my hand away further, but then the feathers quivered once more, almost as if they were reaching for me. It was as if they were begging for just one more touch, one more moment of connection. When one of them brushed against my fingertips, I listened as his breath caught. It was a barely-there sound, but it was enough to send a shudder through me.

When I dared to glance up at his face, I saw the flush of his cheeks. It wasn’t bright and playful like when we teased each other too much when we first met, and it wasn’t the color it had been when I nearly caught him staring at me over the last week. No, this was different. It was the color that crept up from the base of his neck and spread across his cheeks, nose, and ears. It was the color that came from when we were caught feeling something we hadn’t meant to feel. It was the same color that my cheeks turned when Shota adjusted my stance during my training after the Hiza City incident. I felt the sudden warmth on my cheeks when I thought of his hands for the rest of the day.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed out. “Did it…did it hurt?” I asked in a voice that sounded unfamiliar even to me, especially when that voice was directed at Hawks. It was gentler than it had ever been with him. There was a careful tenderness in it that I didn’t know I had in me for him. Part of me was also scared. I never wanted to be the thing that made people pull away.

He let out a breath that seemed to shake him, his shoulders tensing and relaxing and then tensing again. It was like watching someone fight their own instincts in real time, trying to decide whether or not to let go of the control they’d fought so hard to maintain. “No,” he finally said, his voice rough as if the word had to squeeze its way out through everything he refused to say. He cleared his throat, trying to hold onto the control that was slipping away from him. “It’s just…just…sensitive,” he tried to explain without actually explaining anything.

Sensitive?

My brain snagged on the word, trying to understand what he meant by it. The feathers were soft, but I hadn’t hurt him, so how could they be sensitive? I couldn’t help myself as I reached out once more, my fingers brushing against the fine edge of another crimson feather. I was even gentler that time, as though testing the waters once more to see if a different weight of my finger could elicit a different response.

His wing trembled once more, a ripple moving through each of the feathers as they shifted ever so slightly. They reached out to me once more, and I allowed my fingers to dance along the soft tips of multiple feathers, letting my touch be as light as a whisper.

“A-Akira…” my name left him as a breathy whimper. It wasn’t a warning or a command. It sounded more like a plea or…perhaps a prayer. A prayer uttered in the sanctuary he had built solely for me with bloodied hands from having sifted through the rubble of my past to find the version of myself that I recognized so well.

His eyes connected with mine when I turned my head back to look from the wing to his face. There was the same look in them that I’d seen countless times over our time together, but I could finally name it after all this time. Longing. I didn’t know what he longed for, but I could see it in his eyes in that moment. His cheeks deepened to a burning sunset pink, and when I cocked my head in a desperate attempt to read him, a new look clouded his expression.

Hunger.

It wasn’t predatory or monstrous. It wasn’t something I wanted to run from. It didn’t scare me. It wasn’t the hunger that I’d witnessed in the men from the basement. Their hunger was ravenous. Their hunger was violent and destructive. Their hunger left behind broken girls and bloodied bodies. His hunger was different. It was a hunger that was begging to be fed, to be filled, to be taken care of. It was as if he had been starving for long enough that something as simple as a gentle touch felt like too much.

Desperate to fix the tension that hung between us, I pulled my hand away from his wing. “I’m sorry. I just thought that since you didn’t pull away…” my voice trailed off as I tried to find the right words. What was I going to say to him? What could I say to him?

I heard him swallow and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. I wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel it move. I wanted to kiss his neck. What?! What am I even thinking?! He finally spoke and broke me from my reverie, “I don’t think I could pull away from you even if I wanted to,” he confessed, and the weight of it threatened to drown me in a million questions.

If he didn’t think he could pull away from me, then why had we been through the last week of pretending the other was a stranger? Why had we been so distant with one another? Why had he gone from sending me pictures of sparrows because they made him think of me to barely acknowledging me at the agency?

“Did I do something wrong by touching you?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded because it betrayed the vulnerability I was trying to hide from him. Despite seeing the courage in his own vulnerability, I recognized that I didn’t have the same strength he had.

He mustered a laugh that seemed to bring light back into the world that had grown darker with every word that passed between us. “No,” he responded quickly with a shake of his head. It was clear that he was trying to ease my own fear that I had somehow done something wrong. Then, his voice softened even more, mirroring the way it sounded when he whispered my name, “you just…you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Something inside me tightened. I hadn’t felt the sensation before, but with the way he said it and the way he looked at me, I felt it. I was suddenly aware of how close we were and how his fingers spread further toward mine as he stroked my knuckles with his other fingers, keeping my pinky locked with his own. “Explain it to me,” I urged him, desperate to understand. I didn’t mean to sound as needy as I did, but I couldn’t stop myself from the desperation to understand what was occurring between us. I was tired of not understanding, of feeling like everyone else had gotten the answers to a test I’d somehow missed. It felt like everyone around me was fluent in a language I’d never been taught. “Please, I…I just want to learn,” I nearly begged.

“I don’t want to scare you, and…” he paused as he looked down at our hands for a moment, allowing his fingers to unfurl and cover my own completely. “I think it would change things if I explain,” he finally admitted with a wince as if he had said something he didn’t want to say. I could tell it was the truth, though.

I leaned forward slightly, allowing my shoulder to brush against his in the same way he had done to me. The movement pulled his gaze back to me immediately, and I made myself meet his eyes without flinching. I wanted him to understand that I wasn’t afraid of him, of any part of him. “Then let things change,” I insisted, not wanting him to close himself off again just for the sake of protecting me from things I didn’t want to be protected from. If I kept holding everything at arm’s length, nothing in my life would ever move. I wanted to move. I wanted to stop living every day like I was bracing for impact.

His wing curled tighter around me. It wasn’t trapping me, I realized; it was holding me. He was holding me. “My wings are full of nerves,” he began his explanation before hesitating and looking for the best way to word it without making me uncomfortable. Embarrassment flickered across his features, but it was fleeting. “They’re meant for flight, yeah, but they’re also for balance and awareness and…” he trailed off as his blush deepened and the embarrassment returned full-force, “…and connection.”

My breath caught. Connection? I looked down at where his feathers still seemed to reach out for my touch once more, rippling around my body as they shielded me from the cool air and held me against Hawks’ body. I could see the way he fought the urge to explain the connection piece, like there was both an ache in the confession and the desire to keep it hidden. “When you touch me like…like you did, it’s like you’re brushing right across my senses,” he explained as his jaw tightened again, and his cheeks flared a deeper red. “I feel it everywhere, not just where you touch. It’s…” his voice trailed off again as he swallowed hard.

Another heavy silence settled as I tried to piece together everything he wasn’t saying. “So when I touch your wing…” I began, my voice trailing off as I tried to understand the full implications of what he was saying.

“It feels…intimate,” he finally admitted, his voice so low it seemed to rumble in his chest. He didn’t explain it fully, but based on the strain in his voice and the flush of his cheeks, I could tell that the intimacy he was describing was something far more intense than he was letting on. “It doesn’t feel bad, just much…much closer than you probably meant it to be.”

I didn’t like that implication. I knew that he was trying to explain the sensation to me without explaining it directly, but I didn’t like that he was trying to put distance between us by suggesting that I wasn’t trying to get close to him. I did. I wanted to be close to someone, and Hawks was…he wasn’t who I anticipated, but maybe that wasn’t so bad. Instead of arguing, I simply turned back to the wing and buried my hand into the softness of the feathers, allowing my fingers to sink deep into the warmth of them.

The breathy whimper that escaped him was louder that time, and both wings shuddered. The redness of his cheeks spread down his neck, and I could see beads of sweat forming at his temples. I knew it was finally time to let go of the pipe dream of someday being with Shota, and I had to focus on the potential I had with growing closer to others. If this was the reaction Hawks had to me simply touching his wing, I needed to explore all the possibilities there could be.

I moved closer and rested my head against his shoulder, staring out at the city as his body relaxed again. “Maybe I want to be close to you. You can’t keep me at an arms length forever, you know,” I murmured with a smirk as I tilted my head up to meet his eyes.

He went still beneath me. I could feel the tension radiating through the muscles of his arm and shoulder, pulsing beneath my cheek. Every line of his body seemed to grow taut at my words, and for a long moment, all he did was stare down at me, his golden eyes wide with something I couldn’t quite name. And then he moved like a flash of lightning. His hand was suddenly around the back of my neck, and his thumb traced the edge of my jaw as he tilted my face up, forcing my breath to catch. There was nowhere else to look but those eyes of pure molten gold.

“You want close?” he asked, and I didn’t recognize the voice. I didn’t recognize those eyes, not the way they were, like a predator who had been starving for far too long. Still, I didn’t feel the fear I thought I should. I felt…excitement at the possibilities and the unknown. I knew Hawks wouldn’t hurt me, but I didn’t know the man before me. I couldn’t calculate his next move, and Shota always told me that it was only dangerous when I didn’t know what my opponent’s next move was.

Hawks wasn’t an opponent, though. He was just…him. He was the man who sent me a picture of a sparrow, but…was he? Was he still that man?

I couldn’t move. The whole world seemed to fold into itself, leaving only the aching distance between his mouth and mine. His breath ghosted over my face like a brush of warm velvet. Then, his forehead pressed against mine. More. I wanted more. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. Dizzy from the sensation of being so close, my eyes fluttered closed as I breathed in his exhale. It was so sweet, so sharp and wild. It was like a storm brewing, a lightning strike prepared to hit me at any moment. I wanted it, whatever waited for me if his lips met mine. Damnation, perhaps, but so be it. I wanted anything to forget all the pain that came with the things I couldn’t have.

He didn’t move, though. He dragged the moment out as if doing it purposefully, just to watch me crumble. His fingers flexed against the back of my neck, and I could feel his grip tighten slightly. It wasn’t enough to scare me, but it was enough to cause my eyes to snap open once more just to confirm it was still him before me. “Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “Can you hear the words I haven’t said…everything I…can’t say?”

My pulse thudded so hard that I was sure he’d be able to hear it if he couldn’t feel it where his thumb pressed against my artery. “Y-yes,” I breathed out, though I wasn’t certain I could hear everything. The only thing I was certain of was that he was telling me he wanted to be close to me, too.

His mouth formed a half-smile. It wasn’t the kind that had come up when we were teasing one another, but it looked like something in that moment had wounded him, like he was a bird with a broken wing, a bird who had just sensed that he wanted to fly only for it to be now just out of reach. “If I did this to you, Akira…” he murmured, his nose grazing mine as his lips brushed over mine with the phantom touch of a kiss. I tried leaning forward to feel it, truly feel the warmth of his mouth against mine, but he stayed just out of reach. He continued, “things would change. We’d never…we could never have the distance back, the kind we had this week.”

“Good,” I breathed out as my lips pulled up into a smile. The word came out as a half-breath, half-chuckle. I didn’t want the distance anymore. I wanted more pictures of sparrows, more pictures of his coffee order, more voice memos of him rambling about his favorite songs and his pizza order. I didn’t want the distance.

I shivered as his hand slid up further, fingers threading into my hair as he held me in place. “For an untouched little bird, you really are brave,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, which made my breath stutter. I didn’t know what he meant by “untouched” since I’d been kissed before, but as he continued to stroke the edge of my jaw with his thumb, I didn’t care. “I told you to be careful, baby bird. These are dangerous waters,” he whispered, and I felt the words against my lips more than I heard them.

“Hawks…” I breathed out, leaning forward again, desperate to feel an end to the torment of being so close to him and yet much too far. The moment our lips brushed together, signaling the end of the long wait, his voice interrupted the electricity between us.

“I should get you to the train station.”

The words felt like they stabbed through whatever spell he had over me. They were cold and abrupt. They were impersonal. I stiffened, the sudden ache feeling like it lodged itself between my ribs and made breathing painful. I didn’t want to let go of the moment. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted…something. I wanted one thing to be mine, to be something that wasn’t just a silly dream. I wanted something real. I thought there was a chance.

He didn’t move away immediately. He kept me caged with his forehead still pressed to mine as if memorizing the shape of our almost-something. His hand still lingered in my hair, and I felt the way his nose scrunched as pain twisted his facial features. I tried to swallow down my hurt, the humiliating burn that crept up my throat and threatened to choke me. I felt the sting in the back of my nose as my eyes grew hot with tears. I tried to draw back, to put distance between us since that was clearly what he wanted, but he kept me anchored to him. His panting breaths were hot against my lips and sounded as if he had just run a marathon.

When he finally tore himself away from me like ripping off a band-aid, I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream at him for giving me something to wish for before pulling it away. I wanted to throw his jacket back at him and tell him that I never wanted it in the first place, but I couldn’t even move, not when I watched his wings curl around his body as his shoulders hunched forward like he was trying to shield himself.

“We can’t always have what we want, baby bird,” he forced out as if the words were meant for both of us and not just me. He continued, “you should know that it wasn’t nothing. This has never been nothing.” There was an ache in those words, one that made me want to reach out to him once more, but I knew better.

So I remained perfectly still.

Akira

As promised, Hawks took me back a week and a half after getting Hitoshi settled into the house and trying to retrain my quirks. Mr. Aizawa…Shota insisted on prolonged training sessions outside of the regular school days, and I was physically exhausted by the time I got home. Hitoshi would spend every second with me, so I had no choice but to stay at the top of my game. If I was his top hero, I had to give him a reason to look up to me. I couldn’t let him down, not in any way, shape, or form. I pushed myself. Mr. Aizawa was keen on me learning how to control my quirks in tandem with one another. We were still trying to understand it, but we typically worked with the quirk that was the most active: my stardust.

He’d spend the entire time explaining why rehabilitating my quirk was so important, and I needed to push myself as hard as I could, or he’d let Hizashi transfer me out of U.A.. That wasn’t an option, though, so I pushed myself harder than I ever had before. I stayed up all day, working as hard as I could in my classes to maintain perfect grades. I kept up with his rehabilitation and training schedule. I still kept up with every moment Hitoshi and I had together, which included things as simple as going to the store to get him new clothes to singing him to sleep at night and promising him that as long as he was with me, the world would never be able to touch him again.

While Hawks was intriguing, I didn’t want to go back to the work study, particularly because it would mean leaving Hitoshi behind. I hated doing it, but Mr. Aizawa…Shota! He’s Shota when he’s my friend! He’s Shota when he’s with me!

Shota was insistent on me returning to a work study. He gave me the option of going back to Endeavor or returning to Hawks’ agency. I didn’t want to be far away, but I also didn’t want to make Hawks feel like I was abandoning him, especially after everything in Hiza City. He kept in touch, texting me a “good morning” message every single day and sending me random photos of things he thought I’d find interesting. When I asked about it, he told me that he just didn’t want me to feel like I was missing out on anything. How could I tell him that I didn’t want to go back when he was being so thoughtful? It didn’t seem normal for him after our initial meeting, but perhaps Hiza City had changed him as much as it had changed me.

Upon returning, I found out that it had changed him, though it seemed it wasn’t for the better. It was as if he was only capable of being soft with me via text, and in person, it was like a wall slammed down between us.

Shota had been away on business from Friday after classes until the middle of Friday night when he came back to the apartment and collapsed onto the couch where I was cuddling with a restless Hitoshi. Without Shota, Hitoshi grew anxious and had difficulty sleeping, but the moment Shota returned and fell onto the couch with his head in my lap—and Hitoshi’s lap by extension—our little boy fell asleep almost instantly with his fingers raking through Shota’s hair. I didn’t try to speak to Shota that night, not because I didn’t want to but because it looked like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for me. To get him to talk about it would’ve made him feel like he was failing me by sharing that burden.

The first morning back at Hawks’ agency, I lingered at the front door, staring at the photo he’d sent me on Friday evening while I waited for Shota to return home. It was a blurry shot of a sparrow perched on his windowsill. The words he’d typed beneath it were: “saw this and thought of you. It looks like it wants to punch me. See you soon, Little Bird.” I’d smiled upon receiving the message, thinking that perhaps he really did care, but after not receiving a goodnight message that night or anything on Saturday, I began to wonder if I’d imagined it all. The soft nature that came out in text and occasional voice messages had seemingly vanished between Friday evening and when I arrived at the agency on Sunday evening.

All I could feel was dread as I walked through the front door. Once inside, the shift was more noticeable. He barely greeted me, just tossed a curt nod in my direction as the elevator opened, and I stepped into the office. The only acknowledgement in the voice I’d missed so intensely was a bored “morning, kid” tossed over his shoulder while he rifled through reports.

I half-expected he’d invite me out for patrol like he did when I arrived the very first time before we went out for dinner. I even expected that we’d banter a bit about Hiza City like he had from time to time in our late-night texts. That was the only time he managed to speak of Hiza City, but during the day, he kept it much lighter and texted me pictures of his coffee or sent me his favorite songs, which I responded to with some of mine. He asked me dozens of questions about my life via text, but standing there before him in the flesh made me feel like nothing more than a stranger who’d just wandered in off the street.

Instead of our banter, which we’d managed to nearly master in text and voice message form, I was met with tension. He slid a thick file across the desk and perched right on top of the wood, crossing his arms as if challenging me to complain. “Paperwork. Start with this. Prioritize the ones with active complaint tags. You know the drill.” His tone was direct and lacked any hint of warmth or humor.

I blinked, trying to muster up my practiced, agreeable smile that I hoped would ease the tension, “when are we headed out?”

“Not today,” he replied, his voice flat and detached. The words were a little too short, a little too sharp. “Gotta clear up backlogs. Pro hero work isn’t just about patrolling. You’ll make yourself useful here first.”

The edge of his voice didn’t invite argument, but it left a bitter taste at the back of my tongue. Every single day was the same. I waited for some sign that the old, bantering Hawks was still buried under those feathers and bruised grins. I just wanted some indication that I was more than an obligation. Instead, I found myself at the same lonely desk, completing paperwork and finding active complaints that needed to be prioritized, but when he would leave to work them, he’d leave me to continue paperwork.

The city—and Hawks—seemed to move on without me. Reports, signatures, case reviews, follow-ups. My hands ached by noon, and my head was throbbing by five in the evening when he’d finally dismiss me. After a careful request to shadow his next patrol and watching the firm shake of his head, I’d walk back to the small apartment he’d given me for the duration of my work study, calling Shota to speak with Hitoshi the moment I left the building. I spoke to him every morning before he left for school and every evening after I was finished at the agency.

Each morning, I asked the same question as I always did. “Can I join you this morning? I know you said I couldn’t go on patrol, but-”

“Soon,” he cut me off, his jaw tight. Those golden eyes didn’t even flash up to meet mine. “You’ll know when you’re needed.”

Those words stung. They were cold, dismissive, and made me feel like I was nothing more than a burden. I wasn’t needed. I wasn’t wanted. I was just taking up space. My chest felt tight and heavy, like a weight was being pressed down onto my ribs as it felt like rocks filled my stomach. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel anger toward the situation building up within me. Or was it shame? I didn’t know.

For hours, I could feel his eyes cutting into me from across the room. Quick, sharp glances vanished the second I looked up. My skin prickled wherever his gaze landed, and warmth pulsed in my cheeks as I tried to ignore the sensation. Each time I tried to catch him looking at me, desperate to talk about something other than the paperwork, his attention would snap away, buried in the half-read reports. More than once, though, I caught a feather or two quivering, like maybe he wanted to say something, but instead of speaking, he’d sigh and return to his work or perch himself on the edge of my desk under the pretense of reviewing my work and “checking my progress” only to offer nothing but clipped instructions.

The silence thickened, drawn as tight as a bowstring. Every so often, I’d sneak glances at him. He was breathtaking. The elegant slope of his neck, the way his wings caught the light seeping in from the windows in a way that felt unfair. Every feather reflected a glow that made him look otherworldly. His features were hand crafted to create trouble for me. His face was made for art, and his body was made for…secrets. He didn’t even seem real. Each time I looked at him, my breath would catch, and my cheeks would burn. I couldn’t stop myself from staring, though.

I wanted to ask a million questions, about what happened to whatever it was that we seemed to share over the time I was away, but I bit my tongue until it bled. Instead of speaking, I just gripped the pen, scribbling more notes into files that had already been handled but just hadn’t been properly closed.

His voice cut through the quiet, a little more brittle than usual. “Missed a line on that one, you know.”

I looked up, ready and excited to flash back with some spark of wit, but the moment our eyes met, his gaze flicked away. There was a trace of guilt that I caught in the set of his jaw and before he managed to avert his gaze. I swallowed my excitement and desperate need for banter before nodding my head, “I’ll fix it.”

He stared at the ceiling for a long second, as if trying to work up the nerve to say something else, and when his eyes found me again, all that remained was a brittle and professional detachment. “Don’t rush, Akira. You know what happens when you rush.”

That stung.

It was his way of bringing up Hiza City without bringing it up. I know what happens when you stall! I wanted to snap at him, but the words were stuck in the back of my throat and made me feel like I was choking. That was when I noticed his hands. He fidgeted with an old pen, knuckles tight, and it struck me how little I really knew about the hero behind those wings, how much he hid just out of sight. I wondered if the exterior was the only armor that made sense for him after Hiza City.

It wasn’t until Friday evening that the choking feeling in my throat finally loosened. His breathing had become easier each day, like he wasn’t holding his breath as much as he had been on Sunday evening. Before I had the opportunity to speak, he broke the silence with a voice that sounded like a song, “I know you’re upset,” he murmured, his voice warm and steady in a way I wished I felt in that moment. There was still something he wasn’t saying.

I huffed, still frustrated that my talents were being wasted on menial tasks like paperwork. I maintained a ruthless training regimen during the entire time I was away from my initial work study in order to bring me back up to full strength and rehabilitate my body for patrolling with him. To go from that to desk work was like going from Olympic-level swimming to being thrown into the kiddie pool with floaties on. “This is just like when I was doing my work study with Mr. Aizawa,” I spat out, remembering the way it felt to be stuck behind a desk. I remembered the way he tabled me and made me clean or sort papers in alphabetical order before doing it again in reverse alphabetical order before sorting it based on complaints but in alphabetical order per complaint. It was hell.

I was back in hell.

I knew the comparison would frustrate him, but at that point, I didn’t feel bad about it. He deserved to be frustrated. I’d been frustrated since returning.

His eyes narrowed the moment I mentioned Shota. “Excuse me?!” his tone was sharp and cutting through the unspoken tension between us. There was still something deep that he refused to let me see, something that was clawing at his throat to come out, and I heard it in the way his voice scratched.

Tossing the pen onto the desk, I finally stood up. Anger flared in my chest. Now that I was letting it breathe, the fire began burning hotter than the boy from my past whose own flames had burned him. I was even more angry than I thought I had been at the situation. “I’m not meant to be cooped up behind a desk. I can help people, and you’re chaining me up like an animal!” I accused him as my eyes narrowed. “Shota did the same thing when I did my first ever work study with him.”

He rose to his feet as well, his feathers ruffling in irritation as his wings pulled tight behind his back. “And did you ever think about why that might be the case, or are you just so focused on your own feelings that it doesn’t matter?” he asked in a voice so low it was almost as dangerous as his quirk. His wings flared as his frustration became more palpable. His body turned away from mine, and I watched his jaw tick with barely contained frustration.

“He took me out on one patrol with him and then stuck me behind a desk for the rest of the week!” I hissed, feeling the burning sensation crawling up my throat. “This isn’t fair!” I nearly shouted, knowing but not caring that I should’ve been more tactful in my approach to the situation.

That wasn’t a good idea.

He whirled back toward me, his eyes sharp as knives. “Not fair?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?! Not fair?!” He shouted, taking another step closer as his wings stretched even wider. Every word was weighted with the threat of a greater explosion. I stepped away, nervous about any man raising their voice at me, but he didn’t seem to care and closed more of the space between us with his long legs. His cheeks grew red with barely contained rage. “Do you want to know what wasn’t fair?! Watching you kill yourself to save dead bodies! I had to watch you die to save dead people!”

I winced at the close proximity and sudden volume of his voice. Part of me wanted to run from him, from the fear his presence provoked, but it wasn’t him. It was the outer exterior that made me nervous, but I had spent so much time telling Hitoshi to be brave that I’d be a hypocrite if I couldn’t live up to my own desires for him. I steeled myself, “I wasn’t saving dead bodies, Hawks! If you knew anything about me, you’d know that I was saving their loved ones a lifetime of wondering what happened to them!” I shouted, trying to tell him what I couldn’t say. I was just trying to keep others from experiencing what I had when I was younger.

I lived with questions, so I’d ensure that no one I saved would have to.

“And you risked your own life to do so when it could’ve been done by someone else!” he shot back, voice trembling with the effort to hold back the more volatile words. I watched as his wings arched and bristled again, still catching the light. Those wings seemed to react to his own anger, like even his feathers wanted to crowd me back.

I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “You can’t be a hero if you sit back and hope someone else takes care of the problems! That’s not how it works! That’s not how being a person works, let alone a hero!” My voice was rising despite myself as my entire body seemed to shake with pent-up frustration that had been building over the endless days of being trapped behind that desk.

“And you can’t be the one to take care of them all!” he barked, and I could hear the pain in those words, pain that he wasn’t ready to talk about. He took another step closer to me, and I had nowhere else to go.

I found myself straightening my shoulders like I did as a child when my father cornered me. If he was going to hit me, he’d hit me while I stood as tall as I could. He wouldn’t hit me while I cowered. “I’ll take care of as many as I can!” I spat out in disbelief that he was upset with me for not reining it in when I was an aspiring hero. For someone who pushed themselves so hard that he managed to break into the Hero Top Ten, he was bizarrely critical of me for doing the same thing.

“Do you realize how dangerous that is?!” he asked, looming over me with that stricken look carved into his face like a scar. “I get it, okay? I get that you want to save people, but you…you can’t just…you pushed yourself too hard, and I-” his breath shuddered, voice cracking for a split second before he caught himself, hardening again. “You know what you are?”

“What am I?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and grimacing at him. I couldn’t wait for what he had to say.

“You’re reckless. That’s what you are. Almost stupid!”

I reeled. The word hit me in the chest like a thud. I was stunned by the word, but I was also stunned because it was him and because the pain in it was so much more real than any bit of mockery he’d thrown my way in the past. He teased me, but there was no teasing in his tone that time. “Stupid?! I did my job!” I shouted, my voice shaking with hot anger. It was all the anger I’d felt throughout the week. Anger for having been left out, for being caged by someone I thought, for a little while, I could start to trust. It was also anger for being in a situation with a man who thought he could speak to me the way the men spoke to me in the basement. Hizashi didn’t teach me to accept that sort of abuse; he taught me to expect basic human decency.

“You went too far! Your job isn’t to save everyone!” he spat out, voice rough as gravel and thick. It was like he was fighting through a lump in his throat, but I didn’t care. I was angry. He continued, “your job is to come back! God, Akira, do you not get it?! You don’t get to throw yourself away for closure. You don’t get to be a hero if you’re dead!”

His words rang in my ears, and I realized that my hands were fists at my sides. “If I don’t do it, who will?” I shouted back at him, my voice so raw it cracked. The air was charged, crackling with heat and something so much more dangerous, though I couldn’t place my finger on it. It felt like grief, fear, and something even warmer but unspoken that was all rolled into a blade that was sharp enough to cut into us both. “If I lived through what I did and didn’t do something, then what was the point of any of it?!” I shouted. If I lived through losing my brother, my family, the basement, every moment without my other half, the deaths of my adopted parents, the loss of Oboro, the loss of the first boy who ever kissed me and called me beautiful, the attempt, all of it. If I lived through it and didn’t do something with the life I had, what was the point?

“If you’re so afraid of me dying, why did you even bother bringing me back here just to shove papers at me until I fade away?! I’d rather die fighting for something than rot behind this desk while you sit here and pretend nothing happened. Be angry if you want! Be mad! Be upset! I don’t care, but stop pretending that Hiza City didn’t happen and like I’m a villain for trying to help people!” I continued to shout. I just wanted him to say what he was clearly holding back.

“If you were half as ridiculous with Eraser as you were with me in Hiza City, I’m surprised he still lets you out of his sight. If I was him, I’d have benched you for good,” he hissed, turning away from me and walking back toward his desk. His wings ruffled, and I knew there were still so many words he wanted to say.

Something within me felt like it snapped, and I stalked forward. Electricity flickered between my fingers as I felt the uncontrolled rage of being pushed away from someone I was starting to trust. My quirk—the one I didn’t understand—began flaring. Electricity began flashing, crawling up my arms like veins. Stardust gathered around my hands. My hair felt like it was weightless around my shoulders. I felt like I was burning, and small white flames began to dance around my fingertips. What the hell am I?! What’s wrong with me?! I wanted to cry, to turn it off, to understand. I wanted to close my eyes and wake up in a world where I wasn’t a monster.

“So that’s it?! You’re just going to keep me caged and walk away? Because you’re scared?! What a joke! For a hero, you’re one of the biggest cowards I’ve ever met!” I shouted, and my voice was so loud it sent him tumbling away from me and shattered a glass on his desk.

Stop! Stop! Not now! Please! I can’t!

He whipped around to face me again, shocked by the sight of me. I closed my eyes, desperate to find control, but it was slipping through my fingers like sand. It was like trying to hold water with a net. I took long, steady breaths as I calmed my heart, and I felt my quirk settle. When I opened my eyes again, he was closer to me and stared at me with wide eyes. “I watched you give up everything in Hiza City. You were-” his voice faltered, tight with those unspoken words. “I can’t watch that again, Akira. Do you get it? I can’t-” he cut himself off that time, his jaw tensing as he looked away from me.

I stepped closer, wanting to ease the pain in his heart. It finally started to make some sense, that his decision to leave me behind wasn’t because he didn’t think I could handle it, but because he couldn’t trust that I wouldn’t overdo it. “Hawks, I-”

“If paperwork keeps you breathing, then that’s your job. That’s all I want from you,” he interrupted, his voice hard and cold but only gingerly covering the soft vulnerability beneath.

The words hung between us. They sat heavy in my chest, and my shoulders started to shake. I fought not to let him see how deep the shame ran. I had been so quick to snap at him, to accuse him of being a coward, but I hadn’t even considered that he was scared for me. I knew that my heart had stopped in the hospital, that they had been there when it happened. I could only imagine what sort of trauma that left Hizashi, Shota, and Hitoshi with. I never considered Hawks or his emotions because he didn’t seem like the type to let something like that affect him.

“You think you should get to decide that? That you…what? Do you want me to quit? Do you want me to never fight again?” I pressed, trying to get him to understand that I couldn’t just stop. Part of me wished that I could open up my heart for him to see the drive and the reason behind it. Part of me wanted to tell him about my brother, about the basement, about the pain I’d felt all my life and the need to do something with that pain instead of letting it dictate my future. “You think you’re protecting me, but you’re not. You’re just caging me, and I can’t breathe like this. I’m disappearing, and you’re not even trying to see me.”

“And if I let you out onto the field, you’ll disappear for good,” he countered, voice rough with emotion that was finally creeping out.

“So what? You’re angry that you care about me? Is that what this is?” I asked, trying to understand where his sudden shift in behavior came from. I wanted to understand why he’d been so insistent on pushing me before Hiza City, then so soft with me when I was away, and now so intent on keeping me behind a desk. “You’re angry because I matter, and you can’t stand it? Or are you just angry at yourself for caring in the first place?”

Those words—ones meant to invite a deeper conversation and understanding of one another—only seemed to make him more defensive. His eyes sharpened. “You may have an impressive skill set, and it’s clear that Eraser has trained you incredibly well, but you’re still just a kid. You’re immature in thinking that you can save everyone. You just can’t, and you need to start facing the reality of it, Akira. Some people aren’t destined to be saved…”

Then, I saw it in his eyes. It was like we both knew what he was about to say, but I didn’t want to believe it. It was as if he finally realized how to do the most damage, and I wanted to stop him before he could say it.

“Like your brother.”

It was the kind of cruelty that didn’t come from anger, but from a desperate attempt to protect himself. It was like an animal in the corner. He was cornered, and he had to lash out. Still, it was a wound he wasn’t allowed to know about. It was a wound that belonged to me and me alone. I didn’t talk about my brother much because to speak of him would be to put him out into the world where he could be hurt again.

Just like that moment.

My ears rang as Hawks continued to speak words that I barely even processed. “You couldn’t save him, and now you’re trying to fill that void by saving everyone else because you can’t live with the guilt otherwise. You want to keep pretending there’s some cosmic reason for what you went through, like it’s a sign that you’re meant to be some sort of savior of the broken, but maybe you’re just-”

I didn’t let him finish. My hand flew between us before I could stop it. The slap rang out loud and sharp, echoing around the air between us. His head snapped to the side as my hand felt like it was on fire from the sheer force. I barely even registered what I had done until I saw his hand rise to his cheek in shock. I stared down at my own trembling palm as the anger radiated off me like a fever. I couldn’t even remember moving, just the sound of it.

I half-expected him to hit me back, to teach me that there were consequences for striking him. He didn’t even move, though. He just stood there and accepted it, breathing heavily. After a long moment, he stared into my eyes. The walls between us had suddenly dropped, and we truly saw each other in that moment. We were both hurting in different ways, and we were both making it worse for the other regardless of the reasons. “I think I deserved that one,” he muttered, his voice smaller and more mature than I’d ever heard it before. He didn’t look away from me and instead wore a half-hearted smile as if trying to apologize for what he’d said.

Fire still roared in my chest, though, but it was quieter than it had been. The mention of my brother had set me off, and despite knowing why he did it, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. My brother had never done anything wrong, so for anyone to treat him poorly even in death, it was unacceptable for me. “If you ever talk about my brother again,” I growled, stepping closer to him as the fire roared in my throat, feeling like it would burn me from the inside out. “I’ll kill you on the spot. I don’t care if you’re a hero, and I don’t care if the world is watching, I will tear you apart with my bare hands if you ever speak of him like that again. I swear it.”

I meant it.

“That’s fair,” he whispered with a nod of understanding.

I turned on my heel, hurrying out of the room. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him for another second. I didn’t even remember the elevator ride to the ground floor, but I did remember the cool air as I stumbled out of the office. My vision was blurry, and my hands were still shaking from the rage and adrenaline. The echo of my slap and his words still rattled around in my skull until it all ached—my head, my chest, my heart. I couldn’t catch my breath, so I pressed my forehead to the cold brick wall outside the building, desperate for a grounding sting. I wanted something to hurt and remind me that I was still alive, even though I felt like I was falling apart at the seams.

I was just like my father. I was just like him. I was just like the men in the basement. They all hit people. They all raised their voices to gain control. They used their hands to hurt, and I thought my hands were meant to heal. I was just like them.

I’m just like them all.

I needed a lifeline. I needed Shota. I needed Hizashi. I needed my brother. I needed my son.

My son.

Hitoshi.

With trembling fingers, I dialed Shota’s number, and he answered on the first ring. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice immediately soft as he greeted me.

“I n-need to t-talk to Hitoshi, p-please,” I begged, my voice cracking as tears began streaming down my cheeks. I’m just like my father. I’m as bad as he was. I’m just like him. How long before I do this to someone else?

“Stop scratching,” Shota murmured on the other end of the phone. It wasn’t until he said that that I realized I was scratching at my neck. I pulled my hand away and stared down at the hands that were clearly made to hurt. “Tell me what’s going on, Akira,” he insisted, his voice gentle but insistent.

I sniffled, “I just wanna t-talk to m-my baby boy,” I begged, my voice breaking as I tried to hold onto the last shred of control I had left. “Please, Sho, I need to talk to him.”

“Do I need to come pick you up?” he asked as patiently as he could muster in that moment.

I shook my head, “I just need to hear his voice, and then I’ll be okay. I think I’m just missing home,” I tried to brush off the situation, desperate to keep him from worrying. I didn’t want to burden him with my pain, not after everything he’d already done for me, not after he stepped up in a way he didn’t need to for the little boy who had been abandoned by everyone else. Shota didn’t have to become a father in the way the universe sprang motherhood onto me, but he stepped up. “Please, Sho,” I whispered once more, trying to convey just how much I needed to hear Hitoshi’s voice.

With a sigh, the phone was passed off. The second that tiny “hello?” came through, the anger and hurt that had tangled around my heart began to unravel. It was like a snake releasing its grip on my throat.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?” I asked, finally able to breathe.

There was a pause where we both just breathed for a moment, existing in the moment that was just the two of us. There was no hero work that needed to be done, no paperwork that Hawks was pushing in front of me, no thought of my father or the basement. There was nothing apart from Hitoshi and I. “I’m okay. I just miss you a lot,” he admitted in a small voice that made my heart ache. The sadness in his voice was like a knife buried itself into my ribs. It was the kind of quiet that said “please come home. I need you here with me.”

“I miss you, too, baby,” I whispered back around the lump in my throat. “I’ll be home on Sunday, though. I know the weekends are especially hard when we aren’t together, but I’ll be able to walk you to school on Monday, and we’ll walk home together, too!” I reminded him, knowing that it was easier for him to handle the separation when he had something concrete to hold onto. He needed there to be a plan in place for the next time we’d be together. “Are the clothes fitting nicely?” I asked, keeping the conversation light and hoping to distract him from the feelings of sorrow that came with being apart.

“Yeah! Da-umm…Mr. Aizawa took me-”

“You don’t have to call me that, kid. I told you that it’s fine to use my name,” I heard Shota’s voice cut in from the background.

Hitoshi’s tone was brighter when he began speaking again, but I could also sense the bashfulness in it. “Shota took me shopping for some new sneakers because I ran into some kids from school yesterday when I was playing outside in the park,” he explained.

Every cell in my body went on high alert at the mention of running into kids and the sneakers being necessary because of it. “What happened? Are you okay?” I asked, immediately worried about not being able to control the situation from a different city.

“I’m okay,” he replied, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice and the small shake in the words. “I think it’s still because I’m new, and you said that some people take time to get used to new things, like when I was getting used to sleeping at night without you here. My sneakers got a little ruined, but I’m not angry.”

My heart twisted in my chest. I felt helpless, like I was failing him. He was clearly trying to protect me from whatever had happened, and I needed answers. “Can I talk to Sho again, sweetheart?” I asked, needing to know what happened in more detail. I needed answers—ones Hitoshi couldn’t give me with the purity in his little heart. He would look at the situation through the lens of forgiveness, but I needed to know everything. When I felt him hesitate, I knew why. “You’re not in trouble at all, little one. I’m not upset with you, not one little bit,” I reassured him, knowing that it was a fear that would possibly never leave him.

“Okay,” he said, and there was a shuffling as he handed the phone over. “Mommy wants to talk to you again,” he whispered, and that name struck me once more in the chest. It was both heartwarming and filled me with an even deeper sense of responsibility and protectiveness than I had before.

The second the line changed hands, I began speaking. “What happened?” I asked, my voice tight with concern.

“I’ll be right back,” Shota said, his voice muffled as he addressed Hitoshi. I heard him walking and then the sliding door shut—the sound of him stepping out onto the balcony of the apartment. There was a long moment with only the sound of traffic and the light breeze before his voice came once more. “I took care of it,” he assured me in a steady tone that was just for me. It was meant to calm me.

“I didn’t ask that, Sho. I want to know what happened, and I want the truth. I want details, not words of comfort.” I demanded, my voice breaking slightly as I realized that I was taking out my frustrations on the wrong person. Shota hadn’t done anything, but when it came to Hitoshi, I was already on edge.

He didn’t hesitate again. “He asked to go outside and play while I was grading papers, so I told him he’d be fine as long as he didn’t go too far and stayed where I could see him. I was sitting out here on the balcony, so I was fine with him going into the park to play,” he explained, and I could hear the guilt in his voice as clear as the night sky above me, which sent a stream of sparkling stardust down to wrap around my neck, embedding itself into my skin like a warm embrace. It felt like my brother’s arms around me, like my mother’s hand on my shoulder. It felt like the good pieces of my life before the basement.

Shota continued, “he found a bunny, and he shouted up to me to get my attention to show me. He wanted to bring it back up to the apartment to see if Jettie would get along with it, but I told him that you and I would have to talk about another pet before we got one. That was when some kids from school started walking toward him in the park. He tried to show them the bunny, but they took it as an opportunity to terrorize him,” he explained, and I could hear the tightness in his voice that was fueled by his anger.

“What did they do?” I asked, needing to know. My blood felt like it pulsed with all the rage that had nowhere to go.

“The moment I realized one of them had their hands on him, I was running,” he admitted in that low and controlled voice that he reserved for moments of communication that were particularly delicate. I could still hear the strain in his voice, though, the anger that he was trying to keep buried for my sake. “By the time I got there, the bunny was gone, and Hitoshi was on the ground with a bloody nose and a few scratches on his arms from trying to protect himself. One of the kids shoved his shoes in the mud after another one used his quirk to burn them. They were beyond repair, so I took him out to get new ones and made sure he understood that none of what happened was his fault.”

I leaned against the wall, seething with helplessness. My son. My baby boy. It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I clutched my stomach, trying to hold myself together as if I was about to fall apart at the seams. I felt like I was hollow and unraveling. I’d tried so hard to keep the world from hurting him, and when he needed me most, I wasn’t there.

“I need to come home,” I whispered into the phone. The tremor in my voice betrayed the composure I’d tried too hard to maintain throughout the week away from home. It felt like the ground beneath me was fracturing without them close. I couldn’t stand one more night away from my family, especially not after what had transpired that day. “I just want to be home. I want to hold him and be there when he wakes up in the mornings and when he goes to sleep at night. I just…I need to be home.”

His voice remained steady as he spoke, “you need to keep focusing on becoming a better hero,” he reminded me in that voice that acted as an anchor in the storm of my emotions. “You know how much Hitoshi looks up to you. He needs you to be strong because he’s still learning and growing, and-”

“And I’m not there to protect him!” I snapped, cutting him off. I didn’t want to be angry with him—I wasn’t even sure if I was angry with him—but I was angry at the distance, the events that transpired without me, the pain he had to go through, and the fact that I wasn’t there to shield him from the world.

“What could you have done?” he asked, pressing me to think about it logically despite the pain I was feeling.

I swallowed hard. “More than what I’m doing from here,” I answered as I felt that familiar stinging sensation in the back of my nose, the one that indicated only seconds before that the tears were on their way. My vision blurred as I struggled to keep my voice steady. “I could’ve been there to hold him in the aftermath if I wasn’t fast enough to stop it. I could’ve held him and told him that he would be okay, that I’d always have his back no matter what, that the world is a better place because he exists,” I insisted, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions.

“You can still tell him that stuff now, though, Akira,” he assured me in the softest, most tender voice he’d ever used with me. Shota wasn’t always gentle, but of all the people who got to experience that part of him, I received it most. Hitoshi was catching up to me quickly, though, since their interactions were always gentle. “Until you get back, I can handle the comforting. He’s not going without any of that right now,” he promised, and I believed him. Shota wouldn’t let me down. He never did.

The tears began spilling freely down my cheeks at that point. They were hot and unrelenting. I didn’t have anyone to hide them from in that moment. I tried so hard to keep my emotions in check at home because Hitoshi needed me to be strong for him, and I didn’t want him to feel like he had to take care of me. In that moment, though, I was cities away from him, and I had no one to feel like I was burdening with my pain, so I let myself cry.

I felt it all. The pain of being away from my family, especially my baby boy. He was my heart, my world, my light, all of it. Hitoshi was everything good in my life wrapped into one tiny body. Then, there was Hizashi. I wanted a hug from him. I wanted him to play with my hair while I read with my head on his lap, to eat cereal on the couch while watching cartoons in the middle of the night, to sing to me while I drifted off to sleep. I wanted to be home, to be close to Seirei. The moment we were finally able to start reconnecting, I was thrust back into the work study that took me away from her. I wanted to fall asleep with her pinky in mine again, to braid her hair and have her braid mine. I wanted to be there to keep her and Shota from arguing with one another.

Shota.

There was also Shota.

I missed him in a way that felt like a physical ache, like missing a home you couldn’t go back to. I missed him in a way that made my chest feel hollow. I wanted to be home with him, to tease him about his bed head, to pester him about not being able to find his socks in the morning after I purposefully hid them, to hug him before bed or before he left the apartment, which he hadn’t done since Hitoshi came home with us. I missed his quiet presence. I missed the way he would sit with me on the couch just far enough to not crowd me but close enough to feel his warmth, close enough to invite me to curl into his side if I wanted to.

His voice. That voice that I’d grown so accustomed to over the years—the one that was sometimes filled with all the harshness I needed to hear and other times filled with all the gentleness I had gone without—anchored me once more. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered into the phone, “and I won’t pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through being so far away from him, but…please, Akira, just trust that we’re handling things. He’s okay. He misses you, but he’s okay.”

“I miss him, too,” I sniffled, my voice still trembling with all the tears that I was trying—and failing—to hold back. “Please make sure to-”

“Give him a hug specifically from you, I know,” he finished for me, and I could hear the smile in his voice despite the sadness in mine. “Before I put him back on the phone…something happened. I could hear it in your voice when you called. Did something…?” his voice trailed off as his tone shifted into something more serious and probing. It was also filled with a protectiveness that I witnessed from Hizashi far more than from him, but it was still there. It was strong.

I knew he could read me like an open book, so resisting wouldn’t work and it would only make him more worried. I exhaled slowly, voice breaking as the weight of the moment pressed down on me again, everything that happened in the office with Hawks, the words that cut deeper than any knife ever could, and the fear that I was becoming someone I never wanted to be. “I…I had an argument with Hawks,” I admitted, my voice barely audible as I struggled to find the words to explain what happened. “I’m just…I’m scared that…” my voice gave up on me as the fears resurfaced. “What if I’m like my father? What if I’m just like the men from the basement? What if…what if I’m bad? What if I’m…what if I’m just like them? I hit him. I slapped him…I…oh, god!” I sobbed as my hand flew to my mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs that began escaping me.

“Take a breath, Akira. Just…breathe with me for a minute,” he instructed me the way he did when I was first returning to training after the incident we didn’t speak of. His voice was gentle the way it had been when we returned to training, and the memories came back, the ones I tried to stop by ending it altogether. I listened to his inhale and mirrored it, exhaling with him when the time came. He grounded me, each breath slow and even, until my heartbeat slowed and the tears became less hot and shame-filled and more just…sad and disappointed. “I didn’t know your father, and I don’t know about the basement,” he whispered softly before taking another breath that I purposefully mirrored.

“But I do know you. I know what drives you forward. I know that you pour yourself into everyone and everything you love. I know why you understood me when no one else could. Hizashi couldn’t even understand my home life the way you could, which means I…probably know the type of person your father was,” he explained, and his words wrapped around me like a blanket, warming my very soul. It was like the starlight I wished on when I thought all hope was lost in that basement. “You aren’t like any of the people who’ve hurt you” he assured me in a slow and firm voice as if carving the truth into the very stars themselves. “You make mistakes. Every single one of us makes mistakes. I certainly do. Hizashi, Seirei, Endeavor, hell, even All Might makes mistakes. You get to be human, too, Akira.”

We sat in a comfortable silence as I continued to sniffle and let my tears fall. Those words. That reassurance from someone I cared so deeply for, it was all I needed. You get to be human, too. After a long moment, he broke the silence again, “I understand how it feels to be so far from the people you care about when all you want is to be right there, comforting them,” he acknowledged, and his voice sounded thick, like he was trying to fight his own emotions. “Because…” his words stumbled, unfinished.

I wondered what it was that he wanted to say, what it was that he had to hide from me of all people. I stared up at the night sky, hoping that whatever stars I gazed upon were the same ones that he was looking at on that balcony. I wondered which ones filled those black irises, which ones he found comfort in, which ones he looked to when he felt alone. “You sound sad,” I finally murmured, noticing the sorrow that had filled his voice.

“Well…Hitoshi and Hizashi aren’t the only ones who miss you,” he confessed, and though he wouldn’t say the words outright, I knew exactly what he was trying to say.

He missed me, too.

“Thank you, Sho,” I whispered, my voice still thick with emotion. I wanted to be home, to bury myself into the gentle strength of the man who was raising my son as if he were his own, to feel the warmth of his arms around me and the feel of Hitoshi’s small body tucked between us. “Thank you for being there and for taking care of him when I can’t,” I continued, hoping that he knew that none of his hard work was going unnoticed or unappreciated.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know,” he replied with the hint of a smile in his voice, “he…he’s a good kid.”

His words translated to “you’re not the only one who loves him.”

“I miss you both so much, Sho,” I trembled as the cool night air began digging into my skin, making me shiver. It was also the lack of him that made me feel so cold. Being close to him made my heart ache, but being far away from him made my soul ache. I wanted to tell him everything—how hard it was to be away from him, how much I needed him in order to breath, how much I loved…

“I know,” he exhaled into the phone, and I wondered if he knew the unspoken words my heart was desperate to unleash but the ones my mouth wasn’t quite ready to say. “You’ll be home soon, and we’ll be right here waiting like we always are.”

I continued to shiver from the hollow ache of absence of their presence in my life. I felt every mile between us like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. I hated it. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, biting back the flood of emotions clawing their way up. Instead of breaking and risking breaking my own heart further by voicing the love in my heart for more than just Hizashi and Hitoshi, I spoke once more, “can I talk to him again? With the camera on this time? I just want to see him while I say goodnight.”

“I’d never try to say ‘no’ to you when it comes to him,” he promised, and there was a faint warmth that touched my skin through his words. It wrapped around my wrist where I held it before slithering up toward my chest and neck. I felt my cheeks flush, but I didn’t understand why. “Goodnight, Akira…you’re going to be okay,” he whispered, grounding me one last time.

I nodded my head, filled with the determination to make it through the next couple of days away from home. If Shota believed in me, I had no choice but to believe in myself. “I will be. I have to be because I have to make it home to all of you. I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” I asked with a half-smile.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

Life flourished with those simple words. My heart skipped a beat—or maybe 10. I felt light again, like I could breathe. I didn’t feel like I was going to break open with the slightest breeze. I felt like I could face whatever came next. His girl. I wanted to be his girl so badly that I could bleed out at the smallest gust of wind.

The phone was handed back to Hitoshi, and when his little face lit up on the screen, my heart burst open. Seeing him—even like that—was everything. Camera on, I fought to keep my smile steady and my own tears at bay, but they still pricked my eyes and threatened to spill over. Every bit of sorrow and despair I had felt even just seconds before were suddenly replaced by the overwhelming love that only he could inspire. “Hi, sweetheart,” I whispered as I touched the screen with my fingers, desperate just to feel the smoothness of his cheeks.

“I can see you!” he beamed with a wide grin. The light in his voice filled me with a warmth that chased away the chill that had been settling into my bones before seeing him. Then, he noticed the tears in my eyes. I should’ve known. His expression changed to one of concern. “Why are you sad?” he questioned, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to the phone to get a better look at me.

“I’m not sad! I get to see my handsome boy,” I insisted, unsure of what the feeling was. A part of me felt hollow because I wasn’t able to pull him into my arms and rock him until we both fell asleep, and there was another part of me that felt full because I was seeing him and hearing his voice. “I can’t wait to hold you again. I’m going to give you the biggest and longest hug when I get home.”

“And you won’t let go?” he asked with wide and innocent eyes.

I shook my head, “never,” I swore before tracing the small contours of his face. He’d been eating well, and his cheeks were rounder than they had been when we first met. I was happy that he was at least gaining weight since he was little more than skin and bones that day in Hiza City. “Rest well tonight, sweetheart. I’ll be thinking about you every second until I’m back home with you.”

“And I’ll be thinking about you, too,” he responded, “please be safe.”

“I have no choice but to be safe because I’m coming home to you,” I smiled, reminding him of the promise that I had made to him what felt like a lifetime ago. “Whenever you feel far away from me or sad or scared, do you remember what I told you to do?” I asked, needing to know that he remembered.

He nodded, “you told me to look up at the stars and close my eyes.”

“Exactly…because I put so many of those stars up there just for you, Hitoshi. They’re my way of being close when it feels like I’m far away,” I reminded him, hoping it would be enough to keep him from feeling lonely. “Goodnight, my sweetest little starlight. You are the most magical gift this world has ever given me,” I whispered, the love between us threading into every word I spoke.

“Goodnight, Mo…” his voice softened to a whisper as he caught himself from saying the one thing he’d called me nearly a dozen times but only on the verge of sleep. Otherwise, he was hesitant about saying it to me. I wanted him to understand that no matter what he called me, he was my son for all intents and purposes. “Goodnight,” he murmured with a tiny yawn to accompany his sweet little voice.

Akira

I opened the door to find Hitoshi standing in the middle of the bathroom. Shota’s shirt hung down to his knees. It swallowed him whole. Everything was spotless in the bathroom, like he’d taken the time to fold the towels and place them neatly on the sink. The floor was dry, and he’d even straightened up the bath set I’d used for him. “The shorts were too loose, so I just wore the shirt,” he explained, his knees trembling slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

He looked so different with his hair pulled back. For only the third, maybe fourth time in my life, I saw the full sweep of Shota’s face—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, the gentle shadows under his eyes. It stunned me. I always thought it was the intimacy of his voice or the warmth of his hands that made me feel safe, but now, it was the way he let Hitoshi see him, open and unguarded. He was breathtaking, and for the first time, something twisted loose inside me. I realized it wasn’t just some reckless schoolgirl crush that tethered me to him. It was all the hidden, careful moments like this—the trust he gave so quietly—threading their way through my heart.

Shota held his hands out, patient, saying nothing until Hitoshi, after a tense heartbeat, slid his little hands into Shota’s larger ones. Shota gave a gentle squeeze. Hitoshi stared, eyes wide, and brushed trembling fingers over Shota’s knuckles, like he was memorizing every callus, each line and scar mapped into his skin. I knew the stories behind most of his scars. There were some he didn’t like to talk about, though. The room was dead silent. For half a minute, nobody even dared to breathe.

Then, softly: “Can I brush your hair? It’s a bit wild,” Shota asked with a crooked grin to ease the tension.

Hitoshi nodded. He shuffled around, turning to face the mirror, and I knelt on the tile so I could hold Hitoshi’s hands the whole time. His grip was small but strong. The moment Shota began working the brush through those violet tangles, I felt the tension in Hitoshi’s shoulders ease bit by bit. The gentleness in Shota’s movements was stunning—he moved slowly, parting out the knots one by one, never once tugging too hard.

I watched them together and felt something bloom in my chest, bewildering and new: this was more than family, more than safety. It was hope so tender it hurt. The sort of thing I thought was reserved for someone else’s life, not mine.

Hitoshi finally met Shota’s eyes in the mirror, and tears immediately filled his eyes. They were sudden and raw. He needed food and rest and some stability in order for us to get to the point of emotional regulation. This was overwhelming for him, and I knew it would continue to be that way for a while, but I was prepared to be endlessly patient with him. I immediately moved to stop Shota from continuing his movements, afraid that he’d somehow managed to cause Hitoshi pain, but he had already put the brush down. His instincts were sharper than my own words. He reached out and brushed the tears away with his thumbs before turning Hitoshi around to face him directly, leveling those kind eyes at my son.

My son.

Hitoshi’s hands immediately came up to shield his face, and my heart shattered. It looked like Shota’s heart shattered right alongside my own. We both recognized it in the same way. Both Shota and I saw the same thing when Hitoshi winced and covered his face. We both saw a younger Shota.

It was the middle of the night when he knocked. I didn’t know how I woke up or how I knew he was going to need me since the rain didn’t keep me awake, but I was out of bed before the second tap. Part of me knew he would be there—sometimes I wondered if he was another one of the senses Hizashi taught me about. A sense of smell, touch, taste, sight, and sound. Then, there was a separate one that was just a Shota sense.

It was still raining so hard that it sounded like pebbles hitting the windows. When I opened the door, a gust of cool air swept the scent of jasmine and coconut into the apartment. The sight of him made my heart stop. The rain had plastered his black hair to his forehead and cheeks. He looked like he was soaked straight through, shivering, his jeans and t-shirt stuck to his skin. He was going to get sick, I was sure of it. There was also the red mark that curled along his cheekbone. It looked fresh and painful, as though the handprint had been stamped there but just couldn’t be erased.

At only 7 years old, I was still so much smaller than him at 16. I just blinked up at him in disbelief that he was there. “Sho?” I whispered, still unsure of what to do. When he didn’t even move or look at me, I reached out to grasp his wrist.

He flinched and pulled his arm back before he could even register that it was just me. That was when I noticed the look in his eyes. I knew it from the basement ladies, Arehate, and my brother. It was the fear he’d worn more consistently since his dad died. “It’s cold. You can come in,” I insisted, reaching out once more to tug on his wrist.

The apartment seemed far more empty with Hizashi’s parents—our parents—out of town. The only light came from the little moon nightlight plugged in near the couch that Hizashi swore was for me, though he wouldn’t sleep with his door open unless the little light was on. I never said anything, though. We were all afraid of something, but in that moment, I was afraid for Shota.

I brought him to the bathroom, but my words had stirred Hizashi awake, and he took charge of the situation for me, sending me into the living room. He gave Shota towels and pajamas. Their words in the bathroom were whispered, and I could only make out a few of them. “I’m sorry,” “this is your home, too, you know,” “why doesn’t she even like me? What did I ever do to her apart from being born?” I stopped listening when I could tell that there were tears involved. Even my curiosity was respectful that Shota didn’t want anyone to know he was crying.

When Hizashi came out into the living room, he set down three mugs of hot cocoa. Shota padded into the living room after taking a hot shower and getting dressed in Hizashi’s pajamas. He sat between the two of us. We sat in silence for the longest time, just existing with one another. I wanted to run for the first aid kit and find some ice to help with the angry mark on his face, but I didn’t want to move at the same time. I didn’t want to disturb whatever peace he needed. “Do you want to talk?” I asked, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Hizashi says I’m good at distracting him from his schoolwork, so maybe I can even be a distraction if you need it,” I added, hoping it would provide some sort of comfort.

His knuckles were white from clenching the handle of the mug so tightly. He didn’t look up at me like he usually did when I spoke and instead leaned forward to put the mug down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “It-it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, his voice hoarse and broken. He shrugged it off, “I just didn’t have anywhere to go for the night since I accidentally…locked myself out of my house, so I’m here instead.”

I knew it was a lie meant to protect me.

Before Hizashi had the chance to speak the words, I cut in. “And you’re always allowed to come here! It’s like a sleepover!” I cheered, and for a flickering moment, a soft smile spread across his lips. There he was! My Shota! I thought he might let me hug him, but just as I shifted a little closer, ready to throw my arms around him, his entire body stiffened. He nearly leapt away from me, throwing his hands in front of his face to shield it from me. I stopped every movement at once, feeling like my chest had been punched. “I-I’m sorry!” I gasped, unsure of how to fix the situation.

Hizashi helped Shota right himself again, but Sho’s eyes remained wide and fixed on me. A crease between his upturned brows let me know that he was just as confused and scared as I was. It was also a silent apology for reacting the way he did, but I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to feel safe. I stood up from the couch and moved to stand before him. I held my hands out with my palms up in front of him. Each movement was slow as I simply stood there. I didn’t move at all, just waited for him to make the first move.

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes flickering between my face and my hands. “It’s okay, Sho. I’d never hurt you because you’re my best friend, and I’m supposed to protect you…the same way you protect me, right?” I asked, tilting my head. It was a conversation we’d had a million times before, about how if I ever ran into trouble, I could always call on him no matter how old I was. “I won’t ever hurt you,” I whispered again, wanting to make sure he heard those words above all the others.

Slowly, his hands came down to touch mine. His fingers trembled as he traced over my palms and fingers, breathing through the rapid heartbeat that I could feel in his fingertips. It began to slow with every lingering touch as he reminded himself that I was safe, that I’d never hurt him even if the only way to live was to cause him pain. I couldn’t do it. Not to my Shota.

When he finally looked back into my eyes, the dark pools of his own were rimmed red. A stray tear cascaded down his cheek, and I reached up with a careful hand to wipe it away. He didn’t flinch that time, but he did close his eyes at my touch. His bottom lip trembled, and I could tell he was fighting back the rest of the tears. “It’s okay to be sad if it’ll help you. Sometimes I get sad, and you make me feel better,” I reminded him of the countless times he’d been there for me when I missed my brother or when the memories returned from my younger years. “I like helping you,” I whispered before my hand trailed over to the angry red mark on his cheek.

Before either one of them could stop me, I focused my quirk and began inheriting the pain. It made me feel like my face was on fire, but I didn’t care. My father before the basement used to hurt me the same way. No wonder he was so sad and scared. The pain made my face throb, but the pain in my heart was worse. How could anyone hurt him? How could anyone be so mean to my Shota? He was the boy who sang to me during thunderstorms, the boy who bought me a hat to match my dress one day because Hizashi forgot to put sunscreen on my face and he was worried I’d get a sunburn, the boy who walked me to school every day and ran with Hizashi to pick me up after, the boy who gave me his signed All Might trading card because I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I still remembered denying it at first, but he told me that he didn’t like flashy heroes anyway, so he insisted that I take it.

How could anyone hurt that boy?

His eyes frantically searched my face as he leaned away from my touch, “why did you…why would you do that?” he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

I smiled through the pain on my face, “because wherever I am, you’ll always be safe.”

“Hey,” Shota murmured, pulling me back to the present with him. I blinked a few times, trying to reorient myself in the bathroom of the apartment with Hitoshi and Shota before me. Hitoshi’s hands were still up by his face, so Shota continued speaking gently. “What are you feeling in your body right now? Are you hurt?”

Hitoshi nodded, but he still didn’t pull his hands away from his face.

“Did I accidentally pull your hair too hard?” Shota continued with another question.

Hitoshi shook his head.

“Okay,” Shota breathed out, his voice still calm and steady as he looked for some way to get through to Hitoshi and let him know that there was no danger in that bathroom. “Take a deep breath with me, okay?” he asked before reaching out slowly to place a hand flat on Hitoshi’s chest. He waited and then took a long, deep breath inward. Hitoshi mirrored him as he did with me. They did it three times, and each time, Hitoshi’s breaths grew more and more even. Once the breathing had completed, Hitoshi’s hands settled back down at his sides, though they still trembled. Shota nodded slowly, still taking long and deep breaths, “no one’s angry with you, Hitoshi. Now, where does it hurt?”

Hitoshi lifted his hand to rest atop Shota’s much larger one. “M-my heart,” he whispered, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears spilled down his cheeks as his bottom lip trembled.

My body felt like it could barely move as I stared at the little boy who was my whole world. I would’ve done anything—anything—to take away the pain in his heart. I would’ve given up my life in a heartbeat to ensure even a moment of happiness for him. I would’ve taken his place in every house he had ever felt like a stranger in just to keep him from having to endure the abuse that never belonged in his life, the same abuse that I knew all too well.

Something softened in Shota’s expression, “can you tell me why your heart hurts?”

“W-why aren’t you angry with me?” Hitoshi asked, his voice trembling and cracking.

“Why would I be angry with you?” Shota retorted, responding to one question with one of his own to get Hitoshi to work through his thoughts.

“Because I…because I was crying,” the timid little boy stammered.

A memory passed silently behind Shota’s eyes, one that undoubtedly had to do with his mother. I didn’t have much hate in my heart, but my father and Shota’s mother were two people I had no compassion for. Despite having love for all of humanity, I had nothing but apathy for those two people. The only hatred I ever felt was for whoever took my brother away from me. Whoever killed my brother…

“Your heart was hurting, and your tears are how your body lets those big emotions out,” Shota interrupted my train of thought. I was eternally grateful for how easily he could ground me with just his voice. “People have reacted to your big emotions with anger before, haven’t they?”

Hitoshi nodded again, still so stoic as to not give away too much that could possibly be used against him. Still, he trembled lightly in a way that made me want to scoop him up and hide him from the rest of the world forever. He took another stuttering breath, “s-sometimes.”

“I’m not angry with you, Hitoshi,” Shota insisted in a soft but steady voice. It was firm with conviction and gentle with the care I knew he also felt for that little boy. “No one is upset with you, not here, okay?” he asked, and Hitoshi gave an uncertain nod of his head. Shota finally lowered himself down to the floor completely, not even just crouching but kneeling down entirely. “Do you want to talk about why your heart hurts?”

Hitoshi sniffled, his eyes continuing to shine with tears, “w-why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m just brushing your hair,” Shota reminded him, which caused more tears to stream down his cheeks. I wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but I also couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the moment between two of the most important boys in my whole life. Watching Shota with him was like watching a miracle unfold right before my eyes. “Do you want a hug or some space or something else?” Shota asked, trying to give him options to not overwhelm him. He could see just how precious Hitoshi was and that I needed him to be handled with the utmost care.

“A h-hug,” Hitoshi whispered.

Shota’s eyes flickered to me for permission, as if I could ever say “no” to someone showing Hitoshi care. I understood that it was his way of respecting the new dynamic between us. I was—for all intents and purposes—Hitoshi’s…provider. I couldn’t call myself his mother until he decided that that was what I was to him. I couldn’t just take a few comments he made in his half-asleep state as an invitation to claim that title.

After I gave him a nod, Shota glanced back up into Hitoshi’s violet eyes, “I’d really like to give you a hug right now if that’s okay, or would you rather have a hug from Aki-”

Before Shota could even complete his thought, Hitoshi’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. All the physical and emotional distance between them melted. Despite Shota’s best efforts to keep Hitoshi at an arm’s length, he failed in that very moment. It was a desperate attempt that amounted to nothing, and I realized as his arms wrapped completely around Hitoshi’s little body that he had been reduced to nothing more than a man with something to live and die for in that very moment. Yet again, Shota understood me in a way no one else could.

I felt the world tilt on its axis as I watched the two of them melt into each other.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Shota breathed out, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he held my whole world in his arms. He took care of that responsibility, cradling Hitoshi’s head against his shoulder. “You’re safe here, Hitoshi. Wherever I am, wherever Akira is, you’ll always be safe.”

Those words. They were the same ones I’d said to him all those years ago.

My heart thudded so wildly I felt dizzy. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The two people I loved most—cared about most—fit together like they’d both been waiting their entire lives for that one moment. Shota was the father to my son. My son. My son’s father. Shota.

My Shota.

I felt tears burning behind my eyes, but they were painless. The burn felt soft and as delicate as Shota’s hands were whenever he touched me. Without a second thought, I moved behind Hitoshi’s body and wrapped my arms around them both, sandwiching my little one between Shota and myself, dumping every ounce of warmth into him that I possibly could. I was also holding the little version of Shota as I held my baby boy. The two of them had such similar wounds and experiences, and I wanted to hold them both through every moment of it. I would protect them with my life. I’d spend the rest of my days ensuring their lives were filled with joy.

I leaned my forehead against Shota’s right collarbone, and he slipped his right arm from around Hitoshi’s body to wrap around the small of my back and hold me close to them. As Hitoshi’s small sobs began to diminish, I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. “He’s pretty good at giving hugs, huh, sweetheart?” I asked with a wide smile.

“Mhmm,” Hitoshi nodded as he pulled his face away from Shota’s left shoulder just enough to gaze up at me.

I reached up with my right hand to wipe his tears away. “You’re safe here, my sweetest little starlight. This is where you were always meant to be…in our arms,” I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

He gazed up at Shota, as if seeking reassurance that my words truly included him. Shota nodded his head with the gentlest smile on his face, “wherever you and Akira are, kid, that’s where I’m meant to be,” he promised, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. He couldn’t have said my name, right? Or at least he didn’t mean it the way my heart understood it. “It’s where I want to be,” Shota stressed as he pulled Hitoshi against him once more.

For a moment, it was just the three of us breathing together. There were no walls or old wounds. We were safe. We were all home. The air in the room was clear, and we all stayed exactly like that, completely still as a heap of limbs and love on the floor of the bathroom.

Shota didn’t move until Hitoshi moved. When he finally pulled back to look into Shota’s eyes with a calm expression finally making a home on his face, Shota offered an encouraging nod. “What do you say? How about we finish up with this hair?” he asked, running a hand softly through those tangled violet locks.

For the first time in Shota’s presence, I witnessed Hitoshi’s smile. It was unburdened by his fears of men, fears I understood better than I wanted to. He nodded his head and turned again to face the mirror. The entire time Shota worked, Hitoshi’s eyes remained trained on him, but it wasn’t for the reasons they had been before. I didn’t see memories of his own father in his eyes. I didn’t see the fear and calculations burdening him. I saw a little boy with infinite hope in the promise of starting over. He wasn’t tearing down his walls with blood-slicked fingers. No, he was opening the door to his little heart, prepared to offer a space to Shota.

His eyes spoke the words of his heart. “Welcome! I’ve been waiting for you.”

They were the same words my heart sang to him.

After settling my body onto the countertop and holding Hitoshi’s hand in my own, I realized it. I saw my own little family, something that was purely my own. It was a family of my own little creation, one that was bound together by love and not blood, just like my connection to Hizashi. These two people held my world together. That was the moment when I recognized that the light in Shota’s eyes was ignited by someone other than me, that Hitoshi also shared in that joy of bringing him back to himself.

For that moment, I allowed myself to hope that whatever it was that could exist between Shota and I—as improbable as it was—was possible. It could be something real. I allowed myself to believe that maybe I wasn’t just a lost girl with a crush on the first man who saw her. I let myself feel the depth of it all, of something that had never been just a crush. It was gravity.

Regardless of what we’d be to each other, we were going to be parents to Hitoshi together, and the promise of that made my heart ache with hope. For the first time in so long, I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to stay.

Once we were finished with Hitoshi’s hair, they sat outside the bathroom while I showered. I didn’t want to be away from them any longer than they wanted to be away from me, so I decided against the comfort of the bath and settled for a shower instead. By the time I was in my pajamas—one of Shota’s many shirts I’d stolen over the years and a pair of shorts—Hizashi had already single-handedly set up the living room the be a sleepover paradise. Blankets and pillows were strewn everywhere, and a futon was laid out in front of the couch. When I exited the bathroom, I saw Hitoshi’s wild expression looking from me to the living room to Shota and back around again. It was as if he was waiting for permission to move and take in the comfort of the living room from much closer than down the hallway.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I whispered, reaching for his hand and tugging him toward the living room.

I gestured for Shota to sit on the couch first, and I piled pillows at his side so I could curl up into him with soft things surrounding me as well. The moment I was on the couch, Hitoshi just stared at me, “can…can I sit with you?” he asked, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other.

“Of course! I was just trying to make sure that I was creating the most comfortable place for you to sit,” I smiled before opening my arms.

He crawled into my lap, settling into me and curling into the warmth my body provided. He was finally in his pajama pants that Hizashi had bought for him. They were still a few sizes too big, but they were at least secure with the tie around his waist. Jettie even made an appearance, which was a surprise to me since she was usually so skittish around anyone new, and Hitoshi was new to her despite not being new to me. She padded over to the couch as silent as a shadow and jumped up into Hitoshi’s lap, curling into him. She headbutted his chest a few times, and when he lifted his hand to pet her, she leaned into it.

My eyes flickered up to Shota’s, but he was already taking in the sight with slightly widened eyes that were filled with amazement. I turned my head back to Hitoshi, who was gently stroking Jettie’s chin. “Jettie’s not usually like this with strangers, so she must recognize you,” I smiled, thinking of how I had felt the same thing. I recognized him despite never having met him.

He didn’t loosen his grip on me at all through the movie Hizashi had me pick. It was one that I believed Hitoshi to be the most receptive to. It was entirely animated and about a boy who found his way to a fantasy world that he felt more at home in than the world he was born into. It felt like a particularly important message to convey to him.

Halfway through the film—after more than one slice of pizza that had come directly from the box and not picked up off the floor—Hitoshi’s eyes grew heavy, and he looked up at me. He fought the call of sleep with all his might, but I could see the exhaustion in his little features. My arms wrapped a little tighter around him. Feeling me move, Shota’s left arm tightened around my waist, trying to keep me from moving away from him. “It’s okay to fall asleep, sweetheart,” I whispered into his honey-scented, freshly brushed hair.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he insisted, blinking hard a few times before opening his eyes again. Those words had more than just one implication, which was crystal clear to me. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want to miss the movie, but that he didn’t want to miss me. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of being in my arms.

I understood that feeling better than anyone else possibly could. It was how I felt about my brother, the first one I ever had. Every moment we spent together was one I could vividly remember soaking in because our household made it uncertain how many of those moments we’d have with one another. We never wanted to miss anything, which led to countless sleepless nights and days when we’d just lay on the grass and exist with each other.

Sensing that we were on the verge of bedtime, Hizashi paused the movie and made himself busy by going into the kitchen to put the pizza away and load the dishwasher. He wanted to give us a few moments to sort through some of Hitoshi’s anxiety. I leaned further into Shota’s side as I continued to stroke Hitoshi’s hair back and away from his sweet little face. “I’ll be right here with you the entire time, Hitoshi,” I promised, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t going to be alone.

“But I’m going to miss you when I’m asleep,” he whispered into the dim light of the room.

I pressed a kiss to the top of his head once more, “oh, sweetheart,” I breathed out, nuzzling my face into his hair as I pulled him even closer to me. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that before, and I’ve kept it every single time, haven’t I?”

Before he could even respond, Hizashi returned to the room and knelt down on the futon in front of the couch. He sat back onto his heels as he stared up at Hitoshi with a wide smile on his face. His eyes flickered to me for the briefest second, and I saw memories of us flashing across his eyes. “Do you wanna know something a little bit embarrassing, Hitoshi? It’s been a secret ever since Akira was just a little girl,” he murmured, and while Hitoshi immediately perked up at the mention of a secret being shared with him, I tilted my head in confusion, wondering what he was going to say. “Shota and I-”

“Careful,” Shota cut in from beside me in a low grunt.

Hizashi brushed it off with a roll of his eyes that Shota often said I inherited from my brother. “Cool your jets, Sho,” Hizashi laughed before focusing back on Hitoshi. “Part of the reason we’d have sleepovers as often as we did was because of how much we didn’t want to miss my baby sister. Shota would be on his way out the door, and this one would hug his waist, and he’d suddenly decide that he wanted to stay,” he grinned, gesturing to me as the aforementioned ‘this one.’ Those memories came flooding back. From the way Shota’s body would stiffen to the way he’d scoop me up into his arms and ask me if I wanted to stay up just a little later to watch a movie. I remembered everything. Before I knew it, the three of us would be on the couch in the middle of the night, eating cereal and watching cartoons.

“That’s…not how I recall it,” Shota interjected once more.

“Shut!” Hizashi glared at him with his still wide smile. “I’m telling the story here, and I remember you being a total pushover with Akira since day one,” Hizashi laughed before turning back to Hitoshi. “I used to lay awake all night, and I’d just watch her sleep because I didn’t want to miss a single little thing. I didn’t want to miss a single moment of her, so I understand, Hitoshi. She’s the easiest person in the world to love, but take it from the person who’s loved her the longest: she’s not going anywhere. When she makes a promise, she keeps it. She will be here when you wake up, and she won’t leave your side.”

“But what if I miss something important?” Hitoshi asked in his little voice that could lull a baby bird to sleep. His stroking of Jettie had already eased her to sleep in his lap, which was unheard of.

I reached my right hand across my body and gently cupped his cheek, turning his head so that our eyes could meet. In the reflection of his eyes, I saw just how serious mine were. I didn’t want to give him any possible way to doubt my words. “Nothing in my life is more important than you, my sweetest little starlight. Nothing ever has been or ever will be more important to me than you, and I’ll prove that to you every single day for as long as you’ll have me,” I promised, pressing another kiss into his hair.

“You have your answer, kiddo,” Hizashi smiled before rising to his feet.

Hitoshi’s arms instinctively wrapped around me as he nuzzled his head into my body. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, and I felt my heart soften even further. “Don’t fight it anymore, my little starlight. I’ll tuck you into bed once the movie’s over,” I promised, and his body melted into my own.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt.

My lips tugged up into a smirk, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The movie went on for another 40 minutes, and he fell asleep during that time. His head was tucked against my chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around my middle as if he was desperate to protect me. I didn’t want to move, not when the warmth of my family surrounded me. I would’ve given anything to stay there forever, to stay in Shota’s strong arms with my baby boy nestled against me and my older brother to my left with his head resting on my shoulder. It was a life I was always meant to live but one filled with a happiness I didn’t think I deserved.

Sensing that I didn’t want to move, Shota made the first move. He rose from the couch and turned to face me. As if she already knew what Shota was going to do, Jettie leapt off Hitoshi’s lap with all the grace of a ballerina’s shadow. She pranced off to her favorite spot on the chair that I used to hold her in when I first got her. She curled up into a ball, like a little black cloud, and blinked for long beats.

My eyes found Shota’s face as he leaned down and carefully lifted Hitoshi from my lap. Hitoshi immediately curled up into his arms, nestling into Shota’s strong chest. I watched as the shoulders of the man before me relaxed immediately. He carried him toward my bedroom, and I let out a yawn and stretched my arms above my head. I stood up from the couch on fatigued legs, walking into the kitchen and attempting to help Hizashi clean up.

“Go to sleep, Stars. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, and you’re finally home after everything that happened,” he insisted, his voice filled with a mix of affection and concern that I’d try to push myself again.

I shook my head, “I’m fine for right now. I’m not even that tired.” That was a lie. My body and mind were both exhausted and on the verge of shutting down, but I wanted to stay awake for just a little longer. I didn’t want to be without my brother, and I didn’t want to be without Shota. I didn’t want to miss anything. I tried helping once more, reaching for the hand towel on the counter, but before I could even reach it, my body was lifted into a pair of strong arms. They weren’t Hizashi’s arms, though. No, I knew those arms were like home. These arms were like coming home during a rainstorm, like opening my favorite book to the page that made me feel like I was finally seen, like smelling my mom’s perfume years after she died.

Those arms were like finally reaching the end of the long road to home and realizing I’d finally made it.

They were Shota’s arms. Just as Hitoshi had done, I curled into his chest as he carried me toward the bedroom. “You told him that you’d be with him while he slept. You’re not breaking any promises, not to this little boy,” he murmured, his voice so soft and tender the moment Hitoshi was mentioned. His left arm was wrapped tightly around my back, and his right hand was tucked under my legs, cradling me as if I weighed nothing at all.

I shook my head in response, “I just wasn’t tired,” I explained.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he countered in a whisper, but I knew he wouldn’t push it too far. “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want to be away from Hizashi, especially now.”

I groaned, hating that he left himself out of the equation as often as he did. I also didn’t want to be away from him. I wanted to be close to him in a way that was so intense it physically hurt. I wanted to stay awake to keep from missing out on a single second with him. He was insane for thinking for even a second that it could be just that I didn’t want to be away from Hizashi, which was also true.

He settled me into the bed beside Hitoshi who immediately curled up into my body. Shota’s way of handling me was as if I were a delicate flower that was his to protect, water, and care for. He pulled the blankets up over both of our bodies, “get some rest. I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he promised in a voice just barely above a whisper.

As he turned to walk out of the room, I reached out and grasped his hand. “Can you just…” my voice trailed off as I realized that I was asking for something that wasn’t mine to ask for. It wasn’t appropriate to want, and it wasn’t fair to ask. I didn’t want to be alone in any of this. I didn’t want to be alone in my thoughts, not after the emotional rollercoaster I’d been on since Hiza City. I just needed someone around to be the stability for me while I stayed the stability for Hitoshi. “Can you stay with us?” I asked in a cracking and quivering voice.

His eyes turned back down to meet mine, and there was a moment of recognition that passed over them. He wanted to make sure I was alright. Each time I became more emotionally vulnerable, he was the first to look for the deeper signs that I would end up back on the bathroom floor. I hated what I had done to him—what I had done to both of them. “Do you want me to just rub your head for a bit while you fall asleep?” he asked as he reached up to stroke Hitoshi’s hair back in order to get a clear look at the most beautiful little boy who had ever owned a piece of me.

I shook my head, wanting him to stay but being unsure of how to ask without facing the potential rejection. “I just…don’t want to be alone,” I whispered into the silence of the room that was only interrupted by the light breathing of Hitoshi beside me.

Shota didn’t say a word as he stood up and left the room. My heart shattered into a million little pieces. I’d gone too far. I’d asked for too much. I was always too much or not enough or…I was always asking for too much from everyone, and I’d already placed too much weight on his shoulders with Hitoshi. I couldn’t ask him to support both Hitoshi and myself, so if he only had the bandwidth to support one of us, I wanted it to be the boy who looked at us both as his parents.

I mindlessly scratched at my neck, feeling the discomfort building within me. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone. Not again. Nothing left. Nothing left. Nothing left of my brother. Nothing left of my family. Nothing left of my life. I can’t be alone. I can’t be alone because there’s nothing left!

“Enough,” he grunted in a low tone as he reappeared in the doorway with the futon in hand. My heart leapt into my throat as my fingers stopped their mindless scratching. I just stared up at him like a deer in headlights as he set the futon down beside the bed on the opposite side of Hitoshi. He lowered himself down onto it, and I allowed myself to relax as I listened to his breathing even out.

“Thank you, Sho,” I whispered before allowing my eyes to drift closed. I didn’t feel afraid because I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone in my failures or successes. I wasn’t alone in my pain or my joy. I wasn’t alone in my fears or my dreams. I wasn’t alone in my life for more reasons than I could count, but among those reasons was him. No matter what life threw at me—a broken quirk that we still didn’t understand, a troubled past, or sudden motherhood—Shota made sure I was never truly alone because he was by my side.

Akira

I sat beside the tub with my knees drawn up to my chest just like I had when I was little and sat beside the tub when my brother would scream for me to be let into the bathroom with him. We were never apart. Not even for a bath. Hitoshi sat in the water with bubbles piled nearly to his chin and his small shoulders drawn in, stained pink from the heat of the bath. Despite insisting he was happy with the temperature and wanted it hotter, I added some more cold water just to be certain it wasn’t too hot for him. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, even accidentally.

The bathroom steamed around us, thick with the scent of honey soap to the point where I could almost taste it. It was the scent Hizashi had picked out for me when I first came to the family. Cherry blossoms, vanilla, and honey. I was too afraid to ask for anything when we went out with our mom that first full day, so he chose a honey scented bath set for me and then proceeded to use his chore money to buy a cherry blossom and vanilla scented bath set as well just in case I got bored. It became a signature for me, and I hadn’t changed it since.

I fussed over him at first, washing his face in gentle motions after getting him used to my touch. He just wanted to hold my hand for a while as he sat in the tub, and I was more than okay with that. He didn’t want to let go, even when I washed his face, so all he did was grasp my wrist gently while looking up at me the entire time. He didn’t take his eyes off me. I moved on to his ears and cleaned behind them like Hizashi’s mom used to do for us. I watched him every second, though. I watched every careful, nervous movement and uncertain breath he took. I moved slowly and with purpose, not wanting to frighten him at all. I hummed the same song I always did when I was nervous. As the tune of Moonlight Sonata filled the air, he relaxed into the bath further.

It was clear that he was too nervous to allow himself to play. He didn’t even touch anything unless our eyes met, and I gave him a small nod of reassurance that he wouldn’t get in trouble for doing so. It got to the point where my movements weren’t watched out of the corner of his eye, and he began relaxing. I saw it as a step in the right direction. Amidst the slow growth and trust being built in the vulnerable situation we were both in, I was able to vividly recall the ways Hizashi’s mother made me feel relaxed during my first several weeks in the house. She wasn’t who I channeled though. The woman I found in my heart as I sat beside the tub was the first woman I called “Mom.”

She was the first woman who loved me and the first woman who loved my brother. While I couldn’t forgive her for not getting my brother out of that house long before he had the opportunity to suffer at the hands of our father, I also couldn’t hate her. She was gentle with us when our father was cruel. She gave us baths and made us laugh. She bought us chocolates and hid them from our father. She often took the blame for us, knowing he was partial to Hana. I remembered times when our father would dump our dinners in the trash as punishment, or he’d feed it to the dog. She would decide shortly after that she wasn’t hungry for the rest of her dinner, and she’d sneak it into our room or outside for us.

She was one of the few people who was kind to my brother, and that was all it took for me to love someone.

As I grew older, I understood that her life with my father couldn’t have been easy because if he was cruel to my brother and I—and occasionally our older sister—I couldn’t imagine what my mother had to endure. I wondered if he ever hit her the way he did my brother and I. I wondered if he’d ever pulled her hair the way he did to me before. I looked nothing like my mother, not with her light brown hair and deep brown eyes. I looked like the polar opposite, but my grandma told me that I had her smile and the way the tip of my nose and ears got red when I tried to hide something. They said I had her laugh, too.

So, when I collected some of the bubbles onto my finger and deposited it onto Hitoshi’s nose, I allowed myself to laugh, and I heard my mother. In Hitoshi’s laughter of response, I heard the echo of my brother. It died away into a shy smile, but I could still hear the sound of it echoing in the bathroom. It was unique to him, but it elicited the same feelings as my brother’s laugh had, making my heart swell with a love and pride that I belonged to a love that was far greater than anything I’d ever experienced before.

For the longest time, neither of us spoke. Hitoshi let his legs drift in the water and would occasionally allow his knees to drift up so he could tuck them against his chest. I noticed quickly in Hiza City that he had a tendency to make himself as small as possible when he was overwhelmed or uncertain, and I knew uncertainty was a near constant presence in his life with the houses he came from. He touched one of the fading bruises on his knee as if testing to see if it was still painful, and when he winced, he glanced back up at me as if expecting to be reprimanded just for experiencing pain. It was as if part of him was asking for permission just to exist and take up any ounce of space.

I immediately reached out to cover his hand with mine. Focusing my quirk, I began inheriting the bruise. Everything that was left within him that could cause any ounce of pain was mine to carry. I didn’t care if it hurt me, but I knew Shota did, which was why I was grateful he wasn’t in the bathroom with us in that moment. After seeing him interact with Hitoshi after Hiza City, I wondered if he’d be more forgiving of my insistence on helping Hitoshi despite what it cost me. It would be a difficult thing for him to overlook, I knew that much. Shota was intensely protective of his students, but he was especially protective of his friends. I was lucky to be both. I was lucky enough to have been his friend first.

Hitoshi moved to stop me, but I gave him a small smile. It was a quiet reassurance that I wanted to do it, that it was on purpose. It was also reassurance that I wouldn’t be upset with him just for being hurt. I didn’t think it was possible to be upset with him at all. “Do you like bubble baths?” I asked, trying to pull a conversation into easier territory while I made sure there were no other hidden bruises and pains I didn’t know about.

“I don’t really know,” he murmured, gazing down into the kaleidoscope of colors the bubbles created in the water. “The last house didn’t have stuff I could use for baths, and they said showers were faster. I wasn’t supposed to be in the way. The house before that…” his voice trailed off, and the pain flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away.

“Do you like this one?” I asked, hoping to distract him from the painful memories. Hizashi had done it when I still had those memories of my last house. They were still fuzzy, and I didn’t remember much, but the memories came back from time to time before locking themselves away again. I knew how important it was to redirect away from them now and again to allow just a moment of peace. This was one of those moments of peace Hitoshi needed, especially after everything he’d been through.

He took a moment to survey the situation before him. The look in his eyes made it clear that he was both deeply uncertain and intensely grateful at the same time. It was the first time since meeting Shota that I felt truly understood by another little soul. I had been that same child once—fearful of when the other foot would drop, and I would be back in a situation where a man’s voice preceded angry hands. Even now, I was afraid of waking up and finding that I was still in the basement, that my entire life up to that point had been a dream. Hitoshi seemed to be thinking the same thing, like he was going to wake up at any moment.

“Hey,” I whispered in a soft voice, reaching out to stroke a finger over his cheek. I relished in the smoothness of it. My movements were slow so as to not provoke any fear. He leaned into my touch for a moment, and I could feel his body relaxing as I allowed my fingers to unfurl and cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered open to find mine, and I tilted my head as I just drank him in. The smallest little boy who had ever held such a grand place in my heart. Not even my brother had been loved quite like that by me. Hitoshi was different. With my brother, I saw him as my other half. With Hitoshi, he was everything good that I was and wanted to be.

I continued, knowing that he was waiting for the words that lingered on the tip of my tongue. They were the words I wished my mother had said to my brother and I, words that I wished to hear in her voice. I missed her hugs. I missed the way she smiled whenever it was just her, my brother, my sister, and I. I missed the way her hair would tangle at the ends, and she’d let me brush it before she instructed Hana to teach me how to braid. I stroked my thumb over Hitoshi’s cheek as I spoke. “You’re safe here, Hitoshi. I know this feels like a dream, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way, but do you want to know why I think it’s a dream?” I asked, staring down at him with a soft smile meant to defuse the tension.

He tilted his head as a small crease formed between his eyebrows, “why?”

“Because you finally made it to me,” I whispered, leaning forward to press my forehead against his own. “This feels like a dream because it seems like I’ve been waiting to meet you all my life, and now…you’re finally here. You’re finally in the home you were always meant to be in with the family you were always meant to be with, and I…” my voice trailed off as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I feel like this is my dream come true.”

His eyes widened as the words I spoke finally processed for him. He furrowed his eyebrows, “but how did you dream of me if you didn’t know I existed?” His voice made him sound even smaller than he was.

“I didn’t know your face or your name, but whatever piece of me makes me who I am, that’s the piece that dreamed of you,” I explained, continuing to stroke my fingers over the smooth skin of his cheek. “That piece has known who you are since the very beginning of time, Hitoshi. I didn’t know you had wild hair and the most beautiful eyes in the world, but I knew you were out there in the universe, and I’ve never stopped looking,” I confessed, feeling like a weight was being lifted off my chest.

He leaned into my touch a little further, allowing his shoulders to relax even further. “And then you found me,” he smiled, his voice thick with unshed emotions. He couldn’t possibly realize just how much depth was in those words. I watched as his face betrayed the memories of sleepless nights, of nights he’d spent so terribly lonely and afraid. More tears rose to those beautiful violet eyes and began rolling down his cheeks, but I was quick to catch them with the gentlest touch of my thumb. They weren’t hot tears of shame or sorrow, but they were tears of relief. I’d shed those more times than I could count after arriving at the Yamada family home.

I nodded my head in response to him, “and then I found you, little one.” I paused for a moment as I studied his expression. He was beautiful in a way that made the rest of the world seem dull. No matter how much beauty I had seen in the world up until that moment, there was something so different about him. It was as if he was the beginning of a new life and an end to the one that existed before. He was where every bit of color came from, the centerpiece of everything. I bit back a sob that threatened to tear through me at the mere thought of how infinitely lucky I was. “I’ve never felt so whole in my entire life,” I whispered as I leaned forward to press my lips to his forehead while my hair stroked lazily through his hair.

His eyes fluttered back open when I pulled away from the kiss upon his head. He just stared up at me for a long moment, drinking in the new reality. I knew the feeling he was experiencing more than I cared to admit. It destroyed me that he could understand the younger version of me so well. I hated that he ever had to know fear and that I wasn’t around to protect him before I met him in Hiza City. I hated that his little soul was in such a hurry to enter the world that he wasn’t in my arms until he was 10 years old.

Knowing that allowing myself to fill to the brim with hatred and despair for his circumstances was counterproductive, so I made a point to talk with Hizashi or Shota about it another time—perhaps once Hitoshi was finally asleep. I still had to sort through my own feelings about the situation, so it was best for me to keep them tucked away for the time being. I took a long breath that he mirrored, and I offered a soft smile once more. “Can I help you wash your hair?” I asked, wanting to be as helpful as I could possibly be for him.

He nodded his head slowly, and he turned his back to me. It was an act of pure trust, trust I hadn’t fully grasped anyone could have in me apart from my brother. I knew how hard it had been for me to truly believe that there was someone out there who wanted to take care of me, and I still struggled with that most days. I consistently fought against Hizashi and Shota when they tried to take care of me because it just didn’t make sense why they would want to.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay? That’s the last thing I ever want to do,” I murmured and waited for a nod before I began. I worked my fingers through his hair gently and slowly, adding shampoo and massaging it into his scalp as I let him see every single gesture. He watched every single move I made, but it wasn’t with the same uncertainty as before, like the world was about to crumble. That worried look had been replaced with something soft, something that matched the gentleness of my touch. My hands threaded through his thick, violet hair as I hummed that all too familiar tune once more. It felt as though my brother was right beside me while I took care of the little boy who was just as precious to me as he had been—and still was.

I worked through his hair and rinsed it twice, ensuring that every bit of dirt, dust, and debris from Hiza city was removed. Once the conditioner had been worked into his hair, I let it soak into the strands, desperately hoping they’d make brushing through it a little easier once he was out of the bath. Even the thought that I could cause him even a shred of pain made me want to throw myself into the abyss. When my hands stopped moving, his eyes fluttered open.

Each time those eyes met mine, it felt like two universes collided, but despite the weight of infinite responsibility on my shoulders, I felt weightless. He was my purpose. The moment I met him, I knew there had been a reason why I lived through it all—the loss of my brother, the basement, all of it. The suffering wasn’t for nothing; it was for him. I’d go through it all again if it led me back to that very moment with him. My bottom lip trembled as I was overcome with love in that very moment, and I had to look away from him for fear that one more thought of him would push me over the edge.

“Are you…are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice small and threaded with worry that didn’t belong anywhere in his heart. As long as I was alive, he’d never have to shoulder that burden again.

The question hurt more than almost anything else he could’ve asked me. My head snapped back to lock our tear-filled gazes. I shook my head, “no, sweetheart. I’m not upset with you at all. Why would I be mad?”

He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his little wrist. It was where I had noticed the first bruise on him when we first met. It had looked like someone had grabbed him or restrained him in some way. “Because you look sad, and…and sometimes people get mad because I-I make a mess with the water, or I take too long to get clean, or because I…I have too much hair, and it takes forever to wash, or I ask too many questions, or I…if I…” his voice trailed off as he struggled to find more reasons why I could possibly be upset with him.

I blinked away the tears and put the cup down before cupping his cheeks once more. I ran my thumbs under his eyes as delicately as I could, as if I was holding a baby bird in my hands. “No one is ever going to be mad at you in this house for just existing, Hitoshi,” I insisted, my voice firm but still gentle as to not reinforce the thought that I was angry or frustrated with him. “If you want a hundred bubble baths or none at all, if you want to play and laugh and ask a million questions, I want to hear every single one of them because you are so easy to care about, my sweetest little starlight.”

I wanted to use a different word. I didn’t care for Hitoshi, that word didn’t capture all the feelings that sprang free within me like a dam breaking under pressure the moment our eyes met for the first time. I didn’t care—I loved. Nothing about him was hard to love, of that I was entirely and completely certain. “This was the easiest choice I ever made because it wasn’t a choice at all, sweetheart. I didn’t choose to care about you the way I do. Something just clicked the second I saw you, like everything was exactly as it was meant to be. It isn’t a burden to care for you. You-” I stressed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “-are not a burden, and I am so unbelievably lucky to have the opportunity to take care of you. Do you believe me?”

He stared at me like he wanted to so badly. My heart ached for all the little versions of him who’d ever needed someone to say those words. It also ached for myself, the smaller versions of me who needed that when I was at my most afraid. “I want to, but…I’m just so scared that if I do, it’ll go away,” he confessed, new tears sliding down his cheeks as he took a stuttering breath.

“What I feel for you isn’t something that just goes away, Hitoshi. I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life, even after I return to the stars where all of our souls came from,” I whispered, gazing down into those endless eyes. “In every life I’m reborn into, I’ll find you again, and I will do just this all over. I will care about you just as much in every life, and I’ll consider myself just as lucky to have the chance to do it as I do now. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have the honor of being your person, little one, and you don’t have to earn any of it. It’s freely given, and it’s forever,” I promised, holding out my pinky to him.

“Forever and a day,” he whispered as he locked his pinky around mine.

I nodded my head, recalling the promise I made to him in Hiza City. “Forever and a day,” I murmured back to him, pressing one more lingering kiss to his forehead. “Now, I’m going to help you rinse the conditioner from your hair, and we’ll get you out of the bath so you can get dressed in the most comfortable clothes you’ll ever wear—I know because I steal his clothes all the time,” I giggled, hoping to bring a smile back to his lips.

It worked. He let out a small giggle, and it was music to my ears. The sound alone could’ve brought me to my knees, and it was a sound I swore he’d make for the rest of our lives together. It was my new dream: to give him a childhood he could look back on and remember with a smile. “Can you keep singing like before?” he asked, taking me by surprise.

It was unexpected for him to make any sort of request, but I didn’t want to call too much attention to it or react too outwardly for fear that it would drive him away from doing it again, and I wanted him to do that more than anything. I nodded my head, “of course, sweetheart!”

As I rinsed his hair, I continued humming the tune of Moonlight Sonata. My right hand held the cup as I poured the water over his hair while my left hand stroked through the strands. He kept his eyes closed, but in order to keep me close, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around my wrist as much as he could. He kept me anchored to him, and when it was over, I stayed kneeling in front of the tub and held the towel open for him to step into. I immediately wrapped it around him and in turn wrapped my arms around his little body.

He melted into my touch, tucking his head against my shoulder as I held him tightly and rocked him back and forth. “I’m so proud of you, little one. I know how scary bath time can be in a new place, but you were so brave,” I whispered into his hair that dripped onto my shoulder, uncaring of the water soaking into my shirt. I would’ve stayed that way forever if he wanted me to.

“You make me brave,” he mumbled into my shoulder, his body tucking further against mine. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so small that the dam of tears began breaking. I was so overcome with love and pride and gratitude.

I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, “thank you for coming home with me and for being patient with me while I learn how to do this whole parenting thing,” I grinned, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He was going to get a million more kisses throughout his life from me, so I had to start somewhere.

A shudder rippled throughout his small frame, and he let out a tiny yawn. I could feel how close he was to sleep, clearly worn out from everything that had happened since the start of the Hiza City incident. It was like running a marathon and finally being back at home in your own bed, but his marathon started when he was born, and he hadn’t been given a break to breathe until walking through the doors of our apartment.

I stroked a hand through his dripping hair, realizing it was still tangled to the point where I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d be able to brush through it without causing him pain. I knew I’d have to do it, though, because to ignore it would mean making the situation worse for him later. “You know who’s really good at brushing through knotted hair like this?” I asked, and he shook his head in response before tilting it while waiting for me to continue. “Shota. He has the long hair, so while I’ve been the one to always do Hizashi’s hair, Sho knew how to take care of mine and taught me, but he would always get the knots out without hurting me,” I smiled, recalling one time in particular after my second mom died. I wouldn’t let anyone touch my hair for a week, not even Hizashi, and it got tangled beyond belief. Shota came over and sat behind me for hours removing the knots from it.

Hitoshi’s eyes grew wide, “I don’t want you to go, though! I don’t want to be anywhere without you!” His voice was panicked, and his words tumbled out so fast that he was nearly out of breath by the time he finished. He shivered twice, and I suspected they were both from the anxiety coursing through him.

“I’ll be right here with you the entire time,” I assured him, stroking a hand over his tangled hair. “All I’m going to do is step out the door for a minute while you get dried off and into the clothes Sho left for you, okay?” I asked, though the fear that came with being away from me was still evident in his eyes. I continued speaking before he could continue panicking, “then, he’s going to come back in here with me, and we’ll brush through your hair together. After that, do you know what you and I are going to do?” I asked with a wide smile, hoping to distract him from his fears even if just for a moment, but I also hoped that setting the scene for the rest of the night would ease his anxiety.

There was the slightest shift in his expression, “what?”

“You and I are going to cuddle on the couch while we watch a movie and eat a ton of pizza and snacks,” I informed him before peppering his face with kisses while I continued speaking, “because I’m going to make sure you have the best first night here that you could possibly have, and then tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again!” I laughed, kissing his cheeks, nose, and forehead until he giggled.

When I finally pulled away, he was still smiling up at me and nodded his head. I knew that the lightheartedness of the moment made it easier for him to be brave in the moments when he would be alone in the bathroom. “I can get dried off and dressed,” he insisted, though I knew it was a struggle for him. It was one of the many reasons I admired him so deeply. For being so small, he was so brave in ways that few would be able to understand, but I did. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself.

“I believe in you, Hitoshi. If you need anything at all, I’m going to be right on the other side of that door no matter what,” I promised, placing one more gentle kiss to his forehead and stepping over to the door. I cast one last look at his little form under the big towel, and I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

There was a bit of commotion in the kitchen, and I knew Seirei and Hizashi must’ve gotten back to the apartment within the last few minutes based on the fresh smell of pizza and their hushed tones. Shota was standing right outside the door where I had planted myself the first time I stepped out when Hitoshi was getting into the bath. His arms were crossed over his chest, and I could see the muscles flexed beneath the fabric of the black shirt he wore. It surprised me that he wasn’t already digging into the pizza, but after having witnessed him with Hitoshi in the hospital, I couldn’t say that much could surprise me when it came to him and his interactions with my little one anymore.

Whatever we were made of, Hitoshi was created by the same fabric that made Shota, Hizashi, and I. It was the same fabric that made my brother. We were all stitched together by the same thread, and somewhere in that sleepy teacher was a man who felt deeply for his people. I was lucky enough to be one of them, but I would’ve given up my place in his life for Hitoshi to have it. In that moment, I realized I didn’t need to. Just as he had done to me, Hitoshi’s place in Shota’s heart had already been secured since before he’d ever met the little boy. I just knew it.

I had to do a double-take to see Jettie perched on his shoulder. Being an all black cat that was practically crafted from the shadows, she disappeared into Shota’s clothes and hair easily. She loved him. She loved all of us, but she especially loved Shota and I. She was my cat, but she made it clear that she was Shota’s cat, too. She’d often sit at my lap and meow at me until I sat close enough to Sho that she could settle between us and feel us both, or she’d climb up around my shoulders and meow at Shota until he reached out and stroked his fingers through her fur, inadvertently catching pieces of mine along the way.

It was as if she understood just how deeply connected I was to him. It was as if she could sense the way my heart ached with the knowledge that he and I would never be together because of circumstances and because of who we were to one another. I knew that being his student and his best friend’s little sister meant that a future together would be impossible. It wasn’t meant to be between us, but it didn’t stop my heart from yearning. It didn’t stop the way my stomach flipped when he looked at me or the way my breath caught in my throat when he’d say my name.

Jettie didn’t understand those little intricacies of my feelings for him or the inevitability that I’d have to suppress them someday when he eventually found his person, and I’d live my life alone because the thought of ever being with anyone else made my stomach churn. Shota was my person, and in another life, I wouldn’t have been his best friend’s little sister or his student. There wouldn’t have been the significant age gap between us, and I would’ve been his. Jettie only felt the pull between us, and she made it her mission to close the gap as often as she could.

“What are you doing?” I questioned, trying to act casual, but I was surprised when my voice came out as anything but casual. It sounded nearly accusatory, so I lightened the mood with a smirk. “I should hire you as a bodyguard,” I murmured under my breath.

“You wouldn’t be able to afford me with the amount of trouble you get yourself into,” he retorted, the side of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

I scoffed at that. “Well, you’re doing it for free already, so…” my voice trailed off as I shrugged, trying to play it off despite feeling horrible that my existence seemed to be a point of stress for so many of the people in my life. They always jumped into harms way to protect me, but I knew it was because they cared. Still, it upset me to think that people I loved so deeply could be hurt because of me.

He shrugged it off before rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know if you’d need help with him, so I figured I’d wait right here,” he confessed in a low voice.

There was something in the way he said it—not accusatory like I didn’t know what I was doing—that made my heart stutter. I was so used to fighting as hard as I could, thinking that I was fighting every battle alone, that I sometimes missed that Shota was always…right there, right on the other side of a door.

“Have you been out here the entire time?” I asked, my voice wrapped in gratitude and hope.

He nodded once. It was enough to convey that it hadn’t been a big deal in his eyes, but it meant the world to me. “Since you went in,” he answered with an even tone.

That response hit me right in the middle of my chest. There was no implication, no guilt trip, no proud boasting. He just waited. He always did. He waited on the sidelines whenever it was the time for his students to shine, he waited for me to finish collecting my things after class so he could walk me home, he waited for me to braid my hair in the mornings before we left so he could walk me to school. He waited for the right moments to prank my brother with me and waited for the right moment to tell me that I did a good job after a particularly difficult encounter with a villain during my training.

Shota Aizawa always waited.

My breath snagged in my throat. I wanted to say a hundred different things. Thank you. You didn’t need to. I don’t deserve any of this. I didn’t say any of it, though. All that came out was, “you’re…a total softie, you know that?” He rolled his half-lidded eyes, and Jettie meowed softly as if on my behalf. I liked to think she agreed with me most of the time, especially against the men in the house. I gestured back to the bathroom door, “we need your help with-”

He nodded before I could even finish the sentence as he produced a hairbrush from his back pocket. “I heard,” he stated simply before a mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Since I’m oh-so good at brushing out knots,” he teased, and I knew he’d heard me talking to Hitoshi about it.

“I was just trying to get him to be brave!”

“And you inadvertently complimented me in the process,” he countered, his smirk widening as I rolled my eyes. “I guess I’ve gotten really good at it with all the practice I’ve had over the years since a certain someone always cried when Hizashi did their hair…”

I gasped, “that was one time, and it was technically your fault because you scared him, and he pulled the brush out of my hair too fast!” I accused him, remembering the day clearly. Hizashi had felt so bad that he shouted at Shota for a solid 10 minutes after, and he held me for the rest of the night. It didn’t even hurt that badly, but the shouting was what got the tears flowing since I didn’t want anyone to be angry with one another.

“Still counts,” he teased as he moved to lean against the wall next to me. He bumped my shoulder lightly with his own, allowing Jettie to hop from his shoulder to mine. Still, it was the contact that I craved.

Jettie wrapped her body around the back of my neck, purring softly as her tail wrapped around the front of my neck and brushed against my cheek. I reached up to scratch her chin, and she purred louder, nuzzling her face into my hand. She had always been Shota’s way of taking care of me even when he wasn’t around, and I noticed little pieces of him within her, like the way she always seemed to know when I was having a bad day regardless of how well I thought I was hiding it.

“We should talk about everything that’s happened sooner rather than later,” I insisted in a low voice as my eyes flickered up to meet his.

His eyes widened slightly as he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of Seirei’s unmistakable footsteps rounded the corner. They were brisk and unafraid, but they scared Jettie off my shoulders, and she went scurrying into the other room as quiet as a shadow. She just didn’t like new people. She even got a little skittish around Hizashi if he was being too…well, himself.

Seirei’s emerald green eyes flicked from Shota to me to the closed bathroom like we were an art exhibit. She put her hands on her hips, somehow standing even taller than I remembered as she straightened her shoulders. “Are you two fighting over bath duty?” she questioned before noticing the warmth that tinged my cheeks, nose, and ears. She didn’t miss anything. So she slipped right back into teasing me, “because I can referee…unless this is just some weird sort of foreplay.”

I sputtered as my cheeks felt like they were on fire, “Rei!”

Shota scoffed, straightening up to his full height and leaning away from me slightly. He managed to move just as silently and unnoticeably as Jettie had, which was impressive for someone of his stature. “You’re not helping,” he growled as his mouth twitched into a frown.

“Jeez, now here I thought we were becoming close at the hospital, Eraser,” she snickered with a roll of her eyes.

He glared at her, his eyes becoming dull as he folded his arms over his chest once more, tightening them around himself. I knew that cue. He did it when women were too close to him and posed any sort of threat to him or myself. I didn’t know what happened when I was unconscious at the hospital, but there was something about her that struck something in him. Before I could move to step between them and defuse the tension, he spoke again. “How long are you planning on staying?” he asked, keeping his voice level, but I knew what that meant. It meant he was nervous.

“Well, Enji already offered me a guest house, so…at least someone still knows how to treat a lady,” she grinned, tossing the long hair of her ponytail over her shoulder. What? She’s leaving?! As if she could feel the sudden weight settling into my chest, she cast her eyes over to me, ignoring Shota’s entire existence for the time being and focusing solely on me. I opened my mouth to speak, to say anything at all, but nothing came out. “Hizashi’s tried to rope me into staying already, and…this is your time. You need to be with Hitoshi, and he needs some time to know you as…well, what you are to him.”

“But we have extra space,” I insisted, feeling like my world would start crumbling. I remembered what it was like to be without her. I remembered Arehate, how scared he looked in Hiza City when he finally started coming back. I remembered being away from Koemi, and what happened because I was away from Koemi. I couldn’t have Seirei back just for her to disappear again. I stepped forward, “you can’t…you…I can sleep on the floor, and you can take my bed if you want!”

She shook her head. It was a final response. “You have a life that you need to live, Akira,” she whispered, and her gaze was filled with a depth I’d never been able to understand before that moment. She loved me in a way I never felt like I deserved, especially from her. She’d already done so much for me in that basement that gifting me love as well felt like too much. She was as immoveable as the sea, though, so I knew arguing against her reasons for loving me or protecting me was a lost cause.

She stepped forward and grasped my hand in hers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Shota’s hair had lifted off his shoulders as he deactivated her quirk. She let out a sigh, “relax. We’ve been over this,” she grunted before focusing solely on me once more. “I’ve never seen you so happy before in my life, Akira. The stuff you said to Hitoshi that night…I heard every single word. Let yourself have him—just him—for a little while before you let the world in again,” she instructed me. I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to be without her again, to feel the way the world tilted off its axis without her. As I opened my mouth to argue, she continued, “I’ll be here all the waking hours of the day if you’ll have me, but I think you should take some space to balance your present before we start revisiting the past.”

I shook my head, “I can do both, though.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. I…” she paused as tears filled her eyes, making them sparkle in the dim hallway light. She bit her lip hard enough to leave a small indent of her teeth on them, “I watched you become a mom right before my eyes, Kiki. It was what my Sakura always dreamed of, and…”

The moment her voice cracked, I pulled her into my arms. I knew her Sakura was someone she didn’t mention often, and I knew why. It was the same reason I didn’t mention my brother. The pain associated with dreams that would never be fulfilled because the world had been so cruel to them was unbearable. She clung to me as tightly as I clung to her, and I rubbed circles onto her back as I felt her tense while she fought back her tears.

“I want you to be set up for success, so…” she took a deep breath and pulled back just enough to lock our gazes together. She reached up to stroke her thumb over my cheek as she had so often when we were girls. She said it was because I felt like a dream. “Let me stay at Enji’s guest house for a few nights while you get settled. Then, you and I can talk about some sleepovers,” she insisted, and her smile wobbled just a bit—but enough to show me that this was hard for her, too.

I didn’t want to make it any harder, but as the knot in my chest tightened, my voice came out like a blast, “I don’t want to be away from you!” I nearly shouted, but I caught myself just in time before the volume reached a level that could possibly frighten Hitoshi. I realized in that moment that I sounded just like him. I was still just as small and scared as I’d ever been.

Shota’s hand found my shoulder, and I noticed that his hair was back down around his shoulders once more. His touch was gentle and anchoring in the silent way it always was. He never made a show of his support, but he was always there. “I’ll drive you to Enji’s if you’d like,” he offered, and I knew it was less of an offer to her and more of an offer that would continue to take care of me.

She shot him a sideways glare, “I’d rather crawl there on my hands and knees-” her voice trailed off as I unconsciously realized that I’d begun to move between them the moment Shota’s body tensed beside mine. She recognized the shift, though, and corrected her tone after clearing her throat, “but thank you for the offer. Enji already said he’d drop by to pick me up. He’ll be here in the next few minutes.”

“Well, I can always pick you up in the mornings if you need a ride here,” Shota offered again, the move again being one to soothe me more than anything else.

Seirei rolled her eyes. I knew she didn’t like men and was only fond of a select few—Hizashi, Arehate, All Might, and Endeavor were the only ones I could think of—but I hoped that she’d come to see Shota as someone worthy of some trust. She pressed a kiss to my forehead, her hands as gentle as all the memories I had of her. She wasn’t as rugged as she was making herself out to be, not when those hands were still so soft, “you’re going to be just fine, Akira,” she whispered before leaning her forehead against my own, “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, okay?”

I nodded my head, sniffling as the tears threatened to spill over. I felt so emotionally raw from holding in as much as I did. I wanted to scream and cry. I wanted to break down and sob about what I’d witnessed in Hiza City, about Koemi, about my brother and the images of my father, about how sorry I was for putting Shota and Hizashi into the same situation I had before when they weren’t sure if I’d make it home, about the weight of being a mother to someone so new, about the fear of death that I’d faced yet again, about how much I would miss Rei and how much I had missed her up until that very moment. I wanted to cry, to finally fall apart, but I couldn’t because I wouldn’t be able to stop if I did.

“Be strong. I know you can do this,” she encouraged me in a soft voice that was so much like the one she used to use when we were girls.

When she turned away from me and began making her way toward the door again, that was when I noticed the small braid in her hair, nearly hidden within the other hair in her ponytail. It was like a secret, one so few of us knew. It was just Arehate, her, and I that were left, but we were the final basement girls. I realized there were words I never spoke to any of them, words that I wished they’d all heard from me at least once before they died. In a heartbeat, I pulled away from Shota’s hand and ran after her, slamming into her back and wrapping my arms around the front of her body.

“I love you,” I blurted out, my voice breathless and desperate. It was something that I realized had never crossed my lips after all that time. I’d never said it to her when we were children despite seeing her as a sister. I always struggled with saying it to anyone after losing my brother. I only said it to a small handful of people because the word held a weight that was unlike any other to me. I said it to my mother, my sister, my brother, Hizashi, Hizashi’s parents, and no one else. I never said it to my father because he didn’t deserve it, and I only said it once to Hizashi’s parents when I was going to bed a week before they died. I refused to say it to anyone else, but Rei deserved those words because there was nothing but love for her, and she needed to hear it.

Her shoulders trembled. It was the smallest motion that could’ve been overlooked by anyone else, but I felt it. She twisted around in my arms and wrapped her own around me, pulling me into the tightest hug I’d ever known. My ribs ached from the pressure, but I never wanted to let go. If that was what it took to keep her close—the ache of my ribs—I’d endure it all for her. She sniffled against my shoulder, and I felt her tears soaking into my shirt. “I love you, too, Kiki,” she whispered like a desperate plea to be heard by whatever higher power could possibly exist. “I love you more than anything in this world,” she added, and it was a promise as fierce as any other I’d ever known.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” I sobbed into her shoulder, feeling like a weight was finally lifted from my shoulders, like letting those words out meant I was spilling them into the air for the other basement girls who had never known my love for them. Maybe they could still hear them from where they were.

Her body trembled in my own, “you weren’t ready, but you are now, and that’s all that matters.” She pulled back, and we wiped each others tears away, breaking into teary smiles as we did. “You’re ready,” she repeated, and I knew those words had a deeper meaning than just being ready to say “I love you.” I was ready to be a mother, to face the unknown.

I was ready for whatever came next.

She believed in me, which meant I had to believe in myself. I followed Seirei’s lead throughout our time in the basement, and I’d followed her example even after we were separated. I’d do it again. I nodded my head, unable to speak without breaking down in more tears. Her bottom lip trembled as she reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’ll see you later…I promise,” she vowed, holding out her pinky like she always did.

With a shaky breath, I hooked my pinky around hers. “I’ll see you later,” I whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes flickered over my shoulder to where I could feel Shota standing, watching us with his usual stoic expression. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” she instructed him before Hitoshi’s small voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door, pulling our attention. As much as I loved her—as much as I loved everyone else in my life—there was one person who transcended the very definition of love itself. There wasn’t a word strong enough to describe what I felt for him. She gave me one more squeeze before pulling away, “go get your baby boy.”

I nodded my head, not having to be told twice. I made my way over to the bathroom door as I watched her slip out of the apartment and into the safety of her own new world. She wouldn’t be far, but she was far enough to leave a hole in my heart. My eyes flickered up to Shota’s as the door closed, and his gaze was softer than I’d ever seen it. He wasn’t a teacher or a pro hero or my friend. He was just Shota. I found his arms, and he wrapped them around me without hesitation, cradling my head against his chest.

I let out a long, shaky breath as I allowed the weight of Seirei’s absence to settle into my bones. Reminding myself that it wasn’t permanent, I peeled myself away from his embrace and turned to the bathroom. “Are you still ready to help?” I asked, forcing a smile onto my face for his sake.

Akira

We didn’t leave the hospital for another full day, even after the staff assured us that I was healthy enough to return home Hizashi wanted me there another night just in case anything changed. The flowers that had flooded my room followed me to the lobby. I handed them out to nurses, doctors, technicians, even the security guards as I left because they all helped me and others recover after Hiza City. I’d left a letter for Nara, thanking her for staying by my side and taking care of my family while I couldn’t. It was also an open invitation to visit with her grandfather if she was ever in the area. I left her a bouquet of flowers that I’d personally bought from the gift shop before leaving that day.

Hawks had appeared that morning to wish me luck. He offered to take me back on in a week and a half, giving me enough time to fully recuperate and then continue our work study. Shota had told him that they’d discuss it in private with one another prior to me returning. There was an edge to their interaction, but I didn’t understand why. Hawks also didn’t hold eye contact with Hizashi at all. He was much quieter than he had been throughout the rest of my work study, and I wanted to understand why. I needed to understand the change in him.

The flowers were piled up in the streets, too, and I was stunned by the outpouring of love. I had no idea that anything I did would be of any importance to anyone else. I did it all because it was the right thing to do and because I had no choice but to help as many people as I possibly could. It was built into me, like I was hardwired to be like this. I didn’t do it for recognition or thanks, and I still felt like I hadn’t done enough. There were so many people I couldn’t save, so many bodies I pulled from the rubble without heartbeats. Sure, I saved as many as I could, but it wasn’t enough. If I didn’t save everyone, I considered it a failure.

Seirei helped me hand out some of the flowers to random strangers on the street as we waited for Hizashi to pull the car around. Hitoshi stood between Shota and I, holding our hands with each of his own. He stood closer to me each time I handed a bouquet to someone as if he was trying to protect me from the world. In doing so, he brought Shota closer to me. My stomach flipped as butterflies erupted in my chest. I didn’t want to draw attention to it, especially when the feeling was different than the one I felt in Hiza City. It was more grounded and real.

I didn’t like it.

Shota was insistent on sitting in the backseat with me, putting Seirei in the front with Hizashi. I didn’t know if it was because he didn’t trust Seirei or because he wanted to be close to Hitoshi. The former reason wasn’t an issue as I was certain Seirei would never do anything to hurt me or anyone else I cared about. I was equally as sure that she’d tear anyone to shreds if they so much as breathed in our direction the wrong way. If it was to be close to Hitoshi, I was doomed. There would be no possible way for me to separate myself from the feelings that had been nagging at me for the last couple of months. It wasn’t normal, and I knew that. Other girls my age could have crushes on their teachers, and that was fine, but Shota was my friend first. He was also Hizashi’s best friend. It was a pipe dream, which hurt to think of, but it was a reality I had to accept.

As we rode back to the apartment, Hizashi played the part of my older brother. He drove with his sunglasses on, the music loud enough for us to still hear it despite the wind, and he cracked enough jokes that my stomach hurt by the time we made it back. Seirei laughed with Hizashi and rolled her eyes at his singing at first until he turned it onto one of her old favorites, and then they sang together. Hitoshi nestled into my side again, curling up against me despite the seatbelt that kept him in place. Shota sat on the other side of him, quiet and grounding as always, piecing together the building blocks of our makeshift family with silent precision.

The day was so ordinary. The sky was wide open and blue like I hadn’t seen it in so long. I could only think of where we were going and didn’t have enough heart to think of the Pro Hero I was leaving behind. The place we were about to go was one I’d been to hundreds of times. It was the home I knew for 11 years, the place I felt most comfortable. It was the place I felt safest. It was different that time, though, because I had been undone and remade in my time away, and now, I was someone changed. I was going home for the first time, and I was introducing it as Hitoshi’s forever home, too. It was all so overwhelming.

By the time we reached the apartment, dusk painted the sky gold and orange. Everything around us felt softer and more gentle than it had been previously. We all carried flowers and cards and gifts up to the apartment. Hitoshi tucked as much as he could under his chin, but his little arms couldn’t hold much. Still, it was sweet watching him make his way up the stairs to our third floor apartment. When we finally reached the door, Hizashi unlocked it and swung it open.

For a breath, time stopped as I watched Hitoshi’s eyes light up as the most precious smile lit up his lips. I bent over to stroke my hand through his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Welcome home, Hitoshi,” I whispered, and the moment I felt his hand trembling in my own was the moment I knew this meant just as much to him as it meant to me. He released his grip on my hand and paused in the entryway as Shota, Hizashi, and Seirei parted around him. I watched as Shota gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he brushed past him, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for that small show of support. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the fear that he’d wake up and find himself somewhere else—back at the last place he knew.

I knelt in front of him, allowing him to stand taller than me. The smells of home surrounded me, and I waited with helpless anticipation to build him into this life with me. There was a lavender candle Hizashi burned often that lingered in the apartment. There was also the scent of Shota—coffee, jasmine, and coconut—since he was at the apartment more often than he was at his own. I gazed up into Hitoshi’s wide eyes, reaching up to grasp his hands in my own. “This is home now, my little starlight. You’ll never need an invitation to anywhere I am because you belong wherever I exist, okay?” I asked with a smile and watched him nod slowly.

The voices of the others faded into the kitchen, and I listened to Hizashi spouting details of the last 11 years to Seirei—poor girl. I knew they were being polite by allowing Hitoshi and I to have a few moments alone. “Are you…are you sure I can stay?” he asked, his voice trembling like his hands and knees did. It was like he was preparing for the world to give way beneath him.

My heart shattered, but I remembered my vow. I had to be strong for him. Hitoshi made me stronger. He didn’t need to feel responsible for me, especially not after everything that happened in Hiza City. I wanted to cry. I wanted to sob and explain to him that there wasn’t a single place he belonged more than by my side. “You were practically asleep that night I woke up, so I’ll remind you of the main point: I would do anything for you, little one. Anything at all. I want to be this for you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else before.”

“More than being a pro hero?” he asked, tilting his head in disbelief.

It wasn’t even a question for me as I nodded my head. “Even more than that. If I could only choose one dream to come true, it would be you,” I promised with a warm smile that I hoped would bring him some sort of comfort.

It didn’t.

The moment the words left my mouth, tears began streaming down his cheeks. His face twisted with a mixture of pain, gratitude, and something else. I quickly pulled him into my arms, which effectively pulled him down into my lap. I held him, rocking back and forth gently as I cradled his head against my chest. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you so sad,” I whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into his knotted hair—we were going to need some conditioner.

“I’m…I don’t think I’m sad. Maybe a little. W-what if this really does m-make me a greedy little monster?” he asked, shivering into my arms.

Anger flared hot in my chest. Who could ever look at him, something so precious and good in my life and possibly think to call him that? A monster? My father…he used to call my brother and I that all the time. He used to call us that before he’d throw us out into the backyard, but it wasn’t before we felt his wrath. I shook the thought from my head. I can’t think of him right now. I can’t let him ruin this. I pulled back just enough to tilt Hitoshi’s head up to meet my gaze. “Do you remember what I told you back in Hiza City when you asked if you were a monster?” I asked, wiping away the tears with the gentlest touch.

“That y-you’ve known monsters,” he whispered, dragging in a stuttering breath.

“And that you’re the furthest thing from that,” I continued, needing to remind him of the most important part. “You trust me to make good decisions, right?”

He nodded his head as his eyes brightened slightly. “Of course, I do! You’re my number one hero, and you saved me!” he insisted like it was a given, like I was the only choice he had.

My heart swelled with pride. I had been loved endlessly by so many people in my life. Despite all the things that happened throughout the course of my life, I had been loved. I was loved intensely. I was loved wildly. I was loved. This was something different, though. I had never been looked at like this before, and it filled me with a sense of responsibility and warmth that I’d never known. To be loved like this, it was like being born all over again. I had a clean slate. It was as if angry hands had never wiped away the innocence of my youth, had never attempted to take from me the things I least wanted to give: my light, my laughter, my wonder. Hitoshi came into my life and restored me.

I was brand new again.

“Then trust me when I tell you this: my heart decided that you are worthy of my life, Hitoshi. There are no words to explain it to you, but I just need you to trust me that every single dream I’ve ever had…they mean nothing to me if I can’t share them with you,” I smiled down at him, moved to tears I refused to let fall. “I’m convinced that you’re the reason why I made it to where I am today, that fate had this path waiting for me, and I may not know what I’m doing all the time—I may not have all the answers—but I can’t wait to start down this path with you.”

“But I want you to be a hero because it’s what you’re good at,” he confessed, staring up at me with hope in his eyes.

“When I was younger than you, I had some friends—girls who I loved and who kept me safe. Seirei was one of them. They were my best friends in the whole world, and I consider them some of the greatest heroes of all time,” I began, tracing his nose with the tip of my finger.

He tilted his head, “do I know their names?”

I smiled fondly at his innocence, knowing that no one would ever learn the stories of these girls, at least not fully. Those stories were mine and Seirei’s. Those stories were for us to hold onto because we were basement girls together. I shook my head in response. “You didn’t. Not many people knew their names, but I did. Most of them didn’t have quirks, but they were heroes regardless because a hero is someone who protects, someone who saves, someone who steps in even when they don’t need to. That’s a hero, Hitoshi, and these girls were my heroes.”

“I don’t need everyone in the world to know my name for me to feel like I’ve lived a good life. I don’t need to be remembered by the masses or have my face plastered on TV screens. I don’t need any of that to feel like my dreams were accomplished. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a hero, and that has changed for me throughout the years. Now, I want to be a hero to the little boy who made me feel brave despite how scared I was,” I murmured, tucking a few strands of his wild hair behind his ear.

“You were scared?” he asked, his eyes widening as he thought of the possibility that I was just as human as anyone else who was faced with such destruction.

I nodded my head. “I was scared the entire time we were in that city. Electroburst had ripped my wings from my back, and I was terrified because he kept dangling me over the side of the building. Then, I heard your voice, and nothing else mattered. I acted because every fear I had didn’t matter to me at all. You made me brave, so much braver than I ever thought I could be, and there has only ever been one other person in my life who made me feel this way.”

“What was their name?” he asked, studying me with a curiosity that I could barely handle.

Memories of that head of black hair and those grey eyes flooded me. I still saw him. I still watched the way he played in the backyard with me, how he’d draw hero costumes with me as we dreamed of the heroes we wanted to be. I still left him outside when our father would call to us in that angry voice, and I still provoked the man that hurt us both before the basement ever had the chance to touch me. I was brave for him, never in spite of our father. I was brave because there was someone who needed me to be.

“He was my brother,” I finally answered, knowing that whatever love I could give to him would be ways in which he knew my other half.

“Mr. Hiza-um…Uncle Hizashi?” he asked, correcting himself. I knew Hizashi must’ve had the whole “Mr. Yamada was my dad” conversation already, but my eyes still widened as it became more and more real how much of a patchwork family we really were. It was one I wouldn’t give up for the world, though.

I shook my head, “not my brother now. My first brother,” I replied, and his eyes—filled with anticipation—met mine. I knew I couldn’t tell him about the first person I ever loved because he was also the first person whose loss shattered me beyond repair. I was half a person without him. I was never meant to know what life was like without him, but I had known 11 years of it without him now. Hitoshi would never meet the girl I was supposed to be, but the moment I first looked into those violet eyes, I could feel the whispers of her somewhere deep within me.

I rose up to my feet again as his shoulders seemed to relax. I took his hand once more. “I think it’s best to leave that story for another time because it’s my favorite one to tell,” I smiled, pushing down my own sorrow in order to focus on that moment with him above all else. I cleared my throat and reached out for his hand, which he took quietly. “I think it’s time for the grand tour,” I grinned, and it took everything in me to keep my voice steady as memories of my past coursed through me.

Leading the way through the apartment, I showed off room after room, introducing him to Hizashi and I through the various pieces that made up the apartment. From the worn in desk in the main room that was covered in my notebooks and sketch pads to the couch where I sometimes passed out with my head on Hizashi’s lap or with his head on mine to the kitchen where Shota’s favorite coffee mug—one I made for him when he was still a student with Hizashi that had Hizashi’s and my handprints on it—sat with that familiar chip in the side next to the tea that he made for me. They were all pieces of us, of the life we’d all cultivated together. Hitoshi stayed close to me, clinging tightly to my hand and nodding as I explained where everything was. He touched nothing, though I wouldn’t have been upset with him if he had.

I brought him to the bedrooms last. Hizashi and I both had our own rooms, and there was a spare room that had a bed but was primarily used as Hizashi’s office for his radio show and for recording music. He had wanted to buy a house shortly after our parents died, but I was adamant that we had to stay because the apartment was where they lived. I still couldn’t imagine leaving. In the night, I could still hear their laughter or the voice of the woman I came to know as my mother repeating that same mantra to me about how she loved me since she was just a girl herself. She always wanted a daughter, and Hizashi was perfect; however, she still wanted a girl, but she couldn’t have more children. She told me that the day I arrived was the day she felt complete. I could still feel her fingers on my temple, smoothing my hair back when I was sad. I couldn’t leave the apartment because what if I was leaving that behind?

My bedroom was clean, but the walls were covered in memories. Pictures of Hizashi, Shota, and I throughout the years covered sections of the walls. There were posters of All Might and pictures of me and Endeavor from my last work study. He looked miserable in photos despite how easy our conversations were. Still, there was one that stood out to me because it was the one time I managed to make him laugh, and I snapped the picture at the perfect time.

Soft light filled the room, and I watched as Hitoshi’s eyes scanned the walls. His eyes were wide with wonder as he tried to take in as much information about me as he could through the pictures that held memories I’d rejoice in sharing with him someday. “You don’t have to decide right now, but you can sleep anywhere you’d like,” I told him quietly, brushing a bit of his violet hair from his brow. “You can sleep in here, in the guest room, on the couch, in the bathroom,” I giggled with him at the idea before continuing, “wherever you feel safest because this is your home, too, my little starlight.”

“I don’t really want to be away from you,” he whispered, gazing up at me. “You’re where I feel the safest.”

The pride returned to me, causing a lump to form in my throat. “Wherever you decide you’d like to sleep, then, I’ll be right there with you,” I promised, reaching my pinky out to him.

He beamed up at me, reaching out with his pinky and wrapping it around my own.

In that moment, all I wanted to do was show my brother. He was the missing piece. I wanted to point at my life and tell him that I finally did it. I finally did something remarkable. I knew he would’ve loved Hitoshi for a million different reasons, but he’d also love him because I loved him, and my other half followed my lead no matter what. I wanted to tell him that this was the life I wished he could’ve had because it was the one he deserved but never received.

As thoughts of my twin—the boy I shared everything with—flooded my mind, the tingling sensation on my neck began once more, the way it always did when I thought of him too much.

So I scratched.

Shota, as if sensing my sudden lapse in control, appeared in the doorway, successfully pulling me from my reverie. He immediately stepped into the room, and Hitoshi stepped out of his way quickly. His hand found my wrist and pulled my hand from my neck without a word about it. In his free hand, he held a black t-shirt—one of his. “I was thinking that since we don’t really have any extra clothes for you, you could wear this to bed tonight,” he murmured, his voice gruff as he handed the short over to Hitoshi.

“We should get you cleaned up first before getting dressed for bed, though. Maybe Hizashi can run out and just buy some of the essentials?” I asked, gazing up into Shota’s dark eyes. “And then perhaps you and I can go out shopping for new clothes tomorrow?”

Before Shota could even respond, Hitoshi piped up from beside me. “No!” he nearly shouted, and my heart felt like it lurched forward. I hadn’t expected such a visceral response from someone so small. My eyes flickered down to his own, and he was visibly shaken. His shoulders, hands, and knees all trembled violently. “It’s okay. I…I don’t…I don’t need anything. I-maybe I can do some chores, and then…well, maybe I can, uh…I…” his voice trailed off as tears flooded his eyes again. He blinked away the tears, refusing—as I had—to allow himself the basic comfort of letting them fall. “I don’t need anything. I-I’m fine, I promise. I’m not…I can just wear this!”

He was immediately panicking. Whatever fear had been placed into him, I wanted to understand it so I could heal it. Clearly, his basic needs weren’t met, and if they were, he was made to feel like a burden because of them. He was made to believe he was unlovable if he didn’t make himself as small as possible, if he wasn’t palatable. “Hitoshi,” I whispered, crouching down once more in front of him. “Sweetheart, you’re not a burden. You could never be a burden to me, not now, not ever. We all want you here, especially me, and I want to take care of you. That includes making sure you have clothes to wear. If I didn’t have clothes, would you want me to be cold?”

He shook his head, “I’d ask to do chores until I made enough money to buy you clothes.”

“Because you’re a good boy. You’re a sweet, kind, and caring boy, Hitoshi,” I murmured, gazing up into those innocent eyes. “Let me take care you the way you’re so willing to take care of me, sweetheart. You aren’t in the way, and you’ll never be too much for me. I like you exactly as you are,” I smiled, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands. I pulled his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“What if you get tired of taking care of me?” he asked, laying out his vulnerabilities for me to see.

“In every universe that has ever existed, Hitoshi, I know that I’ve found you in every life. In every single one, I have the absolute honor of being able to take care of you—I can feel it as deep as my soul. There’s not a single life in a single universe where I don’t count myself the luckiest girl in the world to have the opportunity to take care of you,” I vowed in a voice that was low as if in near-silent prayer. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and you get to wear one of Sho’s shirts to bed! I used to steal them all the time because they’re so comfortable, so you’re lucky he’s letting you have one for free,” I grinned, casting it up to Shota as well.

His shoulders relaxed. I knew Hitoshi’s small outburst was something that had stressed him out, just like it had when he was panicking in Hiza City when I mentioned food the first time. He didn’t like seeing him in distress, but it was something we’d learn to handle with time and care. He gave a curt nod of his head, “Hizashi and Rei headed out to pick up a few things already. They just asked for my help with a few things, which…speaking of-” his voice stalled as he crouched down to be eye-level with Hitoshi. “I have the most important question in the world for you, kid,” he blurted out, taking a long breath that Hitoshi mirrored.

I stood up, and his arms immediately shot around my waist, burying his face into my abdomen before turning his head to face Shota. “W-what is it?” he asked with a sniffle, and I smoothed his hair back.

“What’s your favorite thing to eat for dinner?” Shota asked, his voice smooth and as gravelly as ever. He sounded like I remembered his father did. He was a good man, just like Shota was. He bought me a hat to match one of my favorite dresses when I was little, and he told me that he was glad his son had three incredible friends at his side. Hizashi, Oboro, and myself. I couldn’t think of him for too long, not when I had other things that needed tending to.

Hitoshi looked deep in thought for a moment, and he glanced up at me as if trying to pick apart what my favorite food was in order to replicate it. He bit his lip in hesitation and shrugged. “I…I don’t know,” he mumbled nervously, clearly worried that someone would be upset with him for not answering the question.

I knew that life. I knew what it was like to not be allowed to have preferences. I had been the same way when Hizashi asked me the same question upon me arriving. I’d lived on limited access to food growing up anyway—a punishment my father sometimes inflicted but one that was carried on in the basement.

Shota knew something similar, especially after his father died. I knew because he had begun losing weight rapidly, and the bruises were more pronounced than they had been before. The memories made my stomach churn, but the sudden squeezing of Hitoshi’s arms around my waist and Shota’s voice pulled me back. “You don’t have to be nervous, kid,” he smiled the smile that came easily only around a few people. Hizashi and I were lucky enough to witness it from time to time, but Hitoshi had somehow managed to—within the last week—wrap Shota around his little finger. “Do you like pizza?” he continued, pressing just a bit in order to get an answer.

Hitoshi’s eyes lit up at the mention of it, and I decided I loved pizza then and there. “I like pizza! The last house I was at never let me have it, but…the house before that let me have a slice once!” Despite the excitement in his voice I saw the hint of sorrow in his eyes.

“Just one slice?” I asked, rubbing my hand over his back gently.

He nodded. “They weren’t going to let me have any because I was supposed to eat some of the leftovers that they didn’t like as much, but one of the pieces fell onto the floor. Normally, they let the dog eat the stuff that fell onto the floor, but she was sick, so they let me have it instead,” he recounted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was still a level of excitement in his voice.

My eyes widened as I realized how cruel they had been to him. To feed him scraps from the floor? To not even allow him the decency of a plate or a fresh slice. Tears immediately filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I bit the inside of my lip so hard I tasted blood just to keep my bottom lip from trembling and the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

Noticing my reaction, Shota plastered an even wider smile onto his face in an attempt to keep Hitoshi’s eyes on him until I could gather myself properly. “You see, Hizashi and I love pizza, but Akira only lets us get it once a week. Now that you’re here, though, maybe we’ll be able to get it more frequently. I’m sure Hizashi would like that,” Shota smirked up at me, desperate to lighten the sorrows that took up space in my chest. I knew they also weighed heavy in his own, but he always pushed his feelings aside to take care of me and my own.

Hitoshi let out a small giggle, and that was the sound that saved me. He turned back to me and shifted his body to hug me more comfortably. “I’m so glad you chose me,” he rejoiced in a voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt. His grip on me was tight but still gentle—I was convinced there wasn’t a rough bone in his body.

“It was the only choice my heart could make,” I confessed, knowing that there was no alternative. Finding him was fate, and choosing him was destiny. I wanted to gather up the pieces of all the little boys he had been—the little versions of him that hadn’t been chosen—and pull them all into my arms. I wanted to comfort every version of him that existed, but I knew there was no way for me to do that, so I just held him. I hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up to lock our eyes. “Don’t let Shota fool you, sweetheart. I like pizza almost as much as he does-”

“Impossible,” Shota cut in, pulling Hitoshi’s attention for the briefest moment.

I snickered, “if he had it his way, though, we’d have it every single night.”

“Because it’s the most versatile food option,” he argued, his voice holding a playful edge to it. That was the version of him I appreciated the most—when he was just Shota with me again, not Mr. Aizawa. Something about Hitoshi pulled him back out, and I could see Shota again. Mr. Aizawa was stern, cold, and calculated. Shota was still all of those things, but I felt a little closer to the warmth at the center of him. The lightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and my chest erupted with butterflies.

As the warmth rose to my cheeks, I hid my face in Hitoshi’s hair again, pressing a kiss to the top of his head once more. “I’ll go get the bath started for you, okay?” I murmured into that wild mess of hair. He nodded, but as I walked away, splitting from Shota while he dialed Hizashi’s number to confirm the dinner decision for pizza, Hitoshi followed me. He trailed me all the way to the bathroom, so close to me that I could feel the nervous heat of his body at my hip.

It was just like Jettie, the little black cat Shota got for me after my work study with Endeavor. I had been so afraid of leaving home, and when I returned, I struggled with panic attacks consistently. On our way home from training my quirk one afternoon, I saw a lonely black cat in the window of a shelter we’d passed by dozens of times before. Shota allowed us to take the detour of entering the shop, though I knew it was partially for him as well since he loved animals as much as I did. He had lifted her up, and she snuggled into him before he passed her off to me, and she did the same thing. The owner told us that she didn’t typically do that with new people, and she would often run and hide.

That was when we both knew there was no leaving her at the shelter. Without my brother’s permission, Shota purchased the cat for me along with all the necessities. Then, he proceeded to spoil her rotten as often as he could. She didn’t leave our sides for the first several weeks after returning home, and she’d cry at the door whenever Shota would go back to his apartment for the night. She loved Hizashi, and he loved her back despite his sniffling and sneezing if she got too close to his face when snuggling. Still, Shota and I were her people.

Hitoshi was similar to her, not wanting to leave my side for anything. He needed to be close in order to feel secure, and I didn’t mine in the slightest. I preferred it, actually. I wanted him close to me as much as I wanted to be close to him. I had never been afraid of death before, but the mere thought of being apart from him made me sick to my stomach. The idea that someday—if everything went as it was meant to—he would be here without me was enough to wreck me. It made my stomach sink like a rock to the bottom of the ocean. I knew that I could be a strong foundation in his life, but when I wasn’t around, the world would be there waiting for him. What if it was cruel to him again? I didn’t want to leave him in the hands of the world when I knew that mine were safe for him.

A gentle squeeze of my hand in his own reminded me that the time hadn’t come to pass yet. I didn’t have to leave him. I was still right beside him, and he was still little enough for me to hold onto. I just couldn’t blink, not when I knew how fast time would fly when I had every desire for it to slow down.

I checked the water three times until I knew the temperature was perfect. Once it was finally at the desired temperature, and he even checked it to confirm perfection, I poured in a few oils and some bubbles, watching as they foamed to life in the bath as it filled up. I straightened my body once more and laid out some towels for him for his hair and body when he was done. “You can put your clothes right here on the sink, and I’ll get them when you’re all done so they can be washed,” I murmured in a voice soft enough to not disrupt the calm environment of the bathroom.

As I made my way toward the door, I noticed that his presence still lingered close by me. He followed me again, but he moved a little slower, wringing his hands in front of his body. “A-are you leaving?” he asked as he stared up at me with wide eyes.

My hand curled around the doorknob, and I could practically see the fear wafting off of his little body. I knew he needed me close, so I offered him a simple smile. “I’ll sit right outside the door. No one will come in here, I promise,” I vowed, wondering it he had trauma linked to bathing as well. I had no idea what had been done to him, but I was certain there would come a day when I would learn. On that day, I’d hold him through every bad memory, every tear, every question as he asked about why it happened to him, and every plea for me to not leave him. I’d hold him.

He hesitated again, his chest rising and falling quickly. He looked at the ground before speaking, “can you…can you stay in here with me?” he whispered, keeping his voice soft as to not upset me in any way. It was clear he was often the one to diffuse situations wherever he was before he came home.

I let out a long breath. I could tell just how much he wanted me to stay, just how deeply that fear ran in him that if I stepped out of that room, there was a possibility that I wouldn’t come back. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I reached out to stroke my fingers over his cheek again. “You have to take a bath, though, sweetheart. It’s going to help your muscles, and you’ll be able to clean off all the dirt and dust from Hiza City,” I reminded him, trying to give him pieces of logic to cling to. “I’ll be right outside the door the entire time. I won’t move a muscle,” I promised, though I knew it likely wouldn’t be enough for him. There was a deep, desperate insecurity about letting me leave his sight, and I could tell just based on the way he stood before me.

As I went to step away, his little hands reached out and grasped my shirt. The trembling of the fabric matched the trembling of his hands. “Can you…can you please stay in here with me?” he asked, the request so quiet that I almost wasn’t able to make out the words. Once it hit me, though, I couldn’t help but hesitate. I couldn’t walk out of that door, not when he was begging me to stay with him. All I had wanted to do was give him some space to realize that this was home, and he could feel safe here. He stared up at me, waiting for an answer. His big, doe-like eyes felt like they were boring into my soul. “P-please,” he whispered once more, clutching tighter to my body as he continued. “W-what if I need help with…um…with…” his voice trailed off as his eyes darted around the bathroom, trying to think of something he could possibly need help with while taking a bath, but I knew he had been so viciously independent by that point in his life that there was no way he could possibly need help with one of these simple tasks.

It was clear that he didn’t want to push me too hard, but he also still needed me to stay. He was caught between his fears and his most basic needs. He had to be close to me the way he had to breathe. It wasn’t as simple as wanting me close, it was that he needed me close. It knocked on the door of a section of my heart I had thought long hidden, but he found it with ease. It was the place I kept him.

I just blinked at him for a moment. I knew—without the shadow of a doubt—that he needed me to stay. He had to know with his whole heart that I wouldn’t disappear if he let me out of his sight for a second, but that would only be taught with time and trust. Despite the amount of trust I’d been given already, I couldn’t ask him to continue spreading himself thinner and thinner or my sake, at least not until things calmed down. The times he was away from me had been followed by tragedy. He was away from me when I took him into the hills, and the next time he saw me, I was impaled by those metal rods. He was away from me when I was sifting through the rubble of one of the buildings, and the next time he saw me, I was scratching gashes into my neck while Hizashi held me and Shota carried him away. He was away from me when I was in one of the tents in the city, healing people we rescued and providing as much comfort as I could, and the next time he saw me, I crashed.

Despite it not being the fault of anyone in particular, he already began noticing a pattern that when he was away from me, bad things happened to me. I remembered feeling the same way as a child. I was always so afraid that if I wasn’t at my brother’s side, he’d be hurt, and there was no way for me to protect him.

Instead of arguing against fears that I understood all too well, I knelt back down to the floor in order to be closer to his height but allowing him to stand taller than me. “Are you afraid?” I asked, wanting him to recognize the emotion within his body so that in the future, we could work through it together.

His bottom lip trembled as he nodded, unable to verbalize the emotion on his own. All he could do in that moment as nod his head as his cheeks flushed red with clear embarrassment. It devastated me that whatever life he knew before me punished him so heavily just for experiencing emotions. He stared down at the ground, unable to meet my eyes as he confessed to the fear that as building in his heart. “Y-yes,” he whispered softly, wincing as he spoke like he was bracing for impact. It was as if being afraid was a punishable offense, like how dreaming of being a hero had been in my old family.

I nodded my head, keeping myself steady for his sake. I reached between us and gathered his hands in mine, pulling his fingers away from where they clutched my shirt so I could give them gentle, reassuring squeezes. “Okay,” I whispered, pulling him toward me ever so gently. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Hitoshi. It’s my job to help you and teach you amongst a million other things, okay?” I asked, gazing up into his eyes. His bottom lip quivered, so I instantly plastered a smile onto my face, trying to get him to understand that no part of me was frustrated or angry with him. “When you have these feelings, I want you to feel safe about coming to me and saying, ‘Akira, I’m feeling scared or angry or sad or…’ if you don’t know the name for the feeling, you can just say, ‘I’m having a really big feeling right now, and I need you.’ I will never, ever let you deal with these really big feelings alone if you need me.”

My voice was filled with determination as I continued speaking, though the smile on my face never wavered. Despite the tears building in his eyes out of sheer gratefulness, I couldn’t allow him to see just how connected my feelings were to his own. I had to force my own happiness until it bled into him. “Now, this is one of those big feelings,” I let out a deep breath, which he copied. My heart felt lighter already. I continued, “so…I’m going to stay in here, and I’m going to sit wherever you’d like me to while you take your bath,” I explained, bringing his little hands to my face and placing gentle kisses onto his knuckles until I heard him giggle.

That sound was a reminder that I hadn’t truly been the one to save him. He had been the one to save me. When our eyes met once more, he took another slow breath. I could tell by the way his hands steadied that I’d managed to chase away a piece of the fear. It was going to be a long road, but nothing could keep me from walking it for him. He sniffled quietly, “can you sit on the toiled?” The request was soft as he let go of my hands, stepping away to close the lid of the toilet in order to provide a more comfortable perch.

I nodded my head, “I can do that,” I smiled before stepping toward the door one more time. “I’m going to step out for just a second while you get undressed and get into the bath. Once you’re ready, just call for me, and I’ll be right back in to sit with you,” I promised before giving him a reassuring nod and opening the door. “I believe in you, Hitoshi. You’ll only be in here for a few seconds. You can do this,” I insisted before watching the determination spread across his features. He nodded, and I stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

I listened to the sound of his quickening breaths and uncertain movements. I could hear the fabric being folded and placed onto the sink where I’d instructed him to put his clothes. I stood vigil because it was what I was always meant to do, it just took me a while to find my truest purpose. The wait felt like an eternity. I hated being away from him as much as he did. I never liked being away from Hizashi or Shota, but I could still bear it, like when I went to Endeavor’s agency for my work study during my first year at U.A.. Then, there was my most recent internship with Hawks. I could walk to the store without them, and Hizashi, Shota, and Oboro used to walk me to my elementary school classes before heading to U.A. when they were students. I didn’t feel like this, though.

The feelings being on the other side of the door elicited were similar to how I felt for one other person in my life. His black hair and grey eyes flashed in my vision. I used to panic whenever I wasn’t in his presence, whenever he was taken away from me and thrown outside, whenever I couldn’t touch him or hear him or see him. He and I couldn’t do anything without one another. It brought me back to the first person I was a sister to. My other half. The most beautiful boy I’d ever known, the one who deserved a good and peaceful life more than I ever had.

No one could take his place. That piece of me had been closed off for so many years that I forgot what it was like to have someone who needed me as much as I needed them. I forgot what it was like to need someone like that and to be needed like that. One memory in particular came rushing back to me, and the pain erupted in my head. It felt like my eyes would explode out of my skull because my brain felt like it was on the verge of bursting. Hot daggers felt like they were being driven into my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, burying my face into my hands as I leaned back against the wall. I let out a pained whimper as a fire coursed through me.

Then, there was laughter.

I opened my eyes, and the pain was a million miles away. The pain was in a different life entirely. I was home again, or…the house that was made home solely because of him. That laugh. I hadn’t heard it in so long, but…he was right there in the grass beside me. He wasn’t afraid. He was never afraid when it was just the two of us. He grew a little more apprehensive when our older sister was around, but it was only because she’d occasionally tattle on us if our father targeted her. I understood her, though, and I even asked for her to place the blame on me if there were things she had done that invoked his wrath.

We were in the small clearing in the small section of woods behind the house. It was late. We weren’t supposed to be out late, but Dad’s voice was loud in the house. I could remember it. He had been yelling at Mama about the mango ice cream since she stepped in to defend Grandma. He didn’t like when we were treated for nothing and could hardly tolerate it when we were treated on our birthday. Grandma had bought us the mango ice cream randomly that morning, and Dad came home while Mama was trying to hide it from him. We climbed out of the window to get away from the yelling. It was more peaceful in the woods, and we didn’t have to worry about Dad bursting into the room to drag one of us away.

I wanted to look over at him, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I was stuck in the body of that memory. I pointed up at the sky instead, losing count yet again. “How many stars do you think are up there?” I asked before finally glancing over at him.

He was still just as beautiful as I’d remembered. Soft features with cracked skin beneath his eyes and on his neck, which he itched at until I put the cream on. He did it whenever he was nervous, too, which was far too often when we were in that house. If Dad was gone, everything would’ve been gentler for all of us. None of us would have to be afraid. It was a mean thought, but…it was his fault. No one else hurt us. Only him. We were cursed from the very beginning when we were born to a father like that.

His black hair rustled slightly in the gentle breeze that pushed through the trees. The moment he shivered, my hand shot out to intertwine our fingers. His grey creased as a soft smile spread across his lips. “I don’t know how many are up there, but I know there are 71 in your eyes,” he answered, searching my eyes like he did every morning and every evening. I never understood why he did it until that moment.

“How did you know that?” I asked, watching him. His eyes were full of wonder and innocence, something our father had never managed to take away. Despite everything he put us through, my brother maintained his gentleness.

He took a long breath, one I mirrored. He managed to calm me down like that, and I realized that it was what I did with Hitoshi. I had picked it up from my other half. I couldn’t remember these memories, not consciously. This was the first one I had received in so long, and it felt like a gift. There was no doubt that somehow, he sent me to cross paths with Hitoshi. He must’ve known that in every life—just as he and I were brother and sister—Hitoshi and I were connected as child and parent. He answered after his long breath, “I count them every morning at breakfast and every night before we fall asleep,” he confessed as warmth filled his cheeks. He knew there was nothing to fear from me. Of all the people in the world, we only trusted each other; however, it was hard not to sense danger with any sort of confession.

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he continued, “there were 44 in your left eye this morning, and there are 42 now. I count to 71 whenever I’m scared, and it makes me feel closer to you if you’re not outside with me yet.” That’s what he did when Dad would toss him outside after a beating. It suddenly made more sense why he was mumbling numbers until I got myself thrown outside. He counted the stars in my eyes. In that moment I promised to get out there before he finished counting. From that moment, he wouldn’t have to count that high. “I love you, Akira”

My nose stung with unshed tears, and I moved closer to him in the grass, pressing my forehead to his own. “I love you, too, T-”

“I’m ready!” Hitoshi’s little voice pulled me right back to the present, and the memory was swallowed back into the deepest depths of my mind like a whirlpool had consumed it. The pain was unbelievable once more, but I continued to squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to pull it back from the darkness that it came from. I didn’t have many memories of him, just flashing pictures of him in my mind. For so long, I couldn’t even remember what he’d sounded like, as if my mind was trying to protect me. I had him again. I had him again, and he was ripped away from me again.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I panicked as I felt my nails against my neck. I had to be present for Hitoshi, but I wanted my brother back. I needed my brother back. I needed him back!

Then, I was in a pair of strong arms. Despite my eyes being squeezed shut, the scent of coffee, jasmine, and coconut made it impossible not to know who it was. Shota. Soft, soothing circles were rubbed onto my back with one hand. “I had him. I had him for a minute again. My…my brother. He was in the grass with me,” I whispered into Shota’s chest, my eyes burning with those unshed tears.

“You’re okay, Akira. You’re okay,” he whispered into my hair as he reached up to pull my hand away from my neck. I fought him as much as I could, but it was no use.

I pulled away from him as I remembered the reason why for every question that could ever be asked of me for the rest of my existence. It was for Hitoshi. Everything I would ever do from that moment on would be for him. I pushed the pain away as much as I could, and I reached for the door.

Shota grasped my wrist before I could turn the handle. “He can wait for just a second,” he insisted before pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping away the blood above my lip. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m always going to be here for you, and if you don’t want to talk to me, Hizashi is never going to turn his back on you either. You also have Seirei again, so…there are options. You don’t have to carry anything alone,” he insisted before releasing my wrist before I pulled away from him again.

I nodded my head, truly grateful that he was offering but knowing that I’d never speak to him of my brother. It was too much to hold onto. I knew how deep that pain ran, and I was terrified that if I opened it and began talking about him that the wound would burst open all over again, and I’d bleed out from it. I didn’t want to burden anyone with that, so I would do as I did when my brother was still alive—I’d hold him close and keep him to myself. I didn’t want to share him because anytime someone else got their hands on him, they hurt him. Like my father. I would ensure that no one ever touched him again, not even in death. He’d been through enough in life. My brother would know peace.

Akira

Before I even opened my eyes, I heard the soft hum of the machines surrounding me along with soft beeping. I’m not dead. How am I not dead? When my eyes finally opened to the dim artificial lights cast off the machines attached to me, I blinked a few times to allow my eyes time to adjust to the darkness of the room. The smells surrounding me were all so similar: coffee, jasmine, coconut, and flowers. Then, there was the smell of warmth beside me—the smell of love.

Hitoshi.

My eyes locked on his sweet little face with cheeks that weren’t nearly full enough for a 10 year old boy. One of the machines beeped lightly, but I didn’t pay it any mind as I gazed upon the boy in bed beside me. He clung to my side, his head tucked against my arm. It was clear that he had clearly done his best not to disturb the delicate arrangement of wires and leads connected to me, but I didn’t care about them at all as I repositioned us so my arm draped over his shoulders. I pulled him closer to me, to where he belonged. He stirred gently but didn’t wake as he nestled into me even further, clinging to my body as he tucked his head against my chest. It was as if his sleep allowed him the freedom to do so

Just then, the door to the room slid open, and one of the nurses walked in on light feet so as to not disturb the peace of the room. “Well, good morning, sweetheart,” she whispered with a soft smile. I offered her one back, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak, not when I wanted my first words to be to my little one. Once I knew it was safe, I turned my full attention back to Hitoshi. He wasn’t just the most beautiful dream I’d ever had. He was still so real, still so…here. The attack on Hiza City hadn’t just been a dream or a nightmare, it was real. All of it was real.

The nurse closed the space between us, taking a manual pulse on my left wrist since it was the most accessible one despite Shota’s head resting on the side of the bed as he gripped my left hand with his own. My heart skipped a beat as he tightened his grip around my hand the second the nurse touched me. It was as if he was attuned to me even in his sleep and could feel when someone else was getting too close for comfort.

I pressed my lips to the top of Hitoshi’s head. “Hi, Baby,” I whispered into his hair before feeling his body melt into my own. He let out a long sigh as if he’d been holding his breath for however long I’d been in the hospital.

The nurse used a stethoscope to listen to my heart and lungs, instructing me to take deep breaths, which were a bit uncomfortable. She spoke as she folded her stethoscope and tucked it into her pocket, “neither one of them have left your side as long as you’ve been here. This is your son’s first time really sleeping,” she informed me.

My son.

My. Son.

She didn’t know the intricacies of it all, but she surely had to know that given our ages, he couldn’t biologically be my child. While he looked to be much younger than he was, I was still only 16. Even then, she didn’t question it. “I’m Nara. I’ve been with you since the beginning when they first brought you in,” she introduced herself, and I offered her a smile in return.

“I’m Akira, but I suppose you must know everything about me already,” I whispered back, surprised to hear my own voice still. The last thing I could remember was the tent, the smell of blood so thick I could taste it on my tongue, and agony. I could remember…Shota’s worried voice, and…Hawks?

The nurse settled onto the chair on the other side of my bed from Shota. She leaned forward. “I know that you’re a lucky girl to be loved so deeply by so many people,” she smiled, and the world felt like it brightened a bit more as a warmth radiated from her. Was it a quirk? She continued, “you’ve had so many visitors, and the hospital is overflowing with flowers and gifts for you. Every single nurse here has been requesting to work with you.”

“And you’re the lucky one who’s been stuck with me and this…little clan?” I asked, my hand tightening slightly in Shota’s as I stroked Hitoshi’s hair back.

She nodded her head, “I’m honored to be able to take care of you. I specifically requested to pick up an extra shift yesterday because I didn’t want the day off if it meant anyone else would be taking care of you. I have complete faith in my fellow nurses, but I promised your little one that I’d take care of you the best I could.”

I was moved to tears by that. When I wasn’t awake to take care of him, it was such a relief to know that someone had, that someone was looking out for both of us despite having no connection to either one of us. I tilted my head, my eyes meeting her brown ones. “Why go above and beyond when I’m sure this place has been overflowing with people after Hiza City? You deserve a break, too. I’m not the only patient–”

“But you’re the reason my grandfather wasn’t a patient in a different hospital,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly sparkling with tears. She took a long breath, “I’d been trying to call him the second I found out something was going on in Hiza City, but I guess none of the electronics were working, so I didn’t know if he was safe or not. I wanted to go there to find him, but there was such an influx of patients here that I knew what he’d tell me to do: stay here and help who I could. Then, I got a call three days into the rescue efforts, and he told me all about this young girl who pulled him from the rubble, how you reminded him of my mother when she was a girl. She’s been gone since I was 6, but…well, that’s not really important.”

I remembered that man. He was the one who asked me to help him find the picture of his wife. I knew the reasons why I had to save every single person, why I had to make sure everyone was accounted for, but I never thought I’d be face-to-face with someone who had been impacted by those decisions. I didn’t know how to respond to her words regarding her grandfather, so I focused on her mother instead. “If you have a minute, I’d love to hear about her. I had a friend tell me once that those we’ve lost live on through the stories we tell,” I smiled, hoping that it was inviting enough to get her to stay just a few more minutes.

“She was kind. That’s what I remember most about her,” she began, her voice softening further as she spoke of a woman I’d never know but one who touched her deeply and who—through her daughter—saved countless lives, including mine. She continued, “she was a nurse, too, and she helped in rescue efforts. She loved being in the thick of it, working alongside heroes, and helping people who needed immediate medical attention. She hated the attention but loved the act of saving lives. She didn’t even have to be working to show up to these villain attacks to help people.”

“I was 6 when she died,” she whispered, leaning back in the chair. She cradled the small bump on her abdomen, and I wanted to ask how far along she was but knew better after seeing Hizashi do it once when he was my age, and our mom pinched his ear so hard his yelp shattered the glass jars of jam in the aisle. Hizashi and I helped clean up the mess. I retrained my focus on Nara as she continued to speak of her mother. “She was helping with rescue efforts but didn’t know the villain hadn’t been stopped yet. She was killed in the crossfire. My grandparents took me in after that and raised me.”

“What’s your favorite memory with her?” I asked, knowing that sharing memories about the people I had loved and lost were the ways I felt like I stayed connected with them. It also helped me remember others. I didn’t remember much from my childhood—the bad things stuck with me the most—but I could still remember my mother’s smile. I could still remember the way my brother’s hands and how they felt in my hair. I still remembered the way the light filtered through one particular tree outside out house and caught my older sister’s brown eyes. Those were among the memories I hoped I’d experience all over again when this life was over.

Nara chuckled to herself for a moment as she wore a far off look. “I remember walking into the kitchen once when she was making my birthday cake. It was for my 6th birthday—the last one she ever made me. I startled her so bad that she got frosting all over her face. It turned out she had already finished frosting the cake, and she was eating a spoonful of it, but when she jumped, it got all over her nose,” she remembered fondly as tears brimmed her eyes. She blinked them away, “I can remember it like it was yesterday, really. There’s so much I wish I could’ve asked her about, especially when it came to being a mom. Like…how she did it all on her own. I’m lucky with my Keishi, but I can’t imagine raising my younger self all on my own. She was a hero…just without any of the recognition.”

I knew so many of those heroes without the recognition. Nara was one of them—nurses always were.

“Thank you for sharing her with me,” I smiled, grateful to know of someone I’d never met but someone who played such a pivotal role in my present. “What was her name?”

“Hana.”

I had a flash of my older sister’s black hair and brown eyes. She was suddenly just as tangible as my brother was to me. I couldn’t always remember her features, but I forgot almost everything but her eyes most of the time. In that moment, though, I could remember her laugh and the thick black hair she wore in two pigtails on the sides of her head. I remembered she’d often let me borrow her barrettes and would put my hair up in similar styles to hers. She told me once that I didn’t look like her sister since we looked so different, but her heart knew mine, and that’s what made us sisters, not our looks.

I reached up to scratch at my neck, but when Hitoshi stirred beside me, I halted all movements and went back to stroking his hair instead. “That was my sister’s name. A beautiful name for beautiful girls, I suppose,” I murmured as I blinked back tears of my own. I could remember her name. Hana. Perhaps that was why I crossed paths with that older gentleman looking for the picture of his wife. Perhaps it was all to lead me back to the memories of my sister.

“Anyway, that’s enough about my life story. It’s a part of the reason why I couldn’t leave your side this whole time because…you saved the last family I have left. Well, the last person who knows me as something more than just a mom, who remembers that I was a little girl once, too, because I think we’re always those little girls no matter how old we get,” she smiled, and the weight of my memories seemed to ease in her presence. It has to be a quirk, right? She rose up from the chair, brushing off her scrubs before straightening her top over the baby bump. She reached out and grasped my hand in hers. It felt like sunlight bathing my skin as she gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll go page one of the doctors.”

My heart lurched as I thought of the quiet peace in the room being interrupted. I thought of losing out on the way Shota’s hair tickled my hand because he was laying so close to it. I thought of Hitoshi being woken up. They all looked so tired, but Hitoshi deserved some rest after everything. I knew Shota and Hizashi slept before coming to Hiza City. I didn’t know how long it had been since Hitoshi felt safe enough to truly rest, so I wouldn’t take chances when he was finally able to sleep.

Nara glanced down at Hitoshi who nestled further into my side before nodding her head, “I’ll take my time getting him, but I’ll let your friend in the hallway know you’re awake.”

“Thank you, Nara…for taking care of us both,” I whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Hitoshi’s wild head of hair.

“My baby and I were going to make sure you and your baby made it home together just fine,” she replied with one more smile before heading toward the door. The warmth still existed close to me, but it also continued to radiate from her.

“What’s…what’s your quirk?” I asked, still unable to put a finger on just how she was able to make me feel so safe when that was a feat so few could accomplish.

“I don’t have one,” she murmured before turning around at the open door to gaze at me one last time. “I’m just a nurse.”

With that, she was gone.

A nurse. A hero.

As a stray tear streamed down one of my cheeks, I pressed another kiss to the top of Hitoshi’s head, causing him to cling to me a little tighter. His right hand, which was draped across my midsection, gripped my hospital gown tightly as if it could anchor him to me. Hope caused my heart to swell—hope that life could only get better from that moment on. No matter what happened or what trials I faced, life would be better because he was the brightest star in the darkest of nights.

Stirring at my left side caught my attention, and I turned my attention from Hitoshi down to the man who—since watching him with Hitoshi in Hiza City—stirred my feelings into a jumbled mess. I knew it was just because tensions were high, but when those dark eyes opened and met mine, I felt like I was looking ahead into my future. With Hitoshi in my arms and the sleep-addled man at my side who just so happened to be my brother’s best friend and my best friend who put our friendship on pause to be my teacher, it felt like something new formed in the very pit of my soul. It was like a new thread tied itself around the three of us, and we were helpless to stop it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I smiled up at him, my eyes locking with tired ones, which brightened immediately as I spoke the name. It was as if he hadn’t allowed himself to believe it was more than just a dream until I said it.

He rose from the chair quickly, as if the anticipation had been killing him up until that very moment, and he settled himself onto the side of my bed. “You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice quiet but welcome in the silence surrounding us. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I last heard his voice. It was gruff and still thick with exhaustion, but I could only wonder just how tired he was. If the hospital was anything like Hiza City, the man barely slept.

“You’re here,” I smiled up at him as my heart continued to swell. It was like the entire world was at my fingertips with the two of them so close.

He shook his head, his long black hair falling loose from the tie keeping it in place. He tucked a stray piece behind his ear as he studied me. “I never left, Akira,” he explained, his voice laced with guilt, though I didn’t know where it had come from. He had done everything right, everything he could to protect me. I knew my body hadn’t been able to handle the sheer stress of the rescue efforts, but it was just motivation to become even stronger so that next time, I wouldn’t have to rely on my adrenaline alone.

“I’m sorry for the scare,” I apologized, hoping it would be enough to ease the pain I had surely caused him. I knew he wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, especially when I was the patient, but he was with me every single time I found myself in one from the time I was first brought to the Yamada family until that very moment. He was a constant in my life, just like Hizashi, but I knew what my recklessness did to him. “I’m making a habit of this, aren’t I?” I asked with a smile that would hopefully lighten the mood.

“You’ll be the reason for every grey hair I ever get,” he replied with a crooked smile of his own that made it feel like the world had righted itself. For just that one fleeting moment, even the machines beeping around us became music to the background of us. His smile fell almost as quickly as it had appeared, though, and with it, my heart sank into my stomach. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief as he let out a breath that seemed to hold years of fear and uncertainty within it.

“Well…I couldn’t leave you behind,” I replied, squeezing his hand gently, trying to convey just how much he meant to me. I couldn’t face the uncertainty of death without him by my side. I wasn’t afraid of death—I’d long accepted my own mortality—but being anywhere without him, facing any unknown without him, was a fear that I couldn’t shake.

Shota gestured to Hitoshi, and I followed his gaze, just watching him as he slept. He looked so peaceful, almost angelic. “This one didn’t leave your side for more than a minute at a time,” he whispered as he reached across my body and gently stroked a hand through Hitoshi’s hair, which made my heart leap into my throat. Watching him with Hitoshi, it was as if I caught a glimpse of the future, one where Shota became a father. He looked so natural, so at ease with the little boy, and I wondered if Hitoshi had become his, too.

“You talk like he was the only one who wouldn’t leave her side,” Hizashi piped up from his spot on the daybed on the windowsill. He rose up onto his feet and closed the space between us, his eyes never leaving mine. I watched as his bottom lip quivered, and I knew that he was fighting the same emotions that suddenly tugged on my heart. Each time I was reckless with my life, Hizashi’s eyes changed. They became haunted by a fear of losing me, and I felt the guilt building up in the pit of my stomach. In those eyes, I saw a decade of memories, a decade of happiness, of laughter and tears. I saw a decade of love.

“Hi, Speakers,” I whispered through the lump in my throat as tears brimmed my eyes. He was one of the things I held onto whenever I thought about leaving this world behind, whenever I was ready to give up. He was the thing I held onto when I was lost. He was the thing I held onto when I didn’t know how to make it through another day. He was my home, my sanctuary, my safe haven. No one could replace my twin brother, but Hizashi was my brother in every way that mattered.

Tears immediately began streaming down his cheeks as he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Hi, Stars,” he choked out. Years of growing up together, years of being there for each other through thick and thin, had created an unbreakable bond between us.

“I told you before…” I swallowed down the lump in my throat as my breaths became shallow, “…that you could never get rid of me that easily.”

Almost as soon as I said the words, Hizashi’s face crumpled all at once, like a dam giving out after too much had been held back for too long. There was no one there for him to showboat for or to pretend that he was okay in front of. Shota was the only other one awake, and he knew Hizashi almost better than anyone else in the world. The pro hero, the radio voice, the charismatic personality, it was all gone. In that moment, he was just my big brother.

I barely had time to move before Hizashi climbed into the hospital bed beside me. If anyone said anything against me having a bed full of the most precious people in my life, I would refuse to listen. Instead, I’d tell them stories about how Hizashi used to pick flowers to place in the braids I sometimes wore in my hair after his mother—our mother—would style it for me. I’d tell them about how I was the first person he ever whispered to in his life. I’d tell them about the time he comforted me when I missed my twin brother and how he’d sing to me until I fell asleep. I’d tell them about the countless songs he’d written for me, how I was always the first one to hear anything new. I’d tell them that they didn’t know our bond or the sacrifices we’d made for each other.

I’d tell them they didn’t know my Speakers.

Suddenly, he was tucked right up against my left side, leaving Shota to maneuver to the other side of my bed so he could be closer to Hitoshi. Hizashi tucked himself against my side like we were kids again. He let out a shaky, wet sound as he curled around me, careful of the wires and lines. “Don’t do that to me again,” he whispered, his voice breaking halfway through his words. He squeezed me gently, as if he could somehow shield me from what I’d already lived through.

I pressed my face into the golden hair he’d grown out just for me, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I let myself rest into his arms. I didn’t try to think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t or all the reasons why he deserved a better sister who wouldn’t put him through so much. Instead, I just let him hold me. “I’m sorry,” I breathed out.

He shook his head, “I’m not mad at you, Stars. Just…well, I just need you here. You thrive in the dark, but that’s because you’re the light. Without you…how could I ever find my way?” he asked before his face scrunched up in pain.

His words went straight to the center of my being, right through the cracks that had opened up with all the adrenaline-fueled, reckless decisions I made in Hiza City. They were scars that wouldn’t heal for a long while, maybe never, but his voice seeped into every single one of them, soothing them slightly. As I stared at him, I saw every sleepless hour and every fear he had held back for my sake during the rescue efforts. “I’m here,” I whispered, and my hand found his forearm, holding onto his wrist like a lifeline for myself and a reminder for him. “I’m still here, Hizashi. You can let go if you need to.”

He huffed a laugh that was thick with his own tears, and he held me even tighter. “You’re not getting anymore chances, Akira. I mean it,” he insisted, his voice stern despite his tears being a clear contradiction to the severity of his tone. He didn’t usually talk to me firmly and always scolded Shota for doing so. “If you scare me like this again, I’ll request a transfer to a different school because…this isn’t hero work anymore, it’s self-destruction.”

“Hizashi,” Shota interjected, his voice calm but still a warning. It was like he was trying to reach through whatever fog had Hizashi’s emotions in a tailspin.

“You did well, Stars. I wish you could understand it when you’re in the heat of it,” he whispered as I reached up to brush his tears away. I knew he wasn’t particularly angry with me, but he had to say the words. Suggesting a transfer when he and Shota had become teachers at U.A. specifically because I made up my mind that I wanted to attend was a big deal to them both, so for him to say it now meant he was desperate to control future incidents. “All of the people who lived another day, all the lives that kept going because you dug your heels in one more time…you reminded me of why I chose this path, but I also can’t lose you.”

Tears slid silently down my cheeks in tandem with his own, but Hizashi immediately reached forward and wiped them away as he rested his forehead against mine. I sniffled, “it’s always a worthy sacrifice when it means saving someone else’s life,” I whispered, even though I knew he didn’t want to hear it. I knew he wanted me to be selfish from time to time, to take care of myself, but in that moment, thinking about that old man and his wife’s picture, I realized that it was a sacrifice I would make all over again.

“That sounds just like something my best friend would say,” a new voice cut in. It was a voice that was so familiar, it sounded like a dream or maybe a memory misplaced in a box I hadn’t dared to open for over a decade. There was a shadow at the door when I turned my head to find the source of the voice, and when my eyes found her, I knew. I knew it was her.

Seirei.

Rei.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My brain felt like it was going to come apart at the seams, like it was being peeled apart by the sight of her. My jaw hung slack, and all the words I wanted to say became tangled and useless in my throat. The world felt like it tilted sideways, and all the sound rushed away except her footfalls, tapping against the floor as she approached us. The hand that had been drying Hizashi’s tears slapped over my mouth as I worried over all the possibilities. I was afraid that all I’d do was sob or scream or wake myself from this cruel dream. It had to be a dream. I hadn’t seen Seirei in over 10 years, not since the day she was taken to a different family.

I couldn’t believe it. Despite knowing her soul as if it was my own, I still couldn’t believe it. I almost couldn’t even trust my own senses at first. I knew that golden hair—I’d braided it with the other basement ladies more than I cared to admit—and those eyes were so green, it made my soul ache. They were the same as I’d always remembered, but there was something different about them now, something older. She’d let herself grow. Her edges seemed softer than they had been when we were younger. There was an edge in the way she held herself in that hospital room, sure—but behind it, I saw her. I saw the old Seirei. My Rei.

“R-Rei?” I whispered, but the question fell out like air from lungs that had been split open.

Her answer came the way they always had. There was no big speech, no elaborate explanation. Instead, she walked over to the other side of the bed where Hizashi was curled up on my left. She simply took my hand. Her grip was warm. I knew those hands well. It was gentle between the IVs, wires, and monitors for my heart rate and oxygen. Those hands anchored me like they had in the basement. It was nothing more than the simple press of her skin to mine. And then, as unhurried as the sun rising after the worst of storms, she sank into the chair beside the bed, right where she belonged.

Her thumb stroked over my knuckles in slow and deliberate movements. “Hi, Akira,” she whispered as she leaned across Hizashi and pressed her forehead against mine. I breathed in the scent of her—the scent of lilacs, honey, and the faintest hint of lavender. It drowned out the scent of the antiseptic and flowers surrounding us. For a second, I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling that breathless comfort I’d only ever known falling asleep in that basement. I hated sleeping in the basement, but when I fell asleep with my pinky wrapped around hers, it was restful in ways I couldn’t quite explain. “I’m never leaving you again,” she said, her voice breaking in the middle.

“How…where…oh my god!” my voice cracked, but I made sure to keep it gentle for Hitoshi’s sake. Still, my shock tore the silence apart. It felt like my whole body was rendered numb except the single point of connection between us.

She exhaled, and my eyes flickered open to finally see that small smile. “I’ve been looking everywhere for years. I could never find you.” She squeezed my hand tighter, resting her head against mine. “When I saw you on the news, I checked every hospital…looked in every obvious place, but all I could do was guess. I knew when I saw Hawks here that you’d be here,” she sniffled and tried to laugh again. She shuddered, her shoulders trembling violently.

“I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming,” I whispered as I pulled back just enough to see the tears in her eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, not even as I saw movement in the corner of my eye from Shota. I couldn’t look away from her, not when she was so close for the first time in so long. I was afraid of losing her again, of this dream ending, and waking up to a reality without her once more.

“I’m afraid this is a bit of a nightmare, Akira, so if you do wake up from it…try to take me with you,” she insisted as a smile formed on her lips despite the tears in her eyes. It was meant to be comforting, but it only served to make my heart ache at all the time we’d spent apart.

“You’re…you’re real.” I gasped as I gazed up at her. I traced the little constellation of freckles on her cheeks. I used to count them every night in the basement when my mind wouldn’t quiet on its own. My fingers traced the smooth skin of her cheeks before I combed my hands through her hair. I wanted to memorize every single similarity but also every difference, every new patch of softness and every line at her eyes. I let out a small laugh of disbelief, “oh my god, y-you’re real!”

She laughed, but her face quickly crumpled as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t blink away the tears in her eyes as she reached out and gently stroked my face. I watched as they fell as freely as mine did while she touched all the pieces of my face that had changed over the years. It was as if she was also trying to convince herself that I was real, that this wasn’t just a cruel dream. “I’m real,” she whispered in a shaky breath, “I’m here, and I won’t let go again.”

I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped my lips as I pulled away. Everything from the basement, from all the lost years before the basement—it pressed in from the corners of my mind, threatening to consume me. My father, my mother, my grandparents, my sister, my twin brother, the basement ladies, Arehate, Ankoku. Seirei. I sucked in a shaking breath. “I’ve…I’ve missed you so much,” I stammered as my body shook. I immediately reached up to pull her fingers from my face so I could hook my pinky around hers.

“I’ve missed you, too, Akira. More than anything,” she replied, her voice barely disturbing the silence of the room. Hizashi sniffled next to me, and I knew he was crying with me. Each time I shed tears, it was impossible for him to hold his own back. Hizashi was an empath, but it was especially true when it came to me. I couldn’t look over at him, though, only feel that he was crying beside me as I kept my eyes locked on Seirei. “We have so much to catch up on,” she smiled through her tears, and I reached out to brush them away gently.

“I need to know everything,” I sniffled softly.

Her smile faltered only for a moment as a lifetime of memories—11 years worth—flashed across her eyes. With that look, there was a part of me that didn’t want to know what must’ve happened to her after the basement, but there was an even stronger part that wanted every detail to strengthen my resolve to hold onto her as tightly as I could for the rest of my life.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for, but…I hope we have all the time in the world to do that,” she breathed out as her bottom lip trembled. She took me in for a long moment, leaning back to just study my features. “You’re just as beautiful as you were when we were girls,” she mused, her gaze softening with memories of a time that was both so long ago and what felt like yesterday. In the midst of the chaos and pain of that basement, there were beautiful things. There were moments I felt love and connection that I hadn’t experienced much of outside of my brother until that point.

“We’ll have all the time in the world,” I repeated her words back to her as a promise, squeezing her pinky in mine. The corners of my lips tugged up into a small smile as I gripped her hand in mine.

There was a slight shift in the mattress beside me as Hitoshi shifted in the clump of blankets pressed against me. He was the only thing that could pull my attention away from Rei in that moment. When I glanced down at him, I noticed his eyes creasing as he blinked blearily at the soft glow of lights in the room from the machines. I stilled as my hands fell away from Seirei’s face and turned their attention back to Hitoshi. My right arm wrapped around his small frame as I held him tightly, needing him to know that even if he’d been asleep, he hadn’t been left.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke, and I was glad. For that one moment of peace, I was truly grateful. Hizashi was still curled up beside me, holding my body close to his own, as if he could somehow protect me from what had already come to pass. Seirei settled down onto the chair on the left side of my bed, which put Hizashi between us. If he wasn’t my brother, I would’ve requested that he make room for Seirei. Then, there was also Shota sitting like a silent guardian on the right side of the bed, just watching everything unfold. It felt like the world could finally take a breath.

Hitoshi squinted up at me, his face rumpled and beautiful in that way only children could be after sleep. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was tousled. He was all soft lines and shadows. That violet gaze, which was stark against his dark lashes, was filled with fatigue and trust, like he’d handed me his whole heart. “Mommy?” he rasped, thin and soft, like he was testing if the dream would crumble at the edges, if I would peel away from him and vanish when the sun rose.

It was the second time he said it and both times had been on the precipice of sleep. My whole world stilled. The machines in the room faded into a low thrum, and the weight of my pain eased. I couldn’t breathe under the enormity of his vulnerability. I was convinced that no matter how many times he said it, it would cut me to my core every single time. Every time that single word was spoken from those lips felt like a little miracle.

What was I now that the most precious child I’d ever met saw me as his home? I was so small in the grandness of the universe, but when he looked at me with any ounce of hope or trust, I felt larger than life itself. I felt endless. I didn’t have what it took to be a mother, but I was all he had, and for him, I would do anything. The warmth of his gaze as his eyes widened slightly, blinking away the sleep, was enough for me to make a vow to provide him everything he’d ever want, though I didn’t even know what that could consist of. My heart and soul were his from the very moment we locked eyes in Hiza City, and that would never change—not even once the universe faded out of existence. My love for him would be the one thing left when all else returned to nothingness.

That name he’d bestowed upon me made me think that maybe, just maybe, I had the power to become something great.

As wonder filled me, I pressed a kiss into his wild hair, breathing him in. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here,” I whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose with my own as I allowed the softest smile to tug at the corners of my lips. “Go back to sleep, and I’ll be here to greet you in the morning.”

He blinked hard as his free fist came up to rub at one of his eyes. It was clear he was trying to rub the sleep from them, that he couldn’t quite believe this was real. “It’s not a dream this time?” he asked, his voice trembling lightly along with his bottom lip. Every thought that ran through his mind seemed to be written perfectly on his face in a language only I knew. It was clear that he didn’t feel like it was necessary to hide anything from me, and I knew it had to be the first time he could truly relax into that feeling. We were in a room full of people who would never dream of hurting him, and we were finally out of the city that had so much death and destruction tied to it. As such, he could allow himself to breathe.

“It’s not a dream, my sweetest little starlight, but you should get some rest,” I murmured, pressing another kiss to his temple. I was going to restore every bit of life to him, everything that had ever been taken from him. Hitoshi was never going to know fear, sorrow, and grief again for as long as I could help it. I’d give him every ounce of joy the world had to offer if it meant I could give him the life he deserved. “I’ll be right here beside you in the morning, okay?”

He made a small, helpless noise, which tugged on my heart. It was as if the sound itself was meant to be a plea, a desperate attempt to keep himself anchored to consciousness. Without second thought, I wrapped him up even tighter and rubbed soothing circles onto his back. His body grew limp in my arms, allowing sleep to continue holding him almost as tightly as I was. Still, he clung to me with a similar intensity as he had when I left him in the hills outside the city before going back in to face Twister and Arehate. His little arms wrapped around my middle, desperate to anchor himself to me in any way he could and keep me alert. “I’m just so happy you’re okay,” he whispered with a voice so raw, it felt like it cut straight through me and nicked my ribs on the way to my heart.

He looked so tired. The fatigue ran deeper than what he could’ve procured over the past several days. It was lingering from the life he’d lived before me. I wouldn’t let anyone or anything stand in the path toward his happiness, the one I’d pave for him. He’d never be afraid again.

“I had to be okay, Hitoshi. I had to make it back to you,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to his own once more. “I can’t leave you. I can’t even dream of it,” I vowed, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. I wondered for a moment what traditions we’d build together. I wondered what his first day of school would be like in my presence. I suddenly dreamed of his first birthday with me, of our first Christmas together, of all the memories we’d create as a family. It moved me. I wanted time to stand still, but I also wanted to give him every single thing he had ever been missing as quickly as I possibly could.

He pulled back just enough to study me once more. His eyes still shimmered with disbelief, and I met it with a warm smile. “I don’t wanna go back to sleep…not when you’re finally awake,” he insisted as his bottom lip continued to quiver.

My heart felt like it shattered at the sight of the tears that filled his eyes. “Oh, Hitoshi…” I stroked his cheek with my thumb, my broken heart swelling until it was almost physically painful. He had watched me break down into hysterics in Hiza City when the weight of Koemi’s death and the world came crashing down on me. For the briefest instant, I wondered if he thought my pain was because of him. He had been so desperate to take his injuries back each time I inherited them, and he never wanted to seem like a burden to me, which was something he could never be. I remembered the way he clung to me and lifted my spirits before I passed out. It felt like a dream, but I remembered it so clearly.

I steeled myself. I won’t let his hands be soiled with the burdens of my pain. He’s just a child. He’s not responsible for putting a smile on my face. He’s not responsible for looking after me. He needs to be little. He needs to be free. “Can I make just one wish for you?” I asked, and he blinked up at me with that beautiful gaze that almost matched mine completely. He was so trusting and patient with me, waiting for me to lead the way and guide him despite having clearly never experienced that before, to throw his hands up and follow me without question. I had that with Hizashi, and I never could’ve possibly understood just how proud of myself I could be until I was on the opposite side with Hitoshi, having someone so small trust me so much. “Never grow up, sweetheart. Please…just stay like this forever. You’re the most beautiful, most perfect little soul. You are just…” the lump in my throat threatened to choke me as I spoke. I swallowed it down, fighting away the tears as I continued, “you are just miraculous. I hope you know that.”

I desperately wanted to take him back to a time before his heart had been broken, but I knew it was impossible; however, I was determined that I’d build him a place in the future where that pain couldn’t touch him anymore. He would barely even remember the names of the people who had once hurt him, and he would thrive. He wouldn’t have to be so strong anymore.

One of his tiny hands reached between us and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. There were times I wanted to cut it short for maintenance purposes, but with each memory of my twin brother, I felt compelled to keep it long. He loved my hair long. He loved it regardless, but he loved being able to play with it.

“Close your eyes, my little starlight. Let me talk to you until you fall asleep,” I whispered, my voice barely audible between us. I felt him relax into my arms, but I also felt Hizashi relax in the hospital bed to my left as well. He snuggled into my side, his eyes slowly drifting shut. I twisted just enough to press a kiss to his forehead before catching Seirei’s tired eyes as she sat in the chair beside him. I gave a curt nod of my head, and she smiled softly before leaning back in the chair, closing her eyes as well.

I glanced back at Shota, the last one who was fighting his exhaustion, and I gave him a nod of my head as well, hoping he’d understand it was my way of trying to tell him that I’d be okay on my own while they slept. He shook his head, his eyes straining as he blinked them a bit wider. If anyone could compete with me for the most stubborn human being on the face of the planet, it was Shota Aizawa, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him to sleep, not when there were three others waiting for my voice to lull them to sleep.

“You’ll always be safe with me, Hitoshi,” I murmured into his hair, pressing soft kisses against the top of his head. “I promise I’ll never let go. I may not know how to do this, but I’ll learn for you. I’ll face every single fear, every morning I don’t feel like getting out of bed, every day I want to hide away from the world, every second I feel like giving up. I’ll do it all for you. I’d pull the stars from the sky and put them in the palm of your hands just to see you smile,” I continued, and he turned his head up to gaze up at me, though his eyes were slowly drifting shut. They kept shutting slowly and opening again as if to make sure I was still there, but I wasn’t going to move. Nothing in the universe could move me from his side.

I offered another gentle smile, reaching across my body with my left hand and stroking my fingers over his soft cheek. “I won’t lie to you, sweetheart, this change is scary for me. I don’t really know what to expect or how I’m going to make this work, but I will. I’ll wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with a full heart because of you now. I’ll fight harder than I ever have before. I was afraid in Hiza City. I was so afraid, but you made me feel brave. You made me feel like I could do anything,” I murmured, watching as his eyes drifted shut, small tears streaming down his cheeks. I wiped them away. “You make me feel like I can do this…like no matter what comes next, I’ll be okay. I’ll live for you, Hitoshi.”

I turned my gaze back to Shota, and the words tumbled out of me once more.

“I’ll live for you.”