Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hawks had always prided himself on his keen observation skills, but something about the way he watched Dabi was starting to gnaw at him. It was almost like Hawks wanted something from him—and Hawks had never asked for anything before. Yet he felt this growing need to ask Dabi for more. More of what? He didn’t know. Around the villain, he felt lost, confused—like a scared little girl again, unsure of where he was. Dwelling on the past didn’t help; it only made things worse.
After a week of confusion and a racing heart, Hawks finally realized what the problem was. And what a massive problem it was.
Hawks was told he didn’t have time for love. He was told it was a waste, that he had other things to focus on. He was told it didn’t matter—that it wasn’t his purpose. Sure, Hawks had relationships in the past, but most were just for show. Some were intimate, most were not. And it wasn’t like he actually cared about them romantically—just work and occasional fun. Hawks knew this was different.
Why? He had no fucking clue.
There was something about this man, this villain, this... Dabi. He was kind... for a villain. He was stubborn, which was admittedly cute. Dabi was mysterious and hot. He wondered if he could get Dabi—like steal him from villainy.
He talked to the commission president about the thought of rehabilitating villains. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she didn’t really seem to care either. Hawks knew this was a long shot, but he had to try. This was past the point of just a little crush.
If Hawks ever wanted something in his life, it was love. He never got it from being raised by his parents till the age of six, and he definitely never got it from the commission. He didn’t care if he got the president’s permission, but it sure as hell would make things a lot easier.
Now to get Dabi.
...
Hawks stood in front of Dabi and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth and said, “Hey, Dabi.”
“What’s up, birdbrain?” Dabi replied.
Hawks bit his lip and just says it. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Dabi’s eyes went wide. Did that bird really just say that? He laughed. “Even if you mean that, I wouldn’t waste your time on me. I don’t know how to love. And even if I did, I wouldn’t love a hero like you.”
He’d be lying if he said that didn’t hurt just a little. “I’m determined to save you—from yourself.”
Dabi chuckled again. Then, as he walked away, he said, “Good luck with that, Hawks.”
And Hawks decided to take that as a win.
...
It was late.
Dabi was sitting on the windowsill, legs pulled up, a cigarette burning low between two fingers. The window was cracked open. Cold air leaked in, sharp against the warmth of the apartment.
Hawks leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. He’d been standing there for a while, saying nothing.
“You gonna say something, or just lurk?” Dabi muttered without looking at him.
Hawks huffed, stepping inside. “You ever think about stopping?”
“Smoking?”
“No. Running.”
Dabi snorted. “You don’t stop running. You just run in circles until something catches you.”
There was a pause.
“Guess I’m trying to catch you,” Hawks said.
That made Dabi finally glance over his shoulder. His face was unreadable—always was—but his eyes held something quieter than usual. Less fire. More... ash.
“You’re not the first to try.”
“I might be the last.”
Silence again. The cigarette burned out in Dabi’s fingers.
He flicked it into the tray on the sill, then sat still for a second longer. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know that,” Hawks said softly. “But I know what I feel.”
Dabi didn’t respond. He just turned back to the window, the skyline glittering beyond the glass. But he didn’t tell Hawks to leave.
That was enough.
...
A week passed.
Same rooftop. Same time. Same quiet city hum below.
Dabi was already there when Hawks landed, a lazy sprawl against the low wall like he hadn’t moved in hours. Smoke curled from the end of a half-burned cigarette. He didn’t look up.
Hawks didn’t speak right away. He stepped closer, boots clicking against the concrete, and leaned against the wall beside him. Not too close. Just enough.
The silence stretched.
Then—
“You came back,” Dabi said, voice low.
“Didn’t think I would?”
Dabi shrugged. “Most people don’t.”
Hawks watched a pigeon flutter across the streetlight, wings catching gold in the dusk. “I’m not most people.”
“No,” Dabi said. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
But there was no bite to it. Not really.
Hawks turned, watching Dabi’s profile. “I meant what I said. Last time.”
Dabi gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah. I figured.”
“I didn’t say it to mess with you.”
“I know.”
Another silence. The wind picked up, brushing ash from Dabi’s fingers. His cigarette was mostly ember now.
“You ever think about what comes after?” Hawks asked. “If you weren’t… doing what you’re doing. If things were different.”
Dabi didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Sometimes. Doesn’t mean I believe it’s possible.”
“I do.”
Dabi looked at him. Really looked. “Why?”
Hawks met his gaze. “Because you’re still here.”
For a moment, Dabi looked like he might say something. But instead, he dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his heel, and muttered, “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Hawks just smiled. “Takes one to love one.”
Dabi huffed. “You said ‘love,’ birdbrain.”
“Yeah,” Hawks said softly. “I did.”
And this time, Dabi didn’t laugh.
He just stayed. And didn’t leave.
...
Another week passed, and once again Hawks found himself beside Dabi, the city spread out beneath them like a living thing. They didn’t speak for a while. Just listened—to the wind, the distant buzz of traffic, the rustle of feathers when Hawks shifted his wings.
Then, quietly, Dabi said, “Sometimes I hate my body. All these scars... they’re a reminder of everything I can’t fix.”
The words landed soft but heavy, like ash on fresh snow.
Hawks glanced at him, but didn’t say anything right away. He waited—waited to see if Dabi would take it back, joke it away like he usually did.
He didn’t.
“Sometimes I hate my body too,” Hawks said finally, voice low.
Dabi scoffed, not cruelly, more confused than anything. “Why would you? You’re—” he waved a vague hand, “—fit, healthy, hero poster boy. The whole deal.”
Hawks looked down at his hands, rubbed a thumb over the scar on his palm. “I’m also trans.”
That got Dabi to actually turn and look at him, eyes sharp with surprise.
Not because Hawks was trans. He could’ve guessed that. It was the fact that Hawks told him. Just… said it. No warning. No press release. No shields.
Hawks didn’t flinch under the silence.
“I’ve never told anyone outside the Commission,” he added. “Not like this.”
Dabi was quiet for a long moment. Then, voice oddly soft: “Why me?”
“Because you said you hate your body,” Hawks said. “And because… I figured you’d understand.”
Something unreadable flickered across Dabi’s face. He looked away, jaw tight. “I do.”
And that was it.
No lectures. No pity. No jokes.
Just two men, side by side, breathing under the same stars—both scarred, both broken, and maybe, finally, both a little seen.
...
The next week, Hawks found himself standing in front of Dabi again, the weight of unsaid words pressing on him. He was tired of being just “Hawks” — a name that kept them at arm’s length.
“I want you to know my real name,” he said quietly, voice steady but vulnerable.
Dabi raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes.
“It’s Keigo.”
For a moment, the name hung between them, soft and unfamiliar.
Dabi didn’t say anything right away, but Hawks caught the way his expression shifted—like the walls around him trembled ever so slightly.
“I don’t care what you call me,” Hawks added, “but I want you to know me. Not the hero, not the code name, just Keigo.”
Dabi’s lips twitched, almost like a smile. “Keigo, huh?”
Keigo nodded.
And in that small moment, something unspoken passed between them — a fragile trust beginning to take root.
…many more soft moments later…
Dabi gave in.
It wasn’t dramatic. There wasn’t some cinematic revelation or grand confession under fireworks. It was quieter than that — a realization that crept in slowly, until it simply was.
He enjoyed Keigo’s company.
The way he talked too much when he was nervous. The way he never pushed too hard, but never backed away either. The stupid jokes, the warm food, the quiet understanding that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Keigo made space for him — not as Dabi the villain or Todoroki Touya the failure, but just… him.
One night, with the city humming faintly beyond the apartment walls, Dabi found himself curled on the couch next to Keigo. They weren’t touching, but they were close — close enough to feel the warmth of each other.
“I don’t hate it,” he said suddenly, barely above a whisper.
Keigo turned, brows furrowed. “Hate what?”
“Being here. With you.”
Keigo didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened was enough.
Dabi didn’t say anything more that night. He didn’t need to.
...
Dabi decided to talk to Toga first.
Dabi sat across from her on the rooftop where they used to meet after rough missions. The wind tugged at his coat, but he didn’t flinch. Not this time.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
Toga blinked at him. “What?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at him, eyes wide and round like a kid trying to understand something too big. “You mean… like, for a while?”
“No,” he said, quiet. “For good.”
Toga’s mouth opened like she wanted to protest, like she should, but nothing came out. She looked at him—really looked—and must’ve seen something different in his eyes. Something settled. Something tired.
“Is it because of the bird?” she asked, voice small.
Dabi nodded. “Yeah.”
Toga hugged her knees to her chest. “Do you love him?”
He hesitated, then looked away. “I don’t know how. But I’m… trying.”
Silence stretched between them.
“You were the only one who stayed,” she whispered. “You were my favorite.”
“I still am,” Dabi said, and that part wasn’t a lie.
Her eyes shimmered, but she didn’t cry. Not in front of him. “You’ll text me if you figure out the love thing, right?”
Dabi gave the faintest grin. “Only if you promise not to stab anyone when you get excited.”
She snorted, wiping her eyes quickly. “No promises.”
He stood, hesitating for a second. Then, against every instinct, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers.
“I’ll miss you, Himiko.”
“I’ll miss you more, Touya.”
He didn’t correct her. He didn’t have to.
Then he turned and walked away.
...
Dabi waited until later that night.
They were all gathered in the safehouse living room—Spinner flipping through a magazine, Compress nursing tea like it was whiskey, Shigaraki half-buried in a hoodie, scratching his neck absently. Toga sat on the floor, drawing something in pink pen, pretending she didn’t already know.
“I’m leaving,” Dabi said.
The room didn’t go silent right away. Spinner turned a page. Compress took a sip. Shigaraki clicked his tongue like he hadn’t heard right.
“What?” Spinner said finally.
“I said I’m leaving,” Dabi repeated, quieter this time. “The League. Villainy. All of it.”
“Is this about the fucking bird?” Shigaraki muttered.
“Yes,” Dabi answered, unapologetic.
Shigaraki stared at him for a long moment. “Are you turning us in?”
“No. Never.”
More silence. The kind that hung heavy in the ribs.
Toga’s pen scratched against her paper. Spinner leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“Are you happy?” Spinner asked.
Dabi opened his mouth. Closed it. Then: “I think I’m trying to be.”
Spinner nodded. “Then… okay.”
Shigaraki snorted. “We burn down half the city together and you leave because you caught feelings for a damn pro hero.”
“I didn’t plan it,” Dabi said. “It just happened.”
“You think you can be one of them now?” Shigaraki growled, but it didn’t sound angry. It sounded tired. Resigned.
“No,” Dabi said. “I don’t want to be one of them. I just want to stop destroying everything I touch.”
That shut even Shigaraki up.
Compress, quiet till now, set his mug down. “You’ve always done things your own way. No reason this should be different.”
“Thanks,” Dabi said, honestly.
Toga stood and walked over, slipping her arms around his waist like it was nothing. “You better visit,” she said into his chest.
“I will,” he murmured, resting a hand lightly on her back.
Spinner walked up next. A gruff pat on the shoulder. “Don’t die out there. Would piss me off.”
Shigaraki didn’t move. He just stared at the wall.
“You can hate me,” Dabi said to him. “I get it.”
“I don’t hate you,” Shigaraki muttered. “You’re just not built for peace. But if you think you can be… then I guess I was wrong.”
Dabi didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
He stayed another hour. Didn’t pack much—just his sketchbook, a scarf Toga shoved into his hands, and a half-empty lighter Spinner left by the door. Not even the drugs he kept tucked away for the bad nights. He didn’t think he’d be allowed to bring those—not where he was going. Even if they dulled the pain.
No one stopped him when he left.
But no one stopped caring either.
...
He left to meet with Hawks like normal.
Keigo blinked at the bag slung over Dabi’s shoulder. “What’s with the bag?”
“I’m ready,” Dabi said.
“Ready for what?”
Dabi gave him a flat look. “You’re being really dense right now.”
Keigo froze. “Wait… really?”
Dabi shrugged, glancing away. “Yeah. I’m yours, birdbrain.”
Keigo lit up—eyes wide, wings twitching, like he couldn’t believe it. Like he’d been holding his breath for weeks and finally let it out.
“You’re really doing this?” he asked, just to be sure.
Dabi rolled his eyes, but there was a faint, almost nervous smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
...

Chapter Text

They got to Hawks’s apartment, and Dabi all but collapsed onto the couch, dropping his bag beside him with a dull thud. He looked drained—like the weight of the day had finally caught up to him and was now dragging him down through the cushions.
Keigo hovered near the door, watching him carefully. “You okay?”
Dabi didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose. His voice was rough when it came. “No.”
Keigo nodded. He crossed the room and sat down on the coffee table in front of him, careful not to crowd him.
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “Not here.”
Dabi exhaled a shaky breath. “I didn’t bring the shit.”
“I know.”
“You gonna lecture me?”
“No.” Keigo shook his head. “I’m just… glad you didn’t.”
Dabi gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. We’ll see how glad you are when I’m clawing my fucking skin off.”
“I’ll be here either way.”
Dabi didn’t look up. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
“That’s not your call,” Keigo said gently. “I told you—I’m in this. Whatever happens, I’m not bailing.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Dabi leaned back against the couch, head tilted up, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. “You’re a damn idiot.”
“Yeah,” Keigo said with a soft smile. “But I’m your idiot now.”
It was quiet after that. And then, slowly, Dabi’s hand found its way to the hem of Keigo’s sleeve and tugged, just once.
Keigo didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stayed there, steady and solid, while Dabi tried to remember how to breathe without chemicals and noise.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel completely alone.
...
The first night was bad.
The second was worse.
By the third, Keigo wasn’t sure if Dabi was sweating or crying anymore—and Dabi probably didn’t know either.
The illegal shit he’d been using—whatever mix of numbing agents, painkillers, and sedatives he could get his hands on—wasn’t easy to come off of. Cold turkey was brutal. But Dabi had insisted. No clinics. No doctors. Just you and me, bird boy.
So it was.
Dabi writhed on the couch, his hoodie discarded hours ago and replaced with a damp towel on his forehead. His shirt clung to him, soaked through. His breaths came in quick, shallow gasps, and sometimes he shivered hard enough to rattle the ice in the water glass beside him.
“Keigo,” he rasped, not really seeing him. “Make it stop. Please—make it stop.”
Keigo sat on the floor beside the couch, legs crisscrossed, holding a bottle of water in one hand and Dabi’s clammy wrist in the other. His wings trembled slightly with restraint, like they wanted to wrap around Dabi completely but didn’t know if they were welcome.
“I can’t stop it,” Keigo said quietly. “But I’m here. You’re not alone. Just breathe.”
Dabi’s eyes rolled back. His jaw clenched tightly. He groaned low in his throat, curling in on himself. His scars looked more inflamed than usual, red and angry and raw—not from the flames, but from his own fists, scratching, tugging, tearing. Keigo had to take his hands away once, gently but firmly, when he caught Dabi digging into his own arm like he could carve the cravings out of his skin.
“I fucking hate this,” Dabi slurred. “I hate you.”
“I know,” Keigo whispered, brushing damp strands of hair back from his forehead. “You can hate me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t.
Not when Dabi screamed into a pillow to muffle the noise.
Not when he dry-heaved into the trash can for the fifth time that night.
Not even when Dabi turned glassy-eyed and begged Keigo to “just give him a little—just one pill—just this once.”
Keigo’s heart broke, but he held the line. “No. You’re doing this. You’re already doing this.”
By day four, the worst of the fever had broken. Dabi was silent, utterly wrecked, curled up on the floor beneath a blanket Keigo had wrapped around him when he collapsed. His eyes were sunken, ringed with violet. His lips cracked. But he was alive. Clean.
Keigo knelt beside him again, brushing sweat-dried hair from his forehead.
“You with me?” he asked softly.
Dabi blinked slowly. His voice was a ghost of itself. “Yeah.”
“You did it, firefly.”
A pause. Then Dabi’s hand reached out—slow, shaky, but deliberate—and caught the edge of Keigo’s shirt. Just held it there, curled in weak fingers.
“Don’t let go yet,” he whispered.
Keigo didn’t.
He moved beside him and laid down on the floor too, wing curling around them both like a shelter.
“I won’t,” he said. “Not ever.”
...
Three days after the fever broke, Dabi finally took a shower.
He didn’t say anything about it. Just stood up—slow, a little shaky—from the nest of blankets Hawks had layered on the living room floor and shuffled off toward the bathroom. Hawks didn’t follow. He just watched the door close and exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.
The water ran for a long time.
When Dabi came out, he looked… different.
His skin was still pale, stretched, and stitched in too many places, but his movements had calmed. He wore one of Hawks’ plain black hoodies, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hair—his real hair—hung damp and white around his face, no longer weighed down with soot or dye.
Keigo’s breath caught a little in his throat.
“You finally rejoined the land of the living,” Hawks said lightly from the kitchen, trying not to stare too much. He stirred honey into a mug of tea and kept his tone casual.
Dabi grunted, toweling off his hair with one hand. “Didn’t die, if that’s what you were hoping.”
“I wasn’t,” Keigo said softly, and set the mug down on the counter.
Dabi eyed it, then crossed the room and picked it up with both hands like it might slip through his fingers. He didn’t sit. Just leaned against the counter and sipped it in silence.
Hawks leaned back against the fridge, watching him from the side.
“Y’know,” he said, “you look different.”
Dabi raised an eyebrow over the rim of the mug. “Yeah? That bad?”
“No,” Hawks said honestly. “Just… like someone I haven’t met yet.”
Dabi didn’t answer. Just took another sip of tea and stared out the window, toward the city he wasn’t allowed to step into yet.
After a long pause, he said, “You saw me screaming in my sleep. Throwing up on myself. Begging for a hit I knew I couldn’t have.” He didn’t look at Hawks. “You still think I’m worth saving?”
Keigo stepped closer. Careful. Measured. “You were always worth saving.”
Dabi finally glanced at him. His eyes were rimmed red, not from tears—he hadn’t cried—but from the toll of it all. Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.
“Even now?”
Keigo’s voice didn’t waver. “Especially now.”
That hit something. Dabi looked away again.
His voice came quieter this time. “I hate how weak I feel.”
“You’re not weak,” Keigo said. “You’re clean.”
Dabi scoffed. “Yeah, for now.”
“For today,” Keigo corrected. “And then tomorrow. And then the next day. That’s how it works.”
Dabi held the mug tighter. “I don’t know who I am without the edge.”
Keigo hesitated, then gently reached out and tapped one damp white strand of hair, barely brushing his fingers against Dabi’s temple. “Then maybe now’s the time to find out.”
Dabi didn’t pull away.

Chapter Text

Dabi was clean now. Now it was time for the next step.
Hawks took a deep breath and dialed.
“Hi, this is Keigo—Hawks. I’m reaching out to set up an appointment for someone. He’s new to therapy and a bit reluctant, but I think he could really use the support.”
He paused, listening.
“Yes, I understand confidentiality is important. This is urgent, but we want to make sure it’s a good fit. Could you recommend someone who specializes in trauma and addiction recovery?”
As he talked, Hawks kept an eye on Dabi, whose breathing had slowed, the tension slightly easing.
“Thank you. I’ll pass the info along. I think this might help him, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”
Hanging up, Hawks felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was the next step toward saving not just Dabi’s life—but maybe, just maybe, his heart too.
...
The next couple of sessions went well—or at least, that’s what Dabi kept telling Hawks. The therapist also scheduled a psychiatrist appointment for Dabi to begin medication. After a thorough evaluation, the psychiatrist diagnosed Dabi with autism, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and an anxiety disorder. There was also a mild case of OCD, likely stemming from years of obsessively caring for his scars.
...
The first medication didn’t work at all. Instead of helping, it left Dabi bedridden and in pain for days. Hawks stayed by his side, watching helplessly as the villain he was trying to save struggled more than ever. It was a harsh reminder that healing wasn’t going to be easy—or straightforward.
...
The second medication fared even worse. It seemed to pull Dabi deeper into the shadows—worsening his mood swings and leaving him even more exhausted and withdrawn. Hawks gritted his teeth, frustration and worry twisting inside him. This wasn’t the clean, simple fix he’d hoped for. Recovery was going to be a brutal, uneven road.
...
Eventually, Miruko and other pro heroes started noticing something was off with Hawks. His usual lively presence dimmed, and rumors began to circulate: Dabi hadn’t been seen in weeks. The public’s curiosity quickly morphed into speculation, and it wasn’t long before people put two and two together. Hawks and Dabi’s simultaneous disappearances seemed too connected to ignore.
When the truth finally came out—that Hawks was taking responsibility for the high-ranking villain—the reaction was immediate and divided. Hawks was summoned to court, where the decision was made: Hawks would be legally responsible for Dabi. If Dabi ever harmed anyone, Hawks would be held accountable alongside him.
The public was torn. Hawks’ fans were split between harsh judgment and admiration. Some condemned Hawks for aiding a notorious villain, calling it a betrayal of everything he stood for. Others saw him as noble—a hero daring to believe in redemption and reform.
Yet no one knew the full story—that Hawks was in love with Dabi.
Dabi himself paid little mind to public opinion. The weight of his own struggles left him drained, unable or unwilling to care. What mattered most was how Hawks felt about it all. The thought of putting Hawks through this turmoil gnawed at him.
Despite the stress and the whispering crowds, Hawks remained determined to help Dabi heal. But the pressure to maintain a public image haunted him—a quiet stress bubbling beneath his steadfast resolve.
As Dabi cycled through medication after medication with worsening results, Hawks decided to take control of the narrative. He started a social media account dedicated to updating the public on Dabi’s condition and progress—a rare glimpse behind the scenes of their difficult journey toward recovery.
...
One quiet afternoon, Hawks sat beside Dabi’s bed, watching him rest but feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. After a long pause, Hawks finally spoke, voice low and a little vulnerable.
“You know… I’m a little stressed about all this,” he admitted. “The court stuff, the public watching our every move… and you being stuck in bed doesn’t exactly make things easier.”
Dabi cracked one eye open, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe you need therapy, too, birdbrain.”
Hawks laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah… maybe I do.”
That was the start of it. Hawks scheduled himself a therapist appointment, realizing sometimes even heroes need help, too.

Chapter Text

After weeks of trying different medications, Dabi finally found one that let him drag himself out of bed some mornings. It was a small victory, but it cracked open something deeper.
One evening, sitting close together in Hawks’s apartment, Dabi’s voice was quieter than usual. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I’m listening,” Keigo said softly.
Dabi took a breath… and said, “I’m Touya Todoroki.”
Keigo blinked, like the words took a second to land. His heart thudded in his chest, slow but jarring. “Touya… as in…”
Dabi nodded. “Yeah. Enji’s kid. The one everyone thought was dead.”
The air between them changed—denser, sharper somehow. But Keigo didn’t speak, not yet. He waited.
Touya started talking.
He explained that he was the product of a Quirk marriage—bred for power, for legacy. That his existence was rooted in his father's selfish ambition. That Enji started training him at the age of two, pushing his body and mind like he was a weapon. By five, when his Quirk began hurting him, the training turned crueler. Less hopeful. More desperate.
He told Keigo how his father discarded him once he was no longer useful.
That he—Touya—was left to take care of his siblings, because his mother was too broken to do it herself.
He said he felt replaced when Shouto was born. But even then, even while drowning in envy and grief, he still tried to take care of the baby—when Enji allowed him near.
He told Keigo that Enji hit his mother when she “got in the way.” That when Touya tried to help—tried to protect Shouto, or intervene—Enji would body slam him into the walls like he was nothing. Like, he didn’t matter.
He said he used to burn himself on purpose, over and over, thinking maybe if he got stronger, maybe if he was impressive enough, his father would be proud. Would love him.
But the stronger he got, the angrier Enji became.
Then his voice went even quieter.
“One night, I figured out how to make my fire burn blue.”
Keigo barely breathed.
“A week later, I had a quirk malfunction. I lost control. I thought I died.” Touya’s fingers curled slightly. “Next thing I knew, I woke up in a sketchy hospital. Three years later.”
Keigo didn’t speak for a long time. There was nothing he could say that would make it better. Nothing that could undo the hell Touya had lived through.
But he reached out anyway. Slowly, gently, his fingers brushed against Touya’s. Touya didn’t pull away.
“I’m so sorry,” Keigo whispered. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“I know,” Touya muttered. “But sometimes it still feels like I did.”
Keigo squeezed his hand.
“You didn’t.”
...
Keigo didn’t look at Enji the same way anymore.
He still nodded in passing, still answered when spoken to, still wore that casual, professional smile—but it never touched his eyes. The warmth was gone. The admiration, the easy camaraderie they once shared... gone too.
Enji noticed.
At first, he brushed it off. Thought maybe Keigo was overworked, maybe stressed from the Dabi situation. But weeks passed. The chill remained. Keigo kept his distance.
So finally, one late afternoon in an empty hallway of the Hero HQ, Enji stepped in front of him.
"Is something wrong, Keigo?"
Keigo paused, expression unreadable. “Why would something be wrong?”
"You’ve been… distant. Colder, lately.”
Keigo gave a dry chuckle and looked away. “Guess I’m just tired.”
Enji frowned. “Is this about Dabi?”
Keigo’s eyes flicked up sharply. He hesitated.
Then, with a tone too calm to be casual, he said, “No. This isn't about Dabi.”
Enji took a step closer, his brow furrowing. “Then what is it?”
Keigo didn’t answer right away. His hand twitched at his side, jaw flexing like he was trying to stop the words before they came out.
But they did.
“I know how you treated your family, Enji.”
Silence.
Enji froze. His breath caught audibly in his throat.
Keigo didn’t elaborate. He didn’t raise his voice or explain how he knew. He didn’t mention the name "Touya." He didn’t need to.
He just looked at Enji—looked right through him—and said quietly, “I looked up to you. I thought you were someone I could believe in.”
Then he walked away.
Enji stood there long after the hallway emptied, unmoving, his face unreadable but his chest aching.
That night, he told Fuyumi and Natsuo about the confrontation. He didn’t say much—just that Hawks knew something. That the past wasn’t as buried as he thought. And that it might come back to haunt them all.

Chapter Text

Natsuo, as smart as he was, was very suspicious of Hawks. He eventually put two and two together. Dabi knew something about his family, but how. He stayed up all night connecting Dabi to Touya of all people. Was it True? Was his brother alive? And was he Dabi?
...
Natsuo had tried approaching Hawks more than once, but the man was always too busy, always somewhere else, always unavailable. So he took a risk—he went to Hawks’s apartment while he knew Hawks wasn’t home, hoping, maybe, to run into Dabi.
The door opened after a long pause.
And there he was.
Dabi.
No—Touya.
They stared at each other in silence. Natsuo's heart was pounding in his chest, eyes wide, mouth dry. Dabi didn’t say a word. His face was unreadable.
“Are you… Touya?” Natsuo asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Silence again. But this time it said everything.
Natsuo’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. He clutched at the fabric of his jeans, trying to catch his breath as tears spilled down his face.
Touya didn’t move. He didn’t kneel, didn’t reach for him. He just stared for a second longer before turning around and heading back into the apartment.
The smell of something cooking hit Natsuo as he stood and followed. He found the dining table off to the side of the kitchen, sat down, and wiped at his eyes.
Neither of them said a word.
When Touya finished cooking, he set two plates on the table and sat down across from him.
They ate in silence. Two brothers, sitting across from years of distance, fire, and grief—sharing a meal like it was the only thing left to do.
...
About a week and a half passed before Natsuo told anyone.
He sat them all down one evening—Rei, Fuyumi, Enji. The air felt unusually still, like the house itself was holding its breath.
“I saw him,” Natsuo said, voice quiet.
“Who?” Rei asked, blinking.
“Touya.”
Rei dropped her teacup. It hit the table with a dull clatter.
Enji froze.
Fuyumi just stared at him. “Wait—you saw him? You sat down with him? And you didn’t get his number?”
Natsuo groaned. “Yumi, are you serious right now?”
“Yes, Natsu! You found our brother and didn’t even think to ask how we could reach him?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Natsuo snapped, tone thick with sarcasm. “Next time I’m reuniting with my long-lost, presumed-dead brother over a painfully silent meal, I’ll make sure to whip out my phone and ask if he’s online.”
“Natsu—”
“What do you want me to say, Fuyu? I was a little busy trying not to cry into my miso soup.”
Rei was already sobbing, quietly repeating, “My baby’s alive… Touya’s alive…” like a prayer.
Enji sat stiffly in his chair, eyes narrowed, gears turning behind them. “So that’s how Hawks knew,” he muttered to himself.
Everyone turned to look at him.
...
Touya told Keigo the day it happened.
Touya sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands. His food was cold, untouched. Keigo leaned against the counter, watching him with quiet concern.
“You okay?” Keigo asked, voice soft.
Touya didn’t answer right away. He ran his hands through his hair — still damp from a shower — then finally looked up. “Natsuo came by today.”
Keigo blinked. “Your—your brother?”
“Yeah.”
Keigo straightened, eyes widening. “Did you talk to him?”
“I opened the door. He just… stared. Asked if I was Touya. I didn’t even say anything. Guess I didn’t need to.”
Keigo crossed the room slowly, pulling out the chair beside him. “What happened?”
Touya leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling like maybe the words would come easier if he didn’t have to look at Keigo. “He cried. Collapsed, actually. Right there at the door.” He let out a sharp, humorless breath. “And I went back to cooking.”
Keigo’s heart ached. “You okay?”
“No,” Touya said flatly. “But he sat down. We ate in silence. It was… weird. Familiar. Sad.”
Keigo nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch.
“He’s not gonna keep it to himself forever,” Touya added. “He’ll tell them. I’m sure he already has.”
Keigo hesitated. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know.” Touya turned toward him now. “That’s why I’m telling you. Because I don’t know how to feel. And because… I didn’t want you to find out some other way.”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Keigo swallowed. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Touya shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t meet Keigo’s eyes.
Keigo gently placed his hand over Touya’s on the table. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I don’t want things to change,” Touya muttered.
“They don’t have to.” Keigo squeezed his hand. “They haven’t changed for me.”
Touya’s voice dropped. “Even now that my brother knows? That soon everyone might?”
Keigo nodded. “Even now. I’m still here.”
For a second, neither of them moved. The weight of it all hung between them — the past, the secrets, the terrifying openness of the future. Keigo reached out, carefully, and tucked a loose strand of white hair behind Touya’s ear.
Then, without saying anything, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Touya’s cheek.
Touya stilled — not pulling away, not breathing. Just… still.
Keigo lingered close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”
Touya looked at him, eyes sharp but shimmering. And though he didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to.
The silence was enough. So was the way he leaned ever so slightly into Keigo’s shoulder.
...
Enji reached out the moment Natsuo finished telling them. He didn’t wait, didn’t breathe—just pulled out his phone and called Hawks.
Keigo answered on the second ring, his voice tired but firm. “I figured you’d call.”
“Is it true?” Enji asked, no preamble. “Is Dabi… Touya?”
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough to make Enji’s grip tighten around the phone.
“Yes,” Keigo said quietly. “Dabi is Touya.”
Enji’s breath caught. He opened his mouth—too many questions, too many emotions clashing all at once.
But Keigo continued before he could ask anything else. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m not saying anything else without his permission.”
“Keigo, please—”
“No,” Hawks said sharply. “This isn’t about you anymore. I gave you your answer. Anything beyond that is up to him. You don’t get to force this.”
Enji went quiet.
“I understand,” he finally said, voice low, hoarse. “Just… let him know I’m not going to push. I just— I want him to know that.”
“I’ll tell him,” Keigo said. “But don’t expect anything.”
Enji swallowed hard. “I don’t.”
They hung up.
For a long time, Enji just stood there, staring at the floor.
And for the first time in years, he didn’t know what the hell to do next.

...
Touya didn’t want to see anyone. Not yet. Not until he could stand on his own two feet without shaking, without falling into the fire inside his own head. He wanted to find the right medication. Something that didn’t leave him hollowed out or drowning.
He still struggled to get out of bed some days. His skin still burned under invisible flames. He didn’t know how to hold a conversation without feeling like he was about to combust. How could he reach out as himself—as Touya—when he still barely felt like a person?
So he waited. Waited for the meds to work. Waited to stop feeling like a pile of static.
And when he could finally stand and breathe without shaking, he sent the first letter.
No return address. Just her name. Just a note:
“I’m alive. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get better.
—Touya”
He didn’t know if she’d even want to hear from him. But a few days later, a bouquet of camellias arrived at Hawks’s door. White and red. No card—just a folded piece of paper with careful handwriting:
“Thank you for writing. I love you. Take your time.”
—Mom”
Touya stared at it for a long time, fingers clenched too tight around the paper. Then he tucked it away into a drawer.
A week later, he sent another letter. This time longer. He told her about the apartment, about the scars that still cracked open in winter, about the boy he lived with who wouldn’t stop trying to save him.
She wrote back again.
They didn’t talk about Enji. Not yet. And that was okay.
For now, it was just Touya and Rei. Letter by letter. Step by step.

Chapter Text

Touya stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand, glaring at the skillet like it had personally offended him. “You’re seriously telling me you’d rather eat this raw?”
Keigo, perched on the counter like the world’s most casual hawk, shrugged with a grin. “I’m just saying it’s not bad. My quirk burns through energy fast. Raw protein hits quicker.”
Touya raised a brow, flipping the sizzling meat anyway. “That’s disgusting.”
“You asked.”
“I was trying to be nice.”
Keigo chuckled, stealing a piece of rice from the pot. “You’re doing great. But next time, you don’t have to cook it all the way. Just... y’know. Barely sear it or something.”
Touya rolled his eyes, but the next morning, Keigo opened his lunch at work and found exactly what he’d asked for—perfectly packed rice, slices of raw salmon and beef, a little container of sauce, and a sticky note that read:
“Don’t get salmonella. -T”
He grinned like an idiot through the whole meal.
From then on, Touya started packing lunches. Not every day, but often enough that it became routine. And every once in a while, Keigo would find tiny notes tucked beside the meat:
“Eat all of it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Try not to flirt with anyone while you eat this.”
Keigo never said anything, but he kept every note.
Even the one that just said:
“Birdseed next time?”
He framed that one in his office.
...
Keigo stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed, and tongue poking out in concentration like a child coloring outside the lines. The recipe on his phone seemed simple enough: “Teriyaki chicken bowl.” Easy. Right?
He had the rice on—burning slightly because he forgot to rinse it. The chicken was... well, it was thawing in the microwave after he realized halfway through chopping vegetables that he’d left it in the freezer. The sauce? He had no idea how sauces worked. Soy sauce, sugar, and... ginger? Or garlic? Or both? He tossed them in together like someone casting a spell and hoped for the best.
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was full of smoke. The chicken was still raw in the middle but burnt to hell on the outside, the sauce had caramelized into a tar-like goo, and the fire alarm was going off like it was personally offended. Keigo was flapping a dish towel at the ceiling and yelling, “I’M A PRO HERO, I CAN HANDLE A STOVE—”
That’s when Touya walked in.
He stopped in the doorway, eyes narrowing at the smog-filled room, the chaos, the horror show in the pan.
Keigo turned to him sheepishly, smoke-smeared and slightly sweating. “Surprise?”
Touya stared for a beat, then walked over, turned off the stove, popped open a window, and said flatly, “You tried to assassinate us with soy sauce.”
Keigo pointed his spatula like a weapon. “I was making you lunch!”
Touya blinked at him. “Were you making me lunch... or a chemical weapon?”
“I just wanted to do something nice,” Keigo muttered, slumping against the counter. “You cook for me all the time. I thought maybe I could return the favor.”
Touya looked at the charred mess in the pan, then at Keigo’s hopeful little smile.
“…Don’t ever do this again.”
Keigo laughed. “Yeah, fair.”
Touya sighed, grabbed his phone, and started dialing. “We’re ordering takeout.”

Chapter Text

One day after a long silence, Touya finally broke it, his voice low and almost unsure. “I still don’t really know how to love. Not like... properly. But I do know that I want to try. With you.”
Keigo’s chest tightened, a rush of warmth flooding through him. He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Touya’s forehead. “That means more to me than you could ever imagine,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Touya’s. “Thank you, Touya. You know I love you, and you saying you want to love me—that means everything.”
Touya swallowed hard, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he shifted closer on the couch, until their sides touched. The closeness was new and fragile but somehow grounding.
Keigo wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in just a bit. “We’ll figure this out together,” he whispered. “No rush, no pressure. Just us.”
Touya leaned his head against Keigo’s shoulder, letting himself relax into the quiet comfort of the moment. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could learn to love.

...TW: Mentions of past sexual assault and trauma...
Later that day, Touya hesitated for a moment before looking at Keigo. “Can I tell you something... a bit sensitive?”
Keigo nodded gently. “Of course. I’m here.”
Touya didn’t meet Keigo’s eyes as he said quietly, “I was molested when I was nineteen. That’s why I don’t like being touched.”
Keigo stayed silent, giving him space to speak.
“I saw women—so many women—being raped and harassed when I was out on the streets. It’s part of why I wanted to be a villain,” Touya admitted, voice low. “I joined the League of Villains to get close to those kinds of people… to find criminals who hurt others like that.”
Keigo hesitated before he told Touya his story. “I was raped when I was eight.”
Touya turned to look at him.
“I guess a commission staff member thought I was cute—for an eight-year-old,” Keigo continued.
Touya scoffed. “Of course.”
It wasn’t aimed at Keigo—it was at the man who hurt him.
Keigo nodded, eyes distant. “He was fired later, but I doubt it was because of what he did to me. I don’t think the commission cared. And if they did, it was probably just about how it might affect my training—not my actual mental health.”
They understood each other a little more after that. Bonded—not just by shared affection, but by pain, by truths most people wouldn’t dare speak aloud.
They’d been sleeping in the same bed for a while now, but that night, Touya shifted a little closer. And for the first time, he let Keigo spoon him.
No words. Just warmth. And trust.
...
Keigo sat on the bed, watching Touya towel off after a shower, steam still curling in the doorway. The bathroom light caught on the shine of his scars—deep, raw in some places, long since faded in others. Touya moved like he didn’t notice them anymore. Like they were just part of the background.
“Hey,” Keigo said quietly.
Touya glanced over. “What?”
Keigo hesitated, then patted the spot next to him. “Come here.”
Touya raised a brow but walked over, still rubbing at his hair. He dropped down beside Keigo, who reached for the small tin of healing balm on the nightstand.
“You ever think about... actually taking care of them?” Keigo asked, voice light but serious.
Touya tensed. “They’re already there. Nothing to fix.”
“I’m not saying fix,” Keigo said gently. “I’m saying care.”
Touya looked down at his arms. “I used to. Years ago. When it still hurt more. Now I just… forget.”
Keigo popped the tin open, holding it out. “Maybe it’s time to remember. Just a little.”
Touya didn’t reach for it right away. “Why does it matter now?”
Keigo met his eyes. “Because you matter now. And I know it sucks, but sometimes taking care of your body is one of the only ways to start believing that.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then slowly, Touya took the tin from Keigo’s hand.
“…You gonna help me with my back?”
Keigo smiled. “Only if you say please.”
Touya rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it. “Asshole.”
But he handed over the balm, and for the first time in a long while, let someone else treat what he usually ignored.

Chapter Text

Touya’s first outing
Touya tugged the hood of his sweatshirt down low as they walked into the Starbucks. The bell over the door chimed, and instantly, the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned. Some people stared. A few phones discreetly came out. Even in civilian clothes, even cleaned up and quieter than he used to be—people recognized him.
Keigo stayed close beside him, offering a subtle smile to the barista as they stepped up to order. He kept his voice easy and bright, trying to absorb some of the tension in the room. Touya kept his head down and mumbled his drink order.
They sat down by the window while they waited, and the seconds stretched painfully long. The eyes didn’t stop. The whispering didn’t stop.
Keigo glanced over. “You good?”
Touya shook his head, jaw tight. “Everyone’s looking.”
“I know,” Keigo said. “But they don’t know you like I do.”
Their drinks came out fast—Keigo’s with too much whipped cream, Touya’s simple and hot and already making his hands feel steadier. But it was too much. The attention. The noise. The weight.
“Can we go?” Touya muttered.
Keigo nodded immediately. “Of course.”
They stepped back out into the fresh air, and Touya let out a breath like he’d been holding it the whole time. He sat down on the curb outside the shop, gripping the cup like it was the only thing grounding him.
Keigo sat beside him, close but not touching. He pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the two of them—Touya looking exhausted but alive, Keigo giving a lopsided smile with their drinks in hand. He posted it to the account with a simple caption:
"Dabi’s first outing ☕🖤 20 minutes. That’s a win."
Touya glanced at the screen when Keigo showed him and scoffed. “I couldn’t even last half an hour.”
“You lasted twenty minutes,” Keigo said firmly. “And you didn’t punch anyone. Or run. Or burn down a thing. I call that a success.”
Touya didn’t answer right away. Just stared out at the street.
Then—quietly, hesitantly—he reached out and took Keigo’s hand.
Keigo blinked.
He looked down at their fingers, then back up at Touya, who was pretending very hard not to be making a big deal of it.
Keigo swallowed, his heart thudding like a drum.
“…You did a really good job,” he said softly.
Touya didn’t reply. But he didn’t let go either.
And Keigo didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loud, just sat there, hand in hand with someone the world wasn’t ready for—but he was.

Chapter Text

A couple weeks later, it finally happened.
Touya was curled up on the couch, flipping through the worn, handwritten recipes his mother had started mailing him—some old favorites, some things he barely remembered. He was halfway through trying to decipher her handwriting when the front door creaked open.
Keigo walked in, feathers tousled and jacket half-off, and plopped onto the couch with a long sigh, resting his head on Touya’s shoulder without asking. He smelled like wind and city air and exhaustion.
Touya glanced at him. “How was your day?”
Keigo didn’t answer at first—just looked up at him, eyes wide and shining. His pupils were pinning.
Touya blinked. “You okay? Your eyes are doing that thing again.”
Keigo didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him like he was trying to memorize every scar and shadow. Touya blushed. He’d looked it up recently—avian behavior. That look could mean a lot of things, but one meaning stood out.
Affection.
Keigo finally shook his head, like snapping out of it. “Sorry.”
Touya stared a moment longer, then leaned in slightly, gaze flicking to Keigo’s mouth. Keigo brought a gloved hand up to Touya’s cheek, cupping it gently.
Without thinking, Touya muttered, “I don’t like your gloves.”
Keigo paused, brow quirking. “No?”
“They hide your talons,” Touya said, quieter this time. “I like your talons.”
Keigo didn’t say anything—just slipped the gloves off slowly and brought his bare hand back to Touya’s face. His talons were cold, calloused, but careful. Touya leaned into the touch, his own hand reaching up to rest over Keigo’s.
They stared at each other for a beat, breath syncing in the stillness.
Then Touya leaned in and kissed him.
It was simple. Just lips pressed together—tentative, dry, no pressure. But real. Keigo melted into it without moving too much, like he didn’t want to scare him off.
Touya pulled back after a few seconds, ears red, expression unreadable.
Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
They just curled up together on the couch, and when they went to bed later that night, they did so tangled in each other’s arms.
Touya still couldn’t say the words. But he could admit it now—he definitely liked Keigo.
Maybe more than liked. But one thing at a time.

Chapter Text

Touya had finally agreed to a family dinner.
He sat close to Keigo, a near-constant presence at his side, quiet and observant while the rest of the family settled into old rhythms. The table was warm with chatter, food steaming in shared dishes, Rei beaming as she watched her children slowly orbit each other again.
Partway through the meal, Touya turned to Natsuo.
“Hey,” he muttered. “About last time. When you showed up at Keigo’s place.”
Natsuo glanced over, a little surprised. “Yeah?”
Touya didn’t meet his eyes. “I wasn’t… really myself. The meds I was on dulled everything. I wasn’t trying to be cold. I’m on something better now.”
Natsuo smiled faintly. “It’s not a big deal, Touya. Really. I get it.”
Touya nodded once, then fell quiet again. The conversation flowed around him—mostly between Keigo and Fuyumi, who lit up at every compliment about her cooking.
“So,” Fuyumi said after a while, “Do you have a number I can text you? Or…?”
Touya shook his head. “I don’t have a phone.”
“What?” Fuyumi’s voice jumped an octave. She turned a glare on Keigo. “You didn’t get him a phone?!”
Keigo held up his hands. “I was gonna! Eventually!”
“Keigo,” Fuyumi scolded. “Get him one. Tonight. And text me the number. I’m serious.”
Touya actually smiled a little. “Pushy, aren’t you?”
She beamed. “Get used to it.”
Rei just watched, hands folded in her lap, eyes misty.
Then Enji spoke for the first time in a while. His voice was low. Careful.
“I see Hawks has been taking care of you.”
Touya barely looked up. “Yeah. I guess.”
Keigo, ever the bright spot, added, “He’s even been taking care of his scars.”
Rei lit up. “Really? That’s great, Touya!”
Enji hesitated, then echoed, “That’s... good.”
Touya’s face flattened. “Yeah, whatever. It’s not a big deal.”
“It really is good to take care of yourself,” Enji said, a little firmer this time.
Touya set down his chopsticks. “Yeah, well, not like I ever had anyone to teach me how.”
Silence dropped over the table like a blanket.
Fuyumi slowly lowered her utensils. Her voice was soft but steady. “Well… you’re learning now. And I think you’re doing really well.”
Touya didn’t answer at first. Then: “Yeah, I guess.”
Keigo broke the tension with a grin. “He made me tamago the other day. It was actually amazing. I don’t even like egg that much.”
Rei smiled through her tears. “You used to help me in the kitchen when you were little. You always cracked the eggs too hard and got shell in the bowl.”
Touya blinked. “…I don’t remember that.”
“I do.”
Natsuo looked down at his plate, his voice a little rough. “I’m just glad you’re here. That we can do this. Even if it’s awkward or messy or… painful. I’ll take awkward over a gravestone any day.”
Fuyumi reached under the table and squeezed Natsuo’s hand. Rei dabbed her cheek with a tissue. Enji was quiet, lips pressed thin.
After a moment, he finally spoke. “I never expected forgiveness. But I want to do right by you now, Touya. However I can.”
Touya didn’t look at him. Just stared into his water glass and said, “Don’t say things you can’t follow through on, old man. It won’t end well for either of us.”
Under the table, Keigo placed a hand on his knee. Not pushing. Just there. Steady.
Fuyumi clapped her hands once, voice a little too loud. “Okay, well! Who wants dessert? I made matcha cake!”
Rei, gently: “Can we… take a photo? Just one? To remember today?”
Touya flinched a little. “I don’t really do pictures.”
Rei nodded quickly. “Okay. That’s okay. I just wanted to ask.”
Keigo, trying to lighten the mood: “I mean, it’s not technically a war crime if I sneak one of the cake…”
Touya smirked. “I’ll incinerate your phone.”
Everyone chuckled. Even Enji let out a tired breath like he’d been holding it in all night.
For just a moment—fractured, fragile—it felt like a family again.
...
Shouto followed Fuyumi into the apartment with his usual guarded expression. The moment he saw who was sitting at the kitchen table, his brows knit together.
Why are we here? he thought, eyes flicking between Fuyumi and Keigo, and then settling on the pale-haired man in the corner.
Touya raised a hand casually, smirking just a little. “Hey, little Sho Sho.”
Shouto froze.
Only one person had ever called him that.
He stared. For a moment, there was nothing but quiet static behind his eyes. Then understanding clicked into place like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he’d been missing. He didn’t say anything. Just walked slowly to his seat and sat down.
The air was tense. Fuyumi placed the dishes carefully on the table and tried to keep her voice light. “Shouto, you and Touya have the same resting face. It’s strangely comforting.”
That gave them both an excuse to glance at each other. Touya blinked. Shouto tilted his head just slightly, like he was recalibrating everything he knew.
“I know this is weird,” Fuyumi continued, folding her napkin into her lap. “And it’s going to be that way for a while. Even then, I’m still grateful for this opportunity.”
Shouto nodded, wordless.
Then, out of nowhere, Touya muttered, “Sorry for kidnapping your classmate. I was just following orders... If it means anything, I think he’ll make a good hero.”
Shouto’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He’s not just my classmate,” he said. “He’s my friend.”
“Oh…” Touya blinked. “I didn’t know you were making friends.”
“Yeah. Dad told me I wasn’t allowed to at first. Now he doesn’t say anything when I mention them. He even let me bring Bakugou and Midoriya to a family dinner.”
Touya looked to Fuyumi, surprised. “That’s great, Sho.”
Shouto gave a little nod.
Keigo leaned forward. “So how’s the food? Touya spent all afternoon on it.”
Touya immediately kicked Keigo in the shin under the table.
Shouto looked at his plate, then back at Touya. “Touya-Nii made this?... It’s good.”
Touya raised a brow, thinking, Just good?
Fuyumi smiled. “It’s delicious, Nii-San.”
Touya relaxed a little. “Not as good as your food though, Yumi.”
Fuyumi laughed softly. “I don’t know, Nii-San. It’s pretty good. I mean, you were the one who taught me.”
That made Touya go a little pink in the face.
Keigo nudged him playfully. “I tell him his food is delicious every day, but I guess it means more coming from you, Fuyumi-San.”
Fuyumi chuckled faintly, setting down her chopsticks. “Maybe a little.”
The rest of the meal was quieter. Comfortable, in a strange way. Nobody forced anything. When it was time to go, Fuyumi gave Touya a quick hug and promised to see him again soon. Shouto gave a small, respectful nod before following her out.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Touya looked like the air had left his lungs. He stood in the kitchen like a shadow and didn’t move until Keigo brushed their fingers together.
They did the dishes together in silence.
Afterward, Touya let Keigo hold him—no hesitation. He melted into Keigo’s arms, face tucked into his shoulder, tension slowly bleeding out of his body.
Keigo kissed his forehead gently.
Touya looked up at him, eyes soft. Then he leaned in and kissed him.
Just their lips pressed together. Simple. Solid. Warm.
They kissed again. And again. No heat. No rush. Just quiet, wordless connection.
When the lights went out, they crawled into bed and tangled together. Keigo held Touya the way he always did—steady, safe.

Chapter Text

Shouto grabbed Bakugou who was headed to be.
“What?” Bakugou asked his boyfriend.
Shouto had a weird look on his face.
“You ok?”
“I met with Dabi.”
Bakugou’s eyes went wide. “What the—?!”
“Kat, he’s Touya.”
Bakugou blinked. “What the fuck.”
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Bakugou crossed his arms, smirking. “Shouto, it’s not my place to tell anyone, so I fucking won’t. But—seriously, what do you feel? What’s he like? I mean, he kidnapped me, but he wasn’t all that bad. Mostly just annoying.”
Shouto hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t know how I feel. I just had dinner with my dead brother. I’m not entirely sure I’ve processed all of this yet.”
“He apologized for kidnapping you though. Said if it helped, he thought you’d make a good hero.”
Bakugou snorted. “Of course I’d make a good damn hero.— I’ll make your favorite for lunch tomorrow.”
Shouto cracked a small smile. “Okay. Goodnight.”
“Night, Icy-Hot.”
...
The next day at school, Mina suddenly called out, “Where’d you go last night, Todobabe?”
Shouto felt every pair of eyes on him — even Aizawa’s curious gaze flicked his way.
“My sister took me to Hawks’ apartment,” Shouto said simply.
“Wait, isn’t Hawks rehabilitating Dabi?” Ochaco asked, eyebrows raised.
Aizawa’s voice cut through. “You didn’t meet with Dabi, did you?”
Shouto nodded. “I did.”
Bakugou smirked. “You’re really going to tell them now?”
“Tell us what?” Aizawa prompted.
“Dabi is my brother,” Shouto said, steady despite the shock that rippled through the room.
He explained quietly, “I always knew I had another brother, but we all thought he was dead. Apparently, Dabi told Hawks who he really was, and the family found out. They had a family dinner without me, so they decided to have a smaller dinner with just the two of us. But Hawks can’t really leave Dabi alone with other people, and Fuyumi didn’t want me to be outnumbered. Soooo...”
“Wow,” Jiro breathed.
Deku’s voice was gentle. “Are you okay, Todoroki?”
Shouto looked down for a moment. “I think… I’m happy. His food was good.”
“He cooked?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.
Shouto nodded.
Mina grinned. “So Hawks and Dabi… are they together?”
Kirishima groaned, “Mina.”
“What?” she shot back.
Shouto shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, they live together.”
The group groaned in unison.
“No, Roki-San. Like, are they a thing? Dating?” Denki asked with a teasing smile.
Shouto blushed. “Oh… I don’t know.”
Tsuyu leaned in. “What was their body language like?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention to them. Sorry,” Shouto said.
“That’s okay, Todoroki,” Deku smiled kindly. “You needed to focus on how you were feeling.”
Bakugou grunted. “The nerd’s right. Don’t pay attention to these extras.”
Ochaco tilted her head. “Was Hawks nice? We only ever hear from Tokoyami.”
Tokoyami’s voice was quiet. “He hasn’t had time to hang out with me lately, so I wouldn’t know about the whole Dabi thing.”
“He’s nice. I guess,” Shouto replied.
Aizawa cut in, voice flat but firm. “Enough of this. Time for class. And kids… this stays between us. Got it?”
Everyone nodded as they filed out, the weight of Shouto’s revelation still lingering in the air.

Chapter Text

Keigo was off work for the day, and the quiet comfort between him and Touya felt different—softer, more open.
They sat close on the couch, lips meeting in gentle kisses, careful to keep things slow and simple—no tongues, just warmth.
“I love you, firefly,” Keigo whispered against Touya’s lips.
Touya didn’t say it back. Instead, he just kissed Keigo again—soft, deliberate. And Keigo understood perfectly.
Breaking the kiss, Touya glanced up with a small smile. “Can you get me some art supplies?”
Keigo blinked. “Art supplies?”
“I get a little bored sometimes when you’re not here,” Touya said. “I used to do color-by-numbers as a kid.”
“What kind of supplies?” Keigo asked.
Touya’s eyes lit up as he rattled off, “Fine liner pens, definitely some sketchbooks—hardcover ones, please—colored pencils, sketching pencils, a sharpener, of course. And alcohol-based markers, not those cheap dollar store ones.”
Keigo laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no way I’m remembering all that. Can you make me a list?”
Touya tilted his head, a concerned look sprawled across his face. “Am I asking for too much?”
“Of course not. I’m happy to get you any art supplies you want.”
“Thank you, Keigo.” Touya kissed him again.
...
The next day, after work, Keigo made his way to the art supply store. He picked out everything carefully—three black hardcover sketchbooks of varying sizes, a 48-pack of alcohol markers, a 36-pack of colored pencils, six sketching pencils, two sharpeners (handheld and automatic), a three-pack of erasers, and a kneaded eraser.
When he got home, Touya was cooking dinner.
“Welcome home,” Touya said, turning with a smile.
“I got your stuff,” Keigo replied, setting the bags down.
“Already? Thank you, birdie.”
Keigo grinned. “You can use the guest room as your art studio—for now, until we move.”
Touya paused, ladling food onto their plates. “We’re moving?”
Keigo dug into his food. “I don’t expect us to live here forever, you know.”
Touya nodded slowly. “I guess I never really thought about that.”
“Delicious as always, Touya,” Keigo said, smiling.
“Thank you, Kei.”
...
After dinner, Keigo curled up on the couch. Touya sat at the edge, sketchbook open on his lap. He began to draw, eyes flicking up now and then to look at Keigo’s face—his beautiful…boyfriend... no, he didn’t like that. what were they? Partner? Something new.
“Hey Kei,” Touya said softly. “What are we?”
Keigo looked up, thoughtful. “What do you want to be?”
Touya smiled gently. “Partners. I don’t really like the word ‘boyfriends.’”
“Partners,” Keigo agreed, warmth spreading through his chest. “I like it.”
They settled back into their quiet rhythm—Keigo relaxing into the couch, Touya sketching Keigo.
An hour later, Touya closed his sketchbook. “I’m ready for bed.”
Together, they headed to their shared room and fell asleep in each other’s arms—safe, close, and quietly hopeful.
...
The next day, Keigo picked up a phone for Touya. It had been long enough—he needed one.
He had one of his agency staff set it up while he went out on patrol.
When he got home, dinner was already done.
“Here’s a phone for you,” Keigo said, setting it down. “I already programmed your family’s numbers into it.”
Touya glanced at it, then nodded. “About time. Thank you.”
Later, on the couch, Touya decided to send his first text—to Fuyumi.
Hey, this is Touya. I just got a phone, so I thought I’d text you good night.
Fuyumi replied quickly: Oh, AWESOME! Finally, Hawks got you a phone. I thought he would never get around to it.
Touya smirked, fingers hovering over the screen. Yeah, me too! Good night, sis.
Good night, Nii-San, came the reply.
Once again, they headed to bed—quiet, close, and a little more connected.
...
A couple of weeks later Touya decided to fill his sketchbook with sketches other than Keigo. So far he had 7 pages front and back of Keigo sketches.
There was one of Keigo sleeping on the couch, his face soft and relaxed in a rare moment of peace. Another showed Keigo mid-laugh, the kind of genuine, bright laugh that Touya had spent hours trying to capture perfectly.
One page was dedicated solely to Keigo’s wings—each feather carefully sketched, soft and detailed. Touya found himself drawn to those wings, mesmerized by how something so beautiful and delicate belonged to someone so fierce.
These sketches weren’t just drawings—they were pieces of a quiet affection Touya was still learning to understand.
So one day, Touya decided to take the medium sized sketchbook to the park. He wanted to capture something new—birds fluttering about, or maybe interesting people passing by.
On the first page, he carefully sketched a couple of birds, their wings mid-flap, feathers detailed with delicate strokes.
On the opposite page was a woman he thought might be a nanny. There was something about her—how she watched over the children with quiet patience—that caught his attention.
He didn’t know her story, but in that moment, she became a subject worthy of his sketchbook.
It was a small step, but Touya felt a flicker of curiosity for the world outside his own shadows.
Touya found himself drawn to the park more and more, and soon it became a daily habit. Each visit offered something new to capture—the way the light hit a stranger’s face, the curve of a child’s smile, or the graceful flight of birds.
Keigo noticed the growing collection of sketches and couldn’t hide his pride. Every time Touya came home with a fresh page full of new faces and moments, Keigo’s heart swelled a little.
“It’s amazing to see the world through your eyes,” he told Touya one evening, tracing a finger along the delicate lines of a sketch.
Touya gave a small, satisfied smile. In these quiet moments, surrounded by paper and pencil, he was discovering more of himself than he ever thought possible.

Chapter Text

A couple of weeks later, Keigo spent some time with Tokoyami.
Tokoyami asked, “So how’s taking responsibility for Dabi going?”
Keigo smiled. “It’s nice. Why do you ask?”
Tokoyami shrugged. “Todoroki-San told us Dabi was his brother. We were all curious. And they asked if you were nice.”
Keigo raised an eyebrow. “What did he say about me being nice or not?”
Tokoyami smirked. “I’m pretty sure he said, ‘I guess.’”
Keigo chuckled. “Do you remember what he said about Dabi?”
Tokoyami nodded. “He said he was happy and that Dabi’s cooking was good.”
“That’s good,” Keigo said quietly. “I’m glad.”
Tokoyami grinned. “Mina even asked if you and Dabi were a thing. Funny, huh?”
Keigo’s cheeks flushed, but thankfully Tokoyami didn’t catch it. “Yeah... funny.”
He changed the subject. “Hey, do you have Aizawa’s phone number?”
Tokoyami nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
Keigo explained, “I have an idea. I think Dabi could use his help with his quirk.”
Tokoyami’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know Dabi needed help with his quirk.”
Keigo sighed. “Yeah, he was never taught how to separate his emotions from his quirk.”
Tokoyami mulled it over. “Huh.”
Tokoyami quickly texted his sensei.
Tokoyami: Hi, Sensei. You know I’m with Hawks right now. He wants me to get your number.
Aizawa: Sure, I don’t care.
Tokoyami handed the phone to Keigo.
Later that day, at Hawks’s apartment:
Keigo called out, “Hey, Tou.”
Touya looked up from the couch, sketchbook balanced on one knee, a half-finished drawing of a sparrow in flight on the page. “Yeah, Kei?”
Keigo sat beside him. “I talked to Tokoyami today. I asked for Aizawa’s number.”
Touya’s brows furrowed. “Okay... why?”
Keigo hesitated. “I thought maybe… you could train with him a bit. Someone who understands what it’s like to have your quirk tied to your emotions.”
Touya was quiet for a moment. “You think I can’t control it?”
“No,” Keigo said gently. “I think you were never taught how. That’s not your fault. I just… I want you to be able to use your quirk without hurting yourself.”
Touya glanced away. “And without hurting anyone else.”
“You’ve never hurt an innocent person. Not once. I know that. But your flames… they burn you, Tou.” He reached out, resting his hand just above Touya’s knee, not touching unless invited.
After a beat, Touya whispered, “You think he’d help me?”
“I think he’d understand. And I think you’d like him. He doesn’t waste time on judgment — just tells it like it is.”
Touya set the sketchbook aside. “If he makes me run laps, I’m setting his sleeping bag on fire.”
Keigo laughed. “I think he’d actually appreciate the challenge.”
Touya smirked faintly and leaned back, thoughtful. Keigo watched the slow way his shoulders un-tense, the curiosity replacing defensiveness.
“Okay. If you set it up… I’ll go.”
Keigo’s smile grew. “Really?”
“Yeah. Not saying I won’t ghost him after five minutes, though.”
“I’ll take it.”
There was a pause. Keigo shifted closer until their knees brushed. Touya didn’t move away.
“…Thanks, birdbrain.”
“That’s Mister Birdbrain to you.”
Touya let out a quiet laugh, and Keigo saw it — that tiny flicker of light in his eyes. It was enough for today.
...
A few days later, early in the morning, Hawks dropped Dabi off at the Class 1-A dorms. Only Bakugou and Shouto were awake.
Touya carried his sketchbook and a couple of supplies.
Shouto glanced over. “You draw?”
Touya’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, a little.”
“Can I see them?” Shouto asked.
Touya smiled shyly. “Sure, Sho Sho.”
Shouto felt a warm flutter every time Touya called him that. He knew Touya had tried to kill him before—multiple times—but now, neither wanted that anymore. They both wanted to get to know each other.
Shouto walked over while Bakugou continued cooking breakfast.
They settled on the couch. Touya handed Shouto his sketchbook — thankfully not the one filled with ten pages of Keigo sketches, but the medium-sized one he usually took to the park.
Shouto opened it to the first page — detailed sketches of birds.
The second page showed a woman pushing a toddler on a swing set, titled “Nanny?”
“Nanny?” Shouto asked.
Touya nodded. “She looked like a nanny, but I’m not really sure. She caught my attention. She was pretty and kind, with lilac hair in a side ponytail.”
“You’re very observant,” Shouto said.
“Only when something catches my eye,” Touya replied.
Flipping pages, Shouto saw more birds, a beautiful flower, two kids playing in a sandbox.
“What drew your attention here?” Shouto asked, pointing at the sandbox sketch.
Touya shrugged. “I don’t know. They just seemed really happy.”
The sixth page was a burst of blue flames, the only colored page. The flames formed a flower shape in the sky.
“Can you actually do that with your flames?” Shouto asked.
“Yeah. I used to do it for Himiko when she was sad.”
The seventh page showed more birds with notes about their species.
Before he looked through the rest of the pages, Shouto closed the sketchbook and said, “Do you want to sketch me?”
Touya blinked, startled. “You want me to draw you?”
Shouto nodded. “If you want. I don’t mind.”
Touya studied him for a moment, wondering if he had the time. Then he started sketching his brother’s asymmetrical face.
About thirty minutes in, Mina walked down the stairs, heading to the kitchen. She didn’t notice the brothers on the couch.
Bakugou called out, “Dabi’s already here, by the way.”
Mina turned, eyes locking on the couch.
“Is he sketching Todobabe?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m cooking,” Bakugou replied.
Mina moved closer, watching Dabi carefully sketch Shouto.
Fifteen minutes later, Kirishima appeared. His eyes immediately move to the brothers on the couch, and his girlfriend on the arm rest behind Dabi. He started rubbing his eyes like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Is… is Dabi sketching Todoroki?” he asked.
“Yep,” Mina grinned. “Been doing it for almost forty-five minutes. And he’s so focused.”
“That’s… actually kinda cute?” Kirishima said.
Bakugou shouted from the kitchen, “Shut it, Hair-for-brains. They’re having a moment.”
Kirishima walked over to Mina. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Basically. I wasn’t gonna interrupt. Look at how soft his face is right now. You’d never guess he blew up half a city block a few months ago.”
“Yeah… he doesn’t look like a villain at all right now,” Kirishima whispered.
Touya didn’t react to their chatter, but his pencil slowed slightly.
Shouto blinked, looking at Kirishima and Mina. “You’re all being loud.”
“Sorry, Todobabe,” Mina said. “It’s just… Touya’s sketching you like he’s trying to preserve you in amber.”
Touya smirked dryly. “Do you want me to draw you next, pinky?”
“Only if you make me look like a magical girl,” Mina teased.
“I only draw what I see,” Touya replied.
“So… magical girl it is,” Mina said, grinning.
“He walked right into that one,” Kirishima laughed.
Touya cracked a small grin but kept sketching.
Bakugou finished cooking and set the pot aside. “Food’s done. You extras can eat. Dabi—don’t forget your leash.”
Touya didn’t miss a beat. “Bird boy’s coming back for me later. I’m on a timer.”
“So romantic,” Mina teased.
Shouto glanced at Touya. “Are you almost done?”
“Almost. Just… don’t move yet.”
Mina leaned against Kirishima, watching the brothers quietly.
The moment felt sacred—quiet, warm, even tender.
Kirishima whispered, “I don’t know what I expected when I came down here, but it wasn’t this.”
“I like this. Let them have their moment,” Mina replied softly.
Touya finished the last line and set his pencil down. “Okay. You can move now.”
Shouto stretched his neck.
Mina grinned. “It looks so good. Show Todobabe.”
Touya hesitated, then nodded and turned the sketchbook around.
“It looks great, Touya-Nii,” Shouto said warmly.
“Oh, so his name is Touya,” Mina murmured.
“Can I look at your other sketches?” she asked.
“Sure,” Touya replied.
Mina flipped through the pages while Kirishima looked over her shoulder.
“These are amazing. Do you have any sketches of Hawks?” Mina asked, trying to find hints about Touya and Hawks’ relationship.
“…Yes, I do,” Touya said, a little flustered.
Mina pushed further, “Soo… where are those sketches?”
“In another sketchbook,” Touya admitted, blushing. Whether it was embarrassment or affection, Mina couldn’t tell.
Mina dropped the subject and asked bluntly, “What’s your sexuality?”
“MINA!” Kirishima groaned.
“What?” she said.
“I’m sorry about her. She doesn’t really have a filter,” Kirishima explained.
Touya hesitated before answering quietly, “I’m not really sure, Mina. I’ve never paid attention to that kind of stuff. So, I don’t know. Sorry.”
“Would you like to find out? I have a quiz,” Mina offered.
“A quiz?” Touya raised an eyebrow.
“Yes! I made it myself after realizing I’m bi.”
“Why would a quiz help?” Touya asked.
“It helps you figure out if you’re into guys, girls, both, neither — everyone — through scientific questions like, ‘Would you kiss Todoroki or Bakugou to save your life?’”
Touya deadpanned, “…I’d rather die.”
Mina laughed. “Okay, that answer tells me more than you think.”
“Wait — how?” Touya asked suspiciously.
“Reflexive sarcasm when confronted with emotional intimacy? Classic sign of repressed romantic attraction.”
Kirishima groaned. “Oh god, she’s been watching Queer Analysis TikTok’s again.”
“I’m not trying to repress anything,” Touya said quietly. “I just—never thought about it. Not really.”
“That’s okay,” Mina softened. “You don’t have to know now or ever. But if you’re curious, sometimes silly questions help.”
After a pause, Touya said thoughtfully, “…I guess if I were to figure it out, I’d want to do it on my own. Not because of a quiz.”
Mina grinned gently. “Fair enough. But if you do want the quiz, it has glitter on the cover and a bonus round.”
“Glitter’s a crime,” Touya muttered, almost smiling.
“You take that back!” Mina gasped.
Touya laughed softly. “You remind me of Himiko.”
Mina blinked, caught off guard. “Himiko? As in Toga?”
Touya nodded fondly. “Yeah. Not the stabbing part. Just the energy. Chaos with too much heart.”
Mina smiled. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Kirishima half-laughed. “You seriously take being compared to a serial killer as a compliment?”
Mina teased, “If the serial killer is passionate, stylish, and fights for love? Absolutely.”
Touya got a little more serious. “She’s got a good heart. Just… too much damage and no one to help her carry it. People like her don’t get many chances.”
Mina glanced at him softly. “Is that what you think this is? A chance?”
Touya shrugged, suddenly guarded. “I don’t know what this is. I just know I’m still breathing.”
“Well, for what it’s worth… I’m glad you’re still breathing,” Mina said quietly, smiling. “And I hope someday you let someone help you carry some of the damage too.”
Touya’s eyes flicked to her, surprised but not dismissive. “…You really are like her.”
Mina grinned, playful again. “Guess that makes you our resident misunderstood heartthrob. Congrats!”
“Don’t encourage her, man,” Kirishima said.
Touya muttered, “Too late.”
Touya’s voice softened. “I miss her.”
Mina whispered, “…I bet she misses you too.”
Kirishima gently asked, “You guys were close?”
Touya nodded. “She’s the closest thing I had to a sister other then Fuyumi. We met before the League. She stuck to me like a stray cat. Never left.”
“Did you leave her?” Mina asked softly.
Touya’s voice was low, aching. “Had to. She said she understood. But she cried. She thinks I didn’t see, but I did.”
Mina’s voice was gentle. “She sounds like someone who just wanted to be loved.”
“Yeah, I wish she came with me.”
“Is there any way we can reach her?” Mina asked excitedly.
Touya hesitated. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know how though. I’ll ask Keigo.”
Kirishima asked, “Who’s Keigo?”
Touya quickly added, “Oh, sorry—Keigo is Hawks. I didn’t mean to expose his name like that.”
Mina blinked. “You call Hawks by his real name?”
Touya shrugged. “Yeah… I’m not supposed to use it outside the apartment. So please don’t tell anyone.”
Kirishima smiled gently. “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t. You trusted us — that means a lot.”
Mina nodded seriously. “Yeah. We won’t say anything.”
Touya was quiet. “…Thanks.”
Mina tilted her head, trying not to grin. “Soooo… how long have you been calling him Keigo?”
Touya grumbled, “Don’t start.”
Mina beamed. “Too late.”
Mina pondered whether or not she should just straight-up ask if he liked Hawks.
She glanced at Touya, who had started lightly shading a new sketch—some detail on the side of the page, absent-minded. His brows were relaxed. He looked… peaceful.
He was sketching Hawks, from memory.
That had to mean something, right?
And it wasn’t just a sketch of his wings this time—it was Keigo’s face, caught mid-laugh. Not perfectly detailed, more gesture than form, but there was something gentle in the lines. Something fond.
But still. Mina couldn’t tell if it was romantic or if it was just… complicated.
Maybe it was gratitude. Maybe it was comfort. Maybe it was the product of isolation and familiarity, a kind of accidental intimacy that bloomed in the quiet spaces between trauma and healing.
Or maybe it really was love, and Touya just hadn’t figured that out yet.
She didn’t want to ruin the moment.
But she wanted to understand.
She opened her mouth—
—and just then, footsteps padded down the dorm stairs.
Midoriya appeared at the bottom step, hair still a bit messy from sleep, hoodie half-zipped. He blinked in the direction of the couch, eyes adjusting to the morning light.
Midoriya appeared on the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Oh… good morning.”
Mina sat back slightly, startled but not surprised. Touya didn’t even flinch. He kept sketching like he hadn’t noticed.
Shouto, still sitting nearby, gave a slight nod. “Morning.”
Midoriya blinked a few more times, his gaze finally landing on the couch—and the man sketching quietly on it.
“Wait… is that—Dabi?”
“Touya,” Shouto corrected gently.
Midoriya’s eyes widened just a little, but he didn’t freak out. He just gave a slow, understanding nod. He’d been through too much to be shocked by things like this anymore.
“Right. Sorry. Touya-san.”
Touya didn’t look up, but he did murmur, “Morning.”
Midoriya’s eyes moved across the room—Mina perched on the armrest, Kirishima leaning quietly nearby, and Bakugou in the kitchen, aggressively pretending not to eavesdrop. Then he noticed the sketchbook in Touya’s lap.
“Are you drawing?”
“He’s amazing, Izuku,” Mina jumped in, as if nothing intense had just happened. “You should see the one he did of Todoroki. I think he unlocked a new sibling achievement.”
Midoriya chuckled softly and stepped closer. “May I see?”
Touya hesitated, just for a moment, then flipped to the sketch of Shouto and angled the book so Midoriya could look.
Midoriya studied it in silence. “This is… really good. You caught his expression perfectly. It’s soft, but still… him.”
“Thanks,” Touya said, blinking like he wasn’t sure how to take the compliment.
Mina glanced sideways at him. His shoulders hadn’t tensed. That was progress.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Midoriya said, smiling warmly.
That caught Touya off guard. He looked up, eyes narrowing faintly like he was checking for sarcasm. There wasn’t any. Midoriya meant it.
“Thanks… I guess,” Touya replied quietly.
“He made breakfast,” Shouto added.
“Oh, awesome,” Midoriya said. “I’m starving.”
He headed off toward the kitchen, and just like that, the moment passed—but it didn’t vanish.
Mina still had the question on the tip of her tongue, but now didn’t feel like the time. Maybe later.
Maybe she didn’t need to ask.
Because when Touya glanced back down at his sketchbook and let his pencil softly trace the curve of a familiar laugh-line—one he’d seen a hundred times on Keigo’s face—it told her more than any answer ever could.
...
A few minutes later, more footsteps echoed on the dorm stairs—two sets this time, light and easy, in sync.
Ochaco and Tsuyu came down holding hands, still dressed in cozy pajamas. Ochaco had her hair up in a loose bun, cheeks pink from sleep, while Tsuyu looked as calm and observant as ever, her fingers laced gently with Ochaco’s.
They paused on the last step when they spotted Touya on the couch.
Ochaco blinked. “Oh! Hi…”
“It’s fine,” Shouto said calmly. “He’s here with permission.”
Touya offered a lazy wave without looking up from his sketch. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to blow anything up.”
Tsuyu tilted her head slightly as she stepped further into the common room. “You sketching?”
“He’s been at it for a while,” Mina said with a grin. “He sketched Todoroki earlier. You missed the art show.”
Ochaco smiled, tugging Tsuyu gently as they moved to sit nearby. “That’s so cool. Can we see?”
Touya glanced up, eyes flicking briefly to their joined hands before dropping again. He gave a short nod. “Sure.”
Mina was already on it, carefully flipping back to the portrait of Shouto and holding it out. Ochaco’s eyes lit up.
“Oh wow,” she said. “This is amazing.”
“You’re really good,” Tsuyu added, voice quiet and sincere.
Touya rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “Thanks…”
Ochaco leaned in, her tone light and teasing. “Is it just people you sketch? Or do you draw your favorite pro heroes too?” She gave him a playful wink.
Mina snorted.
Touya raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘favorite.’”
“I assume she means Hawks,” Tsuyu said, perfectly deadpan.
Touya’s ears went pink. “Not all of them are of him.”
“But some are,” Mina added, positively beaming.
“Aww, that’s kinda sweet,” Ochaco said, unbothered and entirely genuine.
Touya muttered something under his breath and reached for his sketchbook. He didn’t quite glare—but it was close.
“We’re just teasing,” Mina said, still smiling. “Kinda.”
“You’re all very loud this early,” Shouto said dryly.
“Finally,” Bakugou called from the kitchen, already halfway through his second bowl of rice. “Someone said it.”
Kirishima stepped a little closer, dropping his voice as he leaned in beside Touya—just enough not to make it a spectacle. “You don’t gotta explain anything, dude. We all have people we… y’know, feel something for.”
Touya blinked at him, pencil stalling slightly in his hand. Then he looked down at the sketchbook in his lap. Maybe he didn’t need to figure it all out right now. Maybe it was okay to just sit here, surrounded by people who didn’t hate him, who didn’t flinch.
Maybe that was enough for now.
Tsuyu broke the silence gently. “Do you want tea?”
Touya looked up, caught off guard. “What?”
“We’re making tea,” she explained. “You’ve been drawing for a long time.”
“We’ve got matcha, oolong, black, or that weird peppermint stuff someone left here like six months ago,” Ochaco added with a little grin.
Touya hesitated, then shrugged. “Oolong, I guess.”
Tsuyu nodded and walked off toward the kitchen with Ochaco in tow. Their hands slipped apart—but only to grab mugs.
And for the first time in what felt like years, Touya didn’t feel like a shadow sitting in the corner.
He was just… here.
Sketchbook in hand. Tea on the way. And maybe, just maybe, something like peace.
...
Not long after the soft clatter of mugs and the rising steam of steeping oolong, another pair of footsteps echoed down the dorm stairs—measured, graceful, unhurried.
Momo Yaoyorozu stepped into view at the bottom step, wrapped in a deep red robe with her hair loosely tied back. She paused, blinking against the light, then drew in a slow breath through her nose.
“Is that oolong?” she asked.
“It is,” Tsuyu called from the kitchen.
Drawn by the scent, Momo followed it into the common area—and froze for a beat when her eyes landed on Touya, sketchbook open in his lap, surrounded by a small gathering of Class 1-A students. The air around them was oddly serene for a group hosting a former villain before 9 a.m.
“Good morning,” she said politely, though her surprise was clear. “I didn’t realize we had a guest.”
Touya glanced up with a faint, lopsided smile. “Yeah. Sorry if I’m messing up your vibe.”
“Not at all,” Momo replied, recovering with practiced poise. “I’ve just… never had tea in the same room as a wanted criminal before.”
“Former,” Bakugou muttered from the kitchen.
“Technically,” Touya echoed with a shrug.
Momo gave a small nod. “Well. You seem… more approachable than I’d expected.”
“He sketches birds and brothers and talks about feelings if you catch him off-guard,” Mina added, grinning from where she’d re-settled herself on the armrest behind him.
“Snitch,” Touya said flatly, though there was no real bite behind it.
Momo stepped a little closer, eyes scanning the open pages in his lap. She didn’t crowd him, just tilted her head to take in the images.
“Did you draw all those?”
“Yeah. Just a way to keep my hands busy.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said softly. “Very deliberate linework.” She smiled. “I like that you titled the one ‘Nanny?’ It shows curiosity.”
Touya blinked. That might’ve been the first time someone had complimented the way he thought about his art—not just the skill.
“…Thanks.”
Tsuyu returned with mugs in hand, offering one to Touya and another to Momo.
“Thank you, Asui-san,” Momo said with a nod.
“He picked oolong because he’s dramatic,” Mina whispered loudly.
“I picked it because it wasn’t peppermint,” Touya replied dryly.
Ochaco giggled behind her hand. Kirishima chuckled into his tea. Even Momo smiled behind her cup.
“This is unexpectedly cozy,” she said, settling herself across from the others.
“It’s not bad,” Shouto agreed, still seated beside Touya, his voice quiet but content.
Momo took a sip, then glanced around the room. “Is this… going to be a regular thing?”
Touya didn’t look up. “I come with a leash.”
“He means Hawks,” Mina added helpfully.
“Oh,” Momo said, blinking once.
“He’s not wrong,” Bakugou called out.
Mina leaned down again, whispering conspiratorially, “We’re still trying to figure out if they’re dating.”
Momo raised one perfectly shaped brow and took another sip of tea. “I see.”
Touya exhaled and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.
...
Just as the laughter began to fade and the gentle clink of mugs settled into a quiet rhythm, heavier footsteps echoed down the stairs—slower, reluctant, as if joining the world of the awake with some hesitation.
Denki was the first to appear, stretching with both arms overhead, hair messier than usual and socks mismatched. He squinted blearily toward the sunlight spilling through the windows.
“Whyyyy are you all awake? It’s not even—”
He paused mid-sentence, eyes landing on Touya sitting calmly on the couch, sketchbook in his lap, half the class casually gathered around like this was perfectly normal.
“Oh. Okay. I’m still dreaming.”
Shinsou trailed just behind him, hoodie pulled low over his head, expression unreadable as always. His tired eyes flicked around the room—first on Bakugou in the kitchen, then Shouto, and finally resting on the figure on the couch, marked by faded staples and weary eyes.
“That’s Dabi,” Shinsou said quietly.
“Again—former Dabi,” Bakugou corrected from the kitchen.
Denki lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dude, he’s sketching or something. Like, for real.”
Touya didn’t lift his gaze from the paper. He was working on a loose, shadowy sketch of Tsuyu curled up in an armchair, one leg tucked beneath her, holding her tea carefully.
“I sketch things that hold still,” he said.
“That’s a pretty niche form of passive aggression,” Shinsou remarked dryly.
Touya didn’t miss a beat. “Thanks.”
Mina, perched like a bird behind Touya, grinned. “He’s actually kinda funny. Dark, but funny.”
Denki rubbed his eyes again and approached the group cautiously, like someone tiptoeing around a wild animal that might either bite or recite poetry.
“So... you’re, like, not evil anymore?”
Touya shrugged. “Depends on the time of day.”
“It’s too early for moral ambiguity,” Shinsou muttered.
Momo, taking a delicate sip of her tea, offered a calm correction. “He’s with Hawks now. Under supervision. This is sanctioned.”
Denki blinked. “So… wait. Like… with him with him?”
Touya sighed, clearly exasperated.
“Please don’t start this again,” Shinsou said tiredly.
“We’re investigating,” Mina said brightly.
“You’re being nosy,” Touya countered.
“Same thing!” Mina chirped.
Denki flopped onto the couch arm opposite Mina and leaned forward to peek at the sketchbook.
“Whoa. That’s, like... really good. You draw us, too?”
“No. But I might if you sit still and shut up,” Touya replied, pencil still moving.
Shinsou snorted.
“He likes me. I can tell,” Denki said with a grin.
“Nobody likes you, Pikachu,” Bakugou growled from the kitchen.
“I’m literally delightful,” Denki shot back.
“You tripped over a bean bag yesterday and said ‘the ground betrayed me,’” Shinsou deadpanned.
Denki nudged Touya. “He’s never gonna let that go.”
Touya’s pencil scratched against the paper again.
He didn’t say anything—but the faintest twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
...
The calm of the room settled again—soft conversation humming beneath the clink of mugs and the scratch of pencil.
Shinsou had quietly claimed a bean bag near the edge of the group, slumping down in that lazy, boneless way he always did. Denki, predictably, ended up in his lap, arms draped loosely around Shinsou’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Shinsou didn’t react beyond a resigned sigh and a hand resting lightly on Denki’s hip to keep him from slipping off.
Mina whispered something to Kirishima and giggled under her breath, pointing briefly at them. Kirishima grinned in response.
Then came the quiet click of the dorm front door.
Everyone turned.
Tokoyami stepped in from the early morning haze, looking like he’d just come back from his personal brooding walk or some kind of spiritual crow ritual. His usual aura of calm gloom surrounded him, scarf trailing and feathers slightly ruffled from the breeze.
He blinked once at the relaxed chaos in the common area—his eyes quickly registering the scene before locking on Touya.
“…You’re here early,” Tokoyami said.
Touya looked up, eyebrow raised. “I didn’t want to deal with the afternoon rush.”
Tokoyami nodded solemnly. “Understandable. The afternoon is… loud.”
His gaze drifted to the sketchbook in Touya’s lap.
“You’re drawing.”
“Everyone keeps pointing that out like it’s shocking,” Touya replied.
“It is simply unexpected. Your demeanor suggests… fewer hobbies.”
“Wow. You’re almost as bad as the pink one.”
Mina beamed. “Hey!”
Tokoyami moved further into the room and settled in a chair near the corner, perching rather than lounging. His gaze flicked toward Shinsou and Denki.
“…You’ve claimed the bean bag,” he noted.
Without looking up, Shinsou replied, “We’re in a committed relationship with gravity.”
Denki added, “He means I sat here first.”
“No, I don’t,” Shinsou shot back.
Touya’s pencil paused mid-line, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.
Tokoyami folded his arms. “This is a strange morning.”
“Get used to it,” Touya said.
“We’re turning your broody mornings into pastel chaos one step at a time,” Mina chimed in.
Tokoyami looked at her, then at Touya. “You two may be terrifying in similar ways.”
“High praise,” Touya replied blandly.
Denki, still happily perched on Shinsou’s lap, leaned over to Mina and whispered loudly, “Do you think Hawks is gonna show up and catch Dabi mid—soft boi sketch mode?”
Mina grinned. “One can hope.”
Touya didn’t look up, but his pencil moved a little faster.
...
The sound of socked feet sliding on hardwood echoed faintly as someone half-jogged down the stairs.
Sero popped into view with a yawn and a stretch, hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed—and probably had.
“Man, it smells good in here. Is Bakugou cooking again?” he asked.
“Obviously,” Bakugou replied from the kitchen without looking up.
Sero spotted the little crowd gathered around the living room and tilted his head—then froze mid-step when he realized Dabi was smack in the middle of the group, sketchbook balanced on one knee, surrounded by classmates like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“…Are we just chillin’ with Dabi now? Is that a thing?” he asked.
Mina grinned brightly. “Yep! It’s a whole vibe.”
Sero blinked. “Huh. Alright, cool.”
He wandered over with the ease of someone who had no idea how emotionally loaded the morning had already been, plopping himself onto the floor near the couch and glancing over at the sketchbook.
“You drawing? Can I see?” he asked.
Touya didn’t look up. “You people really like looking at things that aren’t your business.”
Sero grinned. “Yeah, but we’re charming.”
Denki, from his cozy beanbag nest, called out, “Speak for yourself.”
“Don’t encourage him. He’ll try to sell prints,” Shinsou warned dryly.
Sero laughed. “Don’t tempt me, man. Imagine—limited edition Dabi originals. We’d make bank.”
Touya deadpanned, “Touch my art and I’ll incinerate your kneecaps.”
Sero held his hands up, still grinning. “Alright, alright, I get it. Artist’s boundaries. Respect.”
He stretched out his legs, glancing around the room at everyone gathered, then back at Touya.
“Gotta say, though… never thought I’d see the day. Dabi, sketching, surrounded by 1-A. Weirdly wholesome.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Touya warned.
Mina murmured softly, mostly to herself, “Too late.”
...
Jiro silently slips in, just listening to music. She wonders if she should ask what kinda music Dabi listens to. She doesn't.
...
The quiet murmurs and laughter were suddenly interrupted by the soft thud of footsteps descending the stairs.
Aizawa appeared at the top of the stairwell, eyes half-lidded but attentive, followed closely by Hizashi—his husband—who adjusted his scarf and scanned the room with a calm, measured gaze.
Aizawa dryly said, “So this is where all the noise is coming from.”
Hizashi smirked, “You’d think with all this company, someone would’ve made coffee.”
Aizawa glanced over at the group gathered around the couch—Touya sketching, classmates clustered nearby, a relaxed yet charged atmosphere.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow, “Interesting. Looks like Dabi’s got quite the fan club.”
Hizashi chuckled softly, “You mean our family is expanding?”
Aizawa half-smiled, “Seems that way. You’re late to the party, Hizashi.”
Hizashi grinned, “I prefer to make an entrance.”
The two shared a brief look, a silent conversation passing between them, before Aizawa folded his arms and settled against the banister, watching quietly.
Upstairs, a soft knock echoed from Eri’s door. She peeked out cautiously, her wide eyes scanning the lively scene below.
Though still shy, Eri’s gaze lingered on Touya—Dabi—whom she recognized from before, when Overhaul had held her captive. Back then, Touya had been kind, unexpectedly gentle in a world that had been cruel to her.
Now, living with Aizawa, Hizashi, and their adopted son Shinsou, Eri was learning what safety and family felt like.
Curious but tentative, she stepped out of her room, clutching a small stuffed animal.
Eri softly asked, “Is it okay if I come down?”
Aizawa, hearing her voice, looked up from the group.
Aizawa replied, “Of course, Eri. Come join us.”
Eri’s eyes flickered toward Touya again, who glanced up from his sketchbook with a quiet nod.
Eri stepped carefully down the stairs, clutching her stuffed animal. When her eyes met Touya’s, she spoke softly.
Eri said, “I remember you… Dabi.”
The room instantly quieted. Everyone’s eyes turned to her, then to Touya.
Shinsou, still lounging in the bean bag with Denki on his lap, looked up in surprise.
Shinsou said, “Wait—you two have met?”
Aizawa exchanged a glance with Hizashi, his expression thoughtful.
Aizawa admitted, “I didn’t know.”
Mina leaned forward, curiosity bright in her eyes.
Mina asked, “What happened, Eri?”
Eri nodded slowly. “When Overhaul had me… he was kind. Not like the others.”
Touya’s gaze softened, a flicker of unspoken understanding passing between them.
Mina added, “That must’ve been really confusing.”
Eri shrugged slightly, then glanced at Touya again.
Eri said, “It was scary… but he helped me, a little.”
Touya’s voice was low, steady.
Touya said, “I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”
The room seemed to exhale together, the weight of past pain mingling with the fragile hope of healing.
Aizawa’s gaze swept the room, but he fixed his eyes gently on Eri as he spoke.
Aizawa said, “Touya is going to be training with us today. Is everyone okay with that?”
There was a brief pause—a mix of surprise, hesitation, and curiosity hanging in the air.
Eri looked up at Aizawa and nodded quietly, her voice steady.
Eri said, “I think that’s a good idea.”
Shinsou shifted in the bean bag, Denki still perched on his lap, and gave a small nod.
Denki chimed in cheerfully, “I’m down for it!”
Mina smiled warmly. “It’ll be good for all of us.”
Hizashi gave a subtle but approving smile, while Tokoyami, quietly observing, gave a slight nod.
Aizawa let the moment settle, then said firmly,
Aizawa said, “Alright. Let’s make it happen.”
The room filled with a cautious but hopeful energy as everyone prepared themselves for what came next.
They all gathered outside for the start of training. Aizawa stood at the front of the group, arms crossed, Hizashi lingering nearby but letting Aizawa take the lead.
Aizawa spoke to everyone but only looked at Eri.
“Touya is going to be training with us today. Is everyone okay with that?”
Eri nodded earnestly. The rest of the class murmured their agreement—some curious, some cautious, but no one objected.
“We’re starting with meditation,” Aizawa said.
Touya let out an exaggerated sigh and tilted his head back dramatically.
“Ohhhh goodie. Can’t wait to find my inner peace surrounded by toddlers.”
Denki coughed to cover a laugh. Mina rolled her eyes fondly. Shouto didn’t react at all.
“You’re so dramatic,” Mina whispered.
“You try inner peace with third-degree burns,” Touya muttered.
Aizawa ignored the commentary and gestured toward the half-circle of mats set up under a shaded part of the yard.
“Find a seat. Quiet your mind. If you don’t know how, just sit still and try not to light anything on fire.”
Touya grumbled something under his breath but took a seat between Shinsou and Tokoyami. He crossed his legs stiffly, like someone not used to this kind of calm. His sketchbook sat beside him, untouched.
Eri plopped down beside Aizawa and copied his posture with comical seriousness. Every so often she peeked over at Touya. He noticed, but didn’t say anything.
At first, Touya’s knee bounced. His fingers twitched. His eyes kept flicking open. But slowly, his body began to relax. The wind was soft. Someone nearby was breathing in a rhythm that was almost soothing. He could hear birds.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Aizawa finally opened his eyes and spoke calmly.
“That’s enough for now.”
Touya blinked like he’d forgotten where he was. He looked around, shoulders noticeably looser.
Shinsou, quietly: “Not bad for a first-timer.”
Touya rubbed his face with both hands.
“...It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Mina grinned, stretching her arms.
“Growth.”
Bakugou muttered, “Corny,” under his breath, but didn’t push it.
...
This was Touya’s first day training with them, but they didn’t actually start the training. Not really.
After meditation, Aizawa gestured for everyone to the common room to be seated. “Today’s about getting comfortable. Learning how to work with each other. That means talking. Not fighting.”
Bakugou groaned. “Feelings? Seriously?”
“Yes,” Aizawa replied flatly.
Touya muttered under his breath, “What kind of cult did I just walk into?”
That got a few quiet laughs—mostly from Denki and Mina. Even Shouto cracked the tiniest of smirks.
They went around the circle, sharing their thoughts—some awkward, some hesitant, some deeply honest.
Tokoyami was the first to speak. “I think this is… unusual. But I trust Sensei. And I trust Hawks. If they believe in you, I’m willing to try.”
Touya blinked at him, surprised. “Thanks, emo bird”
Tokoyami bowed slightly. “You’re welcome, Dabi-San.”
Next was Shinsou. “I think… people deserve a second chance. I got one. So yeah. I think this could work.”
Mina’s turn. “Honestly? I think it’s weird, but like, not in a bad way. Just weird like… running into your teacher at the grocery store.”
“That’s oddly specific,” Denki said as he sat on his boyfriend's lap, who was sitting in the bean bag chair again.“
“I saw Present Mic at the kombucha aisle once,” she whispered dramatically. “It changed me.”
Touya snorted.
Then it was Ochaco. “I don’t know what to think yet, but you seem like you’re trying. That counts.”
Kirishima chimed in, cheerful and open. “You’re intense, dude, but I’m not scared. Anyone who can sketch Todoroki that carefully can’t be all bad.”
Touya looked away at that, pretending not to blush.
Shouto didn’t say much, just: “It’s strange. But it’s good.”
Bakugou crossed his arms and grumbled, “Don’t expect a hug or anything. But if you pull your weight, I don’t care.”
Eri piped up, quiet but clear. “I remember when Dabi was nice to me… before Aizawa-sensei saved me. He didn’t have to be nice. But he was.”
That silenced everyone for a moment.
Touya looked stunned.
Aizawa gave her a nod, then looked around the group. “You all did well. This wasn’t about saying the right thing—it was about showing up.”
Touya rubbed his arms, uncomfortable under the weight of everyone’s words. But also… not completely miserable.
After a moment, he muttered, “You’re all a bunch of weirdos.”
Mina beamed. “Takes one to know one.”
They didn’t do any quirk drills that day. No sparring. No strategy.
Just feelings.
And weirdly… it worked.
Mina looked around the circle with a sly smirk. “Okay, so if we’re all getting to know each other, I think we should tell Dabi who we’re dating—just so he doesn’t get confused.”
Touya sighed, glancing at her with mild exasperation. “I think I can infer that you and red hair—Kirishima—are dating.”
Mina beamed. “Correct!”
“Who else?” she asked, leaning forward. “Try and guess.”
Touya looked around the group for a moment, then tilted his head. “Um… frog girl and pink cheeks?”
Tsuyu nodded, her expression calm as ever. Ochaco smiled warmly, giving Touya a small thumbs-up.
Mina clapped her hands. “Nice job! But I forgot—you don’t actually know all our names yet, huh? Maybe we should start there.”
Touya glanced around the group and pointed slowly. “I know his name is Midoriya,” he said, gesturing to the green-haired boy. “And Bakugou. Those are the two Sho Sho mentioned at dinner. I know you’re Mina. I know Eri. And Aizawa. I think that’s it.”
Denki sat up from his cozy spot in the beanbag—still nestled on Shinsou’s lap. “I’m Kaminari Denki!”
“Shinsou,” Shinsou added with a nod, resting his chin casually on Denki’s shoulder.
They began introducing themselves one by one after that, a little more relaxed now that the room had warmed with laughter and shared stories.
“Jirou Kyoka,” said the girl with the earphone jacks. She gave a polite wave. Touya didn't remember see her earier, she must have slipped in.
“Sero Hanta,” said the tape-armed boy, his smile easy and friendly.
“Yaoyorozu Momo,” said the girl who had woken up from the smell of tea.
“Fumikage Tokoyami,” came the deep voice from the bird-headed boy, followed by a small bow.
Everyone else gave their names in turn, with Eri repeating each one softly to herself, like she was trying to memorize them right alongside Touya.
“Ok let's see if I got this,” Touya said. “Pinky is Mina, That I knew. Red hair is Kirishima. Midoriya is well, Midoriya. Bakugou is Bakugou. Tea girl is Momo. Frog girl is Tsuyu. Pink cheeks is Ochaco. Tape guy is Sero. Sneaky girl is Jiro. Emo bird is Tokoyami. Yellow Mina is Denki. And the purple haired guy under him is Shinsou. Did i miss anybody?”
There was a short pause, then—
“Nope,” Kirishima said, grinning. “You nailed it, man.”
Mina laughed. “You really said ‘yellow Mina’? I kinda love that.”
Denki gave a mock gasp. “I’m flattered. But also slightly offended.”
Shinsou murmured, “You’ll live.”
Touya just shrugged, amused by their reactions. “You got weird names. I’m working with what I got.”
Shouto, beside him, looked quietly impressed. “That’s more than I remembered my first week.”
Touya snorted. “Yeah, well. I’m older and way more charming.”
Eri giggled from her seat beside Aizawa, clutching her mug of tea with both hands.
“Okay,” Mina said, clapping once. “Now that we all know each other, I think it’s time we go back to my original idea—let’s tell Dabi who’s dating who so he doesn’t get confused.”
Touya glanced around the group again, expression thoughtful.
“Okay, so... Mina and Kirishima.” He nodded toward the pair without hesitation. “Tsuyu and pink—uh, I mean... Ochaco.” He stumbled slightly over the names, still not quite used to saying them out loud.
Ochaco smiled at the effort. Tsuyu gave a small nod.
“And obviously... Denki and Shinsou.”
Shinsou simply nodded, calm and unsurprised.
Denki, however, blinked in wide-eyed shock. “Wait—how did he know???”
Touya raised an eyebrow, completely deadpan. “You’re literally sitting in his lap.”
Denki opened his mouth to argue, looked down, and then shrugged sheepishly. “Fair enough.”
Kirishima laughed. “He’s got a good eye, huh?”
“Observant when it counts,” Shouto added quietly.
Touya shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Mina grinned. “Alright, hotshot, who else do you think might be dating? Any wild guesses?”
“I don’t have any more guesses,” Touya said, lifting his hands like he was surrendering.
Shouto, sitting beside him, turned to Bakugou casually. “You don’t? I thought it was obvious.”
Touya blinked. “What’s obvious?”
Shouto replied without hesitation, calm and blunt as ever.
“I’m dating Bakugou.”
Touya choked on his own breath. “What?!”
Bakugou, completely unfazed, just crossed his arms and muttered, “Took you long enough.”
The room erupted into various degrees of laughter, gasps, and wide eyes.
Mina practically fell off the armrest she was sitting on. “Wait, WHAT?! Since when?!”
“Few months,” Bakugou said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.
Shouto nodded. “We wanted to keep it quiet. Didn’t feel like making it a big thing.”
“Holy crap,” Denki whispered. “This changes everything.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Shinsou said flatly, sipping his tea.
Touya stared at his little brother for a long moment, then pointed between the two of them. “I just... You and... Blasty McAnger Issues?”
Shouto nodded again. “He makes me lunch.”
Bakugou smirked. “And he actually eats it. That’s romance.”
Kirishima grinned wide. “I kinda saw it coming, not gonna lie.”
Mina was still processing. “Okay... Okay. I support it. Just... wow.”
Touya looked between them again, eyes narrowing. “You know what? Sure. Why not. My entire life’s upside down anyway.”
Shouto leaned just slightly against Bakugou. “You’ll get used to it.”
Touya huffed a dry laugh. “Apparently.”
Eri tugged on Aizawa’s sleeve and whispered, “Does this mean Shouto and Bakugou are getting married?”
Aizawa blinked slowly. “...One thing at a time, kid.”
Hizashi coughed into his fist to stifle a laugh.
Mina was already leaning toward Shouto. “Okay but seriously, why didn’t you tell me? I’m your friend, I would’ve made you matching hoodies!”
Touya muttered under his breath, “This group is going to give me a migraine.”
But he was smiling. Just a little.
Mina’s eyes lit up with playful mischief. “I know what to do next. We each get to ask Touya a question—and he has to answer.”
Touya raised an unimpressed brow at her. “I’ll answer if I want to.”
Jirou leaned forward slightly, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, then. What music do you listen to?”
Touya didn’t even hesitate. “Mostly MARINA. Some Mother Mother.”
Jirou blinked. “Oh, I’ve heard of Mother Mother, but not MARINA.”
Touya looked at her, serious. “You should listen to her.”
Mina gasped, delighted. “Wait, like Primadonna Girl MARINA?”
Touya nodded. “And Teen Idle. And I Am Not a Robot. She’s got depth.”
Jirou tilted her head thoughtfully. “Huh. I’ll check her out.”
Bakugou, from the other side of the room, muttered, “Of course you’d listen to songs with titles like that.”
Touya gave him a smug little smile. “Says the guy dating the human embodiment of emotional repression.”
Shouto blinked. “That’s not inaccurate.”
The group collectively laughed—soft and surprised, the kind that made the room feel lighter.
Mina clapped her hands again. “Okay, my turn! But I’m gonna pick my question very carefully.” She tapped her chin dramatically, clearly savoring the suspense.
Touya groaned. “This is gonna get out of hand.”
But he didn’t say no.
Mina’s eyes lit up with playful mischief. “I know what to do next. We each get to ask Touya a question—and he has to answer.”
Touya raised an unimpressed brow at her. “I’ll answer if I want to.”
Jirou leaned forward slightly, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, then. What music do you listen to?”
Touya didn’t even hesitate. “Mostly MARINA. Some Mother Mother.”
Jirou blinked. “Oh, I’ve heard of Mother Mother, but not MARINA.”
Touya looked at her, serious. “You should listen to her.”
Mina gasped, delighted. “Wait, like Primadonna Girl MARINA?”
Touya nodded. “And Teen Idle. And I Am Not a Robot. She’s got depth.”
Jirou tilted her head thoughtfully. “Huh. I’ll check her out.”
Bakugou, from the other side of the room, muttered, “Of course you’d listen to songs with titles like that.”
Touya gave him a smug little smile. “Says the guy dating the human embodiment of emotional repression.”
Shouto blinked. “That’s not inaccurate.”
The group collectively laughed—soft and surprised, the kind that made the room feel lighter.
Mina clapped her hands again. “Okay, my turn! But I’m gonna pick my question very carefully.” She tapped her chin dramatically, clearly savoring the suspense.
Touya groaned. “This is gonna get out of hand.”
But he didn’t say no.
Mina leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Okay, Touya. What MARINA lyric would you use to describe Hawks?”
Touya didn’t even hesitate. “Didn’t grow up in a normal world, and now I’m just an adult girl.”
A couple people blinked.
Shinsou muttered, “Damn.”
Tsuyu tilted her head. “That’s… sad.”
“It fits,” Touya said simply, eyes on the floor. “He didn’t get a normal life. Neither did I.”
Ochaco’s voice was gentle. “You think he’s like you?”
Touya nodded. “In more ways than he lets on.”
Bakugou folded his arms and grunted. “That tracks.”
Mina, surprisingly quiet now, just whispered, “You really care about him, huh?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. But his sketchbook was back in his lap, turned to a page full of soft feathers and careful linework.
That said enough.
Denki leaned forward eagerly. “What about a MARINA lyric that shows how Hawks makes you feel?”
“You make me feel like I’m enough.” Touya replied.
Denki grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s really beautiful, man.”
Mina chimed in, “Yeah, it’s like Hawks helps you see your worth.”
Tsuyu gave a small smile. “It’s good to feel that way.”
Tsuyu tilted her head thoughtfully. “What’s something small that makes you feel safe?”
Touya thought for a moment, then said quietly, “The sound of the stove clicking on… and someone humming in the kitchen. Makes me feel like I’m not alone.”
There was a soft pause, a shared silence filled with something tender.
Kirishima smiled gently. “What’s the hardest thing you’ve had to unlearn?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quieter. “That pain meant I was alive. That I had to suffer to earn anything good.”
He looked up, met Kirishima’s eyes. “Still working on that one.”
Sero, leaning back against the arm of the couch, grinned. “Okay, something lighter—what’s your weirdest habit?”
Touya smirked. “I chew on pencil caps when I’m sketching. Like, really chew them. Keigo’s had to buy new ones three times already.”
A few of them laughed at that, and Denki muttered, “He’s a cap chewer. That’s serious artist behavior.”
Midoriya leaned forward, his voice soft but sincere. “Touya… what do you hope people see when they look at you now?”
Touya blinked, visibly thrown for a second. The room went quiet.
He stared down at his hands, thumb brushing the edge of his sketchbook.
“…That I’m trying,” he said finally. “Not that I’m fixed or forgiven or anything. Just… that I’m trying.”
Midoriya nodded, smiling with gentle understanding. “I think a lot of us get that.”
Tokoyami tilted his head slightly, voice low and composed as ever.
“Touya… do you think your flame is a curse, or a gift?”
The room stilled again.
Touya didn’t answer right away. He exhaled, slow and steady, eyes fixed on a far corner of the room.
“…It depends on the day,” he said eventually. “Some days it burns everything I touch. Some days… it just keeps me warm.”
Tokoyami nodded, no judgment in his expression. “Balance. A duality I understand.”
Touya gave him a quiet, almost knowing look. “Yeah. I figured you would.”
Momo folded her hands neatly in her lap and leaned forward slightly. “What’s your favorite MARINA song?”
Touya didn’t even have to think about it.
“Obsessions,” he said plainly.
A few people blinked, surprised by how fast he answered.
Momo tilted her head, intrigued. “That one’s from her first album, right? Why that one?”
Touya shrugged, but there was a ghost of something raw in his expression. “It’s messy. It spirals. But it’s honest. Doesn’t pretend healing is pretty.”
There was a pause. Even Aizawa, listening quietly from the side of the room, seemed to acknowledge the weight behind the words.
Then Denki whispered to Shinsou, “I need to make a playlist with all these songs Touya keeps mentioning.”
Shinsou nodded. “Already started.”
The room softened again with a few quiet chuckles.
Ochaco tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling a little nervously as all eyes shifted her way.
"Okay, um…" she hesitated, but her voice was kind. “What’s a MARINA lyric that reminds you of yourself?”
Touya blinked, caught off guard by the question. Of all the things he expected, self-reflection wasn’t one of them. He leaned back a little, eyes drifting toward the ceiling like the words might be floating there.
After a pause, he said softly:
“I’m not afraid of the war I fight—who I am is not a weakness.”
The room went quiet again.
Ochaco gave a small, warm nod. “That’s a good one.”
Touya didn’t respond, but his hands clenched a little tighter around his sketchbook, like the lyric had landed deeper than he meant to let it.
Even Shouto, sitting beside him, gave a subtle, approving look.
Shinsou adjusted his position a little where he sat, still comfortably curled on the beanbag with Denki half-asleep on his shoulder. His expression was unreadable as usual, voice calm and low when he finally asked:
"What's a MARINA lyric that reminds you of your past?"
Touya didn't answer right away. His eyes dropped to the edge of his sketchbook, fingers tracing the spine like he was grounding himself. He swallowed once before saying, just above a whisper:
“I lived my life inside a cage, behind a wall I built with rage.”
No one said anything for a long moment. Not even Denki had a joke lined up.
Shinsou gave a short nod—quiet, understanding. Not pitying, just… present.
Touya didn’t look up, but he did whisper, “That song hits too close sometimes.”
And that was enough.
Bakugou crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, scowling like he wasn’t going to participate—until he did.
“Alright, I got one,” he said gruffly, eyes narrowing at Touya like he was sizing him up for a spar. “What MARINA lyric reminds you of yourself?”
The question landed with surprising weight. A few people turned to look at Bakugou, half-expecting him to follow it up with a bark or a snide comment, but he didn’t. He was serious.
Touya blinked, clearly not expecting that. He bit the inside of his cheek, flipping mentally through lyrics until he quietly answered:
“My heart is in my chest, but I hold it in my hands.”
It came out soft. Not fragile—just honest.
Bakugou stared at him a moment longer, then gave a short nod and looked away. “Huh. Makes sense.”
No teasing. No jokes. Just quiet understanding.
Mina softly said, “This is getting deep. I kinda love it.”
Shouto had been quiet for most of the game, sitting with his arms loosely folded and his gaze drifting between the others and Touya. When Mina glanced at him expectantly, he straightened a little.
“I guess I’ll ask something too,” he said, his voice calm but thoughtful. “What MARINA lyric reminds you of... us? Our family.”
The room quieted a little more at that. Even Mina didn’t immediately jump in with commentary.
Touya looked at his younger brother, eyes searching his expression. For a moment he didn’t answer—he just sighed softly and looked down at his hands.
Then, after a long beat, he said:
“I’ve been breaking my back for a family that’s already broken.”
It was said without anger. No bitterness. Just a tired kind of truth. The kind you don’t say to hurt anyone—but because it hurts.
Shouto’s lips pressed into a line. He didn’t look away, though. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”
No one said anything right away. It didn’t feel like a moment that needed fixing—just one that needed to sit in the open for a while.
Eri, sitting beside Aizawa, reached out and touched Touya’s sleeve.
“I’m glad you're in our family now,” she said gently.
Touya’s eyes flicked to her, and he gave the tiniest smile.
Just as the last question hung in the air, the door to the classroom creaked open. Hawks stepped inside, his usual relaxed smile in place, but with a sharpness in his eyes that told everyone he was fully present.
“Alright, everyone, what’s all this?” Hawks asked, glancing around at the group gathered and Touya sitting quietly in the middle.
Mina grinned, nudging Touya. “We were just getting to know him, Hawks. MARINA-themed questions and all.”
Hawks chuckled softly. “Of course. Only you would come up with something like that.”
He walked over to Touya and crouched down beside him, giving a gentle nod.
“Ready for your next challenge?” Hawks teased.
Touya looked up, meeting Hawks’s gaze with a faint smile. “Always.”
The room seemed to relax a little more with Hawks’s presence, like an invisible thread weaving everyone closer.
Mina’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned toward Hawks.
“Okay, bird boy,” she said with a grin, “what MARINA lyric would you use to describe Touya?”
Hawks raised an amused eyebrow, glancing at Touya who was trying to hide a small smile.
After a moment’s thought, Hawks replied,
“‘I’m a storm, I’m a fighter, I’m a riot.’ That’s Touya — fierce and unpredictable, but always with fire underneath.”
Touya blinked, a little surprised but pleased.
Mina clapped her hands. “Nice! You’re good at this.”
Hawks shrugged playfully. “What can I say? I’ve learned a thing or two from him.”
The group laughed, the warmth between them growing stronger.
Mina smirked and said, “I don’t know how I thought you were, but I didn’t expect you to be this laid back.”
Hawks chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, gotta keep some things chill when you’re juggling flames and feathers.”
Touya rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.
“See? Told you he’s not all fire and fury.”
Mina laughed. “Guess there’s more to you than meets the eye, bird boy.”
Hawks winked. “You have no idea.”
Mina grinned mischievously. “One more question.”
Kirishima groaned, shaking his head. “Mina... no.”
But she wasn’t deterred. “Are you in love with Touya?”
Hawks blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then smirked. “That’s... a complicated question.”
He glanced toward Touya with a soft smile, then back at the group. “But yeah. I am.”
His honesty shocked them all
Mina’s grin widened, clearly pleased with the answer.
Kirishima blinked, momentarily speechless.
Even Shouto looked a little surprised, and Bakugou’s usual scowl softened just a bit.
Eri’s eyes sparkled with quiet understanding.
The room fell into a brief, stunned silence — then a few soft chuckles rippled through the group.
It was a moment full of unspoken feelings finally coming into the light as Hawks and Touya headed out the door.
...
“Did you have fun?” Keigo asked.
“Yeah, I think I did.” Touya replied
They had diner and then went to bed

Chapter Text

After a few days, they found themselves sitting close on the couch, just talking quietly. Then, almost out of nowhere, Keigo asked softly, “Can I kiss you?”
Touya nodded, his breath catching. Their lips met in a gentle, soft kiss at first — tentative and sweet.
But then, the kiss deepened. Keigo’s hand slid up to cup Touya’s cheek, warm and steady. Slowly, Keigo traced his tongue across Touya’s lips, and Touya parted willingly.
The world around them seemed to quiet as their mouths opened fully, moving together in a slow, heated rhythm.
Touya’s heart raced, pounding in his chest, as Keigo’s other hand slipped down to rest at his waist, pulling him a little closer.
In that moment, everything else faded away.
Touya moved his fingers slowly, weaving them gently into Keigo’s soft blonde hair. The warmth of Keigo’s skin beneath his touch sent a fresh wave of heat through him. Their kiss deepened, full of unspoken promises and quiet understanding, as they held onto each other in that perfect, fragile moment
Touya’s breath hitched as the sensation of Keigo’s fingers threading through his hair sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned in a little more, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, matching Keigo’s slow, deliberate movements.
Keigo’s hands were warm and steady on his cheek and waist, grounding him, making him feel safe in a way he hadn’t expected. Every touch was electric, yet comforting — like coming home after being lost for so long.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, breaths mingling.
Keigo’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”
Touya smiled softly, the corners of his mouth tugging up despite the fluttering nerves still buzzing through him. “I feel it. You don’t have to say it.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in quiet warmth, the outside world fading away. It wasn’t just a kiss — it was a promise, a beginning, a safe space where they could just be themselves.
... smut alert ... it’s my first time writing smut I’m sorry
The next morning was different.
Touya woke up to the soft press of lips against his temple, warm and tender.
His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, to find Keigo smiling down at him—gentle, peaceful, and completely present.
“Good morning, firefly,” Keigo whispered, his voice thick with affection.
Touya smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of Keigo’s hair behind his ear.
“Morning, birdie,” he replied softly, the nickname already feeling like a sweet secret between them.
For the first time in a long while, the world outside could wait. Here, in this quiet morning glow, everything felt right.
They kissed and kissed, the warmth between them growing with each touch.
Slowly, Keigo shifted, moving on top of Touya, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle finally aligned.
Touya’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away—he welcomed the closeness, the soft weight of Keigo above him.
Their lips met again, lingering, exploring, a language only they understood.
In that quiet room filled with morning light, everything else faded away—leaving just the two of them, together and alive.
Keigo’s fingertips traced along Touya’s jaw, slow and reverent, as if he were memorizing him by touch alone.
“You always look like this in the morning?” he murmured, lips brushing against Touya’s.
“Like what?” Touya asked, voice still sleep-soft.
Keigo smiled, his eyes warm. “Like someone I could fall in love with a hundred times over.”
Touya flushed, turning his face slightly into the pillow. “You already said you were.”
“And I meant it.” Keigo pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his temple, then lower—along the edge of his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat.
Touya’s hands found their way into Keigo’s hair again, fingers threading through the soft strands as his breathing grew deeper. The heat between them was no longer just warmth—it was a steady, slow burn, alive in the space between every heartbeat.
Keigo’s body pressed closer, his hand splayed at Touya’s waist, anchoring him. Touya shifted beneath him, meeting the closeness with his own, one leg curling slightly around Keigo’s.
For a long moment, they just lay there—bodies tangled, breath shared, hearts loud in the silence.
“I’m not used to this,” Touya admitted quietly, his voice almost too soft to catch.
Keigo leaned in, resting his forehead against Touya’s. “Me either. But we’ll get used to it. Together.”
Touya nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded as he traced the edge of Keigo’s wing with his thumb, careful and fascinated.
He kissed Keigo again—deeper this time, slower. Not rushed, not desperate. Just... real.
It was trust, laid bare.
And Keigo held him like he understood exactly what that meant.
Touya slid his hands to Keigo’s waist, drawing him in until their bodies met—warm, steady, close.
Keigo’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Touya’s face for any hesitation. He didn’t find any.
“You sure?” Keigo whispered, fingers brushing against Touya’s cheek.
Touya nodded, his voice low. “Yeah. I want this. I want you.”
Touya had never let anyone this close. Not like this. But with Keigo, it wasn’t about control—it was about trust. Every touch was careful. Every movement, a promise.
Their kisses deepened, growing slower and more deliberate. Hands explored familiar places, breath catching in shared warmth. The rest of the world faded as they disappeared into each other.
“Anything for my firefly,” Keigo said with a playful smile. Not wearing his binder that night, Keigo took off his shirt, revealing his breasts, which were a modest B cup—not big, but definitely noticeable. He wasn’t wearing any pants, so that wasn’t an issue. He simply sat on top of Touya in just his underwear.
Keigo slid his hand under Touya’s waistband, causing Touya's breath to hitch. He closed his eyes as Keigo slowly dragged his pants down, and after a moment, Touya kicked the rest of them off.
Once free, Touya felt Keigo's fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a gentle tug, Keigo pulled the fabric down, revealing Touya’s length. Both of them were breathing heavily.
“Shit,” Keigo exclaimed. “Condoms? I can’t remember where I put them.”
“You got condoms?” Touya asked, surprised.
“Yeah, I wanted to be prepared,” Keigo replied.
Touya smiled. “Of course you did, birdie.”
“Oh, they’re in the bathroom,” Keigo said, sending a feather to retrieve them while also directing another feather to grab the lube from his nightstand.
Keigo pulled his underwear down and put the condom on his partner. Then he squirted some lube into his hand
“This is going to be cold,” he said.
“How col——” he got out before Keigo took Touya in his hand.
“Ahh~” Touya’s heart raced.
Keigo smiled. He'd never heard a sound like that come out of Touya before, he liked it.
Keigo pumped Touya a couple of times before lining himself up.
“Touya? Are you ready?” he asked way too calmly in this situation.
“Y-yeah,” he stuttered.
Keigo began lowering himself down onto Touya. Both are moaning in the process.
“Keigo~,” Touya let out.
Keigo was enjoying these sounds way too much.
He continued to lower himself while Touya grabbed the sheets.
“Ah Touya~,” Keigo moaned as he bottomed out.
“Need to move. That ok?” Keigo asked.
“Yes… Please,” Touya replied.
Keigo moved slowly at first then picked a moderate pace.
“Oh Touya~” Keigo moaned as he rocked back and forth.
Touya was just a moaning mess. Barely able to make out full words.
“Fuck~” “Kei—~” “Oh god~” “Ahh~”
This was Touya’s first time after all. He'd had no idea it would feel this good.
“Keigo… I- ahh~” he managed to get out.
“Yes?” Keigo huffed.
“I’m so— close. I-oh god~” Touya spoke.
“Good.” Keigo put his hand on Touya’s chest, talons sharp and oh so hot.
Touya liked Keigo’s talons but he never thought he'd find them hot. But the way they lay on his chest, borderline threatening to cut him open, it was arousing.
Keigo sped up, chasing his own orgasm.
Touya huffed, “I'm gonna-.”
Keigo smiled, “Go ahead, firefly.”
And he did. Keigo followed.
Keigo collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. He turned to look at his partner, who had his eyes closed and was attempting to regulate his breathing.
"Hey, you good?" Keigo asked.
"Absolutely!" Touya replied.
Keigo scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Touya's torso, resting his head in his armpit. They fell asleep like that, not bothering to clean up the mess around them. Future them could worry about it.
...
Later, after they’d both cleaned up and thrown on whatever clothes were nearby, Touya wandered into the kitchen barefoot and still half-asleep. His hair was a mess—flattened in the back, fluffed up at the top, like he’d lost a fight with a pillow.
Keigo trailed behind him, shirt inside out, his wings half-folded and tousled from sleep. His lips were curled into a grin that he wasn’t bothering to hide—like someone who’d just gotten away with something wonderful.
“Didn’t think you’d actually move after that,” Keigo said, voice low and teasing.
Touya yawned as he reached for a pan. “Didn’t think you’d still be talking.”
“That’s unfair. I think I earned the right to say a few words after this morning.”
Touya rolled his eyes, opening the fridge and grabbing the eggs. “If you're looking for a medal, it’s not in the butter drawer.”
Keigo laughed softly, stretching as he leaned against the counter. “Nah. I’m good with eggs.”
Touya side-eyed him, unimpressed. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I’m adorable. That’s different.”
He came up behind Touya, arms loose around his waist for a moment before pulling back and flopping into a kitchen chair, wings draping lazily over the back.
Touya shook his head, fighting the tug of a smile he didn’t want to admit to.
Touya cracked a few eggs into a pan, trying to keep the smirk off his face.
Keigo leaned his chin on his hand, watching him. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Touya glanced over, expression softening just slightly. “You gonna stare at me all morning?”
“Maybe,” Keigo said. “You’re nice to look at.”
There was a quiet beat. The eggs sizzled.
Touya broke the silence, his voice more vulnerable this time. “That was… good. This morning.”
Keigo didn’t tease. “Yeah. It was.”
“I haven’t… done that before.” Touya kept his eyes on the stove. “But it didn’t feel weird. It just felt… right.”
Keigo stood, walking over slowly, wrapping his arms around Touya from behind again. “It was right.”
They stood like that for a moment, quietly, letting the scent of eggs and coffee fill the space between them.
“I’m glad it was with you,” Touya said softly.
Keigo pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Me too, firefly.”

Chapter Text

Back in the dorms, dropped off early, agin.
He sat down, sketchbook in his lap, pencil in hand. It was supposed to be just a way to pass the time. Nothing intentional. Just lines. Shapes.
But as his hand moved, something took shape that tugged at something deep inside his chest.
Big eyes. Crooked smile. Tilted head.
It wasn’t until Mina’s voice came from the stairs that he even realized what he was doing.
“What are you sketching this time?” she asked, bouncing down the last step in her slippers.
Touya blinked. Looked down.
The page stared back at him.
Himiko. Himiko Toga. Messy hair, mischievous eyes, fangs peeking out from a too-wide grin. It wasn’t perfect, but it was her. Unmistakably her.
“I, uh… apparently I’m sketching Himiko,” he muttered, voice low.
“Apparently?” Mina asked. “Did you not know what you were doing?”
“No. I was just sketching,” Touya said.
Mina looked a little sad, “You must really miss her, huh?”
Touya looked at Mina then back down at his sketch, “I guess more than I realize
Mina’s steps slowed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her voice softening. “Is it because she’s like a sister to you?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. He stared at the lines on the page, the way her smile curved in just that familiar way. It almost felt like she was looking back at him.
“Yeah,” he said finally, quiet. “She is. Or was. I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything since everything went to shit.”
Mina came closer and sat beside him on the couch, giving him space, but not leaving.
“I think she’d be really happy to know you’re thinking about her,” she said gently.
Touya’s mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Yeah… I just don’t know if she’d even want to hear from me. Not after everything.”
Mina nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “You won’t know unless you try.”
“I know,” Mina said excitedly.
“What?” Touya asked.
“Let's write a letter to her and have Hawks deliver it to her... somehow,” Mina explained.
Touya looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “A letter?”
Mina nodded, bouncing a little on the couch. “Yeah! You draw her, write something—anything—and Hawks can deliver it. He’s got connections, right? Secret hero bird mail or whatever.”
Touya frowned, glancing down at the sketch again. The idea felt… strange. Childish. But not bad.
“I don’t even know where she is.”
Mina waved a hand. “That’s what Hawks is for. If anyone can track her down, it’s him. You said she mattered to you, right? Then say something. Let her know you’re okay. That you miss her.”
Touya hesitated. His thumb brushed the edge of the page.
“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Maybe I will.”
Mina grinned. “Good. I’ll get paper and pens.”
Touya sighed, but didn’t stop her. Maybe this was stupid. But maybe it was something he needed.
...
Dear Himiko-chan,
I’m probably the last person you want to hear from.
Or maybe the first.
I don’t know anymore.
I just hope you’re alive. That you're eating, sleeping, staying warm.
I wish you were here.
You were the closest thing I had to family for a while.
And I liked taking care of you. You were a pain in the ass, but… you were my pain in the ass.
I think I miss that. I miss you.
I’m somewhere safe now. Not hiding. Not running. Just… breathing.
It’s weird. I keep thinking about you.
Maybe that means something.
Maybe it doesn’t.
Anyway.
Be safe, brat.
—Dabi-chan
✎ [a little sketch of Himiko smiling, her head tilted and fangs poking out]✎
...
Mina didn’t read the letter. She glanced at the folded page once, but didn’t ask. That kind of thing was private. She was nosy, yeah, but not that nosy. Everyone had their lines. That one? She wouldn’t cross.
Touya kept the letter in his sketchbook, fingers resting on the edge of the page like it might slip away if he let go.
The dorm began to stir, just like before.
First came Tsuyu and Ochaco, fingers loosely linked and yawning in sync. Momo wandered down not long after, pulled in by the smell of instant tea. Shinsou and Denki followed, still half-asleep, and claiming their usual spot—the beanbag that now had a permanent dent from repeated cuddling.
Tokoyami descended with silent steps, pausing only to give a nod in Touya’s direction. Sero came in with a stretch and a grin. The room slowly filled with casual greetings and warm voices.
No one asked about the letter. Touya appreciated that.
He stayed quiet for most of it, letting the others take up the space, listening more than speaking. The letter rested in his lap, unopened now, but held gently. Like a memory. Like a maybe.
Mina, watching from her spot on the armrest, tilted her head.
She didn’t ask about the letter. But she did want to know more.
About him.
So she leaned in just a bit, voice quiet.
“So… what’s your favorite color?” she asked, like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the tiniest crack in the wall he always kept up.
Touya blinked, looked at her.
And for once, he answered without sarcasm.
“…Indigo.”
Mina smiled. “Good choice.”
Mina looked at Touya again, but this time with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“So… last time you were here, Hawks said he was in love with you.”
Touya blushed, glancing away. “Yeah. So what?”
“Dude,” Mina said, half-whisper, half-squeal. “You had someone say they loved you.”
Touya shifted in his seat, fingers curling over the edge of his sketchbook. “That wasn’t the first time he said it,” he muttered.
Mina’s eyes widened. “Wait, what??”
She said it way too loud.
Every head in the room turned toward them. A few students paused mid-conversation. Even Shinsou raised an eyebrow from his beanbag throne.
“What?” Mina said, holding up her hands innocently. “I was just informed that when Hawks said he loved Touya last week, it wasn’t the first time he said it to him.”
Now she had everyone's attention.
Touya groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. “Mina…”
“Don’t look at me like that! I’m not the one being secretly romanced by a pro hero with perfect hair and killer wings,” she teased, clearly delighted.
Kirishima tried to stifle a laugh. “Wait, how many times has he said it?”
Touya muttered something unintelligible.
Shouto, ever the straight man, just blinked. “Does that mean you’re… dating?”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “He’s clearly blushing, so I’m gonna go with yes.”
“I’m not blushing,” Touya snapped, cheeks a little redder now.
“Ohhh, he’s totally blushing,” Denki said, grinning from where he was tangled with Shinsou.
Mina gave Touya a gentle nudge. “Okay but like… how did he say it the first time?”
Touya hesitated. Then, softer:
“…He just… said it. Blurted it out. Like it was nothing. Like he’d known it for a while.”
The room quieted a little at that, the teasing fading into something warmer.
Mina didn’t push. She just smiled. “Sounds like he meant it, then.”
Touya didn’t say anything. But he didn’t need to.
“What did you say to him?” Mina asked, her voice quieter now—curious, not teasing.
Touya hesitated, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Um… I said, uh—”
He swallowed, voice dropping. “‘Even if you mean that, I wouldn’t waste your time on me. I don’t know how to love. And even if I did, I wouldn’t love a hero like you.’”
The room fell into silence.
Jirou raised her eyebrows. “Ouch.”
“You said that?” Kaminari blinked. “Dude…”
Touya grimaced. “Yeah.”
Tokoyami nodded solemnly. “A sharp blade of rejection, spoken to defend the heart.”
“Bro, did you write that down?” Sero asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was poetic as hell.”
“He’s right, though,” Midoriya said gently, hands clasped in front of him. “That must’ve hurt him. Keigo—he doesn’t just say things like that for fun.”
Touya looked up slowly, surprised by how... nonjudgmental they all sounded.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt him,” he muttered. “I just… thought I was doing the right thing. Pushing him away before he could get disappointed.”
Ochaco gave him a small smile. “That’s still hurting someone. Even if you mean well.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Shinsou leaned forward from his seat near the back. “You still think that now?”
Touya shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t.”
Momo, ever poised, folded her hands in her lap. “Do you think he knows that?”
Touya opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”
“You could tell him,” Eri piped up softly from beside Aizawa, who stood quietly behind the group, watching. “If you say sorry… he might feel better.”
Everyone turned to look at her.
Shouto nodded. “She’s right. He deserves to hear how you feel now—not just what you said then.”
“I just…” Touya looked down at his hands. “I don’t want to screw it up again.”
“Too late,” Bakugou muttered from his corner. “You already screwed it up. So what? Fix it.”
The class laughed a little—soft, but real.
Kirishima smiled encouragingly. “You’re not alone, dude. We’ve all said dumb stuff when we were scared.”
“We just haven’t all said it to Hawks,” Denki added with a grin.
Touya rolled his eyes but the edge of his mouth tugged upward. “Thanks. I guess.”
“We’re just saying,” Mina said, her tone gentler now, “maybe he still wants to hear it. The real stuff. Not the push-you-away stuff.”
Touya looked at the group—really looked—and for the first time, he felt the strange, disorienting sensation of being held. Not physically, but emotionally. Like they had space for him, even when he was messy. Even when he messed up.
“Well, I think he knows I don’t think that anymore,” Touya said quietly, almost like he was reassuring himself. “A while ago, I told him I wanted to love him.”
Aizawa tilted his head slightly, curious. “How’d you come to that realization?”
Touya looked up. “I mean… he stayed with me while I was detoxing off some pretty heavy shit. If he stayed even after seeing me puke my guts out, crying, shaking, totally wrecked… then he must be worth something, right?”
Kirishima blinked, concern in his voice. “Wait—you took drugs?”
Everyone looked at him.
“I used to be a villain,” Touya said flatly. “Why are you guys surprised?”
Denki leaned forward a little. “Why did you take them?”
Touya met his gaze and answered honestly, without flinching. “To stop the pain. And the voices in my head.”
Shinsou gave a low whistle. “Damn, dude. You better be seeing a therapist.”
“I am,” Touya replied.
Ochaco, gentle but direct, asked, “Do you know what you’ve been diagnosed with? If you don’t mind sharing. A lot of us take meds, too—we even have a group chat to remind each other to take them.”
Tsuyu turned to Aizawa. “Can he join?”
Touya racked his brain, trying to remember everything his therapist had told him. “I have autism, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and an anxiety disorder,” he said carefully. “And a mild case of OCD—probably from… years of obsessively caring for my scars.”
There was a pause.
Denki sat up straighter. “I have ADHD!” he offered, as if Touya had just joined a very unofficial club.
Shinsou groaned beside him. “Insomnia. Depression. Probably trust issues too, but… whatever.”
Mina added, “I’ve got anxiety—and PMDD. Hormones are basically a boss fight.”
Tokoyami nodded solemnly. “Seasonal affective disorder. Winter is cruel.”
Jirou raised her hand slightly. “Social anxiety.”
“PTSD,” said Midoriya, not looking away. “From… stuff.”
Ochaco squeezed his hand. “Me too.”
Kirishima gave a sheepish smile. “Panic disorder. Sometimes I spiral out.”
Tsuyu blinked slowly at Touya. “Looks like you’d fit right in.”
Momo offered gently, “We really do have a group chat. For reminders, venting, memes—everything.”
Then Bakugou, who’d been sitting with his arms crossed, muttered without looking up, “Intermittent explosive disorder.”
The room went a little quiet at that—maybe not surprised, but still.
“Got diagnosed when I was like, ten,” Bakugou added. “Doesn’t mean I can’t control it. Just means I have to work harder.”
Everyone nodded like that made perfect sense.
Touya stared at them. This chaotic, too-honest group of teenagers who weren’t flinching or pitying him. Just showing up.
“You guys are seriously okay with all that?” he asked, voice lower now.
“We’re still here, aren’t we?” Denki said with a shrug and a smile.
Shouto leaned back, expression steady. “You belong here, Nii-san. Whether or not you believe it yet.”
And for the first time in a very long while, Touya felt like maybe… he actually did.
Before Touya could respond to Shouto’s words, the door creaked open.
Keigo stepped inside, feathers tucked neatly against his back, sunglasses perched in his hair instead of his face. He looked surprisingly casual—hoodie, jeans, a little tired, but relaxed. He glanced around the room at the gathered students, then grinned.
“Hey,” he said. “Got off early. Figured I’d swing by and hang out.”
Touya blinked, caught somewhere between surprise and something warmer. “You… got off early?”
“Miracles do happen,” Keigo said, walking over with his hands in his pockets. “And I heard a little bird—” he paused to wink at Eri, “—mention something about eggs and sketching, so.”
“Bird jokes,” Shinsou muttered.
But Mina practically lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You’re just in time.”
Keigo raised a brow. “Time for what?”
“To be interrogated,” she said brightly. “In the friendliest possible way. You’re dating Touya, so we need to know everything about you.”
Denki leaned over. “It’s tradition now. You have to answer MARINA-themed questions.”
Keigo laughed. “You guys are intense.”
“We’re delightful,” Mina corrected, scooting to make room on the couch. “Come on, hero, sit down. Let us learn about the mystery that is Hawks.”
Keigo glanced at Touya, who just gave a helpless shrug, trying not to smile.
“Alright,” Keigo said, flopping onto the couch like he’d done it a hundred times before. “Hit me with your best shot.”
Mina beamed. “Oh, we will.”
Mina leaned forward, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “So first thing I notice—you didn’t deny dating Touya.”
Keigo didn’t flinch. He just met her gaze and smiled. “I mean, we’ve never been on a proper date, so… interpret that how you want.”
Denki pointed dramatically. “You did say you loved him!”
Ochaco clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, how sweet! Has he ever said it back?”
Keigo’s gaze shifted to her, soft but honest. “In his own way, yeah.”
Touya groaned and sank deeper into the couch, pulling his hood over his head like it might swallow him whole.
“Don’t mind him,” Mina said cheerfully. “That’s just how he handles feelings. Melts into the furniture.”
“I noticed,” Keigo replied, clearly amused, his eyes lingering on Touya a little too fondly.
Midoriya leaned forward a little, his expression bright with curiosity. “So, uh—Touya-san… What’s your quirk actually called? And how does it work exactly? I’ve been wondering, but I didn’t want to be rude.”
Touya blinked. He wasn’t annoyed—just surprised.
“It’s called Cremation,” he said after a beat. “The flames I produce burn at an extremely high temperature—hotter than most standard fire quirks. But the downside is… they burn me, too.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened slightly, both at the name and the explanation. “That’s… intense.”
Touya gave a dry half-smile. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.”
“Is it always that hot? Like… do you have control over the temperature?”
“Not really. Not the way most people with fire quirks do. I was never trained to regulate it properly, and honestly, my body just wasn’t made for it.”
Midoriya frowned thoughtfully. “But you’ve learned to live with it?”
“More like survive it,” Touya replied, but his tone wasn’t bitter. Just honest.
Once the focus on Touya started to ease, it didn’t take long for someone to shift the spotlight.
“So, Hawks,” Denki said, grinning. “If you're hanging out with us now, we get to ask you stuff too, right?”
Keigo raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Fire away.”
Mina jumped in immediately. “Okay but, like—what's your favorite color? And if it's red, is that just because of your wings?”
Keigo laughed. “It used to be red. Then it became gold. I think now… it’s probably that soft gray-blue sky you only get before a storm.”
Mina blinked. “Damn, that was poetic.”
Sero leaned in next. “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a mission?”
Keigo snorted. “Flew headfirst into a billboard because I was trying to wink at a civilian who waved at me. Broke my nose.”
A round of laughter followed.
Tokoyami, ever the serious one, asked, “Do you believe in fate?”
Keigo tilted his head, considering. “I used to think I didn’t. That I made my own path. But lately…” He glanced at Touya. “Let’s just say I’ve been rethinking that.”
Ochaco, smiling gently, asked, “What did you want to be before you were a hero?”
Keigo hesitated for a moment before answering. “Free.”
The room went quiet for just a beat. No one asked for more.
Then Denki broke the silence again. “Okay but like, real talk—how do you style your hair? Does it ever fall flat?”
Keigo laughed. “Trade secret. But no—these feathers come with volume built in.”
That got the energy back, and Touya, still half-sunk into the couch, just shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
They kept asking Hawks questions, bouncing from lighthearted to thoughtful and back again. Eventually, the conversation drifted to other things—jokes, snacks, half-finished stories.
Outside, the rain poured down in heavy sheets, drumming against the windows. It had started nearly an hour ago, and the storm only seemed to be growing worse. Touya had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of it all, head resting on Keigo’s shoulder, his sketchbook tucked beneath one arm.
Keigo shifted slightly, brushing a hand over Touya’s hair. “We should get going,” he said quietly. “It’s getting late.”
Aizawa looked toward the window. “I wouldn’t go out in that.”
Keigo raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you suggest we do?”
Denki jumped to his feet. “Sleepover!”
Keigo flushed. “What? No. We’ll be fine—”
A sudden flash of lightning cracked across the sky, followed by a loud crash outside. Everyone ran to the window just in time to see a tree splinter and fall into the street, blocking the path below.
Aizawa didn’t even flinch. “I think it’s best you stay here for the night.”
Keigo let out a breath. “Guess that settles it.”
No one argued. They kept talking for a while longer, the storm acting as a soft backdrop to their laughter and sleepy chatter. But eventually, one by one, everyone started heading to bed.
Keigo gently shook Touya awake. “Hey, firefly. Come on. They’re giving us a room.”
Touya blinked awake slowly, bleary-eyed and warm against Keigo’s side. Aizawa led them down the hall and opened the door to one of the spare dorm rooms. It was empty—no furniture, no decorations, just a plain bed and a small dresser.
But the moment Touya stepped inside, something shifted. He didn’t just see a room.
He saw a possibility.
In his mind’s eye, the space transformed—pink fluffy beanbag in the corner, a blood-red throw pillow tossed onto it. A mini fridge beside it, stocked with juice and sweets. Pastel yellow sheets on the bed, patterned with little pink hearts. A massive fuzzy rug in the center of the room, pastel yellow.
And sitting right there, on the rug, Himiko Toga. Smiling. Doing her nails. Happy. Safe.
Touya’s throat tightened.
Keigo noticed his expression change. “What’s wrong?”
Touya stared at the empty room for a long moment. Then he whispered, “This could’ve been Himiko’s room.”
Keigo didn’t hesitate. His voice was soft but full of quiet conviction. “It still can be.”
That was it.
That was the moment Touya knew what he had to do.
His next mission. His next step. Get Himiko out. Get her safe. Get her home.
He reached out and grabbed Keigo’s hand.
Without a word, they climbed into the bed. The storm still raged outside, but the room felt warm. Safe.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms—just like they did every night.
And for the first time in a long time, Touya dreamed of tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Touya and Keigo sat across from Aizawa in his office, both looking more serious than usual.
Touya didn’t waste time. “We wanted to ask you something… important.”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
Keigo glanced at Touya, then spoke. “We want to bring Himiko in. To rehabilitate her here. At U.A.”
Aizawa didn’t blink. He looked between the two of them, silent for a beat. “That’s a big ask.”
“We know,” Touya said. “But she’s not like the others. She’s… she was just a kid. I don’t think she ever had a real chance.”
“I’m not against the idea,” Aizawa said carefully. “But I don’t have the time or resources to take full responsibility for her. Therapy. A psychiatrist. Medication management. Blood supply. All that takes oversight.”
“That’s where we come in,” Keigo offered. “Touya and I will handle all of that. We’ll pay for her therapist and psychiatrist. We’ll coordinate the blood supply, pick up her meds, all of it. We’re not asking you to parent her.”
“But she’d need a place to stay,” Touya added. “Somewhere safe. Stable.”
“And someone to teach her,” Keigo said. “To keep her moving forward.”
Aizawa leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “So I’d be responsible for housing and education.”
“We’d split guardianship,” Keigo said. “Fifty-fifty. You wouldn’t be alone in this.”
Aizawa considered that for a moment. Then he sighed. “I’ll agree. If the students are okay with it.”
Touya blinked. “Really?”
“I trust you both,” Aizawa said. “But I trust my students too. If they say no, it’s a no.”
Keigo nodded. “Fair.”
With the meeting concluded, Touya and Keigo headed back to Keigo’s apartment, already talking logistics—calls to make, professionals to contact, things to prepare. They weren’t wasting time.
Back at U.A., Aizawa gathered his class together that evening, including Hizashi and Eri.
“I have something important to talk to you all about,” he said calmly. “Touya and Hawks came to me this morning with a request. They want to bring in Himiko Toga.”
The room went silent. Even Hizashi looked surprised.
“She wouldn’t be treated as a villain. She’d be here as a student. A chance at something different. But only if you’re all okay with that.”
He paused, giving them space to react.
“Take the night. Think about it. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
And with that, the first spark of change had been lit.
...
The next day, Aizawa gathered the class again in the common room. They’d been talking in pairs and groups all day—between classes, over lunch, in the hallways. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was one they took seriously.
He looked over them, arms folded. “Well?”
Momo stood up first. “We discussed it. All of us.”
Shouto nodded beside her. “And we agreed.”
“We’ll welcome her,” Mina said brightly. “As long as she’s safe and getting the help she needs.”
Tokoyami added, “With proper medication and support, anyone can begin to heal. She deserves that chance.”
“Yeah!” Kirishima said, grinning. “She can totally sit with us—like, metaphorically. And literally. Depending on what room we’re in.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Bakugou muttered, “but... fine. Long as she keeps her blood-sucking shit to herself.”
“She will,” Aizawa said firmly.
Ochaco raised her hand like they were in class. “Can we show her around when she gets here? Like, make her feel welcome?”
“That would be helpful,” Aizawa replied.
Denki nodded. “We’ll add her to the meds reminder chat.”
“We’ll make sure she knows the rules,” Tsuyu said gently. “But also that she’s not alone.”
Even Eri, curled up on the couch with a juice box, spoke up. “She was nice to me… when I met her that one time. I hope she comes.”
Aizawa took a breath, nodding slowly. “Then it’s decided.”
He’d expected some resistance. But instead, what he saw in his students’ eyes wasn’t fear—it was compassion.
They’d made their decision.
Toga had a place waiting for her now.
...
While Keigo spent the next few days on the phone with therapists, psychiatrists, and medical contacts he trusted, Touya poured everything he had into a different kind of preparation.
Her room.
He remembered every detail from that brief vision he’d had in the empty dorm the night of the storm. Like it had already existed somewhere in his mind, waiting to be built. Waiting for her.
He started with the soft pink bean bag chair—fluffy, oversized, the kind you could curl into and disappear. He found a deep blood red throw pillow to match, one that reminded him a little of her smile—bold and sharp around the edges.
The bedding took more time. He hunted down the exact set he’d imagined: pastel yellow with tiny pink hearts scattered like confetti. Childlike, but still her. Something she could laugh at and love at the same time.
The rug was next—round, thick, pastel yellow, soft underfoot. The kind of rug you could sprawl out on while painting your nails or listening to music. He tested a dozen until he found the perfect one.
The dresser came from a vintage shop. It was white with faded flower carvings along the drawers—dainty and old-fashioned in a way he knew she’d appreciate. He even fixed the slightly wobbly handle himself, sanding it down and repainting it with care.
He added a mini fridge in the corner. Small, but reliable. Quiet hum. He stocked it lightly with the essentials—things she’d need, and things he knew she liked. Even a labeled container for her blood packs.
The finishing touch was a corkboard above the desk, empty but full of potential. He pinned a note to the center with a single pushpin:
“This space is yours now. Fill it with whatever makes you feel alive.”
And waiting for her on the desk beside it: a brand-new Polaroid camera, still in the box. Pastel pink.
Keigo had joked earlier that he was nesting.
But Touya didn’t care. This wasn’t just about having a space.
This was about telling her:
You belong here.
...
Keigo didn’t want him to go.
He argued. He paced. He offered to come along, to do it himself, to call in favors, anything but let Touya walk into the lion’s den alone.
But Touya just kissed his forehead, said, “This is something I have to do myself.” And then he was gone.
—
The old League base was cold. Abandoned. The air still smelled like smoke and damp concrete. Touya walked through it slowly, like stepping into a dream. Every echo felt haunted.
He found her room just how she’d left it—messy, colorful, stained with time. Her bed was stripped bare, but there was a piece of paper left pinned to the cracked vanity mirror. Just one.
A note. A shaky little heart drawn beside the words.
An address.
Touya didn’t hesitate. His hands barely stopped trembling the whole train ride across the city.
—
He stepped into the new base like he’d never left.
Spinner was the first to spot him. His eyes widened behind his goggles. “DABI’S BACK— I mean… cool. You’re back. Whatever.” He coughed and tried to lean against the wall like it wasn’t a big deal.
Footsteps.
Toga rushed in from the hallway, her eyes locking on him. She froze. Her lips parted, trembling. Tears spilled before she could even blink them away.
“Dabi…” she whispered.
Shigaraki appeared behind her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “So you and the bird didn’t work out, huh?”
Touya shifted uncomfortably but stood his ground. “No, actually… we’re partners.”
Shigaraki raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing here?”
Touya inhaled sharply. Straightened his spine.
“I’m here for Himi.”
The room went still.
Toga blinked. “What do you mean, Dabi-chan?”
He looked her in the eyes, voice steady and full. “I’m here to offer you a place. In my new family. Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can be… you.”
Toga glanced around, eyes wide and overwhelmed. Everyone was watching her.
“I… I don’t know,” she stammered. “This is a lot.”
“Go,” Shigaraki said plainly.
She turned to him, shocked. “What?”
“Go,” he repeated. “You don’t belong here anymore, Himiko.”
Her voice cracked. “Why are you saying that?”
“You don’t deserve this, kid,” said Mr. Compress, his mask pulled halfway off, his tone unusually gentle.
“But… I love you guys,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
“We love you too,” Spinner said softly.
Touya stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight like he used to when she couldn’t sleep. “Let’s go,” he whispered.
“But…”
“No buts,” he said, kneeling down. “Hop on.”
She hesitated—just for a second—before climbing on his back like she used to when she was barely more than a kid.
He carried her out of the building, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her tears soaking into the back of his shirt. She cried the whole way. Touya didn’t say much.
But he held her the whole time.
And he didn’t let go.
...
It was just after sunrise when they arrived.
The storm had passed sometime in the night, leaving behind damp pavement and cool summer air that smelled faintly of ozone. U.A. stood quiet and still in the early light, its towers bathed in a soft gold that made the world feel gentler than it had any right to be.
Touya stood at the gate with Himiko still clinging to his back.
Her tears had mostly dried, though her face was blotchy and her arms still trembled faintly around his shoulders. She hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes.
Keigo was already waiting by the dorm doors. He’d clearly flown the moment Touya texted, “We’re coming.” His eyes locked on them immediately—relieved, but cautious. Soft.
Himiko stiffened when she saw him.
Touya stopped a few feet from the entrance. “You okay if I set you down now?”
She nodded against his shoulder, then slid off slowly. She stood behind him at first, peeking around his arm.
Keigo approached carefully, not crowding them. “Hey,” he said gently, crouching a little to meet her eyes. “You probably don’t remember, but we met once. My name’s Keigo.”
Himiko said nothing, eyes wary. But she didn’t hide. She just looked… lost.
“Do you want to come inside?” Keigo asked. “We’ve got your room ready. It’s safe here. You can rest.”
Touya turned to her, voice low. “It’s the one I told you about. Yellow sheets. Bean bag chair. You’ve got a mini fridge.”
That got her attention. Just a little.
“…With the pink hearts?” she asked.
Touya smiled softly. “Exactly.”
She hesitated, then took a small step forward. And another.
Keigo stepped back to give her space. Touya gently reached for her hand, and when she took it, her grip was tighter than he expected.
The three of them walked through the door together.
Aizawa was already waiting in the common room, arms crossed, but his face unreadable. Hizashi stood next to him, offering the kind of smile that was soft and tired, and sincere. Shinsou lingered nearby, along with Eri, holding a juice box, blinking up at the newcomer with quiet curiosity.
Himiko froze in the entryway.
Everyone had been told. No one stared. No one gasped.
Instead, Eri tilted her head and said in the smallest voice, “Are you the girl with the hearts?”
Himiko blinked. “…What?”
“Your bed,” Eri said. “Touya said it has little hearts.”
Something cracked in Himiko’s expression. Not fear, not panic.
Something like disbelief.
“You wanna come see it?” Eri offered, like this was just any other first-day-at-school moment.
Touya gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
And, for the first time since he’d found her, Himiko Toga nodded.
Keigo exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Touya didn’t let go of her hand even when they reached the door.
The door creaked open with a faint click.
Himiko stepped inside slowly, Touya behind her, silent but present. She didn’t let go of his hand, even as her eyes swept the room like she was scared to look too closely.
But then she did.
And she froze.
It was… hers.
Not just a room someone had thrown together—this was hers. Somehow, impossibly, Touya had pulled the room from her imagination and made it real.
The fluffy pastel yellow rug covered most of the floor, soft under her feet even through her old boots. The bean bag chair in the corner was huge and plush, the exact shade of soft pink she liked. On it sat a single throw pillow—a deep, rich red, the color of dried blood.
She choked out a tiny sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.
Next to the bean bag was a mini fridge, already plugged in, humming quietly.
The bedspread caught her eye next. Yellow. Covered in tiny pink hearts. It was tucked in with surprising neatness, and sitting at the center of the bed was a stuffed animal. Not new. Worn and stitched with love. She didn’t know where Touya had found it—maybe a thrift store, maybe an old toy of his—but it looked like something she would’ve carried as a child.
A white vintage dresser stood against the wall, carved with little floral designs. It looked like it had a story. Above the desk, someone had already started pinning a few polaroids to a corkboard—test shots, mostly. The brand-new pink camera sat waiting beside the bed.
She was quiet for a long time.
Touya didn’t say anything. He just waited.
Finally, Himiko turned around, her eyes glassy.
“…You did all this?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“For me?”
A beat. “Of course, for you.”
Her lip trembled. “I didn’t think I’d ever get a room like this.”
“You’ve always deserved one like this,” he said, voice quiet but firm.
She crossed the room in two fast steps and hugged him.
Not a tight, desperate grip like she’d had on his back all morning—but something smaller. Softer. Real.
“I think I wanna stay,” she whispered.
Touya didn’t cry.
But he held her like he might, if she said that again.

Chapter Text

The dorm was quiet by the time Himiko closed her door.
Her new room—her room—was bathed in the soft glow of a string of heart-shaped fairy lights Touya had helped her hang before dinner. The pastel yellow rug muffled her steps as she crossed the floor in fuzzy socks she’d been gifted that evening.
She sat down slowly on the pink beanbag chair, sinking into its softness like it was trying to hold her. Across the room, the stuffed animal sat patiently on the bed, like it was waiting for her too.
She wasn’t used to this kind of quiet. Not the kind that felt… safe.
She reached for the polaroid camera and took a single photo of her feet, toes curled on the rug, just to hear the click-whirr of it. Then she pinned the photo to the corkboard, smiling faintly.
She wasn’t used to smiling for no reason either.
Lying down on the bed, she wrapped herself in the yellow-and-pink-heart blanket and pulled the stuffed animal to her chest. Her fingers traced its seams.
It smelled like lavender detergent and new beginnings.
A soft knock.
Himiko sat up quickly. “Uh—come in?”
The door opened just a little. A tiny white head peeked in.
“…Hi,” Eri whispered. “Um, Mr. Aizawa said I could say goodnight.”
Himiko blinked, startled. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Come in.”
Eri tiptoed inside in her unicorn pajamas, clutching a stuffed rabbit by one ear. She looked around with wide eyes. “Your room is really pretty.”
Himiko flushed a little. “Thanks. Touya picked everything. I mean—I told him what I liked, kinda. A long time ago.”
Eri nodded, then walked over and handed her the stuffed rabbit. “This is Clover. You can borrow her for the night, if you want. She helps me when I have bad dreams.”
Himiko didn’t know what to say. She looked down at Clover, then up at Eri again.
“…You’re really sweet, y’know?”
Eri smiled shyly. “Mr. Aizawa says that’s a good thing.”
They sat in silence for a minute, Clover passed carefully between hands.
Then Eri climbed up onto the bed, sat cross-legged, and looked Himiko in the eye.
“Are you scared?”
Himiko hesitated. “Yeah. A little.”
“I was scared when I moved here too,” Eri said simply. “But it gets better. Promise.”
Himiko blinked hard. “Thanks, kid.”
Eri smiled and slid off the bed. “Night-night, Himiko.”
“Night-night, Eri.”
And just like that, she was gone.
A little later, another knock came. Firmer this time.
When Himiko opened the door, she found Shinsou leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes tired but calm.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He stepped inside and looked around. “This room suits you.”
“Better than a sewer pipe,” she replied dryly.
He snorted. “Can’t argue with that.”
They were quiet for a while, sitting side by side on the rug.
Then, Shinsou said, “I used to think I didn’t deserve this place either.”
Himiko glanced over. “What changed?”
“People. Patience. Time.” He looked at her. “The usual.”
She picked at a thread on the bean bag. “What if I screw it up?”
“You probably will. We all do.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you don’t get to try.”
They sat there for another quiet stretch. Then Shinsou pushed to his feet.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he said, heading for the door. “So don’t act like it.”
And he left her with that.
...
When Himiko woke up, the room was bright with early sunlight, filtered through the pastel curtains Touya had picked out. Her eyes blinked open slowly. The bed was soft—too soft, too warm. For a long time, she just laid there, unsure if she was even allowed to move.
She didn’t want to mess anything up.
She was too afraid to leave the room. Her fingers fiddled with the corner of her blanket. She watched the light on the walls shift.
Then—a knock.
She froze.
Another knock, gentler this time.
Cautiously, she slid out of bed and padded barefoot to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle, then turned it slowly.
Standing in the hallway was someone she recognized.
Big green eyes. Freckles. Familiar curls.
Deku.
The boy she once tried to stab because he looked so cute when he was flustered.
He smiled at her, soft and open. Like she hadn’t ever tried to hurt him.
“We’re having breakfast, if you wanna come down,” he said cheerfully. “Kacchan’s cooking. Oh—well, you probably don’t know who Kacchan is. He’s my friend. He’s kinda loud, but he’s actually a really good cook.”
He was rambling.
Himiko blinked, then let out a small laugh. “You talk a lot.”
He paused, cheeks pink. “Sorry! I—um—yeah, people tell me that all the time—”
“It’s cute,” she said.
Izuku blinked. “Oh. Um. Thanks?”
She tilted her head. “You’re blushing.”
Now he really was flustered. “I—uh—well, anyway—I’m Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you. Officially, I mean.”
“Himiko Toga,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “But I guess you already knew that.”
“I did,” Izuku nodded. “Still nice to meet you.”
There was a pause, then he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “If you’re okay with it, I’d love to ask you some questions about your quirk. At breakfast. Just out of curiosity. Not like an interrogation or anything, I promise.”
Himiko smiled—genuine and light.
“Sure,” she said.
And for the first time that morning, her fear faded a little. Not gone. But softened.
The dorm kitchen was loud.
Not in a bad way—just full of voices, laughter, plates clinking. The smell of eggs and something sweet filled the air. Himiko stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes wide.
She’d never seen anything like this. A kitchen filled with teenagers, laughing over breakfast, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Kirishima was setting out plates. Mina was dancing to music from her phone. Tsuyu and Jirou were sitting on the couch in pajamas, yawning and sipping tea. And in the center of it all—Bakugou—scowling at a pan of sizzling food like it had personally offended him.
Himiko hovered in the doorway until Izuku noticed her again and waved her in.
“Come sit! You can sit by me, if you want.”
She nodded and made her way to the table slowly, aware of the way a few heads turned when she entered. They weren’t staring. Just... watching. Curious. A little cautious. But no one looked afraid.
Not even Bakugou. He glanced at her and grunted, “Don’t start shit and I won’t burn the eggs.”
Himiko blinked. “That’s... fair.”
Denki leaned in from across the table. “Hey, I like your hair.”
She stared at him. “Thanks... I like your lightning.”
He grinned like she’d just given him the best compliment of his life. “Thanks! It’s a part of the whole package.”
“Someone likes attention,” Sero muttered.
“Someone should be nicer to the new guest,” Mina countered, hopping over and plopping next to Himiko with a grin. “Hi, I’m Mina! We haven’t officially met, but I’ve heard about you. I like your vibe.”
“You have?” Himiko asked, a little unsure.
“Yup. And don’t worry—we voted. You’re welcome here.”
“You... voted?” Her eyes went wide.
“Yeah,” Tsuyu chimed in. “We wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. If you’re here for real—for recovery, for starting over—then you’re part of the family.”
Toga didn’t know what to say. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Instead, she glanced at the food. “Is that... cinnamon toast?”
“Kacchan’s special,” Izuku confirmed.
“Don’t say it like that, nerd,” Bakugou growled, plating up eggs and toast for everyone. “And no one better waste it.”
He slid a plate in front of her, then paused and added, not looking at her, “Hope you like cinnamon.”
Himiko stared at the plate. “This is the nicest anyone’s ever been to me.”
“Damn,” Bakugou muttered, and moved back to the stove. “That’s depressing.”
A few people laughed. Himiko smiled.
She looked over at Midoriya, who was already nibbling at his toast. “You still want to ask me about my quirk?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Only if you’re okay with it.”
She thought for a second, then answered, “Maybe after I finish my eggs.”
That earned her a quiet chuckle from Shinsou, who had just entered the kitchen with bedhead and a hoodie three sizes too big. He gave her a slow nod as he passed.
“Morning,” he said.
Himiko blinked. “You’re the one with the scarf.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure am.”
She watched him sit next to Tsuyu and Jirou. For a moment, she looked around at all of them—noisy, strange, weirdly supportive—and something fluttered in her chest that felt dangerously close to hope.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe she wasn’t alone anymore.
...
They were still at the table after breakfast, most of the plates pushed aside or cleared already. A few students had wandered off to start their day, but Izuku stayed, sipping from his tea mug, eyes flicking between Himiko and his notebook like he was holding back a thousand thoughts.
She noticed.
“You can just ask, y’know,” she said, tilting her head at him.
Izuku blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry! I just—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You won’t,” Himiko replied, resting her chin on her hand. “You said you wanted to ask about my quirk, right?”
He nodded, lighting up instantly. “Only if it’s okay! I’ve studied it before, but I didn’t know how it felt from your perspective. You said once that drinking blood helps you transform, but I’m curious—does it hurt? Does it feel... good?”
Himiko raised an eyebrow. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“I think understanding quirks means understanding the people who have them,” Izuku said simply.
She watched him for a second, then gave a small shrug. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s actually... kind of nice. When I use someone’s blood, I feel close to them. Like I understand them more. It’s not just turning into them—it’s like I’m becoming a part of them. Feeling what they feel. That’s what I liked about it.”
Izuku was scribbling in his notebook now, nodding as he wrote. “That’s really fascinating... almost like empathy through quirk expression. You don’t just mimic their body—you connect with them emotionally?”
“Something like that,” Himiko said. Her tone was casual, but there was something a little more guarded behind her eyes. “But that’s also what got me in trouble. People didn’t like that I wanted to be close to people that way.”
Izuku stopped writing and looked at her, soft and sincere. “I think the way you were treated was wrong. I think quirks like yours scare people because they don’t understand them.”
Himiko blinked.
“You were a kid,” he added gently. “You deserved kindness, not fear.”
She didn’t say anything for a second, her fingers curling slightly around her mug. Her voice came out quieter than before. “Thanks, Deku.”
He smiled. “Izuku.”
She smirked. “Izuku.”
He smiled even wider.
Himiko was still mulling over Izuku’s words when she heard another voice from behind.
“Izuku? You’re still down here?”
Ochaco peeked around the corner, holding a cup of tea. She paused when she saw who he was sitting with.
“Oh. Hey,” she said, a little unsure, but not unkind.
Himiko straightened up a bit. “Hey.”
There was a tense beat of silence before Ochaco stepped into the kitchen fully and sat at the other end of the table. She glanced at Izuku’s notes and gave a small, amused sigh. “You’re interviewing her already, huh?”
“He asked,” Himiko said, a little defensive, “but it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Ochaco gave her a nod, thoughtful. “Can I ask something too?”
Himiko’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sure.”
Ochaco took a sip of her tea. “When you... used my blood back then, during the war—what was it like? Did it feel different from other people?”
Himiko blinked, caught off guard. Then she slowly nodded. “Yeah. It did. You were strong. Angry, but also sad. You didn’t want to hurt people, not really. You just didn’t know what else to do.” She tilted her head. “I think we’re kind of similar, honestly.”
Ochaco’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup. She didn’t answer right away.
Izuku looked between them, eyes wide with careful attention.
“I used to hate you,” Ochaco said softly, finally meeting Himiko’s gaze. “But now... I think I just didn’t understand you.”
“I used to be obsessed with you,” Himiko replied, blunt and honest as ever. “I thought we were the same. But now... I think I just wanted someone to see me.”
There was a long pause. The air in the room felt heavy with things unspoken.
“I see you now,” Ochaco said.
Himiko blinked, her expression faltering. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Aizawa calls over to Himiko, "Touya's on the phone for you, Toga."
"Excuse me," she said to Izuku and Ochaco. She headed towards her new sensei and took the phone.
"Thank you."
"Himi?" Touya's voice came threw the phone.
"Do I call you Touya-chan now?" she asked, as Aizawa walked away to give them space.
"Yeah, but not in public. Only around Hawks and Class-1A, and ofc Eri." Touya responded.
"Where are you? I woke up and you weren't here." Himiko wondered.
"I went back hom-... I went back to Hawks' apartment," he stammered.
"You can call it home, ya know," she pointed out.
"I haven't really called it that out loud before," he confessed.
"Oh," Himiko yawned.
He chuckled at the yawn, then asked, "Did you sleep well?"
"I don't really know," she admitted.
Touya hummed softly. “Yeah. I get that.”
There was a quiet beat between them, not awkward, just... full. Like neither of them wanted to hang up yet.
“I woke up a few times,” Himiko said, voice quieter now. “Kept thinking maybe I wasn’t really here. That I’d wake up back in that old, gross hideout.”
“But you’re not,” Touya said firmly. “You’re safe now. You’re at U.A.”
“Yeah. I know. It just feels... weird. Like someone else’s life.”
“It’ll feel like yours soon. You’ve got a room. You’ve got people. You’ve got a second chance.”
There was a soft sniffle on the other end of the line. Himiko didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then: “You made my room really nice. The rug, the pillows… the mini fridge?”
Touya smiled. “Figured you’d want cold juice at weird hours. Or blood. Not judging.”
She giggled. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“I just wanted it to feel like you,” he said.
“It does. It really does.”
Touya leaned back against the couch, phone pressed gently to his ear. “I’m proud of you, y’know.”
“For what?”
“For choosing this. For trusting me. For trying.”
Another pause. Then, in a soft, fragile voice:
“I love you, Touya-chan.”
He didn’t flinch. Not like he might’ve once.
“I love you too, Himi.”
...
After she hung up the phone, Himiko turned to find both Izuku and Ochaco waiting for her by the hallway.
"You good?" Ochaco asked gently.
Himiko nodded. “Yeah. Touya-chan just wanted to check on me.”
Izuku smiled. “He cares about you a lot. I can tell.”
“We were thinking,” Ochaco said, “if you’re up for it, we could give you a quick tour of the school before homeroom starts. Just so you know where stuff is.”
Himiko blinked, surprised. “You want to show me around?”
“Of course,” Izuku said quickly. “You’re one of us now.”
She stared at them for a second, then nodded, her voice soft. “Okay. That’d be... nice.”
They started with the basics — the classroom, the bathrooms, the cafeteria. Ochaco pointed out the nurses' office while Izuku explained how Power Study classes rotated. Himiko asked questions here and there, sometimes silly ones, sometimes surprisingly sharp, and both Izuku and Ochaco answered like it was the most normal thing in the world.
As they walked the hallways, a few other students passed them and gave Himiko tentative smiles or small nods. Nobody stared too hard. Nobody whispered. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t cruel either.
“This is the gym,” Ochaco said, gesturing through a set of wide doors. “You’ll probably get assigned here for training sometimes.”
“You don’t have to push yourself too hard yet,” Izuku added. “You can take your time getting used to everything.”
Himiko looked at the polished floor, the mats, the wall racks of training gear. She could imagine herself in here — not as a villain sneaking in through the shadows, but as a student, sweating and laughing with the others.
“This place is weird,” she said finally.
Izuku tilted his head. “Weird how?”
“It feels... safe.”
Ochaco smiled, looping her arm around Himiko’s for a brief moment. “It is.”
They kept walking, the morning sun filtering through the tall windows, casting soft golden light on the tile floors.
Maybe — just maybe — this could be home.

Chapter Text

The Todoroki house was calm in the late afternoon, sunlight spilling through the windows and warming the familiar furniture. Rei sat quietly on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, when the doorbell rang.
She stood and opened the door to find Touya and Keigo standing there. They looked tired but steady, like they’d been carrying heavy things but had found a moment to breathe.
“Mom,” Touya said softly, stepping inside as she moved aside. Keigo followed close behind, his gaze gentle but alert.
Rei nodded and closed the door. “It’s good to see you both.”
They settled into the living room. Rei poured tea without breaking the quiet, watching Touya and Keigo exchange a glance before Touya started to speak.
“We wanted to tell you about Toga,” Touya said. “Her first day at U.A. It went... well. She’s scared, but she’s trying.”
Keigo added quietly, “The class welcomed her. They’re giving her a chance.”
Rei’s expression softened. “That’s good. She deserves that.”
Touya’s fingers clenched briefly before he relaxed. “We’re doing what we can. Together.”
There was a pause — gentle, but full. Rei’s eyes met Touya’s, searching. After a moment, she spoke, voice low and careful.
“There’s something I wanted to ask the last time you were here, but I didn’t want to overstep.”
Touya and Keigo looked at each other.
Rei’s voice was steady. “Why did you help my son, Hawks?”
Keigo glanced at Touya, then back at Rei.
“I fell in love with your son, ma’am,” he said simply.
Rei’s smile was soft and real, brightening the room. “That’s... good to hear. He’s lucky.”
She hesitated, then laughed lightly. “Though I don’t even know your real name.”
Keigo chuckled. “It’s Keigo Takami. Hawks is the name people know.”
Rei nodded, still smiling. “Keigo Takami. I’ll remember that.”
Touya’s voice was quieter now. “I never said it out loud before, but having Keigo — Hawks — here, it feels like I’m starting to have a family again. Like maybe things can be better.”
Rei’s eyes shimmered. “You deserve that, Touya. More than anyone.”
Keigo squeezed Touya’s hand. “We’ll keep trying. Together.”
They sat there, quiet but connected, the past’s weight still there but softened by something new — hope.
The sunlight shifted, casting a warm glow over them — a quiet promise.
...
The soft creak of the front door opening broke the quiet atmosphere in the Todoroki living room. Natsuo stepped inside, tossing his bag by the stairs, and immediately paused. His eyes flicked to the couch, where Touya and Keigo sat close, fingers entwined like they belonged there.
He blinked once. Then again.
“Uh… why are you guys holding hands?” he asked, voice a mix of confusion and disbelief.
Keigo glanced up, flashing an easy smile, while Touya shifted slightly, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.
Natsuo’s grin spread wide. “Wait—are you dating? Oh my gosh, you are, aren’t you?”
Touya gave a quiet nod. Keigo squeezed his hand gently, confirming it without words.
Natsuo’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward. “Have you guys... you know?” He punctuated the question with an exaggerated wink.
Touya choked on a breath, cheeks coloring faintly. Keigo looked down, stifling a laugh.
Natsuo threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, never mind! Don’t answer that. Thinking about my brother in bed with someone? That’s just… weird.” He shook his head, half amused, half embarrassed.
Touya rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze said he wasn’t really bothered.
Natsuo eased back into the armchair, crossing his legs with a thoughtful expression. “I always thought you might be asexual. You know, because you never really talked about girls or anything like that.” He glanced at Touya, then added quietly, “But maybe it’s just because you’re gay.”
Touya looked at Keigo for a moment before meeting Natsuo’s gaze. “Actually, Natsuo... I don’t even know what sexuality I am.”
Natsuo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously? Then we gotta fix that! Let’s take a bunch of those online sexual orientation quizzes and figure it out.”
Touya smiled, shaking his head slightly. “I promised Mina I’d do that, but only when she’s around.”
“Then call her,” Natsuo said, not missing a beat.
“She’s in class right now,” Touya replied softly.
Natsuo laughed, shaking his head. “Who even is Mina?”
Touya’s smile softened further, touched with a little fondness. “She’s one of Shouto’s classmates.”
Rei watched all of this with a mixture of amusement and relief. Here was her son, being cared for and challenged and loved in ways she’d only ever hoped for.
“Well,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence, “it seems he’s in good hands.”
Keigo glanced at Touya and then at Rei, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We’re trying, ma’am.”
Touya’s hand found Rei’s briefly, a silent thank you for the quiet acceptance she offered.
Rei squeezed his hand gently, warmth shining in her eyes. “Welcome home, both of you.”
Himiko had already showered, changed into her uniform, and wandered aimlessly around her dorm room twice.
It was weird being here without Touya.
She'd thought she'd be relieved to have some space. To figure things out on her own. But instead, the quiet pressed around her like a blanket she didn’t know how to fold. The rug under her feet was still soft, the mini fridge still humming, the air still faintly lavender from her new detergent—but without Touya’s presence, everything felt just slightly too still.
She sat cross-legged on her bed and stared at the corkboard. A couple more polaroids had been added last night—Eri, grinning wide, holding up a peace sign with Clover in her lap, from last night when she camme in.
A blurry one of Touya flipping off the camera, taken right before he left.
She smiled at that one.
A knock at the door startled her. Again.
“Hey, Himiko?” came a cheerful voice. “We’re heading to class—wanna walk with us?”
It was a girl with pink skin and hai.
Himiko blinked and scrambled to her feet. She grabbed her bag and opened the door to find the pink haired girl standing there with the kid who complimented her hair at breakfast this morning, and a boy with weird looking elbows, all in various stages of barely-tied ties and breakfast crumbs on their uniforms.
“You okay?” the pink girl asked, her expression open but watchful. “You don’t have to come if you’re not ready. We’ll totally cover for you.”
“No, I’m good,” Himiko said, shouldering her bag. “Just... still getting used to it.”
The pink girl smiled, bright and easy. “We all are. Come on.”
They walked down the dorm hallway together, the yellow haired boy with the lightning bolt chattering about how he was definitely going to flunk the morning quiz in Modern Hero Studies, and Sero tossing grapes into his mouth from a little snack box he claimed was “brain fuel.”
As they walked into the U.A. building, Himiko found herself watching everyone—not with suspicion, but with something closer to awe. These kids weren’t pretending. They really were this... normal. This weird. This nice.
In class, she was assigned a desk near the window. Momo gave her a polite nod when she sat down; Jirou passed her a spare notebook just in case she needed it.
Everything was... normal. Almost painfully so.
She wasn’t used to being just a girl in a school uniform, half-listening to a lecture on disaster zone strategy and watching a pencil roll slowly across the floor.
She wasn’t used to thinking ahead to lunchtime.
...
At lunch, Himiko followed the flow of students toward the cafeteria, unsure whether to sit alone or wait for someone to wave her over.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Hey, new kid!” a kid with spiky red hair called from across the room. “We saved you a seat!”
She blinked. The pink haired girl was already waving, patting the bench beside her. The yellow haired boy with the lightning bolt gave her two thumbs up. Even blasty kid, already halfway through his meal, didn’t say anything when she sat—just gave a quiet grunt and pushed the tray of hot sauce closer, like that counted as a welcome.
The conversation at the table was fast and chaotic, full of jokes she didn’t get and inside stories she couldn’t follow yet. But no one left her out. They asked her about her favorite foods. The purple haired girl wanted to know if she liked music. The black bird told her she had “a compelling aura.” Even Shinsou wandered over eventually, stealing fries off the frog girl’s tray and handing Himiko a small carton of apple juice with zero explanation.
It was weird.
But it wasn’t bad.
Maybe later, when she was alone again, she’d second-guess every interaction. Maybe she’d worry about slipping up, or what people really thought.
But right now, she was sitting at a table, eating cafeteria curry, surrounded by people who laughed and included her without hesitation.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like something broken trying to fit in.
She just felt like a student.
A little out of place, yeah. A little unsure.
But not alone.
...
Later that afternoon, when the last class let out and students trickled back to the dorms in small, tired clusters, Himiko wasn’t sure what to do with herself.
She wandered into the common area and flopped onto one of the beanbags, pulling her knees to her chest. Her brain was buzzing from too much information and not enough sugar. She didn’t even notice Mina until she plopped down beside her in a tangle of limbs and pink curls.
“Okay,” Mina said, kicking off her shoes. “I have a plan.”
Himiko blinked at her. “Should I be worried?”
“Always,” Jirou muttered, dropping onto the couch nearby and swinging her legs up with a dramatic sigh.
Mina ignored her and grinned wider. “We’re doing a welcome circle. Everyone in a circle. We introduce ourselves. We say our quirks. Maybe a fun fact. It’ll be cute.”
“Like icebreakers?” Sero asked, walking by with a bag of chips. “Mina, no.”
“Yes,” Mina said, undeterred. “Icebreakers. Friendship circle. I don’t make the rules.”
“You literally just did,” Denki said, flopping down beside Jirou and already getting tangled in the blanket she was sitting on.
“Exactly,” Mina said proudly.
Before Himiko could process what was happening, Mina was standing in the middle of the room shouting, “Circle up, people! You too, Bakugou!”
“Absolutely not,” Bakugou called from the kitchen.
“You don’t get a choice,” Mina said sweetly. “It’s for friendship.”
“You can’t force friendship with a circle,” he muttered.
“I can and I will.”
Ten minutes later, somehow, miraculously, there was a full circle. Even Bakugou sat on the edge, glaring at his lap like it had personally offended him. Himiko found herself between Mina and Shinsou, who passed her a half-eaten bag of popcorn in silent solidarity.
“Okay!” Mina beamed. “Let’s go around. Name, quirk, and one fun fact. I’ll go first! I’m Mina Ashido, my quirk is Acid, and my fun fact is that I can do the worm and beatbox.”
“Can confirm,” Sero said solemnly. “It’s horrifying.”
“I’m Denki Kaminari, quirk’s Electrification, and fun fact—I once ate seventeen Takoyaki balls in under two minutes and then passed out.”
“I’m Kyoka Jirou,” Jirou said lazily. “Sound-based quirk, and I write songs in my spare time, but no, I won’t play them for you.”
Around the circle they went. Some were goofy, like Kirishima bragging about being able to crack an apple in half with his bare hands. Some were more reserved, like Tsuyu’s calm explanation of how her quirk worked and how much she liked rain.
And then all eyes were on her.
Himiko blinked, her voice catching for a moment. Everyone waited—open, curious, patient.
She cleared her throat.
“Uh. I’m Himiko Toga. My quirk is—I drink blood to transform into people. Which is... weird, I know.”
“No weirder than mine,” Tokoyami offered solemnly. “I have a living shadow that comes out of my body at night.”
“Exactly,” Mina said brightly. “No weird shame here.”
Himiko gave a tiny smile. “Okay. Um. Fun fact... I’ve never had a favorite color before. But I think it might be yellow.”
There was a brief pause. Then Mina squealed, “Oh my god, like your rug! That’s so cute!”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You people are exhausting.”
“Love you too, Blasty,” Mina said, blowing him a kiss.
The rest of the circle carried on—Midoriya talking about his notebook obsession, Iida describing his older brother’s influence on his hero path, Shinsou muttering that he sleepwalked when he was stressed.
No one looked at her like she was a threat. No one flinched.
And when the circle finally broke apart into smaller conversations, laughter and teasing and music from someone’s phone starting up in the background, Himiko sat back against the beanbag and looked around.
This was weird.
This was new.
But maybe—just maybe—this was what belonging felt like.

Chapter Text

The counseling office was brighter than Himiko expected.
Not clinical or cold, like the places she’d seen in movies. Just... soft. Calming. The chairs were plush, the lighting warm, and there was a faint scent of something herbal in the air—maybe eucalyptus or sage. A small fountain trickled quietly in one corner, and a fat orange cat blinked at her from a window ledge like he’d been expecting her.
Himiko stood stiffly just inside the doorway, not sure what to do with her hands.
The therapist stood slowly. “You must be Himiko,” she said gently. “I’m Dr. Miyasaki. I use she/her pronouns. It’s really nice to meet you.”
She didn’t offer a handshake. Himiko was glad.
“Uh. Hi,” Himiko said.
“You can sit wherever you feel most comfortable,” Dr. Miyasaki said, gesturing toward a loveseat and a few armchairs. “You’re also allowed to move around, or lie down, or hold one of the fidgets in that basket, if that helps.”
“…I can lie down?”
“If that’s what your body needs, sure.”
Himiko slowly sat on the loveseat, hugging a squishy frog-shaped pillow to her chest. She wasn’t sure if it helped, but it was soft and it gave her hands something to do.
Dr. Miyasaki took a seat across from her, notebook in her lap, but not writing anything yet.
“We don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready to,” she said. “This first session is just to get to know each other a bit. No pressure, no tests, no wrong answers.”
Himiko nodded warily. “Okay.”
There was a moment of quiet, not tense—just slow. Letting her breathe.
“Can I ask,” Dr. Miyasaki began, “how you’re feeling right now? Not big-picture. Just... in this room.”
Himiko shifted. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a perfectly good answer,” Dr. Miyasaki said, smiling. “Do you want some water?”
Himiko nodded.
The therapist poured her a glass from the pitcher nearby, passed it gently, then let her sip in silence.
After a while, Himiko spoke up. “I don’t really like doctors.”
“I understand,” Dr. Miyasaki said. “You’ve had some bad experiences?”
Himiko gave a tight shrug. “They didn’t listen. They looked at me like I was already broken.”
“That’s not how I see you.”
The words made Himiko’s throat go tight.
“You’re someone who’s been through a lot. Someone who survived. That’s not brokenness. That’s resilience.”
“Yeah, well,” Himiko muttered, “the stuff I did wasn’t exactly... survivory.”
“Surviving doesn’t always look pretty,” Dr. Miyasaki replied calmly. “Sometimes it means doing things you wish you hadn’t. That doesn’t mean you’re beyond healing.”
Himiko didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away.
Dr. Miyasaki let the quiet stretch again. Then:
“When you feel ready, I’d love to hear about what brought you here. Whatever parts you want to share.”
Himiko was quiet for a long time.
Then: “I used to think I was a monster. Because I liked blood. Because I liked girls. Because I couldn’t stop wanting things that people said were wrong.”
Dr. Miyasaki didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush to correct or reassure her. She just listened.
“I was obsessed with this girl once,” Himiko said. “I thought she understood me. Maybe she did. But she was afraid of me. Everyone was.” She picked at a loose thread on the frog pillow. “I started hurting people. Taking their blood. Turning into them. That part always felt... safe. Like I could disappear into someone else.”
“That makes sense,” the therapist said gently. “Sometimes, when we don’t feel safe being ourselves, it feels easier to be someone else.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever feel safe being yourself?”
“Maybe once. When I was little. Before everything got messed up.”
Dr. Miyasaki nodded. “Thank you for telling me that.”
“…Are you writing all this down?”
“Only little notes to help me remember,” she said. “But nothing you say leaves this room. Unless you're in danger—then I’d need to make sure you’re safe.”
Himiko nodded slowly. “I’m not in danger. I just... don’t know what to do with all of this. With being here. With people being nice.”
“That’s okay,” Dr. Miyasaki said. “You’re allowed to be unsure. You’ve been hurt, Himiko. Deeply. I want to help you make sense of that. And part of that might mean working with a psychiatrist, too—to support your body as well as your mind.”
“I don’t want meds that make me a zombie,” Himiko said flatly.
“Neither do I,” Dr. Miyasaki replied. “And we won’t let that happen. The psychiatrist I work with is gentle and collaborative. He’ll listen to you. If anything feels wrong, we’ll change it. You’re in control here.”
Himiko stared at her.
“I think,” she said slowly, “I’m tired of feeling out of control.”
Dr. Miyasaki gave a small, warm smile. “Then we’ll start there.”
...
The psychiatrist’s office was different from the therapist’s.
Less cozy. A little more clinical. But still not scary.
There were bookshelves filled with titles Himiko couldn’t understand and a desk with a tiny fountain that made the same soft trickling noise as Dr. Miyasaki’s office. The chair she sat in was soft but upright—not the kind you could melt into and disappear.
Dr. Takao was tall and soft-spoken, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He introduced himself gently when she arrived, offered her water, and didn’t make her sit on the couch if she didn’t want to.
“Hi, Himiko,” he said as he settled into his seat. “I’m Dr. Takao. You can call me that, or just ‘doctor,’ or anything that makes you comfortable. I work closely with Dr. Miyasaki. She gave me a general overview of what you talked about—but only with your permission. And everything you say today stays between us, unless you’re in danger.”
Himiko nodded, wary. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to tell me your life story,” he added with a slight smile. “I mostly want to understand how your mind and body are doing day to day. What’s hard. What’s helped. We can figure out the rest over time.”
Himiko shrugged. “I don’t sleep good.”
“Okay. What does ‘not good’ mean?”
“I wake up a lot. Sometimes I dream about stuff. League stuff. Or my parents. Or nothing, just... scared. Sometimes I can’t tell where I am for a minute.”
Dr. Takao nodded and made a quiet note. “What about during the day?”
Himiko hugged her knees to her chest. “Sometimes I feel fine. Like, better than ever. And other times I feel like I’m drowning and no one notices.”
“Do you ever feel like hurting yourself?”
Her voice dropped. “Used to. Not recently. But I think about it sometimes.”
“That’s brave to say. Thank you.”
Himiko didn’t know how to answer that, so she just picked at the edge of her sleeve.
“Do you notice any patterns?” Dr. Takao asked. “Like, do some days feel worse than others? Do you feel more tired, more upset, around certain times of the month?”
Himiko’s brows furrowed. “You mean like periods?”
He nodded.
“…Yeah. I thought that was just normal. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing it. Like my skin’s too small. I cry for no reason. I get dizzy. Sometimes I black out.” She hesitated. “Or get... aggressive.”
“Have you ever heard of something called Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder?” Dr. Takao asked gently.
Himiko shook her head.
“It’s like PMS, but much more intense. It causes major emotional shifts—depression, anxiety, anger, sometimes dissociation—around the time of your menstrual cycle. It’s very real, and very treatable.”
“Oh,” Himiko said quietly. “That sounds... familiar.”
Dr. Takao gave a small, warm nod. “Between that, the panic episodes, and what you’ve been through, I think we’re looking at a few things together: PTSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and very likely PMDD.”
Himiko frowned. “That’s a lot.”
“It is,” he said. “But the good news is, we know how to support all three. That might mean medication, but only if you’re comfortable with it. And we’ll start small.”
She looked down. “Will it change me?”
“Hopefully only in the ways you want,” he said. “Less panic. Fewer crashes. More room to breathe.”
“I don’t wanna be numb.”
“You shouldn’t be. We’ll work together to make sure you aren’t.”
There was a long pause. Then Himiko looked up and asked, quietly, “What happens next?”
“I’ll write you a prescription for something very gentle to start—likely an SSRI, which helps both anxiety and PMDD. We'll also track your cycle and symptoms. I’ll want to see you again in a couple weeks to check in. And you’ll keep meeting with Dr. Miyasaki, too. Sound okay?”
Himiko bit her lip. “Can I talk to Touya about it first?”
“Of course. This is your treatment plan. You get to include the people you trust.”
“…Okay.” She gave a small nod. “Yeah. That sounds okay.”
Dr. Takao smiled. “You’re doing really well.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Feeling it isn’t required. Showing up is enough for today.”
...
The soft click of the phone unlocking echoed in Himiko’s quiet room.
She hesitated a moment before tapping Touya’s contact.
The line rang once, twice—
“Hey, Himi,” Touya’s voice came through, calm and warm.
She swallowed, hands twitching nervously around the phone.
“I saw Dr. Takao today,” she said, voice small but steady.
There was a quiet pause.
“And?”
Himiko took a breath.
“They said I have PTSD. Anxiety disorder. And... PMDD.”
Touya didn’t say anything at first. Then, his voice was soft, steady.
“Thank you for telling me. That’s a lot to carry.”
“I don’t know how to feel,” she admitted. “It’s like—there’s a reason for everything I’ve been feeling, but that doesn’t make it easier.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Touya agreed gently. “But knowing can be the first step to making it better.”
She bit her lip. “They want to start me on medication. It’s scary.”
“I get that,” he said quietly. “But you won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you every step.”
Himiko blinked, warmth blooming where she hadn’t expected it.
“You’re proud of me?” she asked, voice cracking a little.
Touya chuckled softly. “Always. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
For the first time that day, Himiko smiled—not because everything was fixed, but because someone saw her strength.
“Thanks, Touya-chan,” she whispered.
“Anytime, Himi.”
“I’m scared I’ll mess it up,” Himiko admitted after a pause, voice barely above a whisper.
Touya’s tone was firm but kind. “You will. We all do. Healing isn’t a straight path. It’s messy. And that’s okay.”
She nodded, clutching the phone tighter. “What if the meds change me? What if I’m not me anymore?”
“You’re still you,” he said softly. “Medications help balance the storm inside. They don’t erase who you are. They help you breathe.”
Himiko let out a shaky breath. “I want to try. I want to get better.”
“That’s all anyone can ask,” Touya said. “And I’ll be here whenever you need me — morning, noon, or night.”
She smiled through tears she didn’t bother to hide. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
“Me too, Himi. Me too.”
The line went quiet except for their breathing, a comforting tether between two people learning how to heal together.
...
Himiko was still holding the phone, feeling a little lighter, when there was a gentle knock on her door.
Before she could answer, the door opened slightly, and Izuku peeked in, eyes bright and cautious.
“Hey, Himiko,” he said softly. “I heard you talking on the phone.”
She blinked, a little surprised, then nodded.
“If you ever want to talk about... therapy stuff, or just anything,” Izuku continued, stepping inside, “I’m here. I know it can be really hard.”
Himiko glanced down, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.
“I started therapy a while ago,” Izuku said, his voice steady but warm. “It’s helped me a lot, even when it’s tough.”
She looked up, curiosity flickering.
“Sometimes it feels scary,” he admitted, “but having someone to talk to makes the bad days easier.”
Himiko smiled faintly, the offer settling around her like a soft blanket.
“Thanks, Izuku,” she said quietly. “I might take you up on that.”
Izuku smiled, genuine and kind.
“Anytime. You’re not alone.”

Chapter Text

The evening was quiet in the apartment.
Too quiet, maybe.
Touya was on the couch, long legs stretched out, sketchbook in his lap. His pencil scratched in slow, thoughtful lines—he was drawing Clover, Eri’s stuffed rabbit, perched next to a half-eaten packet of grapes on the coffee table. It had become a calming habit lately: drawing the little things that made him feel less jagged. A soft toy. A folded hoodie. A hand that wasn’t afraid to touch his.
Keigo stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching him.
They’d done the dishes together. They’d cleaned up after dinner. The balcony door was open a crack to let in the summer air, and the sound of distant traffic buzzed like background static. Everything should have felt normal. Safe.
But Keigo’s chest was tight with something he hadn’t figured out how to say yet.
Touya looked up. “You’re staring.”
Keigo gave a breathy laugh. “I do that sometimes.”
Touya smirked faintly, then tilted his head. “You okay?”
Keigo walked over slowly and sat beside him, tucking one leg beneath him. He didn’t answer right away. He just leaned into Touya’s side until their shoulders touched. Warmth settled between them like muscle memory.
“I’ve been thinking,” Keigo said quietly, “about moving.”
Touya blinked. “You mean—like, out of the apartment?”
Keigo nodded. “Yeah. I think… I think I’m ready.”
He didn’t mean ready to leave Touya.
He meant ready to leave this—the apartment where he’d first tried to rebuild himself after the Commission, the place where he’d paced sleepless nights, where he kept every drawer perfectly neat so he didn’t spiral, where the silence sometimes screamed louder than the city outside.
It had been a sanctuary. But now it felt too small for the life they were growing.
Touya set the sketchbook aside and turned fully toward him. “You wanna move? Like, together?”
“Yeah,” Keigo said. “I want us to have a home. Not a safehouse. Not a Commission-owned box in the sky. Not a halfway point. A real home. For us.”
Touya’s throat worked around an answer. He didn’t quite trust himself to speak.
“I’ve been thinking about it since before Himiko moved into UA,” Keigo went on. “We keep saying we’re building a new life, right? But we’re still living in the wreckage of the old one. I don’t want our place to be a patch job anymore. I want a place where we choose everything. The neighborhood, the couch, the fridge magnets. Maybe even a garden.”
Touya blinked. “You wanna grow tomatoes or some shit?”
Keigo laughed, soft and genuine. “Maybe. Or just plant something and see if it doesn’t die. You’d probably be good at that. Eri could help.”
There was a pause. Touya looked down at their hands—Keigo’s thumb tracing absent circles over the scarred back of his own—and then said, quieter, “You really think we’re ready for that?”
Keigo hesitated for a heartbeat. “Yeah. I do. We’ve been through hell, Touya. We’ve lost more than anyone should. But I keep waking up next to you and thinking… I don’t want to keep surviving. I want to live. With you.”
Touya swallowed hard.
“I’m not saying we buy a house tomorrow,” Keigo said quickly. “Just that we start looking. Talking about what we want. We’ve earned that. You’ve earned that.”
There was a long silence. Then Touya leaned in, resting his forehead against Keigo’s shoulder.
“Ok,” he said. “Let’s build a home.”
Keigo closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Relief and love rushed through him all at once.
They stayed like that for a while. The pencil rolled off the sketchbook and landed on the floor. Neither of them moved to pick it up.
…
Later that night, Touya was brushing his teeth when Keigo leaned in the bathroom doorway, holding his phone.
“Ok,” Keigo said. “First question. Do you want to stay in the city, or find something quieter on the edge?”
Touya looked at him in the mirror, toothpaste foam in his mouth. He spat, rinsed, wiped his mouth on a towel, and said, “I wanna be somewhat close to UA for Himiko’s sake.”
“Ok, good thinking,” Keigo said.
And for a second, they were just two guys planning a future—not ex-villain and hero, not scarred and surveilled, not haunted or hunted. Just Touya and Keigo.
They didn’t have all the answers yet. But they had each other.
And maybe, someday soon, they’d have a home.
That night, the city hummed outside, but the only thing that mattered was the warmth between them.
Hint hint nudge nudge (They had sex if you didn’t get it)
...
The next day, they went house hunting.
Touya had a clear vision. He wanted a room for just the two of them—a quiet space where they could be themselves without worry. Another room for Himiko to stay over during school breaks, a dedicated art studio filled with light and scattered sketchbooks, a spare room for whatever life might throw at them, and, of course, a big kitchen where he could cook without ever letting Keigo near the stove again—because they all remembered how that went last time.
Keigo’s wishlist was simpler. All he wanted was a sunroom—somewhere bright and warm to read or just be. And something he’d never admit aloud, not yet: an extra room for future kids.
Touya ran his fingers along a windowsill in what could be the art room. “Imagine this with a big easel and all my paints. I could finally stop using that tiny corner in the living room.”
Keigo chuckled, watching him with soft eyes. “You’d finally have no excuse not to finish that portrait of me.”
Touya grinned, then glanced at Keigo. “What about you? What would you do in your sunroom?”
Keigo hesitated, then smiled quietly. “Read. Maybe practice meditation. Sometimes just sit and watch the light change.”
They found a cozy corner that could be the sunroom—walls of glass, soft sunlight pouring in. Touya draped an arm over Keigo’s shoulder. “Perfect.”
Keigo leaned into the touch. “Yeah. Perfect.”
Later, as they toured a kitchen that was bigger than anything they’d had before, Touya nudged Keigo playfully. “So, no cooking attempts from you here, right? Last time was… memorable.”
Keigo held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m better than I used to be! But fine, I’ll stick to taste testing.”
They laughed, the sound light and easy.
At one point, Touya peeked into a small, empty room off the hall. “I want this to be the spare room. For guests, projects, whatever.”
Keigo stepped beside him, voice low. “Or… for kids someday.”
Touya’s heart sunk. “Kids?”
Maybe Keigo shouldn't have said that out loud. “Maybe,” he uttered.
Touya hadn't thought about the thought of kids. He remembered the way he grew up, and he did not want a kid to grow up like that. He was scared of becoming his father.
Touya’s heart sank deeper, the weight of the word settling like a stone in his chest. He looked down at the empty room, its silence suddenly heavy.
“Kids,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. His mind flickered to memories he’d long tried to bury — the coldness, the expectations, the pain he never wanted to pass on. “I’m… scared of what that means,” he admitted, eyes meeting Keigo’s. “Of what kind of father I’d be. I don’t want a kid to grow up feeling like I did. I don’t want to be like… him.”
Keigo reached out, taking Touya’s hand gently, grounding him. “Hey, we’re not them. We’re different. We’re trying to be better — for ourselves, and maybe for someone else someday.”
Touya swallowed hard, the knot in his throat loosening a little. “I want to believe that. I want to believe we can build something good. But it’s scary.”
Keigo squeezed his hand, voice steady and warm. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No pressure, no rush. Just one step at a time.”
Touya nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a tentative smile. “Together.”
They stayed in that quiet room a little longer, imagining a future that felt fragile but real — a future they could shape on their own terms.
But Keigo was already pregnant; he just hadn't told Touya yet. He was scared of how Touya would react and hoped the baby would be born somewhere other than their apartment. The first time they had sex, they used a condom, and they just had sex for the second time last night. So it was clear that he got pregnant from their first night together. He was also anxious about how the public would respond, especially given his identity as a trans person. Keigo decided to wait until they returned to the apartment to share the news with Touya. He was concerned about Touya's well-being, especially since he had been doing so well with his medication and mental health. Keigo didn't want this news to trigger a downward spiral for Touya. His recent reaction to even the thought of having a child only heightened Keigo's anxiety about how Touya might respond.
...
They eventually get to the apartment.
Keigo’s steps felt heavier than usual as they entered the apartment. The familiar quiet seemed louder somehow, pressing against his chest. He headed straight for the couch, sinking down as if the weight of his secret might crush him if he stood any longer.
Touya looked up from the sketchbook he’d pulled back out, sensing the shift in Keigo’s mood. “Hey,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “You okay?”
Keigo swallowed, his fingers twisting nervously. The words twisted and turned inside his throat, sharp and jagged. Do I tell him now? Or wait until the fear doesn’t feel so raw?
“I… there’s something I need to tell you,” Keigo finally said, voice trembling. He hesitated, eyes fixed on their entwined hands. “But I’m scared. Scared of how you’ll react. Scared it might... break you.”
Touya’s brow furrowed, concern deepening. “Keigo, whatever it is, we’ll face it. Together. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
Keigo bit his lip, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “I’m pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible.
The room seemed to still, the words hanging between them like a fragile glass ornament, both dazzling and terrifying.
Touya’s eyes widened, shock and something unreadable flickering across his face. He blinked, then exhaled slowly. “Pregnant?”
Keigo nodded, tears threatening but not falling. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was scared — scared of how it would affect you, and us. The timing, everything…”
Touya reached out, pulling Keigo closer, voice gentle but steady. “Keigo, look at me. This doesn’t change how I feel. We’ll figure it out — how to keep you safe, how to keep us safe. I want you to know you’re not alone in this.”
Keigo’s breath hitched, the knot in his chest loosening just a little. “I was worried about the public, about you… about being a trans man.”
Touya brushed a hand through Keigo’s hair, voice fierce with quiet resolve. “Let them talk. We know who we are, who we want to be. We’re stronger than their doubts.”
They held each other tight, the fear still there but tempered by the fierce, unspoken promise that whatever came next, they’d face it side by side.

Chapter Text

Touya headed out early, a half-packed sketchbag slung over his shoulder and Eri’s request echoing in his memory: “You promised to show me how to shade hair like yours!” He didn’t mind. Spending time at the dorms helped. Being around the kids—around people who laughed without flinching and listened without judgment—kept him grounded.
He didn’t say where Keigo was going.
Meanwhile, Keigo stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his hero jacket until it sat right. It didn’t hide the small swell of his lower stomach the way it used to. He sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair, before stepping out the door and heading to the Commission for a different kind of mission.
Not one that involved wings or arrests.
One that involved truth.
Because the Commission already knew he was trans. They’d known since he was a teenager, part of the early recruitment pipeline. But the public didn’t. And now, with a baby on the way, it wouldn’t be long before people asked questions. He needed a plan. He needed protection. Not for himself—he could handle a smear campaign. But for the child. And for Touya.
He was doing this for their family.
Back at U.A., Touya passed through the common space with a quiet nod to the students milling about. Mina waved him over. “Touya! You brought the sketchbook, right?”
He lifted it like a trophy. “As promised.”
Nobody asked why Keigo wasn’t with him today. And he didn’t offer it.
...
By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, Keigo was sitting across from three high-ranking Commission officials, hands folded, gaze level. Calm on the outside. But inside, he was bracing for everything.
Because this wasn’t just about coming out.
It was about rewriting what people thought they knew about heroes.
And about himself.
Keigo sat in a sleek, too-bright room that smelled like paper and power. Across from him were three familiar faces—Vice Director Nakamura, PR Director Hanabusa, and Agent Kinoshita. All people who had known him for years. All people who had seen him bleed for their system.
“I want to go public,” Keigo said plainly. “About the pregnancy. About being trans.”
Hanabusa raised an eyebrow, already tapping her tablet. “We figured this was coming, given your medical leave request. But this… This is a lot at once.”
“I know,” Keigo said. “But if it leaks before I say anything, it’ll be a scandal. If I say it first, on my terms, it’s a story.”
“And what kind of story would that be?” Nakamura asked, steepling his fingers.
Keigo exhaled slowly. “A true one. I’m not interested in being your perfect product anymore. I’m not sixteen. I’m not scared of who I am.”
Kinoshita, the only one who still called him by his first name, leaned forward. “You know how this goes, Keigo. They’ll twist it. They’ll question your body, your ability, your… worth.”
Keigo met his gaze. “Then let them. Because the people who need to see someone like me? They deserve better than silence.”
There was a heavy pause. Then Hanabusa spoke. “We’ll need to plan the rollout. Interviews. Social media. A written statement vetted through legal—”
“No press conferences,” Keigo interrupted. “Not yet. Just a post. Something real. Something soft. I’ll let people in, but not all the way.”
Hanabusa nodded slowly. “We can work with that.”
Keigo sat back. His hands were trembling slightly in his lap, but his spine stayed straight. The room was cold, but his resolve was warm and sharp.
He was done hiding.
...
Back at the dorms, Touya was on the common room floor, Eri perched beside him with a notebook open and a serious look on her face. “Why do shadows go blue in the light?”
“Because color’s all about what light gets absorbed,” Touya explained, sketching a simple figure and shading around it. “The sun’s warm, so shadows cool down. It's just how our eyes balance it.”
Eri blinked at him. “That’s so weird.”
“Yeah,” Touya muttered. “Most things are.”
Nearby, Kirishima and Sero were having a very intense argument about the correct way to slice a watermelon. Mina popped in every so often to ask if Touya had taken a new online sexuality quiz yet. He hadn’t.
He hadn’t told them anything about Keigo.
Not about the pregnancy. Not about the Commission. Not about the weight he saw in Keigo’s eyes when he left that morning.
He figured it wasn’t his story to tell.
Instead, he let himself exist in the moment—leaning back on his elbows, letting the students’ noise wash over him. Shinsou wandered in and tossed him a sports drink without explanation. He caught it one-handed.
Even now, even with everything shifting under his feet, Touya felt… still. Grounded. Like he was tethered to something solid for the first time in his life.
Maybe it wasn’t peace. But it was close.
...
They met again at the apartment.
Keigo looked exhausted. Not in a dramatic, broken way—but in a he’d done something brave today and needed to recharge kind of way. He walked in, dropped his bag, and toed off his shoes with a soft grunt.
“You okay?” Touya asked, watching him from the kitchen.
Keigo nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired. I told them. The Commission. Everything.”
Touya walked over, wrapped an arm around his waist, and leaned his head against Keigo’s shoulder. “How’d they take it?”
“Better than I thought. Worse than I hoped.” Keigo laughed, breathy. “They’re already drafting the post.”
Touya didn’t push for details. He just stood there, holding him close.
Keigo closed his eyes. “I want to tell the world… but right now, it feels good to just be here. With you.”
“Then be here,” Touya murmured. “World can wait.”
...
Later that night, after the quiet settling around them, Keigo pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen, heart pounding.
He typed just a few words:
"I'm dating Dabi."
No explanations. No clarifications. Just that.
He hit “Post” and set the phone down.
It was a start. The beginning of something new — a ripple in the stillness.
Because for now, all anyone needed to know was that he was with Touya.
Everything else could wait.

Chapter Text

The sun was warm and steady in the late morning as Touya and Keigo pulled up to the modest house they had visited the day before. The white paint on the siding was slightly chipped in places, and the garden was simple but lovingly tended—roses climbing a trellis near the porch, and wildflowers nodding in the soft breeze. It wasn’t grand, but something about its quiet charm called to them—a place where life could grow, where mistakes wouldn’t haunt every corner, and laughter could fill the rooms.
Keigo squeezed Touya’s hand gently as they stood on the porch, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with blooming jasmine drifting through the open windows. The warmth of the sun felt different here—less like a spotlight and more like a gentle embrace.
“I think this could be it,” Keigo said softly, eyes searching Touya’s face for a sign.
Touya exhaled slowly, the weight in his chest easing just a little. “A place for us. For everything we’re building.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the quiet fill the space between their words. The distant hum of the city was muffled here, replaced by birdsong and the faint rustle of leaves. It was peaceful in a way that felt unfamiliar but deeply needed.
Keigo smiled, but beneath it, nerves fluttered—soon they would share the most personal part of that future. The baby growing inside him. The secret he carried not just in his body, but in his heart. The truth he had yet to fully say out loud.
…
That evening, the dorm common room was warm with soft lighting and quiet chatter. Class 1-A had become a family in its own right, a patchwork of friendship that Touya and Keigo had come to rely on. The scent of coffee mingled with the faint sound of a guitar playing from someone’s phone. Around them, laughter and murmurs floated like a comforting blanket.
Touya stood up, his sketchbook resting forgotten on the table, pencil still tucked behind his ear. He cleared his throat gently, drawing curious looks.
“Everyone,” he began, voice low but steady, eyes scanning the circle of familiar faces. “Keigo and I want to tell you something.”
Keigo swallowed, hands fidgeting briefly before resting on his lap, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure where.
“I’m pregnant,” he said quietly.
The words hung in the air like fragile glass. For a moment, silence rippled through the room, thick and tense.
Then Mina’s face lit up with a wide grin, eyes sparkling. “That’s amazing! Congrats!”
Momo smiled softly, eyes warm and accepting. “We’re really happy for you both.”
Ochaco’s hand found Keigo’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You have our full support.”
Tokoyami gave a solemn nod, his usual quiet presence offering calm strength.
Shinsou’s eyes met Touya’s, silently telling him he wasn’t alone.
Touya felt the tension in his chest loosen, replaced by gratitude and something like hope.
“I wanted you all to know before we say anything public,” Keigo added. “This is still new for us, and we want to take it slow.”
Jirou leaned forward. “If you ever need anything—help, someone to talk to—you have us.”
Bakugou, sitting a little apart but no longer hostile, grunted. “Don’t screw it up.”
A small laugh bubbled from the group. Friendship felt real.
…
Later that night, Touya found Himiko in the common area, her eyes distant but attentive. The faint glow of the table lamp caught the pale yellow in her hair, giving her an almost ethereal look.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Touya said softly, sitting beside her.
Himiko looked up, meeting his gaze with a flicker of curiosity.
“Keigo is pregnant.”
Himiko blinked, the usual sharpness softening in her gaze. “Really?”
Touya nodded. “Yeah. We wanted you to hear it from us first. You’re part of this now, too.”
Himiko hesitated, then smiled faintly, almost shyly. “I don’t know much about babies… but I want to help.”
Touya’s lips curved into a grateful smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”
…
The next day, Touya and Keigo stood outside the Todoroki residence. The house was larger than the one they had seen together, older, full of the quiet weight of history and memory. It stood solid in the early sunlight, shadows playing across the stone walkway.
Rei answered the door, her gaze calm but curious, a little guarded perhaps, but welcoming.
“Mom,” Touya said quietly, stepping inside with Keigo close behind.
Soon, the rest of the family gathered—Enji, imposing but measured; Fuyumi, gentle but strong; Natsuo, wary but caring; and Shouto, quiet but watchful.
The air inside was cooler, carrying the faint scent of incense and old books.
Touya took a breath. “We have something important to tell you all.”
Keigo spoke next, voice steady despite the knot tightening in his stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
The room was silent, heavy with emotion.
Rei’s eyes shimmered, tears threatening. “This is… unexpected.”
Enji’s expression was guarded, muscles tense, but after a long pause, he nodded slowly. “You’re making your own path. That’s what matters.”
Fuyumi stepped forward, placing a hand on Keigo’s shoulder. “We’re here for you both.”
Natsuo’s brow furrowed with concern but softened when Touya met his eyes. “I’m glad you told us. We’ll support you.”
Shouto’s voice was quiet but firm. “Family is about more than blood. You have ours.”
Touya felt a weight lift—a blend of relief, fear, and a fragile hope for the future.
…
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Touya and Keigo sat together on the Todoroki porch, hands intertwined. The sky bled pink and orange, casting long shadows and bathing the world in a soft glow.
The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, it felt like they were walking it not alone but surrounded by chosen family, old and new.
A new beginning was unfolding. Honest, imperfect, and theirs.
…
Later that night, Keigo made a post on social media. Simple. Bold. Honest.
“I’m a trans man, and I’m not hiding any more.”
...
When Hawks posted, “I’m dating Dabi,” the internet went into a tailspin.
The public had known for a while that Hawks was overseeing Dabi’s rehabilitation. That news had made headlines months ago—after a controversial court case, the Hero Commission had made Hawks legally responsible for the former villain. The reaction then had been polarized: some hailed it as brave, others saw it as reckless. But time had passed. The world had started adjusting.
What no one expected was that it had turned into something more.
The post was short. Simple. Unapologetic.
I’m dating Dabi.
That was all it said.
But it was enough to shatter the internet.
#Dabihawks exploded within the hour. Fans, critics, and casual observers all weighed in.
Some responses were stunned but supportive:
“Wait. Are we… okay with this? Because I kind of love it.”
“Enemies to lovers is canon now???”
Others were vicious:
“This is disgusting. He’s in bed with a mass murderer.”
“How can we trust Hawks when he’s emotionally compromised?”
Some were confused, trying to reconcile the image of Japan’s fastest hero with the man who’d once set entire city blocks on fire.
Others saw something radical. Something human.
And then, a few days later, Hawks followed it up with a second post:
I’m a trans man. And I’m not hiding anymore.
It was like dropping a match on gasoline.
The internet lit up all over again.
There were thinkpieces. Reaction videos. Shaky vlogs from queer kids in their bedrooms saying thank you.
Transphobes crawled out of their corners, loud and cruel.
But support rose to drown them out.
“Keigo Takami is still a hero. He always has been.”
“As a trans guy, seeing someone like Hawks come out publicly… it means more than I can say.”
“They really thought they could shame him into silence. He just doubled down. King.”
Some worried that the Hero Commission had forced his hand, but the Commission issued a dry, generic statement:
“Keigo Takami remains a licensed Pro Hero in good standing. No disciplinary action is being taken.”
That was it. No denial. No apology. Just confirmation that Hawks wasn’t going anywhere.
In the weeks that followed, the public conversation only deepened. Questions kept circling:
Was it ethical to fall in love with someone you're rehabilitating?
Is redemption real, or just rebranding?
Can the public trust a hero who doesn’t fit their mold?
But one thing became increasingly clear:
Hawks wasn’t trying to be anyone’s fantasy anymore.
He was simply Keigo Takami.
A trans man. A hero. Someone who’d made a choice to live honestly—
No matter how loud the world got.

Chapter Text

The lights were too bright. Too white. Too sharp.
Hawks blinked against them, adjusting the mic clipped to his collar as a stagehand flitted past, checking cables. The studio was sleek, neutral-toned, the kind of place meant to feel friendly and safe. But it felt clinical. Strategic. Like it had been polished to death.
This was his first live interview since the posts.
Not the ones about Dabi. The ones about himself.
He hadn’t told anyone his real name. He hadn’t posted about the baby. But saying “I’m a trans man, and I’m not hiding anymore” had been enough to shake the public like a storm in a snowglobe.
Across from him sat the host—a well-known news anchor with perfect hair and a voice that could make a murder confession sound like a bedtime story.
The interview was set to begin in sixty seconds. He could hear the countdown in his earpiece.
Touya had offered to come. He’d even offered to sit backstage, to be nearby. But Keigo had said no.
He needed to do this alone.
This isn’t a press release. It’s me.
Thirty seconds.
He took a breath, letting it sit low in his chest. You’ve faced villains. You’ve flown through fire. This is just a chair and a camera.
Ten seconds.
The host leaned forward slightly, eyes bright with that practiced glimmer of interest. “Just be yourself,” she’d told him earlier. “But remember, you’re live.”
Five. Four. Three…
We’re live.
The theme music faded out.
“Welcome back to HeroTalk Live, I’m your host, Misaki Terao, and today we have with us none other than Japan’s current Number Two Pro Hero, Hawks.” Her voice was smooth and polished. “Thank you for joining us, Hawks.”
Hawks gave a polite nod, his wings shifting subtly against the back of the sleek gray chair. “Happy to be here.”
“Now, let’s not waste time. You’ve made two very big public posts this past week. The first: ‘I’m dating Dabi.’ And the second: ‘I’m a trans man, and I’m not hiding anymore.’” She paused, letting the words hang. “The internet’s been on fire ever since.”
He nodded, his smile small but steady.
“So, let’s start with the first post,” Misaki continued. “When did you and Dabi start dating?”
Hawks let out a breath and adjusted his mic slightly. “Well… that’s a little complicated. We haven’t really been on a proper date, but we officially became ‘partners’ a little after his first outing.”
“His first outing—as in, his first appearance as a rehabilitated citizen under your care?”
“Right.”
Misaki’s brow lifted just slightly. “So the people want to know, Hawks—when did you realize you were in love with the former villain, Dabi?”
Keigo chuckled softly. “Okay, so... I actually realized before I convinced him to quit villainy.”
That earned a surprised reaction from the audience. Misaki blinked. “Really? I mean—what in the world did you see in the man?” She lifted her hands quickly, offering a disarming smile. “No offense meant—just asking what the people are thinking.”
Hawks nodded, calm. “It’s a fair question. I—I saw him treat the League kindly. I saw him take care of lost kids. And I wondered... why the hell is this guy a villain?” His voice turned quiet, thoughtful. “There was something in his eyes that yelled, ‘Just see me.’ And I couldn’t look away. So I started watching him. And the more I watched... the more curious I got.”
His gaze drifted slightly, as if remembering. “I admired his strength. Just... not the way he was using it.”
There was a beat of silence.
Misaki’s voice softened. “That was actually very sweet, Hawks. Did you ever find out his motives?”
Hawks nodded. “Yeah. I did. He was on the streets for a while—about four years, I think. He saw a lot of terrible things—women and children being hurt, abused, and ignored. And he decided he was going to stop those people. He joined the League because it gave him access to that information.”
He hesitated. “Eventually... the League became his family. It was hard for him to leave them, because they stayed when no one else did.”
Misaki’s expression shifted, her usual polish cracking with real emotion. “That tugged on my heartstrings. I didn’t expect that answer.”
Hawks gave a sad little smile. “That’s the thing. Most villains—not all, but most—have a reason for the things they do. And I’ve always believed that as a hero, my job isn’t just about arresting people. It’s about saving them. Even if that means saving them from themselves.”
A quiet murmur ran through the studio audience.
Misaki sat back for a moment, letting the words settle. “That’s beautiful, Hawks. Thank you for sharing that.” Then, with a gentle pivot, she added, “So... moving on to your second post.”
His heartbeat stuttered.
Here it is.
Misaki didn’t hesitate. “So, you’re a trans man.”
Keigo nodded once, shoulders a little stiffer now.
Misaki gave him a reassuring smile, her tone respectful. “So, you were born a girl?”
Another nod. “Yeah.”
“When did you realize that you didn’t feel like a girl?”
Keigo took a breath, fingers tightening just slightly in his lap. “I think I first noticed around thirteen. Every time someone said my name—my old name—or used she or her, I just... cringed. It felt wrong. Not like discomfort, more like a suit that didn’t fit no matter how I wore it.”
He glanced briefly at the camera, then back at Misaki. “It got worse over time. By the time I was fifteen, I talked to someone about it. A therapist. At seventeen, I started my transition. And at eighteen... I debuted as a hero. As Hawks.”
Misaki’s tone stayed steady. “And you’ve kept that part of yourself private all this time.”
“I had to,” Keigo said quietly. “I didn’t know if the world would still see me as a hero if they knew who I really was. But I do now. And I’m done hiding.”
There was no applause. Just silence. Full, emotional, human silence.
Then Misaki smiled again. “Well, Hawks—thank you. Truly. For trusting us. For being honest, and brave. You’ve given a lot of people something they’ve never seen before: a hero who tells the truth even when it’s hard.”
Keigo looked into the camera, eyes steady. “I’m still the same hero. Still Hawks. Still doing my best to protect the people who need it.” He paused. “And that includes people like me.”
The segment ended not with a dramatic swell of music, but with a quiet, steady fade-out.
On social media, his name was already trending again.
But for the first time in a long time, Keigo felt like he could breathe.
He hadn’t told them everything. Not yet.
But he’d told the truth.
And as the camera panned out and the lights dimmed, the interviewer glanced down at her notes. “Before we close—Hawks, is there anything else you’d like to share with the public?”
Keigo hesitated, then offered a small, knowing smile.
“There is,” he said carefully. “But I’m not ready to share it yet.”
He let that linger. A gentle promise. Something still growing in the dark.
“And when I am,” he added, “I’ll tell the world. But for now... this is enough.”
...
The apartment was quiet when Keigo unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He had left the lights off that morning, and now the soft afternoon sun filtered in through the balcony, casting golden patches across the floor. For a moment, it felt like the apartment was holding its breath, waiting.
Keigo dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, kicked off his shoes, and shrugged out of his jacket. His adrenaline from the interview had finally worn off, and now that the pressure was gone, exhaustion rushed in to take its place.
And something else.
His stomach turned sharply.
“Shit,” he muttered, bolting for the bathroom.
He barely made it in time, gripping the sides of the toilet as the nausea overtook him. It wasn’t dramatic — just relentless. His body clenching and rejecting the stress, the tension, the full force of the morning’s emotions.
When it finally passed, he sank back on the floor, breathing hard.
Touya wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t. He was at U.A., hanging out with the kids or sketching something in the dorm common room. Keigo had told him to go. Said he needed the space to focus on the interview. He hadn’t wanted Touya to see how nervous he really was.
Now he kind of wished Touya were here.
He leaned his head against the cool tile wall and closed his eyes. His phone buzzed on the sink nearby, probably already flooded with messages from the PR team, fan reactions, or maybe reporters trying to twist his words.
He didn’t check it.
Instead, he whispered, “You did it,” to himself.
Because he had.
He’d told the world the truth about being trans. He’d told them about Touya. And he had more still to say — about the baby, about what it meant to be both a hero and a person still figuring things out — but that could wait.
Right now, he just needed to breathe. To rest. To remind himself that being brave didn’t mean not being scared.

Chapter Text

The dorm TV was already on when Touya walked into the common room, still brushing stray pencil dust off his fingers.
Bakugou was sprawled on the couch, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the screen. Mina, Denki, and Jirou were half-sitting, half-lounging across the beanbags, snacks forgotten in their laps. Tsuyu and Shouto were perched by the window, while Momo sat upright, phone in hand, like she was ready to fact-check at any second.
Touya paused. “What’s going on?”
“Uh,” Mina said, barely glancing at him. “Your boyfriend just dropped everything on live TV.”
“What?” Touya moved closer, heart speeding up.
The screen was replaying a highlight from the earlier interview. The news anchor’s voice rang out:
“So Hawks, you’re a trans man.”
Hawks nodded.
“You were born a girl?”
He nodded again.
“When did you know you didn’t feel like one?”
“I think I first noticed when I was thirteen…”
Touya’s breath caught. The camera focused on Keigo — calm but vulnerable, back straight, voice steady as he explained how his name never felt right, how he transitioned at seventeen, how he became a pro hero not long after.
The room was dead silent.
“Damn,” Kaminari whispered. “He just… said it. Like that.”
“I knew something was up when he said, ‘I’m not hiding anymore,’” Jirou said softly.
“I didn’t expect him to be that honest,” said Momo, lowering her phone. “That was… incredibly brave.”
Bakugou grunted, but his expression wasn’t annoyed — it was serious. “Takes guts to say that with the whole damn world watching.”
Then came the other part.
“I’m dating Dabi.”
“When did it happen?”
“We haven’t really had a proper date… but we became partners after his first outing.”
“What did you see in him?”
“I saw him take care of lost kids. I saw kindness in the way he protected people no one else cared about…”
Touya couldn’t breathe.
He sat down slowly, knees loose beneath him.
He’d known Keigo was planning to talk about the relationship publicly — they’d agreed on that much. But hearing it, seeing it, watching Keigo speak about him with so much open tenderness and faith — it made something deep inside Touya crack open.
The room stayed quiet a beat longer.
Then Mina turned, eyes glossy but smiling. “He loves you so much, you know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Touya murmured. “I know.”
Shouto looked at him then, his voice soft. “He sounded proud of you. Like he wanted the world to see what he sees.”
Touya looked at the screen, where the last clip was replaying.
“As a hero, I dedicate myself to saving people. And if that means saving villains from themselves… then so be it.”
“I have more news, but I’m not ready to share it just yet.”
He felt his heart stutter.
The baby.
They didn’t know yet.
He stood slowly, voice low. “I need to text him.”
Before he left the room, Mina called out, “Tell him we’re proud of him, okay?”
“And that he’s not alone,” Momo added.
“He’s got a whole class of backup dancers now,” Denki said with a wink. “Just say the word.”
Touya smiled despite himself and nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
As he walked down the hall, away from the flickering glow of the common room, the weight in his chest didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
He wasn’t alone either.
...
The apartment was quiet when Touya unlocked the door.
Too quiet.
He kicked off his boots, expecting the soft hum of the TV or the rustle of Keigo flipping through a book. But the air was still. A tension lingered—sharp and hushed.
“Keigo?” Touya called, moving through the living room.
No answer.
Then he heard it—a choked cough, followed by the sound of something hitting porcelain.
He rushed to the bathroom.
The door was cracked open. Inside, the light was harsh against pale tile. Keigo was curled on the floor, one arm braced against the side of the toilet, the other cradling his stomach. His wings were low and limp, feathers sticking slightly from sweat. He didn’t even flinch when Touya dropped to his knees beside him.
“Shit,” Touya whispered, his voice cracking. “Keigo—hey—breathe.”
Keigo shuddered and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled, barely audible. “Didn’t want to scare you.”
“You’re throwing up alone in a bathroom,” Touya said, voice tight. “I think I’m allowed to be a little scared.”
Keigo tried to smile, but his lips trembled instead.
Touya grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cool water, and gently pressed it to Keigo’s forehead. “You didn’t eat anything bad, did you?”
Keigo shook his head slowly. “Just… morning sickness. Or... night sickness. It’s all the same now.”
Touya froze for half a second. Even though he knew—even though Keigo had told him—seeing it like this made it real in a way words never could. The pregnancy wasn’t just a future event. It was happening now. Inside the man he loved.
“You should’ve called me,” Touya said softly.
“I didn’t wanna bother you,” Keigo muttered, looking away. “You were at UA. And I was tired. I thought it would pass.”
Touya swallowed hard. “You’re never a bother. Especially not now.”
He ran his fingers through Keigo’s hair, brushing damp strands away from his face. Keigo leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“I watched your interview at the dorms,” Touya said after a beat. “The kids were glued to the screen.”
Keigo groaned. “God, that makes it worse.”
“No,” Touya said, firm. “It made everything better. They were proud of you. Mina cried a little. Even Bakugou didn’t insult anyone.”
Keigo blinked, then gave a weak chuckle. “A miracle.”
Touya’s hand drifted from his hair to the curve of his back, just between his wings. “You didn’t have to do all that. But I’m so damn proud of you for doing it anyway.”
Keigo leaned into him, forehead pressing to Touya’s chest. “There’s still more we haven’t said yet.”
Touya’s hand moved to rest gently over Keigo’s stomach.
“I know,” he said softly. “We’ll get there. Together.”
They stayed like that on the bathroom floor for a long time—just breathing, just being, as the weight of the day began to lift.
Eventually, Touya helped Keigo to bed, brought him water, wrapped him in blankets, and curled beside him.
Outside, the city moved on. But in their little home, something gentle was growing.
A future. A family.

Chapter Text

The house smelled like dust and possibility.
It was late afternoon when Touya twisted the key in the lock and pushed the front door open for the first time—not as a visitor, not as a maybe, but as a man stepping into his new home.
Their home.
Keigo stood behind him, arms full of pillows, a blanket precariously balanced on top. “Well?” he said, voice warm despite the nerves beneath it. “You gonna let me in, or is this a one-man domestic fantasy?”
Touya huffed a laugh and stepped aside, letting the sun spill into the entryway. “Welcome home, birdbrain.”
Keigo stepped through the doorway and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.
There was no furniture yet. Just boxes, open space, and the creak of unfamiliar floors beneath their feet. But it didn’t feel empty. Not really. It felt like a beginning.
“Couch goes there,” Keigo said, pointing to the sunlit corner near the big windows. “Art room’s that way. I claim the sunroom. You can’t stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Touya said, dropping his duffel bag in the hallway. “But if you put ugly curtains in it, I will set them on fire.”
Keigo snorted. “So aggressive.”
They wandered from room to room, speaking in half-sentences and laughter. The kitchen made Touya light up like it was Christmas—“I’m gonna cook the shit out of this kitchen”—while Keigo claimed the hallway closet for “cape storage,” despite having exactly one hero cape and no intention of wearing it unless the Commission made him.
Eventually, they collapsed in the empty living room, surrounded by boxes and the golden light of early evening. Touya leaned back on his elbows and let the light hit his face. Keigo curled beside him, head resting on Touya’s shoulder.
“I never thought I’d have something like this,” Keigo said quietly.
Touya’s fingers brushed his knuckles. “I didn’t either.”
They sat in the quiet for a while, listening to the distant sound of birds and the wind rustling through the trees outside.
Then Keigo said, “Do you think the baby will like it here?”
Touya turned his head just enough to look at him. There was no panic in his eyes this time—just something cautious and soft.
“I think,” he said slowly, “they’ll love it. Especially if they end up loud and chaotic like you.”
Keigo smiled. “So you’ll love them too?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. He looked out the window—at the overgrown backyard and the tiny garden bed that would soon be full of herbs and tomatoes and Keigo’s questionable attempts at sunflowers.
Then he nodded. “Yeah. I will.”
Keigo’s hand drifted to his stomach, almost unconsciously. Touya noticed, but didn’t comment. He just leaned closer, until their foreheads touched.
“I want to be good at this,” Touya murmured. “I want to be good for you. And for them.”
“You already are,” Keigo whispered back.
And just like that, the new house felt less like walls and windows, and more like a future.
A quiet place to build something real.
...
Boxes littered every surface. Bubble wrap stuck to the walls. Someone—probably Kaminari—had already knocked over a lamp twice, even though it wasn’t plugged in.
The living room buzzed with energy as Class 1-A poured through the front door, voices loud and overlapping, arms full of housewarming gifts, snacks, and half-labeled boxes.
Eri stood at the center of it all, hugging her beloved stuffed rabbit Clover tightly and looking around the house with wide, sparkling eyes.
“Is this your new house?” she asked Touya, standing on her tiptoes to peek into the hallway.
Touya crouched next to her. “Yeah, kiddo. What do you think?”
Eri tilted her head, then smiled. “It feels warm.”
“That’s because we don’t have furniture yet and it’s 85 degrees,” Kaminari joked, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
Hizashi stepped through the door last, sunglasses perched on his head, arms full of cleaning supplies and energy drinks. “I come bearing bleach and caffeine! Who’s ready to make this place sparkle?”
“You’re unreasonably enthusiastic about disinfectant,” Aizawa said from where he leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed—but the corner of his mouth twitched with affection.
“Guys,” Mina gasped dramatically from the dining room. “They have a PANTRY. A WHOLE PANTRY.”
“Don’t go in there,” Jirou said. “There’s a box labeled ‘spices’ that smelled like it could murder someone.”
“That’s my chili powder,” Touya called. “It will murder someone.”
Shouto arrived with Fuyumi’s handmade curtains, which he handed to Keigo with quiet reverence. “These are flame-retardant. Just in case.”
“I feel like that was targeted,” Touya muttered.
“It was,” Shouto said flatly.
They broke off into pairs: Momo and Tokoyami took the kitchen with militant efficiency, labeling drawers and alphabetizing spices. Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugou tackled the heavy lifting with near-destructive enthusiasm. Bakugou yelled at everyone to “get out of the damn hallway” at least three times.
Himiko curled up on the window seat with Eri, folding kitchen towels and softly pointing out which box should go where. Occasionally, Eri would dart up to carry a towel to Keigo, beaming like she was helping build a kingdom.
Touya stood by the back door, arms crossed, watching it all unfold. His eyes were soft, if a little overwhelmed.
Keigo joined him, two mugs of tea in hand. “You okay?”
Touya nodded. “They’re... really loud.”
“They’re also making this house a home.”
Touya looked around again—at Jirou singing along to Hizashi’s bluetooth speaker, at Midoriya politely asking if he could hang Keigo’s hero photo on the wall, at Shinsou silently organizing the bookshelves by genre. Even Bakugou seemed slightly less angry than usual.
“Yeah,” Touya said softly. “They are.”
Keigo nudged his arm. “This doesn’t feel like a housewarming. It feels like a family reunion.”
Touya looked over at him. “We didn’t know we had one until now.”
Just then, Sero wandered into the kitchen carrying a blender box. “Hey, where do you want this?” he asked Keigo.
Keigo blinked. “That’s not ours.”
“It was on your porch.”
“...Did someone give us a blender?”
“Probably Mina,” Jirou called. “She said every household needs a party appliance.”
“She also gave them disco lights,” Kaminari added, flipping the switch to prove it. Colorful lights scattered across the ceiling, prompting cheers from half the room and a groan from Bakugou.
“I’m gonna kill all of you,” he muttered.
“See?” Keigo said, sipping his tea. “Home.”
Touya rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
...
The house was quiet again.
Not empty—but settled. Full. Warm.
Most of the boxes were unpacked or shoved into corners to deal with later. The disco lights had been mercifully switched off. The kitchen still smelled faintly of cinnamon from the cookies Momo had baked and insisted they keep.
Touya and Keigo sat on the living room floor, backs against the wall, a shared blanket wrapped around their legs. The lights were dim. A single lamp cast a golden glow over the room.
Clover, Eri’s stuffed rabbit, had been left behind on purpose—now perched on the couch, still wearing one of Kaminari’s sunglasses like a silent guardian.
“She said it’s for luck,” Keigo murmured.
Touya looked over at the bunny. “We live in a shrine now.”
Keigo snorted. “A very gay shrine.”
Touya huffed a laugh and leaned his head back against the wall. “Fitting.”
Silence settled between them—comfortable, weightless. Keigo shifted slightly, resting his head on Touya’s shoulder. His hand brushed over his own stomach, absent and tender.
“I keep wondering if it’s okay,” Keigo whispered. “That we get to have this. You. Me. A home.”
Touya was quiet for a moment. Then he turned, just enough to see Keigo's face in the soft light. His voice was low and rough at the edges. “It is.”
Keigo looked at him, eyes shining. “I love you.”
Touya stared at him, something flickering behind his eyes—fear, awe, maybe both. Then, softly, he said it back. Like breathing. Like bleeding. Like healing.
“I love you too.”
Keigo exhaled like he'd been holding that hope forever.
Touya reached out, let his fingers slip into Keigo’s, their hands warm and steady. He didn’t look away this time.
They sat like that for a long while—quiet and whole and impossibly real.
And when they fell asleep, curled up on the living room floor surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, it didn’t feel like the end of something.
It felt like the beginning.

Chapter Text

SMUT WARNING
The next morning felt a little off. Keigo was feeling pretty worked up, but Touya was still deep asleep. His mind was engulfed in want—thoughts swirling, longing for something more, something close. Keigo wondered if this was just his pregnacy hormones. That didn’t really matter, he wanted Touya and he wanted him now. But he looked so cute sleeping peacefully in the new house. He hesitated, but eventually he kissed Touya’s neck.
Keigo’s lips brushed softly against Touya’s neck, warm and tentative at first, then more sure as the quiet morning stretched around them. Touya stirred, eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep but catching the meaning in Keigo’s touch.
“Morning,” Keigo whispered, voice low and a little breathless.
Touya blinked up at him, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up this early?”
Keigo shrugged, cheeks flushing. “Must be the pregnancy hormones. Or maybe it’s just... you.”
Touya huffed a soft laugh and reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Keigo’s ear. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Keigo leaned down, kissing him with intent—slow but full of heat. “I want you,” he murmured against Touya’s lips. “Will you let me have you?”
Touya’s breath caught. His heart was pounding, but his voice was steady. “Yeah. I’m yours.”
Keigo kissed him again, deeper this time. Then he pulled back just enough to whisper, “I… I want you to go down on me.”
Touya’s eyes widened—more surprised by how fast the word left his own mouth. “Ok.”
Touya eased Keigo’s pants down, taking his time. He leaned in, brushing his mouth against the inside of Keigo’s thigh, pressing a soft, teasing bite into the skin.
Keigo shivered, his breath catching.
Touya’s fingers curled around the waistband of his underwear and slid them down slowly. The shift of warm air made Keigo’s head tip back against a nearby box with a dull thud, a quiet gasp escaping him.
Once the last bit of fabric was tossed aside, Touya knelt between Keigo’s legs, eyes dark with a kind of wonder. He hesitated for a heartbeat—then lowered his mouth and gently ran his tongue between Keigo’s folds, learning the shape of him through touch.
Keigo trembled beneath him, one hand gripping the edge of the box, the other reaching down to tangle in Touya’s hair.
Keigo’s breath hitched as Touya’s tongue moved with careful intent, slow and exploratory. It wasn’t rushed—it was reverent, like he was learning a language written into Keigo’s skin. And maybe he was.
“F-fuck,” Keigo whispered, his voice cracking, his fingers tightening slightly in Touya’s hair. “You’re doing so good…”
Touya glanced up at him, cheeks flushed, lashes low over dark eyes. He pressed a kiss just above Keigo’s clit before returning to the rhythm he’d found, more confident now. His hands rested on Keigo’s hips, grounding them both.
Keigo’s body arched under the attention, pleasure building like a slow wave. It wasn’t just physical—it was intimate in a way that made his chest ache.
“You’re so good to me,” Keigo murmured, barely able to breathe. “Touya, I—”
Touya hummed against him, and the sound made Keigo fall apart a little more. He felt seen. Held. Loved.
And that feeling overwhelmed everything else.
Keigo’s breath trembled as Touya held him steady, every movement precise, deliberate. It wasn’t just hunger—it was devotion. Like Touya wanted to understand every inch of him, not just with hands or mouth, but with heart.
The world around them faded—boxes half-unpacked, morning sun slipping through new curtains, the scent of jasmine and coffee still in the air. All that remained was the warmth between them, the rhythm of breath and touch and unspoken words.
Keigo whispered his name like a prayer. Touya answered by pressing closer, grounding him, savoring the way Keigo responded to his touch like he was music Touya had been learning to play by ear.
“Please don’t stop,” Keigo gasped, hands fisting the blanket, eyes squeezed shut. “I need you, I need this—”
“You have me,” Touya murmured, voice rough, reverent. “You’ve always had me.”
Touya let instinct take over, following every twitch and tremble with focused intent. Touya kept going, deliberate and focused, determined to bring Keigo to the edge.
Keigo’s fingers tightened in Touya’s white hair as waves of pleasure built inside him, every movement drawing him closer to the edge. His breath hitched, hips arching into Touya’s mouth, caught between restraint and raw need.
“T-Touya—” he gasped, voice trembling, “I’m—close—”
Touya didn’t slow down. If anything, he became more precise, more deliberate, like he could feel every shift in Keigo’s body and responded with wordless understanding.
Keigo’s back arched, a strangled sound escaping him as the pressure inside finally broke. He came with a sharp cry, thighs trembling, hands still tangled in white strands.
Touya stayed there, swallowing it all without hesitation, holding Keigo steady as he came apart.
When Keigo finally relaxed, chest heaving and flushed all over, he reached for Touya with shaky fingers. “Holy shit,” he whispered, dazed. “That was…”
Touya pressed a kiss to his inner thigh, then looked up with the barest hint of a smug smile. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”
Keigo let out a breathless laugh and tugged him up for a kiss. “You’re dangerous.”
Touya kissed him slow, lips warm and sure. “Only for you.”
END OF SMUT
Keigo curled up against Touya’s side, the warmth between them settling like a balm. His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of pleasure and relief.
Touya wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, fingers tracing idle patterns along Keigo’s back. “You okay?” he murmured, voice soft.
Keigo nodded, tilting his head to rest against Touya’s shoulder. “Better than okay. I didn’t know I needed that so much.”
Touya chuckled quietly. “Pregnancy hormones can be intense. Lucky for you, I’m here.”
Keigo smiled, eyes half-lidded and full of quiet affection. “Yeah. You always are.”
For a moment, neither said anything, just breathing each other in, the silence between them comfortable and full.
Finally, Keigo whispered, “I love you.”
Touya’s heartbeat skipped. He looked down, meeting Keigo’s gaze—vulnerable, earnest.
“I love you too,” Touya said, voice low and certain. “More than I ever thought I could.”
Keigo smiled, fingers brushing Touya’s cheek. “Then let’s keep building this. Our home. Our life.”
Touya squeezed him gently. “Together.”
And in that quiet, sunlit room, everything felt possible.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun poured golden light through the wide windows of the new house, casting long shadows across the freshly unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture. The scent of jasmine from the garden mingled with the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea.
Touya and Keigo stood near the entrance, nerves fluttering beneath their calm facades. Today was the day the Todoroki family would visit—the first time Rei, Enji, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto would see their new home and the life Touya and Keigo were building.
A car pulled up the gravel driveway, and Touya’s heart quickened.
Rei was the first to step out, her usual calm grace radiating as she took in the house with curious eyes. Behind her followed Enji, his imposing presence softened by a faint, cautious smile. Fuyumi offered a warm, supportive nod, while Natsuo’s sharp gaze flickered between the house and the couple. Shouto’s quiet demeanor remained steady, though Touya could tell he was paying close attention.
“Welcome,” Touya said, stepping forward, fingers lightly brushing Keigo’s as they exchanged a reassuring glance.
Rei smiled gently. “It’s beautiful. You’ve done well.”
The group moved inside, their footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floors. Keigo led them to the sunroom, where light flooded in through glass walls, illuminating the space where he often found peace.
“This is perfect,” Fuyumi said softly, running her hand along the window ledge.
Natsuo raised an eyebrow but nodded approvingly. “It feels like home.”
In the kitchen, Enji crossed his arms, eyeing the ample counters and modern appliances. “Looks like you’re ready for anything.”
Touya grinned. “Keigo insists on a big kitchen, mostly so I won’t let him cook.”
Keigo rolled his eyes but laughed. “I’m improving.”
Laughter broke the tension as they explored room by room, filling the space with warmth and familiar voices.
Later, seated in the living room, Rei looked at Touya with clear eyes. “You’ve come a long way. This house… it’s more than just walls and furniture. It’s a testament to the family you’re creating.”
Touya felt something tighten in his chest—a mixture of gratitude, hope, and the lingering ghosts of his past.
Keigo squeezed his hand gently. “We’re ready to keep moving forward.”
Shouto nodded quietly, his gaze steady. “We’re here for you.”
As the sun dipped lower, the Todoroki family lingered a little longer, their presence weaving new threads of connection into the fabric of Touya and Keigo’s life.
A new chapter had begun—not just for the house, but for the family within it.
...
Later in the afternoon, as the rest of the Todorokis explored the backyard with Touya—Natsuo inspecting the overgrown garden bed—Rei placed a gentle hand on Keigo’s arm.
“Would you mind if Fuyumi and I borrowed you for a moment?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.
Keigo blinked, then smiled. “Of course.”
They led him into the sunroom, where the golden light pooled across the floor. The room was quiet except for the hum of summer outside. Keigo sat on the edge of the low couch, and Rei took the seat beside him. Fuyumi sat in the armchair across, her fingers folded neatly in her lap.
There was a beat of silence. Then Rei reached over and lightly touched Keigo’s hand.
“How are you?” she asked, with a look that cut through everything—past the mask of humor he often wore, past the headlines and public questions.
Keigo hesitated. “I’m… okay. Tired sometimes. Nauseous. And emotional, like, all the time,” he added with a breath of laughter.
Fuyumi smiled, gently amused. “That sounds about right.”
“But I’m also…” He looked down for a second, then back up. “I’m happy. Nervous, yeah. But happy.”
Rei’s hand stayed on his. “It’s a big thing. Bringing a child into the world. Especially when the world hasn’t always been kind to you.” Her voice was low, knowing.
Keigo’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”
“You’re not alone in this,” Fuyumi said gently. “We know you and Touya are building something new. And we want to be part of that, if you’ll let us. We’re here—for both of you. And for the baby.”
Keigo blinked hard. “Thank you. Really. That means more than I know how to say.”
Rei smiled. “You don’t need to say everything. You’re already doing so much just by choosing to be here. To keep going.”
Keigo let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be good at this. I mean, being a parent.”
Rei looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment—then softened into something kind and deep. “The fact that you’re asking that question means you already care enough to try. And that’s what matters most.”
“I used to think I had to be perfect,” Keigo admitted. “But now I just want to be real. I want this kid to feel safe. And seen. And loved.”
“You’re going to be wonderful,” Fuyumi said, her eyes warm. “And we’ll be here to help. Diaper runs, late-night babysitting, all of it.”
Keigo laughed, wiping his eyes. “You guys are gonna make me cry again.”
“That’s allowed,” Rei said gently. “Especially now.”
They sat in that quiet warmth for a few more minutes. Not as hero and former villain’s son. Not as media figures or tragic names. Just as family—newly formed, quietly growing.
...
Out back, the early evening sun cast long shadows across the yard. Shouto had claimed the task of pulling weeds from the old garden bed.
Touya sat on the porch steps with a bottle of water, watching Shouto grumble as he unearthed a particularly stubborn root. Natsuo emerged from inside, two drinks in hand—iced tea for himself, soda for Touya.
“Peace offering,” Natsuo said, holding out the can.
Touya raised a brow. “For what?”
“I dunno. Existing? Asking a question? Being a brother?”
Touya snorted and accepted the drink. “You’re such a dork.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard worse,” Natsuo said, settling onto the steps beside him. They sat in silence for a moment, watching Shouto continue his war with the garden. Then, softly, Natsuo asked, “So. How are you doing with all this?”
Touya didn’t answer right away.
“With the baby,” Natsuo clarified, his voice low. “With Keigo. With everything changing.”
Touya exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the half-dead tomato plant in the corner. “I’m… overwhelmed. Not in a bad way. Just—it’s a lot. I never thought I’d get this far, you know? That I’d have something that felt this real.”
Natsuo nodded, quiet. “It is real.”
Touya took a sip of his drink, then rested the can on his knee. “Sometimes I catch myself waiting for it to fall apart. Like there’s no way I get to keep this. Him. The kid.”
“You do,” Natsuo said gently. “You’re not the same person you were a few years ago, Touya. You’ve changed. You’ve grown. You’re still growing.”
Touya blinked hard at that. He wasn’t used to hearing it from Natsuo—not in such simple, certain words.
Natsuo leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky. “You know… I think about Dad a lot. About the kind of man I swore I’d never be.”
Touya snorted bitterly. “Don’t we all.”
“But watching you,” Natsuo said, turning his head to look at him, “I don’t see him. I see you trying. I see someone who fought his way back from everything. You’re not perfect. But you’re nothing like him.”
That hit harder than Touya expected.
He nodded, swallowing past the knot in his throat. “Thanks,” he said roughly. “Really.”
Natsuo bumped his shoulder. “Just don’t name the kid anything weird.”
“No promises,” Touya smirked.
They fell back into silence—easy now, comfortable. Shouto grunted from across the yard and held up a twisted clump of weeds like a trophy.
“Victory is mine,” he called.
Touya and Natsuo both raised their drinks in salute, and for a moment, everything felt steady.
Family didn’t erase the past. But it could build something better in its wake.
...
As the Todoroki family gathered their things to leave the new house, Shouto quietly slipped Clover, the well-loved stuffed rabbit, into his jacket. No one had asked him to — he just remembered Eri's arms wrapped tight around it the last time they visited, and the way she'd lit up when she saw it.
When Fuyumi glanced at him with a curious tilt of her head, he simply said, “Eri forgot something.”
She smiled, understanding immediately.
...
BONUS SCENE
Later that evening, back at the U.A. dorms, Eri was curled up on the common room couch with a book in her lap, but she wasn’t really reading. Her eyes kept drifting to the door.
When it opened, Shouto stepped in, his expression as neutral as ever—but there was something tucked under his arm. Eri sat up straighter.
“I think you forgot this,” he said simply, walking over and gently placing Clover in her lap.
Her eyes went wide. “Clover!”
She hugged the stuffed rabbit close, a wave of relief washing over her face. “I thought I lost her when we visited Touya and Keigo’s new house.”
“You did,” Shouto said. “But I remembered.”
Eri looked up at him, face bright. “Thank you, Shouto!”
He nodded once, and before he could step away, she reached out and hugged him.
He froze for a moment, then awkwardly patted her head.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured.
From the hallway, Hizashi watched with a proud smile. “Softie,” he whispered, nudging Aizawa, who grunted in agreement.

Chapter Text

It was late, nearly midnight, and the dorm halls were still. Most of Class 1-A had gone to bed hours ago. But Himiko was wide awake, curled up on the couch in the common room with her knees tucked to her chest, a blanket draped around her shoulders.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep there, but the quiet hum of the building had wrapped around her like a lullaby—until she heard the soft creak of a door down the hall.
Izuku stepped out, his expression tense, eyes shadowed. His shoulders were hunched like he was trying to disappear.
Himiko sat up. “Bad dream?”
He jumped a little, then offered a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was still up.”
“You want me to go?” she asked.
He shook his head immediately. “No. No, it’s okay. I… couldn’t go back to sleep anyway.”
She patted the other end of the couch.
Izuku walked over slowly and sat down beside her, careful to leave some space—but not too much. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the low buzz of the fridge in the nearby kitchen.
“Do you ever get scared people will never really see you?” Himiko asked suddenly. Her voice was soft, almost unsure.
Izuku glanced over. “Yeah. All the time.”
“I try so hard to be good now,” she said, curling a bit tighter into herself. “But I still catch people flinching. Like they’re waiting for me to snap.”
He looked at her, really looked, and said, “I don’t think you’re scary.”
Himiko blinked, surprised. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “No. I think you’re strong. And honest. And trying harder than most people ever will.”
She smiled, a small, uncertain thing. “You’re really weird, Midoriya.”
“I know,” he said, laughing softly. “But I mean it.”
Their eyes met, holding there longer than before. Himiko’s heart fluttered in a way she hadn’t expected.
Izuku took a breath. “Would you—um—would you maybe want to go out with me sometime?”
Himiko blinked. “Like… a date?”
He nodded, face going pink. “Yeah. I mean… only if you want to.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then she smiled. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like that.”
Izuku exhaled, relief washing over him like sunlight. He glanced at her again, softer now. “Cool. Cool, okay.”
They didn’t need to say anything else. They just sat together, shoulders gently touching, letting the quiet hold them.
For the first time in a long time, Himiko felt like someone really saw her.
And for the first time, Izuku felt like maybe she could see him, too.
...
Later that night, after Izuku had gone back to his dorm and Himiko was alone again, she stared at her phone for a full five minutes before dialing Touya.
He answered on the third ring, voice groggy but alert. “Himi? You okay?”
“Izuku asked me out,” she blurted.
A beat of silence.
Then, “Wait—what? He what?”
“He asked me out,” she repeated, flopping back onto the couch and staring at the ceiling. “Like on a real date. And I said yes. And now I think I might throw up.”
Touya snorted. “That’s normal. Dating makes everyone sick.”
She laughed, but it was a nervous sound. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You like him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re doing fine.”
Himiko was about to respond when—
“WHAT?” Mina’s voice shrieked from the hallway. “YOU GOT ASKED OUT?!”
Himiko jumped. “Oh no.”
Mina burst into the room dramatically, phone already in hand. “Hang up on big bro, we’re doing this right. GIRLS’ NIGHT!”
Within minutes, the common room had been transformed into a cozy chaos of blankets, nail polish, snacks, and squealing.
Jirou arrived with a Bluetooth speaker. Ochaco brought matcha Pocky. Momo somehow had an entire tea set. Tsuyu quietly settled in with her favorite green polish. And trailing behind all of them, trying not to smile too obviously, was Shouto.
“I like gossip,” he explained simply, holding a basket of glittery top coats.
Mina had Himiko in a beanbag chair with her feet soaking in a warm foot bath. “Okay, babe, tell us everything. What did he say? What did you say? What did he look like when he asked?”
“Like he was gonna pass out,” Himiko admitted, cheeks pink. “I said yes. I think I surprised him.”
“Aw, that’s adorable,” Ochaco sighed dreamily, filing Himiko’s nails with delicate care.
“He’s so awkward,” Jirou muttered fondly.
“Maybe he’ll bring flowers,” Momo mused aloud, already imagining outfit ideas. “Do you want me to help you pick something cute to wear?”
“Yes,” Himiko said quickly. “Please. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just be yourself,” Tsuyu said. “He already likes that.”
Shouto, painting Mina’s nails with unnerving precision, added: “He’s been into you for weeks.”
Himiko stared at him. “What?”
He nodded. “He gets flustered every time you laugh. It’s kind of obvious.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Mina finished buffing a final top coat onto Himiko’s nails—black with little red hearts—and beamed. “You’re gonna kill it. And if you don’t, we’ll kill him.”
Jirou raised her bottle. “To Toga’s first date!”
“To Himiko!” they all echoed, grinning.
And for the first time in a long, long time, Himiko felt like she belonged—not just as a student or a guest—but as a friend.
...
Izuku stood in front of the mirror, holding two different hoodies up against his chest.
“This one says ‘I’m a good listener,’ and this one says ‘I’m trying way too hard,’” he muttered.
From the bed, Bakugou groaned loudly. “Just put on one of them, nerd. It’s not a marriage proposal.”
“But it’s our first date, Kacchan!” Izuku said, flopping onto the edge of the bed with both hoodies still clutched in his hands. “What if I say something weird? What if she gets bored? What if she realizes I’m—I don’t know—not enough?”
Bakugou threw a pillow at him. “You’re already not enough. But she said yes anyway, didn’t she?”
Izuku blinked.
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “She likes you, dumbass. Even with all your weird muttering and pacing and lists. Just be yourself. But maybe—less.”
“Less?!”
“Less you.”
Izuku huffed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Okay. I’ll… try.”
“Don’t try. Just go. And for the love of All Might, don’t cry at dinner.”
“I don’t cry at dinner!” Izuku protested.
“You almost cried over yakisoba last week.”
“That was emotional yakisoba!”
Bakugou stood and shoved Izuku toward the mirror. “Hair’s fine. Breath is fine. Hoodie doesn’t matter. She already said yes, so stop overthinking it and go.”
Izuku looked at his reflection, heart racing but chest a little lighter.
“Kacchan?”
“What now.”
“Thanks.”
Bakugou scowled. “Shut up and leave before I change my mind and blast you through the door.”
Izuku chuckled, grabbing the hoodie that made him feel the most like him, and headed out.
As the door shut behind him, Bakugou sighed and muttered to himself, “Dumbass better not screw this up.”
...
Himiko waited outside the small café just off campus, tapping her fingers against her thigh. She’d never really done this kind of thing—dates, real ones—with someone she genuinely liked. She wasn’t even sure how it was supposed to feel. But when she saw Izuku rounding the corner, hoodie slightly crooked, cheeks flushed from either nerves or running, her heart did a little flip.
He slowed when he spotted her, waving with one hand, the other shoved deep in his pocket.
“H-Hey, Himiko,” he said, breathless. “Sorry if I’m late. Kacchan took my phone hostage.”
She smiled. “You’re not late. And I’m not gonna lie, I kinda love that he prepped you for this.”
Izuku laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He mostly just insulted me into confidence.”
“That sounds about right.”
They stepped inside together, and Izuku held the door open for her, awkward but sweet. The café was small, cozy, with warm yellow lights and mismatched chairs. They ordered hot drinks and shared a slice of strawberry cake, and after the initial swirl of nerves settled, conversation flowed easier than either of them expected.
“I was really nervous,” Izuku admitted after a while. “Not because I didn’t want to be here—just… I guess I didn’t want to mess this up.”
“You’re not messing anything up,” Himiko said, twirling a spoon between her fingers. “You’re actually really easy to talk to. Even when you’re nervous.”
Izuku flushed. “You’re easy to talk to too. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever be on a date like this.”
“Because I’m a former villain, or because I like blood?” she teased lightly.
“Because I’m me,” Izuku said honestly. “But… yeah. I think it’s cool that you’re open about the blood thing. That you’re just—yourself. That’s brave.”
Himiko blinked. Brave wasn’t usually a word people used for her. Dangerous, maybe. Complicated. Never brave.
“You’re not bad at this, Izuku,” she said softly. “You’re actually kinda… perfect.”
His face turned bright red. “O-Oh. Wow. Um. Thank you.”
They left the café as the sun dipped low, soft pinks streaking the sky. Outside, they paused under a streetlight.
Himiko shifted on her feet. “So… this was good.”
“Yeah,” Izuku said, beaming. “Really good.”
There was a long moment where neither of them moved, then Himiko leaned forward, eyes searching his face. “Can I kiss you?”
Izuku nodded, practically glowing. “Please.”
It was short. Sweet. Just a brush of lips that tasted like strawberries and cinnamon tea. But it felt like something new. Something real.
When they pulled apart, Himiko smiled. “You’re a really good kisser.”
Izuku laughed softly, still dazed. “So are you.”
They walked home side by side, hands brushing occasionally but not quite holding.
Not yet. But soon

Chapter Text

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and lavender—somehow both sterile and comforting. Keigo sat fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, one hand resting protectively over his small but growing bump. Touya sat beside him, quiet, his fingers laced through Keigo’s like grounding wire.
It wasn’t their first visit to the doctor, but it was the first real scan—the one where they’d find out how things were going, and if everything looked okay.
A nurse called Keigo’s name, and they both stood, Touya holding Keigo’s bag while Keigo exhaled slowly, nerves curling in his stomach.
Inside the softly lit exam room, the technician prepped the machine and smiled gently. “Go ahead and lie back, Mr. Takami. This is just a standard scan—we’ll take a look, measure growth, and see how baby’s doing.”
Touya stayed near Keigo’s head, brushing a hand through his hair.
Keigo glanced at him. “You nervous?”
Touya snorted. “I’m always nervous.”
Gel hit his skin—cold and squishy—and the wand pressed against his stomach. Keigo shivered slightly. The monitor buzzed to life, crackling with faint sound.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
The technician frowned slightly. “Hmm.”
Keigo’s brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no! Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “I just need to double check something.”
Touya straightened slightly, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean double check?”
The technician pressed a few buttons. The monitor adjusted.
“Okay,” she said after a pause. “So. You’re not having one baby.”
Keigo blinked. “What?”
“You’re having three.”
Touya choked. “Three?”
“Triplets,” the tech said calmly, pointing to the screen. “Here’s Baby A, Baby B, and… here’s the surprise guest, Baby C.”
Keigo’s mouth fell open. “I… I’m having three kids?”
Touya stared, stunned into silence.
The room was quiet except for the sound of three fluttering heartbeats, echoing through the speakers like tiny birds.
Keigo burst into laughter—shaky, disbelieving. “Are you kidding me?”
“No joke,” the tech said with a smile. “Congratulations, dads.”
Touya was still frozen.
Three babies. Three of them. All sharing the space inside the man he loved.
Keigo looked over at him, eyes wide. “You okay?”
Touya blinked a few times, then huffed out a short, dazed laugh. “I… might throw up.”
Keigo burst out laughing again, and tears filled his eyes this time. “Well, now we’re even.”
…
After the appointment, they sat in the car in stunned silence.
Keigo was the first to speak. “Three.”
“Three,” Touya echoed.
There was a long pause.
Then Keigo said, “Are you mad?”
Touya looked at him, genuinely shocked. “Mad? Keigo—I’m terrified. But mad? Never. They’re ours.”
Keigo turned toward him slowly. “You’re okay with this?”
Touya reached across the console and took his hand. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m not scared. But I’m with you. We’re in this together. We’re gonna figure it out. We’ll make it work.”
Keigo exhaled, relief softening his entire face. “I love you.”
Touya smiled, small but sure. “I love you, too.”
They sat in the parking lot, hand in hand, while the afternoon sun painted gold across the windshield.
Three babies.
Three little hearts.
And a future bigger than either of them had imagined.
...
The Todoroki household felt quieter than usual when they arrived. Fuyumi had invited them over for tea after the doctor’s appointment, unaware of the actual bombshell they were about to drop.
Keigo sat stiffly on the couch, hands clasped in his lap. Touya stood beside him, arms folded, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he was bracing for impact.
Rei entered first with a warm smile. “Welcome back, boys. How was your appointment?”
Shouto glanced up from where he was sitting nearby, quietly observing. Natsuo leaned against the kitchen doorframe, sipping tea. Enji sat further back, silent as ever but listening intently.
“It was…” Keigo started, then faltered.
Touya picked up. “Eventful.”
Fuyumi brought a tray of snacks to the table. “Everything okay with the baby?”
Keigo laughed—nervously, tightly. “Yeah. I mean, babies.”
Rei blinked. “Babies?”
Shouto straightened. “Plural?”
Keigo looked at Touya, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. Together, they said:
“We’re having triplets.”
A beat of silence.
Then Fuyumi gasped so hard she nearly dropped the teacups. “Triplets?”
Rei covered her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Three?”
Touya rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Three.”
“Are you serious?” Natsuo asked, mouth half open in disbelief.
Keigo nodded. “Dead serious. Three little heartbeats. We saw them today.”
Fuyumi sat down hard on the couch beside Keigo and grabbed his hands. “Keigo, that’s… amazing. That’s so much. Are you okay?”
Keigo gave a watery smile. “Still processing, honestly. But yeah. I’m okay.”
Rei leaned in next. “Is everything looking healthy? You—they—are all safe?”
“They said everything looks good so far,” Touya said. “But we’ll be going in a lot more often now, to keep an eye on things.”
Enji finally spoke. “You’ll need help.”
It wasn’t a question.
Touya blinked. “Yeah. Probably.”
Rei reached for his hand, gentle. “Then you’ll have it.”
Shouto shifted a little.
Natsuo let out a stunned breath. “Three. Holy shit.”
Fuyumi gave him a look. “Language.”
But Keigo just laughed, real and bright this time. “Yeah. That’s exactly what we said.”
Rei’s eyes softened as she looked between them. “You two are building something beautiful. However we can support you, we will.”
Touya, uncharacteristically quiet, nodded. “Thanks… Mom.”
Rei squeezed his hand. “Always.”
And for a moment, everything felt still—no judgment, no shadows, just a family learning how to grow, together.
...
The common room of the Class 1-A dorms was alive with noise and motion. Someone had put on music. Sero was juggling apples. Kaminari was trying to convince Bakugou to join a group selfie. Shinsou was quietly sipping tea near the window, while Mina and Jirou painted each other's nails on the floor. Himiko had just come back from walking around campus with Izuku, her cheeks flushed from the cold and maybe from something else too.
Touya stood near the wall, arms folded as he scanned the room with a strange mix of anxiety and affection.
Keigo, seated beside him on the arm of the couch, leaned in and whispered, “You sure you want to tell them now?”
Touya exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Before one of them finds out on the internet.”
Keigo laughed softly. “Fair.”
Touya cleared his throat. “Hey—can I get everyone’s attention for a sec?”
The noise simmered down immediately. Half the room turned their heads. Eri peeked over the arm of the couch where she was sitting beside Hizashi. Himiko, who’d been perched cross-legged on a beanbag, tilted her head, curious. Shouto stood off to the side, quietly holding Clover.
“Keigo and I went to the doctor this week,” Touya began, surprisingly calm.
“Oooh,” Mina said, leaning forward. “Is it about the baby?”
Keigo grinned. “Babies. Plural.”
Jaws dropped.
“What?” Kaminari blinked.
“As in more than one?” Momo asked.
“Wait, wait,” Mina said, hands in the air. “How many babies are we talking?”
Touya rubbed his face. “Three.”
The room erupted.
“Triplets?!” Kirishima shouted.
“You guys are gonna have three babies???” Ochaco squealed.
Tokoyami stood up slowly, eyes wide with solemn disbelief. “This is… a tremendous responsibility. You have our loyalty and support.”
“I’m fine, I promise,” Keigo said quickly, laughing as Jirou and Tsuyu both surrounded him, asking a million questions at once.
“Holy shit,” Bakugou muttered from the back. “Of course it’s triplets.”
“That’s so badass,” Sero said. “Like, statistically wild.”
Eri crawled into Touya’s lap and whispered, “Does that mean there’ll be three little babies to draw?”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Touya said, brushing her hair gently. “Three.”
She nodded solemnly and said, “They should have rabbit names.”
Himiko slid off her beanbag and rushed over to Keigo. “Are you serious?!”
Keigo nodded. “Dead serious.”
“Three?” Her voice cracked halfway through the word, caught somewhere between awe and horror. “Oh my god. That’s so metal.”
“Right?” Mina grinned, already making a list of baby names on her phone.
Himiko looked at Touya, wide-eyed. “You’re not freaking out?”
“Already did,” Touya muttered. “Then did it again. Then went numb. Then cried. Now I’m here.”
Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “Sounds about right.”
“I wanna help,” Himiko said suddenly. “Not with, like, diapers or anything, I think I’d throw up. But… I can babysit or play with them or something.”
“You’ll be part of their weird little life,” Touya said with a tired smile. “That’s help enough.”
Keigo looked around the room, at the chaos and comfort, at the laughter, the noise, the way Eri was braiding ribbons into Clover’s ears with Shouto’s quiet help.
“This is what I want them to grow up around,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
“Same,” Touya murmured, touching Keigo’s back gently.
The moment stretched, warm and full of noise, full of love.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun beat down hard over the city skyline, but inside the Hero Commission’s operations center, the air conditioning was on full blast—and still, Rumi Usagiyama had sweat on her brow and a permanent scowl on her face.
She hated paperwork.
Especially post-mission paperwork.
Even more than that, she hated babysitting, which was exactly what she thought she’d be doing when the Commission told her she’d be paired with Hawks for the day.
She stalked into the breakroom to grab a drink and stopped short when she saw him—Keigo Takami, Number Two Pro Hero, crouched on the counter like some kind of bird-demon gremlin with a half-eaten cream puff in one hand and a bottle of juice tucked under his arm.
He froze. So did she.
“…You good up there?” Rumi asked.
Keigo blinked at her, mouth full. “…Don’t judge me.”
Rumi raised an eyebrow. “You’re eating dessert like a rooftop raccoon.”
Keigo grinned through a mouthful of pastry and leapt down, landing lightly beside her. “It’s been a long day. Sugar helps.”
Rumi cracked a smile. “You’re weirder than I thought.”
“You’re shorter than I thought,” Keigo shot back with zero hesitation.
She laughed—sharp and genuine. “Okay, okay. I see how it is.”
They sat across from each other at the breakroom table, sipping drinks and letting the silence stretch a little. There was no tension. Just two heroes used to chaos, relaxing for a rare five minutes.
“So,” Rumi said casually, “you really dating Dabi?”
Keigo paused mid-sip. “Yeah. Why?”
Rumi shrugged. “No reason. You’re both hot. Kind of a waste not to hook up.”
Keigo choked. “You’re really blunt.”
“Don’t have time for sugarcoating. I like things simple.” She leaned back, arms crossed behind her head. “He treating you right?”
Keigo hesitated, then smiled. “Yeah. He is.”
“Good.” Rumi nodded. “I don’t care about pasts. I care about how people show up now.”
Keigo tilted his head. “You know, I thought you’d be... harsher.”
“I am,” she said with a smirk. “But I like you.”
“…Thanks?”
They both laughed.
It was easy after that.
They talked about missions. Swapped disaster stories. Debated the best street food spots in Tokyo. Rumi made fun of Keigo’s “perfect” hero hair, and Keigo threatened to dye hers pink. The kind of friendship that didn’t need a warm-up—just a match struck and instantly lit.
As they left the building, Rumi nudged his wing with her elbow.
“You ever need backup, I’m your girl.”
Keigo looked at her, surprised.
She shrugged. “You saved that guy. Dabi. You’re trying to make something good. I respect that.”
“Thanks,” Keigo said quietly. “I mean it.”
“And hey,” she added with a crooked grin, “next time you sneak dessert before a meeting, bring me one too.”
Keigo’s laughter echoed off the rooftops.
A new friend. A real one.
And just like that, Hawks and Miruko—Keigo and Rumi—were a team neither of them knew they needed.
...
The evening sun spilled orange across the kitchen counters of their new home. Touya stood barefoot by the stove, stirring something savory and tomato-rich in a pan. The scent filled the house—warm, grounding. Keigo leaned against the doorway, watching him, one hand resting casually over the slight swell of his belly.
“You’re humming,” Keigo said, amused.
Touya snorted. “No, I’m not.”
“You are. Don’t fight it.”
Touya just grunted, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What’s up with you? You’ve got that ‘I met a dragon and wrestled it’ look in your eye.”
Keigo smirked. “Close. I met Miruko today.”
Touya blinked. “Miruko? As in rabbit lady, kick-first-ask-questions-never Miruko?”
“That’s the one.”
“...And you’re alive?”
Keigo laughed. “Not only alive—we’re friends now.”
Touya turned the burner down and raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Friends? You?”
“I know, shocking.” Keigo crossed the room and stole a cherry tomato from the cutting board. “She actually grilled me about you.”
Touya stiffened slightly, but Keigo touched his arm gently. “Not in a bad way. She asked if you treat me right.”
Touya looked away, ears pink. “...What’d you say?”
“I said yeah. That you do.” He leaned in and kissed Touya’s cheek. “She said she doesn’t care about your past. Just how you show up now.”
Touya exhaled, slow. “Huh.”
“And,” Keigo added with a smirk, “she said next time I sneak a cream puff, I better bring her one too.”
Touya gave a low laugh. “You’re already bribing people with sugar?”
“Hey, it works.” Keigo slid his arms around Touya from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder. “I think you’d like her. She’s loud, honest, intense—kinda like Bakugou if he did leg day every day and actually went to therapy.”
Touya chuckled. “Sounds terrifying.”
Keigo’s voice softened. “She said she respects what we’re doing. That meant something.”
Touya didn’t say anything right away. He just reached up and covered Keigo’s hand with his own.
“I’m glad you found someone like that,” he murmured. “It’s good to have allies.”
Keigo nodded, a quiet smile on his lips. “It is. And she’s got our back now.”
They stood like that for a while, wrapped in silence, the smell of dinner surrounding them, the shadows in the house soft and long.
...
It was a low-key spot tucked away near the agency—brick walls, paper lanterns, and a faint buzz of city life outside the windows. Rumi tore into her third skewer like she was personally offended by the meat, while Keigo sipped iced tea, clearly trying not to laugh.
“You’re staring,” Rumi said, mouth half-full, eyes sharp.
“I’m impressed,” Keigo said with a grin. “Most people can’t keep up with me at dinner.”
“You haven’t seen me at hot pot,” she shot back. “I once made Mt. Lady cry.”
Keigo laughed outright. “Damn. Remind me to never challenge you to anything that involves chopsticks.”
“You wouldn’t survive,” Rumi said smugly. She leaned back, stretching slightly, muscles flexing under her tank top. “So. You and your guy. Dabi. How’s it going?”
Keigo’s expression softened. “Good. Better than I expected. We moved into a house recently. It's been… grounding. He cooks, actually.”
“Oh, so he’s the domestic one,” Rumi teased. “And here I thought you were all fluff and casseroles.”
“Please. I almost set water on fire once.” Keigo grinned, then tilted his head thoughtfully. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking… you and Dabi might actually get along.”
Rumi raised an eyebrow. “You trying to set me up with your boyfriend?”
Keigo snorted. “No. God, no. You’d both combust. I just mean… personality-wise. You don’t fake anything. Neither does he. You’re both kind of blunt, fiercely loyal, and emotionally constipated.”
Rumi barked out a laugh. “Emotionally constipated? That’s a new one.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“…No, you’re not.” She grinned. “Alright. Maybe I’d like him.”
Keigo’s smile turned fond. “He doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re in? He’ll burn the world for you.”
“Sounds like someone’s got it bad,” Rumi said, tone teasing but not unkind.
Keigo rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Yeah. I do.”
For a moment, the air settled into something easy. Safe.
Rumi tilted her drink toward him. “Well. For what it’s worth, birdboy, you seem happy. And if that firecracker of yours ever wants to spar, tell him I’m game.”
Keigo grinned. “He’ll probably pretend he’s not interested and then kick down your door an hour later.”
“Perfect,” she said, satisfied. “I like him already.”
...
The doorbell rang just after sunset, the golden light spilling through the kitchen window. Touya glanced up from the cutting board, one eyebrow raised. “You expecting someone?”
Keigo, drying his hands on a towel, nodded. “Yeah. Rumi. I invited her over for dinner. Thought you two should meet.”
Touya’s eyes narrowed a little. “The rabbit lady?”
“She prefers Miruko or Rumi,” Keigo said, grabbing the door handle before Touya could form a sarcastic reply. “Be nice. I like her.”
Touya muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue.
The door swung open to reveal Rumi in a cropped hoodie, bike shorts, and combat boots. She stepped inside like she owned the place, grinning as she tossed Keigo a bag of snacks. “Brought something for your cravings, birdboy.”
“Godsend,” Keigo said, taking it with a grin.
Her eyes flicked to Touya, who was still in the kitchen. She tilted her head, studying him for a second. “So. You’re the infamous Dabi.”
Touya raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”
Rumi let out a bark of laughter. “You’re mouthier than Keigo described.”
Keigo sighed. “Okay, ground rules—don’t start a fight, don’t burn the house down, and no comparing knife scars.”
Rumi ignored him and stepped into the kitchen. “You cooking?”
Touya shrugged. “Trying.”
She sniffed. “Smells edible. Better than what he makes, I’m guessing.”
“Absolutely,” Touya said. “I won’t even let him near the stove anymore.”
Keigo, from the hallway: “I’m right here, you know!”
They ignored him.
Rumi leaned against the counter. “Keigo said you’ve been through hell.”
Touya’s smile faded, replaced by something quieter. “Yeah. But we made it out.”
She nodded. “Good. He needed someone who gets it.”
Touya looked at her for a long moment. “So did I.”
Rumi gave a short nod of approval. “You’re alright, flame boy.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, bunny girl.”
Keigo poked his head back into the kitchen, hands on his hips. “Are you two… bonding?”
Rumi smirked. “Maybe.”
Touya just turned back to the stove, muttering, “Don’t get used to it.”
But when Rumi offered to help with the food, he let her.
And when they all sat down to eat, it felt weirdly easy. Like they were already part of the same story. Like family.
...
The three of them were gathered around the dining table, plates piled high with food. The conversation bounced easily, laughter mixing with the clatter of cutlery.
Keigo leaned back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “So… about me and my cravings.”
Rumi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”
Touya rolled his eyes, smirking. “You met her two weeks ago, and you’re already gonna tell her everything?”
Rumi shot him a sharp look. “Tell me what?”
Keigo glanced at Touya, then took a breath. “Alright. Here goes—I’m pregnant.”
Rumi blinked, momentarily stunned, eyes wide.
Keigo didn’t stop there. “With triplets.”
The room went still for a beat longer than expected.
Rumi’s jaw dropped slightly, then she shook her head in disbelief. “Triplets? Damn, Keigo, you weren’t kidding about the cravings.”
Touya laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze Keigo’s hand. “Yeah, she’s processing.”
Rumi shook her head again, a grin tugging at her lips. “Well, shit. Guess I’m gonna have my hands full with you guys.”
Keigo smirked, eyes sparkling. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the apartment was broken only by the soft tapping of Keigo’s fingers against the screen of his phone. He stared at the message he had just typed out, rereading it a few times. His heart was racing—nervous, excited, scared—but more than anything, determined.
Hello everyone,
I have some news to share. As you know, I am trans and dating the former villain Dabi. But what you don’t know—and what will soon be obvious—is that I am four months pregnant with his child.
Keigo took a deep breath and pressed post.
He paused for a moment, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Then, with a small grin, he added another post:
Oh yeah, we’re having triplets, by the way.
The posts went viral immediately.
Touya came in just as the notifications started flooding in. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly. “You really went public.”
Keigo met his gaze, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “We’re not hiding anymore.”
They sat together, hands intertwined, ready to face whatever came next.
...
As soon as Keigo’s posts went live, social media exploded with responses—some supportive, some skeptical, and others downright hostile. The fandoms, the news outlets, and everyday people all weighed in.
Supportive Reactions:
@HeroFan_99: “Keigo and Dabi are goals 🥰 Love seeing their family grow!”
@TransVoicesMatter: “Keigo’s courage in sharing his truth is everything. Congrats on the triplets! 💖👶👶👶”
@UAAlum4Life: “Family isn’t perfect, but it’s real. So happy for these two. #ChosenFamily”
Skeptical / Cautious:
@SkepticHero: “Triplets? Wow, that’s a lot to take on… Hope they’re really ready for this.”
@ConcernedCitizen: “I support Keigo but wonder how the media frenzy will affect their mental health.”
Hostile / Critical:
@AntiVillainSquad: “Dabi dating a hero and now pregnant? No way this ends well.”
@OldSchoolHero: “Can’t believe the Commission allowed this ‘reformation’ to go so far. Babies? Really?”
Heartfelt Comments from Fans:
“I’m crying. To see them find happiness after everything… it’s beautiful.”
“Hawks and Dabi proving that love and family come in all forms.”
“Triplets?! I need to prepare snacks for this growing squad already!”
Across the board, the news ignited conversations about identity, redemption, and what it truly means to be family. For Keigo and Touya, the flood of messages was overwhelming—but mostly filled with love.
...
After the pregnancy post Touya decided to make a post of his own.
“I’m Touya Todoroki.”
For years, I hid behind a mask — a name that wasn’t mine, a past I wanted to bury. But I’m done running from who I am. I’m not just Dabi, the villain you thought you knew. I’m Touya, a son, a brother, and now, someone trying to build a future.
I want to thank everyone who has supported me and Hawks through everything — the hard days, the healing, the hope. I know this news might shock some, confuse others, and anger a few. But this is my truth.
I’m not perfect. I have scars, both seen and unseen. But I’m trying to be better. For Hawks, for the little lives growing inside, and for myself.
The Todoroki name carries weight — pain, expectation, and legacy. I’m not here to erase that, but to own it, to rewrite my story with honesty and love.
Thank you for listening.”
News Anchor:
"Breaking news: Dabi, the former villain known for his fiery attacks, has revealed his true identity as Touya Todoroki, the long-lost son of the Todoroki family. This revelation has sent shockwaves across the hero community and public alike."
Social Media Posts:
@HeroFan123: "Wait... Dabi is Touya Todoroki?? This changes EVERYTHING. Can’t believe it. #TodorokiRevealed"
@SkepticalCitizen: "So the villain we've feared was really just a kid with a broken past. Makes you wonder how many others are out there. #TruthHurts"
@SupportiveSoul: "Touya’s bravery to come out like this shows real strength. Healing isn’t linear. Sending love. #Redemption"
@ConcernedParent: "I hope the Todoroki family can heal after this. But what about the kids he’s expecting? This story just got way more complicated."
@VillainWatcher: "This doesn’t erase what Dabi did. But knowing the man behind the mask helps me understand. #ComplexPeople"
@HeroCommOfficial: "We acknowledge Touya Todoroki’s disclosure. Our commitment remains to safety and rehabilitation. #HeroCommission"
@MemesOnly: "Dabi reveal or next season of soap opera?? #PlotTwist"
Comments from Public Figures:
Endeavor (Enji Todoroki): “Family is complicated. I don’t condone past mistakes, but I’m committed to supporting Touya’s journey forward.”
Miruko (Rumi Usagiyama): “Everyone deserves a chance to rewrite their story. Proud of Touya for his honesty.”
Keigo Takami (Hawks): “Touya’s truth is part of our shared future. I stand by him, today and always.”
Social Media Reactions:
@Disbeliever42: "I can’t believe the number 1 pro hero’s child became a villain. What does that say about the heroes? #TodorokiDrama"
@CuriousMind: "What really happened in the Todoroki family for Touya to turn into Dabi? We need answers, not just headlines. #FamilySecrets"
@HeroWatcher: "The Todoroki name carries weight. If Touya went villain, maybe there’s cracks in the hero system we don’t see. #ThinkAboutIt"
@SupportiveVoice: "No matter the past, people can change. I hope Touya finds peace now. #Redemption"

Chapter Text

The late morning sun filtered softly through the windows of the new house as Touya and Keigo stood in the empty room they had chosen for the nursery. Boxes were scattered around, bursting with tiny clothes, blankets, and carefully chosen decorations.
Keigo smiled nervously, clutching a small stuffed animal. “It still feels surreal… three babies. Triplets.”
Touya moved to the window, watching the gentle sway of the trees outside. “Yeah. But we’ve come this far. We’ll figure it out — one step at a time.”
They unpacked clothes and toys, folding tiny onesies and soft blankets. Keigo pulled out a mobile with stars and moons, holding it up with a shy grin. “What do you think? Too much?”
Touya laughed, catching Keigo’s hand. “No such thing as too much for them. They deserve the best.”
As they arranged the crib and toys, there was an unspoken promise in the room — that this space would be a haven of love, safety, and hope, a fresh start for the family they were building.
...
Latter the nursery was a gentle burst of spring—pastel yellow walls kissed by soft pastel green trim, casting a warm, hopeful glow across the room. The theme was clear: bees. Little hexagons like honeycombs patterned the curtains and cushions, and playful bee prints dotted the blankets and wall decals.
Three dark green cribs sat unassembled in the center of the room, their wood polished and sturdy, waiting for Touya’s careful hands. With quiet determination, Touya crouched down and began piecing them together, each screw and plank fitting like a puzzle he was eager to solve. The rhythmic sound of tools was the backdrop to this small but monumental task.
Keigo settled comfortably into a yellow rocking chair, patterned with soft honeycombs, its gentle sway comforting as he watched Touya work. His hands rested on his growing belly, the weight a constant but welcome reminder of the life blossoming inside him. The chair was perfectly placed near the window, where a light breeze fluttered the bee-print curtains, carrying the scent of fresh flowers from outside.“You’ve got the skills,” Keigo teased softly. “I’ll just supervise from here.”
Touya glanced up, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the boss of this project,” he said, tightening a bolt. “You pick the colors, the patterns. I just make sure it all stands up.”
The room felt alive with quiet hope—a space where tiny lives would grow surrounded by love and care. The bees, busy and buzzing, were a symbol of hard work and community, a reminder that no matter what challenges came, they’d build something sweet together.
...
Later that evening, Touya emerged from the kitchen, carrying a small plate with a curious mix of food. He set it carefully in front of Keigo, who was nestled comfortably in a bar stool.
“I made you something,” Touya said, a teasing glint in his eye.
Keigo raised an eyebrow, eyeing the plate skeptically. The odd combination of pickles, peanut butter, and a light drizzle of honey looked strange enough to make anyone pause. “That’s… definitely a weird combo. What gave you the idea?”
Touya shrugged with a small, sheepish grin. “Pregnancy cravings don’t make much sense, so I figured I’d just mix a few things you like. Hopefully, it works.”
Keigo chuckled softly, setting the plate aside for a moment. “You’re trying really hard, you know.”
Touya’s smile softened. “I want to help, in any way I can. You and the babies.”
Finally, with a resigned sigh, Keigo took a cautious bite. The tang of pickles mixed with the creamy peanut butter and the gentle sweetness of honey was… surprisingly good. He blinked, then took another bite. “Huh. Not bad. Weird, but not bad.”
Touya laughed quietly, relief washing over his face. “Victory.”
They sat together in the warm glow of the kitchen light, the house quiet except for their soft breathing and occasional murmurs. After finishing the odd snack, Keigo carefully rose, the weight of the pregnancy making bending and quick movements uncomfortable. Touya moved with steady, careful grace, ready to support him if needed.
Later, in the calm of their bedroom, the moonlight spilled softly through the curtains. Touya slipped under the covers beside Keigo, careful not to disturb him. He curled his body closer, resting his head gently near Keigo’s rounded belly. His fingers traced slow circles along the soft fabric covering the swell.
Keigo reached out, his hand finding Touya’s. Their fingers intertwined, a silent promise of love and partnership.
Touya whispered, “Sleep well, little ones.” His voice was tender, filled with hope and quiet awe.
Keigo smiled, eyes fluttering closed, the comfort of Touya’s presence easing away the day’s worries. “Goodnight.”
Together, they drifted to sleep—their breaths synchronized, hearts beating as one, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, love, and the promise of the future they were building.

Chapter Text

The U.A. dorm common room buzzed with casual energy. A few students were gathered around the TV watching a movie, others lounged on bean bags or the couches, chatting and passing snacks around. Keigo was curled into one corner of the couch, a big pillow behind his back and a bowl of cut fruit on his lap, while Touya sat on the floor in front of him, leaning back against the couch with his arms resting loosely on Keigo’s knees.
Keigo was six months pregnant now, and the bump was impossible to hide. His hoodie clung to the curve of it, and Mina had spent the last ten minutes animatedly guessing baby names.
“I’m just saying, Lemon Takami-Todoroki would be adorable,” Mina grinned, twirling a strand of her pink hair.
“Lemon is a fruit, not a name,” Shouto said flatly from the armchair across the room.
“It can be both,” she countered.
Keigo laughed, tossing a grape at her. “We are not naming any of our kids after produce.”
“I think you should name one after a bird,” Tokoyami offered solemnly. “A fitting legacy.”
Keigo shot him a playful look. “Like… Pigeon Takami-Todoroki?”
“Preferably not that bird,” Touya muttered under his breath.
Himiko was sprawled across the rug with Izuku and Ochaco, flipping through a baby catalog. “Ooooh, look at these little socks. I want to steal them. Is that bad?”
“You can help dress them, not rob them,” Izuku said, smiling up at her. His cheeks turned a little pink when their hands brushed as they reached for the same page.
“Midoriya and Himiko are totally gonna be next,” Kaminari whispered too loudly to Jirou.
“Shut up,” Jirou hissed, elbowing him, but she was grinning.
Keigo leaned forward, resting his chin on Touya’s shoulder. “They’re cute, huh?”
“Yeah,” Touya murmured. “They remind me of… what we didn’t get to have.”
Keigo brushed a hand over his arm, grounding him. “But we’re getting it now.”
Touya turned just enough to catch his eyes. “Yeah. We are.”
But a minute later, Keigo suddenly stiffened. His hand pressed to his stomach, and he winced.
Touya immediately sat up straighter. “What is it? You okay?”
Everyone stopped talking.
Keigo sucked in a breath. “I… I don’t know. Something just tightened really suddenly.”
Momo was already halfway to her feet. “Do we call Recovery Girl? Or—?”
“No—no, it’s okay,” Keigo said, even though another tight cramp made him curl forward slightly. “I think it’s just—”
“You’re not okay,” Touya snapped, panic rising in his voice. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”
“Should I fly you there?!” Tokoyami offered.
“We’ll take the car!” Jirou added.
“Everyone calm down!” Aizawa’s voice cut in from the hallway. He’d appeared just in time to see the flurry of movement. “Touya. Keigo. Go. I’ll keep things under control here.”
Keigo was already letting Touya help him stand. The whole class crowded around the entryway as they rushed out. Himiko looked genuinely scared. Izuku held her hand tightly.
...
After what felt like hours of tense waiting and Touya pacing a hole in the floor, the doctor finally came back with a tired but amused expression.
“Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said. “They’re completely normal in the second and third trimester. It’s basically the body practicing for labor. Scary, yes, but not harmful.”
Keigo let out a long sigh. Touya just stared at the doctor.
“You’re telling me I dragged him out of there and panicked for nothing?” he asked, voice low and raw.
“No,” Keigo said gently, touching his hand. “You did exactly what you were supposed to.”
Touya sat down beside him, finally letting himself breathe.
...
Class 1-A was still awake when they returned. As soon as the couple stepped through the doors, a round of relieved sighs swept the room.
“Braxton Hicks,” Keigo explained before anyone could ask. “Totally normal. No babies tonight.”
“You scared the crap out of us,” Kaminari said, clutching his chest.
“But I’m glad you’re okay,” Mina added, hugging him carefully.
Touya gave them a rare smile. “You guys are family. Thanks for caring.”
...
The house was dark when they got back.
Touya unlocked the door in silence, flipping on the hallway light as Keigo stepped in behind him, slow and tired but no longer in pain. Neither of them said much as they kicked off their shoes. The hospital band still clung loosely to Keigo’s wrist. The quiet wasn’t tense—it was just… full. A relief that hadn’t fully settled.
They moved through the house in practiced rhythm. Touya helped Keigo out of his hoodie. Keigo rinsed his mouth in the bathroom while Touya fetched a glass of water. They met back in the bedroom with nothing but soft footsteps and the hum of the ceiling fan between them.
Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, hand resting instinctively on his belly. “They were kicking on the way home. Maybe they were trying to tell me it was all fine.”
Touya knelt in front of him, hands resting on his thighs. “Don’t do that again.”
Keigo blinked. “Do what?”
“Pretend it’s nothing,” Touya murmured. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Keigo softened, reaching up to brush his fingers through Touya’s hair. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to panic you if it really was nothing.”
“I’d rather panic than lose you,” Touya said quietly.
That stopped Keigo. The room felt stiller somehow. His hand stilled in Touya’s hair, and for a long moment, all he could do was breathe.
“…We’re okay,” Keigo finally whispered. “I promise.”
Touya stood and helped him lie down, pulling the blankets up to Keigo’s chest, then slipped in beside him, curling up so his head was near Keigo’s belly. He placed a gentle kiss to the bump.
“Don’t scare me again, either,” he muttered toward it.
Keigo laughed softly and ran his fingers through Touya’s hair. “I’ll tell them.”
They lay like that in the dark for a while—no TV, no talking, no phones. Just two people who had been through hell, learning what it meant to be soft again.
“I love you,” Keigo murmured.
Touya’s arms tightened around him. “I love you, too.”
And that night, even after all the chaos, they slept deeply. Not because the fear was gone. But because, for now, they were safe. Together.

Chapter Text

The doctor’s office was quiet, sterile in the usual way, but the atmosphere felt different today. Maybe it was the warmth in Keigo’s hand wrapped around Touya’s. Maybe it was the gentle pressure of anticipation sitting low in both their chests.
Keigo was now six months along. His belly was prominent beneath his soft hoodie, and he’d started waddling just a little. The baby kicks had become familiar—part of their mornings, their nights, the pauses in between.
They were here for another check-up, but this one came with an answer they'd both been waiting for.
“Alright,” the doctor smiled, glancing at the screen. “Everything looks great. Strong heartbeats… and as for what you’re having…”
Keigo held his breath.
Touya squeezed his hand tighter.
“You’re having girls,” the doctor said gently. “All three are girls.”
Silence.
Then—Keigo let out a breathy, stunned laugh. “Girls?”
“All girls,” the doctor confirmed. “Triplets, and all of them are healthy and measuring well.”
Touya blinked at the screen like it had betrayed him. “…Girls?”
Keigo laughed again, louder this time, and covered his face with one hand. “We’re so screwed.”
The doctor chuckled politely and stepped out to give them a moment.
Touya still hadn’t moved. “We’re gonna have three daughters.”
Keigo turned to him, tears glinting in his lashes. “Are you okay?”
Touya blinked again. “I thought I’d be scared. Like, terrified. I mean… the world’s not kind to girls. But… I feel kinda—" he hesitated, then smiled, soft and surprised, “—honored.”
Keigo reached for his face with both hands, cradling his cheeks. “They’re going to adore you, you know.”
Touya scoffed lightly, eyes a little shiny now. “You’re gonna be the favorite.”
“Lies,” Keigo whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “We’re gonna be a mess. But we’re gonna be a really good mess.”
...
That evening, the house was lit by golden afternoon sun. Touya stood at the doorway of the nursery, arms folded, just looking. The pastel yellows and greens, the bee print accents—it all felt more real now.
Keigo leaned against the doorframe beside him, sipping on a glass of lemon-mint water. “Three girls.”
“We need three names,” Touya murmured. “That’s a war waiting to happen.”
Keigo smirked. “We can take our time. They’ll tell us who they are when they get here.”
Touya reached over, placing a warm hand on Keigo’s bump. “Think they’ll be loud like you?”
“Obviously. And dramatic like you.”
They both laughed.
Touya glanced over again, voice a little quieter. “You’re doing amazing, birdbrain.”
Keigo’s eyes softened. “So are you.”
They stood in the nursery for a long while after that, talking names, colors, songs, and dreams. No more ‘what ifs.’ No more 'if we survive this.’ Just… when they arrive.
And love. So much of it, already blooming in their bones.
...
The sun shone bright over their new home, bees humming lazily near the garden fence as warm air drifted through open windows. Balloons in shades of soft pink, green, and yellow bobbed on the porch railings, and a banner stretched across the entryway read:
“What Will It Bee?”
Keigo stood in the living room, wearing a light yellow linen shirt that flowed softly over his growing belly. His wings twitched with a mix of excitement and nerves. Touya was at his side in a dark green tee, trying to look indifferent, but his fingers wouldn’t stop adjusting the little paper bees taped to the corners of the room.
“Do we really need this many balloons?” he muttered.
“Yes,” Keigo said without even looking at him. “It’s called atmosphere.”
“Feels like a hive exploded.”
“That’s the point, babe.”
They were interrupted by the thunder that was Class 1-A arriving in a loud, laughing swarm.
“THIS PLACE IS CUTE AS HELL,” Mina yelled immediately, arms full of snacks and sparkling lemonade.
Jirou followed behind her with a wry smile. “Calm down, you’ll scare the bees.”
Denki ran in like a golden retriever. “Are we guessing the gender? I’m guessing twins!”
“It’s triplets,” Kirishima reminded him, patting his back.
“Oh. Okay. Triple girls!”
“Shhh!” Midoriya whispered, eyes wide. “We’re not supposed to know yet!”
Sero was already handing out little team-colored pins—pink for girls, green for boys.
Tsuyu blinked slowly. “Why would it be green?”
“It’s a bee thing,” Momo explained. “We went with the nursery theme.”
Shinsou found a spot on the couch, Eri crawling up next to him with Clover clutched in her arms. “I brought Clover back,” she told Keigo shyly.
Keigo smiled warmly. “Thank you, Eri-bug. She missed you.”
Touya ruffled Shouto’s hair as he entered with Rei and Enji in tow. “Hey, kid.”
Shouto gave him a small smile. “I brought extra mochi.”
Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Aizawa arrived shortly after, followed by Hizashi and Himiko—who was already in bee-print socks, courtesy of Mina.
And then Rumi arrived.
“Alright, I’m here. Which one of you is leaking emotional chaos into the air?”
Keigo burst out laughing. “You are a chaos detector.”
“Years of experience.” She winked. “Now gimme a plate. I smelled baked goods on the way up.”
As everyone mingled, Fuyumi wandered into the kitchen and bumped into Rumi refilling lemonade. “You’re Miruko, right?”
“Rumi’s fine,” she said, grinning.
“You made quite the impression on my brother,” Fuyumi said, amused.
“Which one?”
Fuyumi laughed. “Fair question. Touya.”
Rumi arched a brow. “He made quite the impression back. You Todorokis breed intense men.”
Fuyumi clinked her glass with Rumi’s. “Tell me about it. Want to sneak some cake early?”
Rumi smirked. “You’re dangerous. I like it.”
Across the room, Keigo watched them bond with a pleased grin. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem,” he whispered to Touya.
“They’re gonna team up and bully us,” Touya agreed flatly.
“I live for it.”
...
Finally, Keigo called everyone to gather in the backyard, where three sealed bee-shaped boxes sat on a table.
“Alright,” Keigo said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Time to find out what our bees are.”
He and Touya reached for the strings at the same time and tugged.
Pink confetti burst into the air—delicate and bright, shimmering as it rained down over the cheering crowd.
“Girls!” Mina squealed, nearly vibrating.
“Three girls?” Ochaco clapped her hands to her face. “That’s gonna be the cutest chaos I’ve ever seen.”
Momo blinked, stunned. “We’re going to need so many little dresses.”
“Or tiny leather jackets,” Himiko added.
Denki cheered, “The Bee-By Squad!”
Even Enji cracked a small, stunned smile.
Touya turned toward Keigo, his arms going around his waist instinctively. “Three girls, I still can’t believe it?”
Keigo leaned into him with a soft breath. “You’re gonna be so good at this.”
Touya kissed his temple. “Only because I’ve got you.”
And all around them—applause, laughter, clapping, chaos. Family. Found and blood-bound.
The hive was full.

Chapter Text

The living room was bright with pastel streamers and tiny paper wings, buzzing with laughter and congratulations. Touya and Keigo sat on a large cushiony bench near a pile of beautifully wrapped presents, the center of attention and affection. Clover, Eri’s stuffed bunny, had been placed ceremoniously next to them like an honorary guest.
Rei stepped forward with misty eyes, handing Keigo a carefully wrapped box. Inside were three tiny white dresses, all hand-sewn, each detailed with delicate embroidery—cherry blossoms, snowflakes, and little suns.
“I thought each of them should have something unique… but still part of a set,” Rei said softly.
Keigo nearly burst into tears on the spot.
Enji arrived next, surprisingly sheepish for a man who commanded fire. “I… wasn’t sure what babies liked,” he muttered, revealing a giant, intricately detailed dollhouse. It looked like it belonged in a castle.
Touya blinked. “They’re not gonna use this for like, five years.”
“I’ll build them a new one when they’re older,” Enji said, almost defensive.
Rumi grinned and plopped down a bag filled with carrot-themed teething toys and a matching onesie that said “Bite Me” in orange block letters.
“For the most badass babies I’ve ever met,” she smirked.
Fuyumi gifted a pastel green baby cookbook and three embroidered bibs—each one with red wings on them.
Natsuo gave them a “New Parent Survival Kit”: a coffee subscription, blackout sleep masks, noise-canceling headphones, a stuffed Totoro, and a bottle of very fancy non-alcoholic wine.
Shouto handed over a set of custom baby-sized U.A. hoodies, complete with their own tiny hero name patches: “Hatchling One,” “Hatchling Two,” and “Hatchling Three.”
“I asked Mei Hatsume to make them fireproof,” he said simply.
Hizashi brought a karaoke machine for lullabies, insisting the babies would only sleep to Beyoncé. Aizawa looked vaguely horrified in the background.
Aizawa, naturally, handed over a box with three tiny black sleeping bags, plus baby goggles. “No daughter of yours is going to grow up without nap discipline,” he told Keigo with a deadpan look.
Eri had drawn three crayon portraits: “Baby 1, Baby 2, and Baby 3,” all with big sparkly eyes and wings.
“They’re best friends forever,” she said seriously. Touya crouched down to hug her.
Himiko gave a trio of pastel yellow plush bats with hand-stitched fangs. “They’re teething-safe,” she added. “And kind of feral. Like me.”
Mina, Jirou, Ochaco, and Momo teamed up to gift a glittery trunk full of baby clothes—everything from tutus to tiny leather jackets. “We expect pics in every single outfit,” Mina declared.
Bakugou dropped a heavy box on the table. It was filled with training mats, baby-safe climbing grips, and foam dumbbells.
“They’re gonna be strong. Like their old man,” he grunted.
“Which one?” Touya deadpanned.
“Exactly.”
Midoriya gave them a baby journal—handbound, filled with prompts, milestone stickers, and empty pages for memories.
“You deserve to remember everything good,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
Kirishima and Sero brought a basket of matching dinosaur onesies and a book called “My First Hero Training Guide.”
“It’s mostly just peek-a-boo and tummy time,” Kirishima added, “but we wrote in some ‘manly’ edits.”
Denki gave them a trio of glow-in-the-dark mobile lights, shaped like lightning bolts and stars. “You know, for ambiance.”
Tokoyami handed over a book of gothic lullabies, beautifully bound in black velvet. “I annotated the verses to remove any dark omens,” he said solemnly.
Shinsou gifted them a baby monitor system with voice command and a button that said “Dada nap time,” programmed to blast white noise.
“I’m looking out for you, Touya,” he said.
Tsuyu gifted a set of frog-themed bath toys, plus three soft robes with froggy hoods. “You’ll have three little tadpoles,” she said with a quiet smile.
The pile of gifts grew around them like a fortress of love. Touya looked stunned, still adjusting to the idea that people not only accepted them—but celebrated them.
Keigo, hand resting on his belly, looked over and whispered, “They’re gonna grow up knowing so much love.”
Touya nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. And a whole lot of weird.”
Keigo laughed. “Perfect.”
...
The guests had begun mingling again, scattered around the backyard and inside the house. Plates of food and sparkling juice in hand, laughter and soft music drifted in the air.
Fuyumi stood near the patio, sipping from a glass of lemon spritzer, watching Keigo open yet another gift with stars in his eyes. She smiled, but her eyes occasionally flicked to the woman leaning casually against the fence—arms crossed, ears twitching slightly as she scanned the party like a hawk… or maybe, a rabbit with a military background.
Rumi caught the glance.
She grinned and made her way over, drink in hand, boots thudding lightly against the wooden deck. “You look like the only one here not completely losing it over baby socks.”
Fuyumi chuckled. “I have two younger siblings and a hundred students. I’ve seen enough baby socks for a lifetime.”
“Ah,” Rumi said, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re the calm Todoroki.”
“On the outside,” Fuyumi replied, smiling over the rim of her glass. “Internally, I’m still screaming about the ‘Triplets’ reveal.”
That earned a real laugh from Rumi. “Yeah, that got me too. I came here for snacks and ended up having an existential crisis.”
Fuyumi leaned a little closer, voice playful. “Well, the carrot-themed teething toys were a hit. I think you just became a baby icon.”
Rumi gave a mock bow. “All in a day’s work.”
There was a pause. A little warmth bloomed between them.
Rumi tilted her head. “So. You’re Touya’s sister.”
“Younger sister,” Fuyumi clarified. “The mom friend, according to everyone.”
“I can see that,” Rumi said, scanning her up and down. “But there’s also… something kinda dangerous under all that warmth. You’ve got Todoroki eyes.”
Fuyumi blinked. Then grinned. “Dangerous, huh? I’m just a schoolteacher.”
Rumi leaned in, voice low. “And I punch villains through walls. Doesn’t mean I don’t notice a woman who could destroy me emotionally.”
Fuyumi laughed—genuinely, cheeks flushed pink. “You flirt like you fight.”
“Only when I’m serious,” Rumi said. “And I don’t say this often, but… I’d like to see you again. Outside of a baby shower.”
Fuyumi looked at her for a beat. Then smiled softly. “I’d like that.”
From across the yard, Keigo noticed them and nudged Touya. “Look at those two,” he whispered with a grin. “I knew it.”
Touya rolled his eyes fondly. “Of course you did. You’re a matchmaking menace.”
Keigo smirked. “Only for the worthy.”
...
The sun had started to dip below the horizon, painting the walls of the nursery in soft golden light. The gender reveal and baby shower festivities had ended a few days ago, but their home still held echoes of laughter and joy — balloons still floated half-deflated in corners, and tiny socks and pastel onesies were tucked into newly organized drawers.
Keigo was folding a small blanket when Fuyumi gently knocked on the nursery door. “Hey,” she said with a warm smile. “Do you have a minute?”
Keigo blinked, then smiled. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”
Fuyumi stepped inside, eyes drifting to the pale yellow walls, the bee-themed decals, the three cribs Touya had spent hours assembling. “It’s beautiful in here,” she said softly, running a hand along the edge of one of the cribs. “You two really built something special.”
Keigo sat on the edge of the rocking chair. “We tried,” he said. “It still feels surreal sometimes. Like… I keep waiting for someone to tell me this is a dream.”
Fuyumi smiled and sat down beside him on the floor, legs tucked beneath her. “Do you mind if I ask you something a little personal?”
Keigo blinked. “Sure.”
She looked up at him, expression gentle. “Are you afraid?”
Keigo didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where a stuffed rabbit — Clover — sat perched on a shelf, watching over everything. His throat tightened.
“Terrified,” he said honestly. “I’m terrified every single day.”
Fuyumi nodded slowly. “Because of the babies?”
“Because of everything,” Keigo admitted. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever make it this far. Because Touya didn’t think he would either. Because the world still looks at us and only sees our pasts. And now… we’re bringing three new lives into this.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ve never seen Touya look so grounded,” Fuyumi said softly. “Like he’s finally tethered to something real. And I think… I think that’s because of you.”
Keigo looked down at his hands, at the stretch marks forming across his belly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m holding us together with tape and stubbornness.”
Fuyumi chuckled. “That’s how most of us do it. That, and unconditional love.”
She reached out and gently took his hand. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For loving him the way you do. For staying. For making him believe he could have more.”
Keigo’s eyes welled up, but he blinked fast. “You’re not gonna cry, are you? Because if you do, I will.”
Fuyumi laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Too late.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the baby monitor testing unit the only sound in the room.
Finally, Keigo broke the stillness with a soft voice. “You like Rumi, don’t you?”
Fuyumi flushed. “Is it that obvious?”
Keigo grinned. “Touya noticed it before I did. He’s weirdly good at that kind of thing.”
Fuyumi laughed again, lighter this time. “She’s… bold. Refreshing. A little chaotic.”
“Perfect for you,” Keigo said.
Fuyumi squeezed his hand one last time, then stood. “We’ll be here for you,” she said. “All of us. Whatever happens.”
Keigo smiled, heart aching with gratitude. “Thank you, Fuyumi.”
As she slipped out of the room, Keigo leaned back in the rocking chair, cradling his belly.
“I’m terrified,” he whispered, “but I’m not alone.”
...
Just as Fuyumi’s footsteps faded down the hall, Keigo let out a sigh, his hands gently resting on his stomach.
“I’m terrified,” he whispered, “but I’m not alone.”
There was a pause — a soft shift in the air — and then a quiet voice came from the doorway:
“You’re not.”
Keigo startled, looking up.
Touya stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, a faint shadow in his eyes that melted under the soft light from the nursery. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Not really. But when he’d walked by and heard Keigo’s voice, something rooted him to the floor. He couldn’t walk away.
Keigo opened his mouth, but Touya was already crossing the room.
“You’re not alone,” Touya repeated, crouching down in front of him. His hands rested on Keigo’s knees, warm and solid. “You’ve got me. Always.”
Keigo blinked, his breath catching in his throat. “How much did you hear?”
“Just the important part.” Touya gave him a faint smile, then leaned his forehead gently against Keigo’s. “Tape and stubbornness, huh?”
Keigo laughed, teary-eyed. “It’s worked so far.”
“Then let’s keep it up,” Touya murmured. “We’re gonna be fine. Even if we’re scared.”
Keigo’s hands slid into Touya’s hair, holding him there for a moment. “You’re not scared?”
“Terrified,” Touya admitted. “But I’ve never wanted anything this much. Not just the babies. You. Us. This weird little family.”
They stayed like that for a beat — breath to breath, heart to heart.
Then Touya moved to kneel beside the rocking chair, resting his head against Keigo’s belly, eyes closing as he let out a long exhale.
Keigo’s fingers carded through his white hair.
“We’re really doing this,” Keigo said softly.
“We are,” Touya whispered. “And you’re not alone. Not ever.”
...
Eventually, Touya stood and helped Keigo up with gentle hands and a kiss to his temple. “Come on. Let’s get you off your feet.”
“I feel like a turtle on its back,” Keigo muttered as they made their way toward the bedroom, one arm slung lazily over Touya’s shoulders.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Touya teased. “Turtles are resilient.”
“Are you comparing me to a reptile?”
Touya smirked as he pulled back the covers. “More like a majestic, hormonal dragon.”
Keigo snorted, easing down onto the mattress with a long, tired sigh. “You're lucky I’m too pregnant to throw a pillow at you.”
“I’m lucky you’re mine,” Touya muttered under his breath as he dimmed the lights.
Keigo heard it. He didn’t comment—just reached for Touya as he climbed into bed beside him. They settled into their usual position: Keigo on his side, Touya curled behind him, one hand resting lightly on the swell of Keigo’s stomach.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet but not empty—filled with the soft rustle of sheets, the rhythmic sound of breathing, the quiet heartbeat of safety.
“Goodnight,” Keigo said finally, his voice drowsy but peaceful.
Touya pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “’Night, birdbrain.”
Keigo smiled into the pillow.
Sleep came gently after that, wrapped in warmth and whispered promises of tomorrow.
...
The nursery was nearly complete.
Golden light poured through gauzy curtains, casting soft patterns across the pastel yellow walls and mint-green trim. The dark green cribs—three of them—stood side by side like a promise. Bee-print blankets were folded neatly at the foot of each one. The scent of lavender and fresh wood hung in the air.
Keigo sat in the honeycomb-print rocking chair, rubbing small circles into his rounded belly with one hand, while the other carefully sorted newborn socks by color. His body ached in quiet, persistent ways, but his heart felt oddly calm.
Touya walked in, barefoot and quietly humming. He held a small box filled with baby washcloths, pacifiers, and a pack of bibs shaped like fruit slices. He set it on the changing table, then turned to look at Keigo.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Keigo nodded. “Just… thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Touya teased, moving to kneel in front of him. “You overthinking about names again?”
Keigo huffed a laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just watching the man I love turn into someone I never thought I’d get to have.”
Touya blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness in those words. “Sappy bird.”
“I’m serious,” Keigo said, voice low and steady. “You built all of this. Not just the cribs. This. Us. Our life.”
Touya reached up to rest a hand on Keigo’s knee. “You built it with me.”
Keigo leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Yeah. I guess we did.”
They stayed like that for a moment—quiet, steady, surrounded by soft colors and the buzz of possibility. Then Touya stood and crossed the room to open a drawer full of onesies. He held up a yellow one with a tiny bee stitched over the heart.
“This one’s my favorite,” he said.
Keigo tilted his head. “You picked it out.”
“Exactly.”
He walked over and gently held the onesie against Keigo’s bump. “You think baby B will like it?”
Keigo looked down at it, eyes misting. “I think all three of them are going to love everything you do.”
Touya crouched beside the chair again, resting his head lightly against Keigo’s stomach. His voice was quieter now. “I still get scared. Sometimes I look around and I’m waiting for it all to collapse.”
Keigo’s fingers slid through his hair. “I know. Me too.”
“But then I see you,” Touya whispered, “and I feel like maybe… maybe we made it out.”
Keigo leaned forward, their foreheads touching. “We did.”
Touya shifted, wrapping his arms carefully around Keigo’s waist, cradling the growing curve of his belly with such gentle reverence it made Keigo’s breath hitch.
“I love you,” Keigo said, barely more than a whisper.
“I love you too,” Touya replied.
The words still felt new—but they felt real.

Chapter Text

There was a knock at the door.
Touya sighed, dragging himself out of the warm cocoon of domestic quiet. He rubbed at his neck and padded barefoot through the hallway. “Who the hell—?”
When he opened the door, his entire body tensed.
“Yo!” Twice beamed, already halfway inside. “This place looks awesome. Looks like shit. Looks awesome.”
Touya stared, frozen. “What—?”
Mr. Compress gave a polite bow. “Good evening. I do hope we’re not interrupting.”
Keigo peeked out of the nursery just in time to see Twice throwing himself dramatically onto the couch like he owned the place. “Why is Twice in our house— Oh. Hi. The League is here.”
Spinner stepped forward, scratching the back of his head. “We, uh, heard about the baby.”
“Did not,” Shigaraki muttered from behind him.
“We thought we’d drop by,” Compress added cheerfully. “A family visit, if you will.”
“What are you doing here?” Touya asked again, still planted at the door.
Keigo blinked once. “Come in, I guess.”
Shigaraki shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re making this weird.”
Touya gawked. “I’m making this weird? You showed up unannounced!”
Twice was already poking around the nursery doorway, eyes wide. “Three cribs? Damn, wings. You weren’t kidding.”
Keigo gave a tight, amused smile. “I never said it was one baby.”
“Why are you all here?” Touya asked, arms crossed.
“We missed you,” Spinner said simply. “We heard the news, saw the posts, and… well. Some of us thought maybe it was time.”
Shigaraki didn’t deny it.
Compress looked around the pastel nursery and nodded, impressed. “I admit, I didn’t picture you two surrounded by bees and baby rattles, but it suits you.”
Keigo shrugged. “Life changes. People change.”
“Some people,” Shigaraki said, eyeing a framed sonogram photo.
Twice wandered closer to Keigo, tilting his head at the round swell of his belly. “Do they kick yet? Can I say hi? Is it weird if I say hi?”
“It’s weird,” Touya muttered.
Keigo laughed and took Twice’s hand, guiding it gently to his stomach. “They’ve been active lately.”
Twice went still. “Whoa.”
Shigaraki pretended not to care, but his eyes flicked down, just for a second.
Touya caught it and sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We’re… not mad. Just surprised.”
“You gonna name one after me?” Spinner asked, half-joking.
“No,” Keigo said.
Twice dramatically clutched his chest. “What about me?”
“Absolutely not.”
The house filled with overlapping voices—questions about the nursery paint, guesses on baby names, chaotic suggestions for villain-themed bedtime stories. Shigaraki lingered in the hallway like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
Eventually, Touya stepped over and offered him a drink. “There’s still root beer in the fridge.”
Shigaraki stared at him. “I don’t do soft drinks.”
Touya shrugged. “Then sit down and sulk like old times.”
Keigo glanced at the clock, then at the couch where Twice had already curled up under a bee-print throw blanket.
“You guys staying long?” he asked, amused.
Compress answered smoothly, “We won’t overstay. We just wanted to see for ourselves that you’re… well.”
Touya hesitated, then nodded once. “We are.”
Keigo smiled. “We really are.”
A heavy silence followed.
“You know…” Touya began carefully, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. “You could have this. Not just a visit. Not just a few hours of pretending things are okay. You could have this. If you turned yourselves in.”
He glanced around the room—Twice curled up like a cat, Spinner and Compress eyeing the bee-patterned baby mobile with wary curiosity, Shigaraki pretending not to care but very much still listening.
Touya’s voice softened. “We could help you. Like we helped Himi.”
None of them spoke.
But none of them laughed him off either.
And that silence said more than words.
They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t thought about it.
Shigaraki looked up slowly, red eyes glinting under his mop of white hair. “Okay.”
Keigo blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Okay,” Shigaraki repeated, plopping down on the arm of the couch with all the grace of a disinterested teenager. “I’ll turn myself in.”
The room froze.
Even Twice sat up straight.
Touya stared. “Are you serious?”
Shigaraki shrugged. “Sensei’s been annoying lately. Always whispering in my head like some busted ghost. I’m kinda tired of him.”
He tilted his head toward Touya, almost casual. “You used to tell me you hated him. Said he groomed me. Manipulated me. I guess that finally kicked in.”
His tone was calm, but something raw sat just beneath it.
“I’m tired of the noise,” he muttered. “Tired of pretending that all I want is destruction. I don’t even know if I do anymore. I’m just tired.”
Keigo’s hand found Touya’s without looking.
Shigaraki looked around the bright nursery, pastel walls, the half-assembled bee mobile, and Keigo’s swollen belly. “You think meds will take that away?” he asked. It wasn’t sarcastic. Just… quiet.
Touya swallowed hard.
“I think they might help,” he said honestly. “I think therapy helps too. Structure. People who give a shit. It’s not magic. It’s not easy. But it’s something.”
Shigaraki nodded slowly. “Then yeah. Okay. I’m done running.”
No one dared breathe for a moment.
Twice exhaled shakily. “If Shiggy’s doing it… I think I might be ready too.”
Spinner rubbed his eyes. “We always said we were in this together, right?”
Compress gave a slow bow. “Then allow me to formally request rehabilitation, preferably with bee-themed pillows.”
Keigo burst out laughing, tears already in his eyes.
Touya looked around at his former teammates—his family, once upon a time—and something inside him ached. Hope. Caution. Relief.
He nodded. “Okay. We’ll make some calls.”
As soon as the words left Shigaraki’s mouth—“Then yeah. Okay. I’m done running.”—Keigo didn’t hesitate.
He was already reaching for his phone.
“I’m calling the Commission,” he said, voice shaking with adrenaline, urgency, hope. “We’re doing this right.”
Touya didn’t even argue. His own fingers were dialing Aizawa before the shock fully settled in. “And I’m calling Eraser. Nezu, too.”
“Who’s Nezu?” Spinner asked, quietly poking a bee-printed throw pillow.
“The principal of U.A.,” Touya muttered, pacing toward the front room.
“Wait, are we gonna be dormmates with Himi?” Twice whispered, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, do we get yellow rugs too?”
Keigo didn’t answer. He was already on the line.
“Keigo,” the Commission rep on the other end said after a few rings. “Is this about the pregnancy?”
“No,” Keigo said quickly. “I mean, not right now. This is bigger. I have four members of the League of Villains in my living room. They want to turn themselves in. Peacefully. They’re not restrained and they’re not a threat, but we need a controlled response. Medical, legal, psychiatric evaluations—everything. We want to do this right.”
A pause. Then:
“…You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Keigo said. “We rehabilitated Dabi and Himiko. We can do this again. But it needs to be handled right. No raids. No weapons. They’re choosing peace.”
Meanwhile, Touya stepped onto the porch, rubbing at the back of his neck as the call connected.
“Yo, it’s me. This is urgent,” he said as Aizawa answered.
“What happened? Is Keigo okay?”
“He’s fine. We’re all fine. But—uh, the League’s here.”
“…What?”
“They showed up out of nowhere. They heard about the baby. Shigaraki said he’s tired of AFO. And then—he said he wants out. Rehab. Not prison. Like we did for Himi.”
A beat.
“…Are you joking?”
“No,” Touya said firmly. “They want help. Spinner, Compress, Twice, Shigaraki. They’re here. And they mean it.”
He could hear Aizawa exhale on the other end. “I’ll get Nezu. We’ll coordinate with the Commission. This is huge, Touya.”
“I know.”
“Are they stable?”
“Right now? Yeah. Weirdly chill. Compress made a bee pillow joke.”
“…Alright. Keep them calm. Keep them safe. We’re on our way.”
Touya ended the call and leaned against the porch railing, heart pounding.
Inside, Keigo was already wrapping up his own call. “They’re sending a team. Not police. Psych support and legal observers. Unarmed.”
Touya nodded. “Aizawa and Nezu are coming too.”
They looked at each other. Not as hero and villain. Not even as future parents.
Just as them.
And inside, the League—no, their friends—waited.
Maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe everything would change.
But for the first time… that didn’t feel terrifying.
It felt like hope.
...
The wait wasn’t long.
Maybe twenty minutes.
But to Keigo and Touya, it felt like forever.
Twice had settled onto the couch, head tilted back over the edge, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan like it held the answers to life. “Do you think prison food has gotten better?” he asked no one in particular. “Like, if we’re not going to prison, does that mean we get U.A. food instead?”
Spinner sat cross-legged on the floor next to Keigo’s rocking chair. “Are they gonna make us wear uniforms?”
Keigo didn’t have an answer, so he just offered a tired smile and passed Spinner a glass of cold water.
Touya was by the window, arms folded tightly. Every time headlights passed outside, his shoulders tensed.
Then finally—a car slowed to a stop.
Then another.
Then another.
Keigo exhaled, stood up, and looked to the front door. “They’re here.”
The knock was polite.
Keigo opened the door to find a small contingent: two Commission agents in crisp, unarmed uniforms; a psychiatrist with a gentle, open face; and behind them, Aizawa in his black hero gear, scarf tucked under one arm. Nezu stood on his shoulder, tiny paws clasped like always.
“Evening,” Nezu greeted. “Permission to enter?”
Keigo stepped aside. “Yeah. Come on in.”
Touya backed away from the window as they filed in. The League members stood quietly—no quirks flaring, no tension in their shoulders, just… nervous. Human.
Aizawa’s eyes swept the room. “Four of them?”
Keigo nodded. “All here. All calm.”
Nezu hopped down from Aizawa’s shoulder and stepped forward, addressing the group with a patient, practiced tone. “I’m Nezu, principal of U.A. I’ll be helping coordinate your next steps—assuming you’re still interested in rehabilitation.”
Shigaraki looked up from the corner of the couch, one knee pulled close to his chest. “Yeah. We’re done with AFO. We’re not here to fight.”
Nezu’s eyes softened. “Then we’re here to help.”
The psychiatrist stepped forward next, voice warm. “We’ll be asking a few questions, mostly to get a sense of mental state, history, and immediate needs. Nothing invasive. You’ll be treated with care and respect.”
Twice raised a cautious hand. “Do we still get to sleep in cool dorms?”
Aizawa—stoic as ever—answered dryly, “We’ll figure that out.”
Compress nodded slowly. “As long as we’re not being thrown into holding cells.”
“You’re not,” Nezu assured. “We’ve already cleared private spaces for your intake. After a medical and mental health evaluation, we’ll arrange safe temporary housing. U.A. has protocols in place.”
There was silence for a beat.
Then Spinner, voice barely above a whisper, said, “...We really doing this?”
Touya stepped forward, eyes locked on his old allies. “Only if you want to.”
Shigaraki stared at him. “I do. I think we all do. We’re tired.”
Keigo’s voice was gentle. “Then let’s get you help.”
One by one, the League members followed the psychiatrist and Commission staff into the foyer. Their posture was cautious, but no longer tense. No cuffs. No threats. Just… possibility.
Aizawa lingered behind, his gaze meeting Touya’s.
“This is a big deal,” he said.
Touya nodded. “I know.”
“You okay?”
A breath. “I think so.”
Keigo reached for Touya’s hand, grounding them both. “We’re okay.”
Aizawa gave a small nod. “Then we’ll take it from here.”
Nezu turned to Keigo just before stepping out. “Thank you for calling us. You did the right thing.”
Keigo smiled faintly. “I hope it’s enough.”
“It’s a beginning,” Nezu replied.
And with that, the door closed.
The house was quiet again.
But everything had changed.

Chapter Text

Keigo was officially eight and a half months pregnant, and everything—from walking to breathing to finding a comfortable way to sit—was a challenge. His lower back ached constantly, and he could barely see his feet. But somehow, despite the exhaustion, Keigo looked peaceful, radiant even, as he lounged in the honeycomb-print rocking chair in the nursery, rubbing gentle circles over his stomach.
Touya was sitting on the floor, cross-legged in front of him, one hand resting on Keigo’s knee, the other holding a bowl of the weirdest food combo yet: rice with honey and sliced pickles.
“Why do you like this again?” Touya asked, wrinkling his nose as Keigo took a bite.
“I dunno,” Keigo said with a shrug, chewing happily. “The baby wants it.”
Touya chuckled, leaning his head lightly against Keigo’s bump. “Triplets,” he murmured. “A month and a half left.”
Keigo carded his fingers through Touya’s hair. “Are you ready?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. He just smiled faintly. “No. But I will be.”
...
The world outside had changed too.
After Tenko—formerly known as Shigaraki—handed over a massive amount of information on All For One, it led to a stunning victory: All For One was arrested.
The world was stunned. But Keigo and Touya… they felt something closer to relief.
And the League? They were changing too.
Twice had cried when he was reunited with Himiko. He’d started heavy antipsychotics soon after and was going to therapy three times a week. He was softer now. Quieter. Still himself, but steadier.
Spinner, though gruff, was taking therapy seriously. His anger was still there, but he was learning how to name it. To soften around the people who saw him.
Compress was the most reserved about therapy, but surprisingly open once the walls came down. He spent a lot of time journaling. Reflecting.
Tenko—he was still figuring himself out. His medication was stable, and he took quirk suppressants voluntarily, something that shocked even Keigo. He was in regular therapy too. The teacher the Commission had assigned was awkward but patient, and Tenko’s “homeschool” progress was steady.
The four of them lived in an empty U.A. dorm building, monitored gently by Midnight, who acted as a firm but fair guardian. They were doing well. Better, at least.
They often visited Touya and Keigo’s house, where laughter and card games filled the once-quiet rooms. Sometimes, Himiko joined in, but she spent most of her time at U.A. with her new friends. The League understood. She was a teenager, and she deserved a chance to be normal. Even if it stung a little.
...
It was on one of these visits that Natsuo dropped by.
Touya had warned him in advance. “Just a heads up. The League’s here. Or, what’s left of it. Don’t freak out.”
Natsuo had blinked, then nodded. “Alright. Guess it’s a family reunion now.”
When he walked into the living room and saw Tenko, the two of them did the same awkward blink, squint, pause.
“You’re the villain that disintegrated buildings,” Natsuo said.
“You’re Touya’s brother,” Tenko replied.
Silence.
“…You play Mystic Kart 8?” Natsuo asked.
Tenko’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah.”
By the time Keigo waddled out to check on them, the two were yelling at the TV, fighting over who cheated during the rainbow track level. Touya leaned against the doorframe and smirked.
“Boys bonding over digital destruction,” he muttered.
Keigo laughed softly, hand resting on his belly. “They’re the same age, you know. Just two nineteen-year-olds trying to remember how to be normal.”
Touya looked at Tenko and Natsuo laughing—really laughing—and something eased inside him.
Maybe this really could work.
Maybe this odd patchwork family they were building… would hold.

Chapter Text

The evening was warm and still, crickets humming softly outside the nursery window. Touya sat cross-legged on the bed, a baby name book sprawled open in front of him. It was clearly older, with curled corners and a cracked spine, and Keigo swore some of the names sounded made up.
Keigo lounged back against a pile of pillows, one hand resting on his belly. “Okay. Last round. We have to decide tonight. They’ll be here in like—” He paused. “Anytime now. Could be tonight.”
Touya arched an eyebrow. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
Keigo smirked, then reached forward and flipped a page. “You pick one. Then I’ll pick one. Then we pick the third together.”
Touya hesitated, then tapped a name he’d secretly circled days ago. “Ren.”
Keigo blinked, then smiled. “I love that.”
Touya nodded. “It’s short. Strong. Peaceful.”
Keigo leaned his head back with a dreamy sigh. “Okay. My turn. I want to name one after your mom. Rei.”
Touya’s breath hitched. He looked at him for a long second, the rawness behind his eyes unspoken but deeply felt. “You sure?”
“She’s… I don’t know, she’s been kind to me. She’s gentle. She makes me feel safe,” Keigo said. “That’s how I want our daughter to feel. Safe and loved.”
Touya swallowed hard. “Okay,” he whispered. “Rei.”
They were quiet for a moment before Keigo broke the silence. “And the third?”
Touya glanced up with a knowing grin. “Rue?”
Keigo grinned back. “It’s cute.”
“It’s Rumi,” Touya said with a chuckle. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“What can I say?” Keigo shrugged. “She’s family. She’s badass. She’ll be the best aunt ever.”
Touya leaned forward, kissed his cheek. “Ren, Rei, and Rue.”
Keigo whispered it aloud. “Our girls.”
...
Later that weekend—at the house.
Everyone had come over again—Class 1-A, Hizashi and Eri, the Todorokis, Rumi, and the League. It was a mix of quiet excitement, anxious energy, and half-open snack bags. Baby gifts had already been given at the shower, so this visit was purely for the joy of being together.
Keigo stood in the center of the living room, rubbing his swollen belly absentmindedly. “We wanted to tell you all something,” he said. “We’ve picked the babies’ names.”
He glanced at Touya, who gave a small nod.
“Their names are Ren, Rei, and Rue.”
The room was silent for a beat—and then it erupted into a chorus of coos, applause, and someone (Denki) dramatically pretending to cry.
Rei, sitting near the window with a cup of tea, blinked in surprise. “Rei?” she echoed.
Keigo turned to her, eyes soft. “We named her after you. You’ve shown us so much grace, even when you didn’t have to. We want our daughter to grow up with that kind of strength.”
Rei’s hand came to her mouth, eyes glimmering. “That’s… thank you. I’m honored.”
Rumi, who had one arm casually thrown around Fuyumi’s shoulders, blinked. “Wait. Rue? That’s me, isn’t it?”
Keigo grinned. “Yup. You’ve been with us since the beginning. You’re family.”
Rumi grinned wide. “You named a baby after me. Holy shit.”
Fuyumi laughed and gave her a gentle nudge. “Don’t swear in front of the triplets’ names.”
Rumi glanced at her, visibly flustered, then quickly recovered with a smirk. “Guess I’m gonna have to be the fun aunt and the cool one now.”
Touya muttered, “You were already planning on being the cool one.”
Rei was still watching Keigo, visibly touched. “I can help if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“You already have,” Touya said quietly.
Eri raised her hand like she was in class. “Which one of them gets Clover when they’re born?”
Shouto smiled. “You can decide that, Eri.”
Rumi leaned into Fuyumi and whispered something that made her laugh softly, and Touya couldn’t help but glance over and smirk. “How long has that been happening?” he muttered to Keigo.
“Couple weeks. I’m proud of them,” Keigo said, nuzzling his head against Touya’s shoulder. “We’re really building something, huh?”
Touya kissed the top of his head. “Yeah. We really are.”

Chapter Text

The house had finally settled into a quiet hum again after everyone left. Keigo was napping in their room, one hand resting on his belly, peaceful for the first time all day. Touya was in the nursery adjusting the placement of a mobile shaped like tiny bumblebees.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Tenko was perched on the far end of the couch, hood up, fingers twitching nervously near his sleeves. He wasn’t used to this kind of warmth—this kind of normal. He’d gotten better, sure. The meds helped. The therapy helped. But being in a house full of people who looked at him like he was human… that was still new.
Natsuo plopped onto the other end of the couch with two mugs of tea, offering one out. “Chamomile. You looked like you needed it.”
Tenko blinked. “Thanks.” He accepted the mug carefully, like it might shatter. “You, uh… make it yourself?”
Natsuo smirked. “What, you think I can’t handle boiling water?”
Tenko shrugged. “Didn’t know you were the tea type.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Natsuo said, leaning back and stretching his legs until his toes bumped Tenko’s. He didn’t move them.
Tenko glanced at the contact, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “You’re… really casual.”
“I’ve been told that,” Natsuo replied. “But only around people I like.”
Tenko’s ears burned. He pulled his hood down a little further. “That’s… uh. Cool.”
Natsuo grinned. “You’re cute when you panic.”
Tenko choked on his tea.
“I—what?! I’m not panicking. You’re panicking. Why would you say that? I’m not cute.”
Natsuo laughed, watching him with open amusement and a flicker of something softer. “You really don’t get flirted with much, huh?”
Tenko’s face turned redder than Touya’s scar. He sank deeper into the couch. “People usually… run away from me.”
Natsuo’s voice gentled. “Well, I’m not running.”
They sat in a stretched-out silence for a moment. Tenko fiddled with the rim of his mug. “…You’re weird.”
“Yeah,” Natsuo said easily. “You too. That’s probably why I like you.”
Tenko gave him a wide-eyed stare like the sentence didn’t compute. “You… like me?”
Natsuo leaned in, not too close, but enough that his voice dropped just slightly. “I could. If you let me.”
Tenko’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “…I need to lie down.”
Natsuo burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, I’ll back off—for now.”
Tenko stood, walked five steps toward the hallway, and then turned around. “You’re not joking, right?”
“Nope.”
Tenko tugged his hoodie strings tighter around his face. “This is illegal.”
“Still not running,” Natsuo said.
Tenko didn’t reply—he just darted into the guest room and closed the door with an audible thud.
Natsuo smiled to himself, sipping the rest of his tea.
Touya emerged from the nursery with a roll of soft bee-printed swaddles under one arm and a deeply confused look on his face.
He glanced at the closed guest room door, then at Natsuo—who was lounging on the couch like he hadn't just short-circuited a former villain.
"...What the hell just happened?" Touya asked, eyebrows furrowing.
Natsuo lifted his tea and took a smug sip. “I guess Tenko doesn’t know how to handle being flirted with.”
Touya blinked. “You flirted with Tenko?”
Natsuo grinned. “Yep.”
Touya’s brain stalled. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but in the way someone squints at a puzzle with too many missing pieces. “You flirted with Tenko,” he repeated, slower this time.
“I mean, yeah,” Natsuo said. “He’s cute in a ‘I used to disintegrate buildings but now I own a stress frog’ kind of way.”
Touya looked toward the closed door again, then back at his brother. “I… I don’t even know how to feel about this.”
Natsuo raised a brow. “Why?”
Touya shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Because I see both of you like brothers. I mean—not like each other’s brothers, but like… you’re my brother and he’s—he’s practically my brother now. And I know we’re not actually related but still. It’s weird.”
“Is it weirder than you dating Keigo?” Natsuo asked, half-teasing.
Touya deadpanned. “Yes. Shut up.”
Natsuo laughed. “Look, I’m not proposing marriage. I just think he’s interesting. And I like how serious he gets about stuff, even when it’s awkward. It’s not like I’m gonna break his heart or anything.”
Touya rubbed a hand down his face. “God, I’m going to have to give you both the ‘don’t hurt each other or I’ll bury you’ speech, huh?”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Natsuo smiled. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not rushing him. He was all red and twitchy and bolted like I was a villain.”
“You are a menace,” Touya muttered, but the edge had left his voice.
A soft groan echoed from down the hall. Probably Tenko screaming into a pillow.
Touya exhaled through his nose, looked up at the ceiling, and muttered, “Keigo’s gonna love this.”
...
Keigo shuffled out of the bedroom in an oversized hoodie that belonged to Touya and socks that didn’t match. His hair was a fluffy mess, and he had that freshly-woken-up daze in his eyes as he rubbed his stomach absently.
“Why do I feel like something weird happened while I was asleep?” he mumbled, squinting into the living room light.
Touya, who was now curled sideways on the couch with a bottle of water against his cheek, didn’t even look up as he said, “Your brother-in-law flirted with Tenko.”
Keigo blinked. “Come again?”
Natsuo, still supremely unbothered and proud of himself, waved from the armchair. “Hey Keigo. Nice nap? I made a grown man blush so hard he almost short-circuited.”
“You what?” Keigo asked, now wide awake.
“I flirted with Tenko,” Natsuo repeated, like he was reading the weather.
Keigo looked at Touya. “And you let this happen?”
“I walked out of the nursery and he was already halfway through whatever smooth nonsense he said,” Touya replied, looking vaguely traumatized. “Tenko made a noise I didn’t know humans could make and then sprinted into the guest room.”
Keigo blinked, then snorted. “Okay, wait, I kinda wish I’d seen that.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Touya grumbled, throwing a pillow half-heartedly at Natsuo.
Natsuo caught it with one hand. “You’re both just mad because I have a personality.”
Keigo made his way over and flopped beside Touya, resting his head on his shoulder with a groan. “I don’t have the energy to deal with this soap opera. My back hurts, the babies are kicking my bladder, and now the League might become my in-laws.”
“Technically,” Touya said dryly, “they already kind of are.”
Keigo groaned louder. “Great.”
A beat of silence passed before Touya murmured, “You think Tenko likes him?”
Keigo hummed. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have panicked so hard. Poor guy probably doesn’t know what to do with kindness when it’s not wrapped in trauma.”
Touya sighed, reached down, and laced their fingers together. “Same.”
Keigo smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world if Tenko and Natsuo hit it off. Just as long as we don’t get dragged into anything dramatic.”
From the hallway, there was a muffled crash and a shout that sounded suspiciously like “I didn’t mean to knock over the lamp!”
Touya and Keigo both winced.
“…Too late,” they said in unison.

Chapter Text

It started just before sunrise.
Keigo jolted awake with a low groan, his hand pressing to his lower belly. Something felt… different. He sat up slowly, blinked against the dim light filtering through the window, and hissed through his teeth when the cramp hit.
“Touya.”
No response. Just a sleepy grunt.
“Touya, babe—get up. I think it’s time.”
That did it.
Touya blinked awake, groggy and confused. “Huh? Time for what? Is it the girls? Are you okay?”
“I’m having contractions,” Keigo said through clenched teeth. “They’re close together. They hurt.”
He winced again, bracing himself on the edge of the bed. “Like really hurt.”
Touya shot out of bed, adrenaline flooding through him as he scrambled to grab the hospital bag. “Okay! Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. We practiced for this. We’ve got snacks. We’ve got swaddles. We’ve got—oh my god, it’s happening.”
Keigo snorted despite the pain. “You’re panicking.”
“I’m calmly panicking.”
...
By the time they arrived, the contractions were sharp and consistent. The doctors confirmed what Keigo already knew: labor had begun. And because he was carrying triplets, a C-section was the safest route. Everything moved fast from there.
Keigo gripped Touya’s hand on the surgical table. “Don’t let go.”
“Never,” Touya said, brushing his thumb along Keigo’s knuckles. “I’m right here, Father.”
Keigo let out a shaky laugh. “You trying out the title already?”
“You earned it.”
...
And then they were born.
Ren came first—by just a few seconds—but she came out screaming.
She had a thick head of red hair, the exact same shade Touya had before it had turned white. Her eyes were Keigo’s golden auburn, wide and bright even as she cried.
Tiny, delicate wings curled from her shoulder blades—soft blue, glowing faintly like Touya’s flames.
“She’s so beautiful,” Keigo whispered.
“She’s ours,” Touya said, in awe.
Rei was next.
Her hair was pure white, almost silvery, soft wisps framing her tiny face. Her eyes were a piercing turquoise blue—Touya’s eyes. Enji’s eyes. She had snowy-white wings that fanned out gently as she let out a sharp cry of protest.
“Definitely has your temper,” Keigo teased.
“Damn right,” Touya muttered with pride.
Rue came last.
Her hair was dirty blonde, a near perfect match to Keigo’s natural shade. Her eyes, though, were pale grey—eerily calm, just like her grandmother Rei’s. Her wings were the same bold red as Keigo’s, shining like lacquer in the light.
Touya looked at Keigo with tears in his eyes. “We did it.”
Keigo was already crying softly. “They’re perfect.”
...
Later, in the hospital room.
The girls were nestled in clear bassinets lined in pale yellow, swaddled in soft bee-print blankets. Touya sat beside Keigo’s bed, cradling Ren while Keigo had Rue dozing against his chest. Rei slept between them in the bassinet, arms twitching in little baby dreams.
Keigo sighed contentedly. “I still can’t believe they’re here.”
“They’re here,” Touya said. “And they’re real. And loud.”
Keigo grinned, exhausted but elated. “You’re Dad now.”
Touya smiled. “And you’re Father.”
Just then, there was a knock.
Class 1-A poured in first, led by Mina, who gasped dramatically and nearly sobbed at the sight of the babies.
“She’s got Touya’s hair! And his eyes! Oh my god, I’m dying—Shouto look!” Mina shoved Shouto forward.
Shouto blinked. “They’re very small.”
He bent down and gently set something in Rei’s bassinet. “This is Clover. Eri wanted you to have it.”
Eri peeked over Momo’s arm and whispered, “She’s the middle baby. Clover belongs to her now.”
Keigo smiled softly. “Perfect choice.”
Himiko stood next to Izuku, teary-eyed and smiling. “I can’t believe they’re here. They’re real.”
“They’re strong,” Izuku said quietly, beaming. “Just like their parents.”
Hizashi burst into the room next, nearly knocking over a nurse. “I’M A GRANDUNCLE, BABY!”
Aizawa followed behind him, deadpan as always, but his expression softened as he looked at the girls. “They’re… really cute.”
...
Rei approached first, quiet but smiling, her eyes already glassy. She leaned over the bassinet holding Rei, gently brushing her fingers along the edge. “So you’re the little one with my name,” she whispered.
“She has your softness already,” Keigo said with a warm smile. “I hope she gets your strength, too.”
Rei blinked back tears and nodded. “She’s perfect.”
Enji stood a step behind her, noticeably subdued. His gaze landed on the same child—the one with his eyes. “She… looks like Touya did. When he was small.”
Keigo looked up. “She has your eyes. But your legacy?” He glanced at Touya. “She’s going to redefine it.”
Touya gave a sharp nod, voice calm but firm. “She’s going to grow up in love. Not fear.”
There was nothing Enji could say to that. He just nodded, slowly.
To the side, Rumi had Rue cradled in one arm like she’d been doing it her whole life. “This one’s got sass in her eyes already,” she grinned. “She’s gonna be a bruiser.”
“She kicked me the hardest,” Keigo laughed. “It checks out.”
Fuyumi leaned into her girlfriend’s side. “She’s beautiful. They all are.”
Rumi glanced at her, then back at the baby. “You think she’ll want to learn martial arts?”
Fuyumi gave her a teasing look. “Only if you manage to say ‘punch’ without cursing in the same breath.”
“Hey, I’m working on it,” Rumi muttered. Then she kissed the top of Rue’s little head, her voice softening. “You’re gonna be so loved, kid.”
Touya looked at them all—his girls, his partner, his mother, his siblings, and even his father—and felt the oddest thing settle in his chest.
Not fire.
Not fury.
Not fear.
Just peace.

Chapter Text

The house was a war zone.
Not in the explosive League-of-Villains way, but in the far more dangerous, unpredictable territory known as life with three newborns.
Touya stepped over a burp cloth that had somehow fused with the floor and stared blankly at a bottle warmer that beeped aggressively for reasons unknown. One of the babies—he didn’t even know which one at this point—was crying like she’d just witnessed the end of the world.
Keigo shuffled into the kitchen wearing Touya’s hoodie again, hair tied up messily, holding Rue like a football. “I think she pooped. Or maybe she’s just mad about existing.”
“She’s valid,” Touya muttered, rubbing at his eyes.
Rei was napping on his chest in a wrap sling. Ren was in the bassinet, staring up at the ceiling like it personally offended her.
“I haven’t sat down in seven hours,” Keigo whispered, completely serious.
“You laid down for a second earlier,” Touya offered.
“I was feeding them, Touya. That’s not laying down. That’s breastfeeding while horizontal and crying.”
Speaking of—which brought them to the real focus of the week.
Keigo was learning to breastfeed. Not something he’d had a ton of guidance for, considering he was a trans man with triplets.
At first, he’d been nervous. Terrified, even. The lactation consultant at the hospital had been supportive, kind, and reassuring—but that hadn’t stopped the awkwardness of trying to learn how to latch one baby while two others screamed like banshees in the background.
Now, a few days in, he was managing. Barely.
“Do I look like a vending machine to you?” Keigo asked Ren, who was angrily rooting against his chest as he shifted her to a more comfortable position.
“Yes,” Touya answered from the couch, gently patting Rei’s back.
Keigo glared at him.
“Okay, no, you look like a radiant, self-sacrificing angel who hasn’t slept in a week,” Touya corrected, deadpan. “But also, like a vending machine.”
Keigo snorted, adjusted the pillow under his arm, and helped Ren latch. His whole body relaxed the moment she did. “God, that still feels weird.”
“Weird good?”
“Weird like I feel useful, but also like my soul is exiting my body through my nipples.”
Touya winced in sympathy. “Want me to make you that weird combo you like? The peanut butter-pickle toast?”
“God, yes.”
While Touya went off to toast and question his life choices, Keigo sat in the rocking chair and closed his eyes for just a moment. Rue was sleeping in the bassinet now, and Rei had finally passed out on Touya’s chest.
And Keigo? He was feeding Ren with one arm, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes—not from pain, but from sheer exhaustion, gratitude, and the weirdest, deepest love he’d ever felt.
Touya returned with the plate, crouching beside him. “You’re doing amazing,” he said, quietly, almost like he was afraid to break the moment.
Keigo opened his eyes and smiled, tired but proud. “We are.”
They both leaned in to look at Ren, who blinked up at them mid-feed with eyes full of ancient knowledge and judgment.
“Definitely your kid,” Keigo whispered.
Touya smirked. “She already looks like she’s disappointed in me.”
A sudden wail erupted from the bassinet—Rue, wide awake again and clearly furious about being left out of the action.
Keigo groaned. “I just sat down—”
“I got her,” Touya said, rising with a sigh and stretching. “C’mere, little firework.”
Another day in the Todoroki-Takami household. Three babies, two delirious parents, one rocking chair, and zero moments of peace.
And yet somehow… they wouldn’t trade it for anything.
...
It was 3:14 a.m.
The kind of hour where the sky was more idea than color, and even the wind outside seemed unsure if it should be awake.
In the nursery, all three babies were screaming.
Loudly. In harmony. Possibly in Latin.
Touya rubbed his temples with one hand while rocking Rei in the other. “This is a curse. We’ve been cursed.”
Keigo, halfway through changing Rue, muttered, “We should’ve named them Wrath, Chaos, and Screams.”
Ren, currently in the vibrating rocker, wailed louder as if to agree.
The changing pad had somehow been peed on twice in one diaper change. Keigo didn’t know how that was anatomically possible, and frankly, he was afraid to ask.
“Where’s the wipes?” he hissed.
“By the rocking chair.”
“No, they’re not!”
Touya scanned the room. “They were there an hour ago—”
“Well now they’re GONE, Touya.”
A distant fluttering sound echoed from the hallway. Keigo paused, wide-eyed. “Did Clover just fall off the dresser again?”
Touya squinted. “We left Clover in the living room…”
They both froze. Then, in unison: “SHINSOU.”
Turns out, sometime after midnight, Shinsou had come over—invited by Keigo earlier in the week to “stop by anytime.” A fatal mistake.
He had let himself in quietly, found Clover on the floor, tucked her into the couch cushions, and then passed out in the guest room. All without waking the babies.
A hero.
Back in the nursery, Keigo was trying to wrestle Rue into a fresh onesie while she arched her back like a possessed shrimp. Touya was pacing with Rei, bouncing, humming something that might’ve been Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or a death chant.
“I haven’t eaten anything that isn’t beige in two days,” Keigo mumbled. “Toast, crackers, those weird oat cookies Rumi dropped off…”
“She said they help with lactation.”
“They taste like despair.”
Touya sighed, gently patting Rei’s back. “We’re gonna look back on this and laugh.”
Keigo blinked at him.
“Eventually,” Touya amended.
Ren finally hiccupped, yawned, and—miracle of miracles—stopped crying. Rei followed a moment later, nestling deeper against Touya’s shoulder.
Rue? Rue was a menace. She stared up at Keigo with wide grey eyes, let out one last scream… and then passed out mid-howl.
Silence.
They stood there, frozen, like wild animals trying not to wake a sleeping predator.
Keigo carefully—carefully—placed Rue in her crib.
They tiptoed out of the nursery like they were defusing a bomb. Once the door was shut, they both collapsed onto the couch in silence, staring at the ceiling.
Keigo turned his head slightly. “I think my nipple fell off.”
“Want me to check?” Touya offered, eyes half-shut.
Keigo snorted. “Not unless you're willing to reattach it.”
They both laughed—quietly. Everything had to be quiet now. Even their joy.
After a moment, Keigo reached out and laced their fingers together. “Do you think we’re doing okay?”
Touya looked at him, tired and messy and so full of love it almost hurt. “I think we’re surviving. And I think… for now, that’s enough.”
Keigo closed his eyes. “Yeah. I think so too.”
From the guest room, Shinsou snored.
From the nursery, one of the babies whimpered, then settled.
And from the couch, two brand-new parents sank deeper into each other, not asleep, not quite awake—just existing together in the strange, beautiful storm of it all.

...
The house was... quiet. Miraculously quiet. The triplets were down for their post-sunrise nap, and for once, no one was screaming, leaking, or throwing a plush bee across the room.
Keigo padded into the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up, dark circles under his eyes but looking almost serene. He poured two mugs of coffee, still not quite awake enough to process the second body curled up on the guest bed the night before.
“Babe,” Touya called from the couch, rubbing his face. “Why do I hear two sets of footsteps?”
Before Keigo could answer, the guest room door creaked open and out came Shinsou, hair still a mess from sleep, wearing sweats and a half-buttoned flannel.
Trailing behind him?
Denki Kaminari, equally disheveled, blinking like a baby owl and holding a box of donuts.
"Yo," Denki said, voice rough from sleep. "We brought breakfast."
Touya stared. “We? You were a ‘we’ this whole time?”
Shinsou shrugged, unapologetic. “He was already with me when you texted. Thought you wouldn’t mind.”
Keigo blinked. “I thought you came alone.”
Denki bit into a powdered donut. “Nah, I’m a package deal.”
They settled into the living room together, quietly munching on sugar and carbs like it was a sacred ritual. Keigo had Rue on his chest in a wrap, her tiny hand curled near his neck. Ren and Rei were snuggled together in the bassinet nearby, gently rising and falling with sleep.
“Your babies are so cute it’s stupid,” Denki whispered, peeking at them. “Like... I'm mad about it.”
“They look like you,” Shinsou said to Keigo, nudging him lightly. “All round cheeks and chaos.”
“Please,” Keigo whispered, “They have Touya’s ‘I will destroy you’ energy in their sleep.”
Touya smirked.
Denki sipped his coffee, then glanced at Keigo. “Can I ask something kind of personal?”
Keigo nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”
Denki hesitated, then said softly, “What’s it been like... being pregnant while trans? I’m trans too. Not out to everybody yet, but, uh, yeah.”
Keigo smiled, warm and a little surprised. “Hey, me too. That’s awesome, Kaminari.”
“Thanks,” Denki murmured, suddenly shy.
Keigo adjusted Rue’s wrap and thought for a second before answering. “It’s been... complicated. Not because of being trans, really—but because of how the world sees it. The stares, the assumptions, the ‘how does that even work?’ stuff. But honestly?” He looked down at Rue, who let out a sleepy sigh. “My body’s doing something amazing. And that’s not any less true just because it doesn’t fit someone else’s idea of what pregnancy should look like.”
Denki’s eyes softened. “Was it scary? Like... being public about it?”
Keigo nodded. “Terrifying. But I also didn’t want to hide. I’m proud of who I am. Of what Touya and I built. It helped that we had support. The students, our friends, our family.” He smiled at Touya, who nudged his foot gently under the coffee table.
Denki smiled. “That’s really cool. I’m proud of you. I don’t know if I ever want to be a parent, but just seeing you be so open about it... it makes it feel possible.”
Shinsou quietly offered Denki half his donut. Denki took it without looking, still deep in thought.
“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Keigo said. “Just take your time. Be kind to yourself.”
Denki looked up and nodded. “Thanks. Seriously.”
Touya watched the exchange quietly, pride flickering in his eyes. “You’re welcome here anytime,” he said. “Both of you.”
“Cool,” Denki said. “But next time, I’m bringing backup donuts. These babies are gonna have bottomless snack cravings and I don’t want to be caught lacking.”
“You’re assuming they’ll share,” Keigo said, grinning. “They’re Todorokis. They’ll fight over the last cream puff.”
Shinsou rolled his eyes affectionately. “And then Eri will guilt them into splitting it.”
“Chaos and balance,” Touya said, raising his mug. “Like the rest of this damn household.”
They all laughed softly, basking in the rare peace of a quiet morning—just four friends, a sleeping trio of newborns, and the unspoken comfort of being seen exactly as they are.

Chapter Text

Only two visitors at a time.
That had been the rule since the triplets came home. It was the only way to preserve some kind of peace—and to keep Keigo from collapsing into an exhausted puddle of feathers.
So when the doorbell rang mid-afternoon, Touya was already halfway there with a burp cloth slung over his shoulder and a pacifier tucked behind one ear. Keigo was curled on the couch with Rue and Rei asleep on his chest, and Ren nearby in a bassinet, frowning in her sleep like she was already plotting world domination.
When Touya opened the door, Izuku and Himiko stood on the porch with a pastel yellow gift bag, matching soft smiles, and an air of practiced nervousness.
"Hey," Izuku said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We brought diapers and, uh... lavender tea?"
"And baby socks," Himiko added. "The tiny kind that look like shoes."
Touya blinked at them. “You brought peace offerings. Smart.”
“They come in peace!” Keigo called from the living room. “Let ‘em in!”
Once inside, Himiko beelined for Keigo with zero hesitation. “Can I hold one?”
“You’re already holding a gift bag,” Keigo said, mock-stern. “That’s too many responsibilities at once.”
“I multitask,” she said, setting the bag down. “C’mon, Keigo, I’ve been good!”
He chuckled and carefully shifted Rei into her arms. “She’s the calmest. Start with her.”
Himiko’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. She’s so small.”
“She’s the biggest one,” Touya said dryly, crossing his arms. “We make small chaos.”
Izuku hovered nearby, looking deeply emotional and deeply terrified.
“Want to sit?” Keigo asked him gently.
Izuku nodded and lowered himself onto the loveseat like he was about to take a high-stakes licensing exam. “I just don’t wanna break anything.”
“You won’t,” Keigo promised.
“Her wing just fluttered,” Himiko whispered, cradling Rei with surprising gentleness. “Oh my god, she has wings.”
“Yup,” Touya said. “Ren’s are blue. Rue’s are red. Rei’s are white.”
“That’s…” Izuku’s voice cracked. “That’s beautiful.”
Keigo grinned. “We thought so.”
For a while, the four of them just sat in the soft haze of baby noises and sunlight—Rei’s quiet sighs, Rue’s tiny kicks, Ren’s faint mumbling that somehow already sounded judgmental. Himiko was cooing softly, rocking Rei gently in her arms, while Izuku quietly asked a million questions about the girls’ development, quirks, and sleep cycles.
“You’re gonna be a great dad someday,” Keigo said suddenly, looking at Izuku with warmth.
Izuku startled. “Me?”
Keigo nodded. “You’ve got that look. The one where you’re terrified but already in love.”
Izuku turned bright pink. “I… I mean, yeah. Maybe. Someday.”
Touya raised an eyebrow at Himiko, who was definitely not looking at Izuku and definitely blushing.
“Someday could be sooner than you think,” Touya murmured, earning a playful glare from Himiko.
Izuku cleared his throat and glanced toward the girls again. “I know it’s early, but… when their quirks start to develop, I’d love to help study them. If you’re okay with that. I mean—not in a lab rat way! Just scientifically. Respectfully. Supportively.”
Keigo laughed. “Izuku, we know. And yeah—if anyone’s going to help understand them, I’d want it to be you.”
“They’re going to be fascinating,” Izuku said quietly, almost to himself. “Hybrid wings, multiple bloodlines, flame lineage and regeneration potential… there’s so much to learn, and so much to protect.”
Touya looked at him a long moment, then nodded. “We’ll keep you posted, nerd.”
For once, Izuku didn’t argue the title.
Himiko glanced at the clock. “We should go soon. I don’t want to overstimulate them.”
Keigo smiled, touched. “Thanks for coming. Seriously. It means a lot.”
Himiko passed Rei back to him, hesitating before adding, “I think… seeing this? You two? It makes everything feel kind of possible again.”
Touya met her eyes, softened. “That’s all we want for you.”
Izuku nodded, hand brushing lightly against hers. “We’ll come by again soon. And next time, I’ll bring cinnamon rolls.”
“And I’ll bring gossip,” Himiko added. “Shinsou and Kaminari are getting suspiciously domestic.”
“Color me shocked,” Touya said, ushering them toward the door.
Keigo rested his head back on the couch as the door closed behind their friends. Rei yawned in his arms, Rue kicked a plush bee off the blanket, and Ren let out a small snore that sounded far too judgmental for her age.
Touya returned, collapsing beside him. “That went well.”
Keigo nodded. “They’re good kids.”
Touya laced their fingers together. “They’re going to be great grownups.”
Keigo leaned in, rested their foreheads together. “Let’s raise our girls to be just as strong.”
...
The doorbell rang just as Touya finished changing Rue for the third time that morning.
“She pooped again,” he said flatly, lifting the baby up in one arm like a tiny red-winged goblin. “We made a poop elemental.”
Keigo peeked around the corner from the kitchen, where he was attempting to reheat soup with one hand while bouncing Ren with the other. “Maybe she’s gifted. Or cursed.”
“We’ll find out when her quirk manifests,” Touya muttered, heading for the door. “Please be a diaper wizard.”
He opened the door to find Rumi and Fuyumi, both smiling and holding takeout bags and iced drinks.
“We brought caffeine and carbs,” Rumi declared. “Also, I’m officially not allowed to say the f-word around the babies anymore.”
Touya stepped aside to let them in. “You never were allowed, you just did it anyway.”
Fuyumi offered a gentle smile. “We thought you could use the company—and a meal that isn’t reheated three times.”
“You’re saints,” Keigo sighed from the couch, finally settling Ren in her swing. “Actual gods. Come in, please. Save us.”
As they made their way inside, Rumi glanced over her shoulder. “Wait, where’s my namesake? I wanna hold the one who’s probably gonna throw punches in her sleep.”
Touya handed her Rue without hesitation. “This one’s yours. She’s already kicked Keigo in the jaw.”
“She’s perfect,” Rumi cooed, holding the baby like she was made of indestructible gold. “Red wings. Hell yeah.”
Fuyumi gravitated toward baby Rei, who was half-asleep in a pastel yellow bassinet with a bee plushie tucked beside her. “She’s beautiful,” she said softly, brushing Rei’s white hair with her fingertips. “Looks just like mom.”
Keigo nodded, warm and tired. “That’s why we chose her name. Rei’s been... so kind to me. I was terrified when everything came out, and she made me feel safe.”
Touya’s voice was quieter, almost reverent. “She was the first to forgive me. Maybe even before I forgave myself.”
Fuyumi blinked, eyes misty. “She’s honored. Truly. You’re giving that name a new kind of love.”
Keigo smiled. “We hope so.”
Meanwhile, Rumi had already made herself at home on the couch with Rue nestled on her chest like a sleeping flame.
“She’s got your attitude,” Touya deadpanned. “And your ability to squirm out of every swaddle.”
“She’s perfect,” Rumi said with a grin, gently rocking her. “I’m keeping her.”
“Over my dead body,” Keigo said dryly, but with a laugh. “You’re already the cool aunt, isn’t that enough?”
“Barely,” Rumi smirked.
Fuyumi joined her, their fingers intertwining without thinking, natural and easy. “You’re gonna teach her how to punch, aren’t you?”
Rumi leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Only if she asks.”
Keigo leaned against Touya, smiling softly. “Our girls are surrounded by so much love.”
Touya pressed a kiss to his temple. “They’ll never go without it.”
...
The house was quiet again. The triplets were asleep in their bassinets, each swaddled in a different shade of pastel: soft yellow for Ren, pale green for Rei, and gentle cream for Rue. The hum of the white noise machine blended into the stillness like background music to a dream.
Touya stood in the living room with a burp cloth slung over his shoulder and a faint milk stain on his shirt, when the doorbell rang.
Keigo peeked around the corner from the kitchen, holding a bottle. “You got it, love?”
“Yeah,” Touya murmured, already moving.
He opened the door to find his mother standing there with a soft smile and a bag of groceries in her arms, and Enji standing just behind her, awkward and quiet in a collared shirt that still looked a size too small for his frame.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Rei said gently.
“Mom,” Touya said, letting the door swing wider. “Come in.”
Rei stepped inside first, and Enji followed silently. Keigo appeared in the hallway, greeting them both with a warm smile. “Hey, Rei. Hey… Enji.”
Rei headed immediately for the nursery, already familiar with the route. “I brought soup and some fruit. And I knitted some tiny booties. I don’t know if they’ll fit yet, but—”
Keigo beamed. “That’s perfect.”
Touya hung back in the living room as Enji lingered behind. They stood there in silence for a few long seconds, the tension not as sharp as it used to be—but present, like a ghost at the edge of a photo.
“You can say something,” Touya muttered finally.
Enji’s eyes drifted toward the direction of the nursery. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
Touya crossed his arms. “Start with the truth. That’s a good place.”
Enji nodded slowly. “They’re… beautiful.”
“They’re babies. They look like potatoes,” Touya said, but there was a crack of emotion in his voice. “But yeah. I guess they are.”
Enji looked down at his hands. “Rei… she told me about their names. I know you didn’t name one after me. I don’t deserve that. But the one with my eyes…”
“Rei,” Touya said, flat. “She’s named after Mom. Not you.”
“I know,” Enji replied quietly. “That’s… fair.”
More silence.
Keigo’s voice floated out from the nursery, light and affectionate, talking softly to Rue as she stirred. Rei cooed at Ren in the background.
Touya looked at his father, really looked at him. “You’re here. That’s something.”
Enji nodded. “I want to try.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I mean it this time.”
Touya let out a breath, tired but honest. “Then prove it. Be here. Be kind. Not just to the babies. To Keigo. To Mom. To Natsuo. Even to Tenko, if he’s around. And don’t expect us to forget anything overnight.”
“I don’t,” Enji said. “I just… want a chance to be part of their lives. Even if it’s small.”
Touya looked away, blinking quickly. “Then start small.”
A pause.
“Want to meet them properly?” he asked finally.
Enji looked startled—but nodded.
Keigo stepped out of the nursery just then, holding baby Rei. “She’s awake. Want to hold her?”
Enji’s hands trembled a little as he reached out. Keigo passed her over carefully, and the ex-hero stood there, cradling the child that bore his eye color and his wife’s name—both a legacy and a new beginning.
“She’s warm,” Enji murmured. “So small.”
“She’s strong,” Touya added. “Just like her namesake.”
Rei stepped back into the room, smiling softly at the sight of Enji holding their granddaughter. She looked at Touya and Keigo, eyes bright. “She’s lucky to have you both.”
Touya slid an arm around Keigo’s waist, and for once, Enji didn’t try to insert himself—he just nodded, quietly grateful.
...
Mina had insisted on baking something. “It’s tradition!” she declared via text, which Keigo had responded to with an appreciative string of emojis and a warning that their oven was still very temperamental. So when she and Kirishima arrived that afternoon—arms full of pink Tupperware and a blanket Kirishima had apparently crocheted himself—Keigo already felt a little spoiled.
“You look radiant,” Mina said the second she saw him, placing the containers on the kitchen counter and pulling Keigo into a careful hug. “Like glowy and exhausted and terrifyingly powerful.”
Keigo laughed. “I feel like a sleep-deprived balloon, but thank you.”
“You’re a majestic balloon,” she said solemnly, patting his belly affectionately despite the fact the triplets were already here. “You did that. That’s amazing.”
Kirishima stepped forward, holding up the small crocheted blanket with a proud grin. “I made this. It’s baby-sized but super durable.”
“It’s literally red and gold and has little explosions on it,” Touya said, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s manly,” Kirishima replied.
“We love it,” Keigo said sincerely, already folding it into the baby basket near the couch.
Mina tiptoed over to peek into the nursery. “Are they asleep?”
“Barely,” Touya warned. “Rue’s the lightest sleeper, so don’t—”
A tiny sneeze echoed down the hallway.
Mina winced dramatically. “Oops.”
Keigo waved a hand. “It’s fine. They’ll sleep through a car crash one minute and then wake up if a breeze shifts the curtains.”
Soon enough, the four of them were gathered in the living room with baby Rei in Mina’s arms and Ren cradled carefully against Kirishima’s chest. Rue was still dozing in her bassinet, blissfully unaware of her chaotic surroundings.
“They’re so small,” Kirishima whispered.
“I know,” Mina added. “I thought newborns looked more like old men. These ones are cute.”
“They’re cute because Keigo carried them,” Touya said dryly.
“And because you helped make them,” Keigo said, nudging him gently. “I mean, look at Ren’s hair. That’s you, babe.”
“I like that they each have different bits of you both,” Mina said, bouncing Rei lightly. “I hope they have Keigo’s optimism and Touya’s sarcasm.”
“Dangerous combo,” Touya muttered.
“I approve,” Kirishima said with a grin.
Mina looked down at Rei, her expression softening. “You guys really did it. You made a family. That’s…” She blinked quickly, then gave a sniff. “Okay I’m crying.”
“Again?” Kirishima teased.
“Shut up, I’m hormonal in support,” Mina replied, wiping her eyes.
Keigo laughed and leaned into Touya. “I love them.”
“I know,” Touya said, wrapping an arm around him. “They love you, too.”
“You’re gonna raise some strong girls,” Kirishima added. “If they’re anything like you two, they’re gonna be unstoppable.”
“Let’s just hope they nap,” Keigo muttered.
They all laughed.
...
Keigo was rocking Rue gently in his arms when there was a knock at the door. Touya got there first, opening it to reveal Tenko and Natsuo standing side by side on the porch. Natsuo had a confident smile; Tenko looked like he was trying very hard not to combust.
“You made it,” Touya said, stepping aside.
“Yeah,” Natsuo said casually, slipping inside. “We brought snacks. And I brought my boyfriend.”
Tenko groaned softly, shoving his hoodie up over his face. “Why would you say it like that?”
Keigo appeared in the doorway, Rue nestled against his chest. “Hi Tenko. Hi Natsuo. Boyfriend, huh?”
“Don’t you start,” Tenko muttered.
“I’m not teasing,” Keigo said, grinning. “I’m happy for you. Come in.”
Tenko followed Natsuo inside, shoulders still tense, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Touya caught it and tried not to smile.
“I didn’t know you were… official now,” Touya said as they stepped into the living room.
Natsuo slung an arm loosely around Tenko’s shoulders. “He asked me if I was still ‘not running,’ and then panicked again when I said yes. So I kissed him.”
Tenko mumbled, “He didn’t ask, he ambushed.”
“You liked it,” Natsuo said smugly.
Keigo snorted. “You two are ridiculous.”
Tenko cautiously approached the bassinet where Ren was sleeping, peeking over the side with wide, gentle eyes. “They’re… so small.”
“Yeah,” Touya said softly, watching him. “Kind of unreal, isn’t it?”
Tenko nodded. “I never thought I’d be trusted near a baby.”
“You’re not the person you used to be,” Keigo said gently. “And you’ve worked so hard. You deserve this moment.”
Natsuo came to stand beside him, brushing their arms together. “You’d make a good dad, y’know. In like, ten years.”
Tenko nearly choked. “Please don’t say that while I’m looking at an actual baby.”
Keigo laughed, offering Rue to Touya and plopping onto the couch. “Seriously though, it’s good to see you guys. You seem… happy.”
Natsuo smiled, leaning back with a content sigh. “We are.”
Touya handed Rue to Tenko, carefully. “Want to hold her?”
Tenko froze. “Are you sure?”
“She’s fed, dry, and sleepy. Just support her head,” Touya instructed.
Tenko cradled Rue with shaking hands—but she stayed asleep, her little fists curling near her mouth. A stunned expression crossed his face, soft and disbelieving.
“I’ve never… held a baby before.”
“You’re doing great,” Natsuo said, watching him with something warm in his gaze.
Tenko looked down at the baby in his arms, her little red wings twitching. “She’s so peaceful.”
“You helped make the world a little safer for her,” Keigo said, voice low. “You and the others. That matters.”
Tenko blinked rapidly, then glanced away. “…I’m trying.”
“We know,” Touya said.
A quiet settled over the room—gentle, domestic, calm.
Natsuo glanced around and muttered, “We’re all getting kind of soft, huh?”
“You love it,” Keigo teased.
“I really do.”

Chapter Text

Six months flew by faster than either of them expected.
The house was filled with the constant sound of tiny giggles, flapping wings, and the occasional shriek—not of distress, but of a baby discovering their own voice at full volume. Keigo had finally mastered the art of breastfeeding while answering emails one-handed, and Touya could now change a diaper in under thirty seconds, blindfolded (not that he wanted to prove it again).
It was chaos, but it was theirs.
This morning, Keigo was crouched near the playpen in the living room, all three girls laid out on a blanket in their matching bee-print onesies. “Tummy time,” he announced with the solemn authority of someone running a daycare center. “You know the rules. No biting, no wing flapping unless it’s controlled—Rue, are you listening to me?”
Rue gave a small, innocent chirp and flapped her wings just once.
They sparked red.
Keigo blinked. “Touya?” he called, tone half panicked, half amazed. “Can you come here?”
Touya jogged in from the kitchen, still drying his hands on a towel. “What? What happened?”
Keigo pointed. “Her wings. They… they sparked.”
Touya knelt down and gently brushed Rue’s wing with his fingers. The tiniest flicker of fire bloomed from the downy red feathers—hot but harmless, like a candle’s flame.
Touya sat back on his heels, stunned. “No way.”
Ren, not to be outdone by her sister, gave a loud squeal and kicked her legs before flapping her own tiny wings. Instead of red, a flicker of brilliant blue flame danced across her feathers.
Keigo gasped, eyes wide. “That’s your fire.”
Touya stared, breath catching. “She lit her feathers… with my flames.”
Keigo’s hand clutched his chest. “Okay, I’m crying a little.”
Then, as if the moment couldn’t be more surreal, Rei—a quiet baby with a constant look of curiosity—spread her pale white wings and, instead of fire, a fine frost spread out from her feathers and onto the blanket.
“Ice?” Keigo said, eyes flicking to Touya. “She has ice?”
Touya’s mouth parted. “That’s my mom’s quirk. And my dad’s. Their exact combination.”
He reached out, gently touching the chilled fabric under Rei. She cooed at him like she’d done something very impressive (she had).
“So let me get this straight,” Keigo said, flopping back against the couch. “Ren has your fire, Rei has your family’s ice, and Rue has your dad’s fire.”
“And all of them can only channel it through their wings,” Touya said slowly.
Keigo laughed in disbelief. “Are we about to raise three battle fairies?”
Touya gave him a crooked grin. “We’re raising three bosses.”
Keigo exhaled a breathy laugh, then turned to the girls. “Okay, new rule. No setting each other on fire. Or freezing your sisters’ butts.”
As if in response, Rue flared her wings again. A burst of red heat sent the nearby stuffed bee flying.
“Okay,” Keigo muttered. “We’re baby-proofing again.”
Keigo snapped a quick picture—Ren’s feathers still glowing faintly blue, Rue chewing on the now-scorched edge of a blanket, and Rei calmly icing her teething ring—and immediately texted it to Izuku.
Keigo: Emergency update. Baby quirks are here.
Ren = blue flame (on feathers)
Rei = ice (also on feathers??)
Rue = red flame (yep—on feathers)
You’re welcome to study them any time after, like, 9am. Before that, we’re goblin parents.
A second later, Izuku replied with a string of emojis: 🧬🧪🔥❄️🧸, followed by:
Izuku: That is AMAZING!!! I’d love to stop by and take notes! I won’t bring any equipment unless you say it’s okay!! (Also tell them congrats from me!! I’m free this weekend if that works?)
Keigo grinned and passed the phone to Touya, who glanced at the text and smirked.
“Of course he’s already planning a whole field study,” Touya muttered, then looked down at the girls. “Just don’t let him stick electrodes to their heads.”
Keigo snorted. “Please. If they don’t like it, they’ll freeze his shoelaces together.”
He texted back:
Keigo: This weekend works. Bring snacks, not science fiction gear. They’re still babies.
Izuku replied instantly:
Izuku: Got it!!! I’ll bring snacks!! And congratulations again!!! They’re going to be the coolest kids ever!!!!
P.S. Do I need to baby-proof my notebook?
Keigo laughed softly. “This is gonna be fun.”
Touya nodded, still watching his daughters with quiet awe. “Yeah. Weird. Wonderful. Wild. But definitely fun.”
...
The group chat was absolute chaos.
Keigo had tried to send a calm, reasonable message with updates about the girls’ quirks. But the moment he hit send, all hell broke loose.
Keigo: hey, just a quick update—
Ren’s got blue fire.
Rei’s got ice.
Rue’s got red fire.
All in their feathers.
So yeah. That’s a thing now.
Within seconds:
Mina: EXCUSE ME THAT IS ADORABLE AND BADASS 😭💖
Jirou: Literal feather warriors
Kirishima: Manly as hell, proud of them already
Himiko: do u think Rue can toast marshmallows yet??? asking for a friend
Shouto: Rei… has my mom’s quirk. That’s… kind of incredible.
Denki: does that mean they can all fly AND attack??? are they gonna be tiny winged combat babies??
Tokoyami: Their power is contained in their wings. It is poetic. I approve.
Rumi: Rue’s my favorite now, sorry not sorry
Fuyumi: You say that every time they do something new
Rumi: And I’m never wrong
Natsuo: Tenko says he’s scared but also wants to babysit
Tenko: [sent sticker of a nervous anime character sweating profusely]
Touya watched the messages roll in with his chin propped on Keigo’s shoulder. Keigo was giggling, phone vibrating nonstop.
“I should’ve just called a press conference,” Keigo muttered.
“You’re lucky they didn’t show up at the door the second you sent it,” Touya replied. “Mina probably already packed a bag.”
Sure enough, another message pinged:
Mina: btw can I come over and bring teeny tiny sunglasses for them??
Ochaco: if u do I’m coming too
Midoriya: I will absolutely respect their boundaries and only take notes if permitted
Aizawa: Keep me updated. This is fascinating. Also, tell them I’m proud.
Eri: They’re the coolest babies in the world. Tell them I said hi!!!
Keigo tucked the phone beside him and leaned into Touya’s side, overwhelmed in the best way.
“They’re so loved,” Keigo whispered.
“Yeah,” Touya said, his voice quiet. “They really are.”

Chapter Text

It started with Ren.
Keigo was balancing her on his hip while trying to stir a pot of soup with his other hand. Touya was nearby putting Rue into her bouncer when it happened.
“Dada,” Ren said, clear as day.
Everything froze.
Keigo turned slowly, eyes wide. “Did she just—?”
“Dada!” Ren repeated, louder this time, a little feather flicking blue and sizzling in her soft red hair.
“Holy shit,” Touya said, voice nearly a whisper. “She said—Keigo. Keigo, she said dada.”
Keigo nearly dropped the spoon. “That was supposed to be me. I’m the dad!”
“You’re the father,” Touya reminded him smugly.
“Oh my god,” Keigo muttered. “This is betrayal.”
Then, from the bouncer, Rue kicked her feet and chirped, “Dada!”
Touya beamed. “Two for two!”
“No no no no,” Keigo groaned, sitting Ren down gently and putting a hand to his face. “I did all the work! I carried you! I craved pickles and mustard for you!”
Rei, the quietest of the three, toddled into the room in her little bee-print socks, paused, and said, “Fafa.”
Keigo froze.
Touya blinked. “Fafa?”
“Fafa,” Rei said again, beaming at him. Then she ran straight into Keigo’s arms.
“…She means father,” Touya said. “That’s you.”
Keigo teared up instantly. “Oh my god.”
“Fafa!” Rei squealed, clinging to his hoodie.
“You’re my favorite,” Keigo whispered into her hair. “Don’t tell your sisters.”
Touya snorted. “She already told the whole house.”
By the time Shinsou and Denki stopped by for lunch, the girls were loudly yelling their chosen titles.
“Dada!” Ren pointed at Touya.
“Fafa!” Rei clung to Keigo’s leg.
“Dada!” Rue shouted from the floor.
“What the hell is a fafa?” Denki asked, halfway through his sandwich.
“Me,” Keigo said proudly, cheeks pink.
“That’s so cute I might explode,” Shinsou muttered, tossing a toy back to Rue.
“It’s like living in a cartoon,” Touya added, placing baby snacks on the table. “Except the cartoon poops and cries at 3 a.m.”
“I’m gonna teach them to say ‘Uncle Toshi,’” Denki declared.
“Please don’t,” Keigo sighed. “Not before they can say ‘please’ or ‘juice’ or something useful.”
But that night, right before bedtime, all three girls climbed into Keigo’s lap (or attempted to—only Ren made it halfway) and in their jumbled little voices said:
“Fafa.”
It echoed softly in the dim nursery light.
Keigo choked on a breath. “That’s it. I’m crying forever.”
Touya sat beside them and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you, Fafa.”
Keigo smiled through the tears. “Love you too, Dada.”
...
It started with Rue.
Of course it did.
She had always been the most determined, the loudest, the one most likely to chew on things she wasn’t supposed to. So when she suddenly stood up in the middle of the living room, wobbled on chubby legs, and took three fast steps toward Keigo—everyone froze.
Then she fell flat on her butt with a proud squeal.
“Did she just—” Keigo’s eyes went wide.
“She walked,” Touya said, stunned. “She just walked!”
“I missed her first step because I was trying to get the damn camera to work!” Keigo cried, holding the baby monitor in one hand and his heart in the other.
“Rue! Do it again!” Touya waved a toy with a feather attached, like he was luring a cat. “Come to Dada.”
Rue stood, wobbled again, and took two more steps before launching into Keigo’s arms like a very excited potato.
“I love her so much,” Keigo whispered, cuddling her close. “My sweet little chaos goblin.”
Not to be outdone, Ren let out a determined war cry—then stood up, took one step, and immediately toppled into a pillow pile.
Touya winced. “Close.”
“She’s gonna be the cautious one,” Keigo murmured. “Still dramatic, though.”
The girls took turns trying, tumbling, squealing, and crawling right back into someone’s arms. Rei was last—quiet, careful, watching everything with those bright blue eyes. She took four wobbly steps toward Touya and then collapsed face-first into his shirt.
“She made it,” Touya said proudly. “She knew where she was going.”
“You’re gonna have to child-proof your flames,” Keigo warned.
“You’re gonna have to child-proof your wings,” Touya retorted, motioning to Ren, who had somehow started crawling away while her feathers were smoking lightly.
“No fire in the living room!” Keigo called out, chasing her with a damp washcloth like a very exhausted bird-dad.
Later that day, the triplets were asleep in a cozy pile of blankets after wearing themselves out walking and falling and walking again.
Keigo rested against Touya’s chest, utterly spent. “We’re gonna need leashes.”
Touya laughed quietly. “You’re not wrong.”
“I’m proud of them,” Keigo whispered. “Of us, too.”
“You should be,” Touya murmured. “Look at them. They’re wild. They’re perfect.”
Keigo nodded, a sleepy smile on his lips. “Savages.”
Touya raised an eyebrow. “You saying that lovingly or…”
“Oh, lovingly,” Keigo chuckled. “They’re unstoppable. Just like their dads.”
...
It started with Ren.
Keigo was balancing her on his hip while trying to stir a pot of soup with his other hand. Touya was nearby putting Rue into her bouncer when it happened.
“Dada,” Ren said, clear as day.
Everything froze.
Keigo turned slowly, eyes wide. “Did she just—?”
“Dada!” Ren repeated, louder this time, a little feather flicking blue and sizzling in her soft red hair.
“Holy shit,” Touya said, voice nearly a whisper. “She said—Keigo. Keigo, she said dada.”
Keigo nearly dropped the spoon. “That was supposed to be me. I’m the dad!”
“You’re the father,” Touya reminded him smugly.
“Oh my god,” Keigo muttered. “This is betrayal.”
Then, from the bouncer, Rue kicked her feet and chirped, “Dada!”
Touya beamed. “Two for two!”
“No no no no,” Keigo groaned, sitting Ren down gently and putting a hand to his face. “I did all the work! I carried you! I craved pickles and mustard for you!”
Rei, the quietest of the three, toddled into the room in her little bee-print socks, paused, and said, “Fafa.”
Keigo froze.
Touya blinked. “Fafa?”
“Fafa,” Rei said again, beaming at him. Then she ran straight into Keigo’s arms.
“…She means father,” Touya said. “That’s you.”
Keigo teared up instantly. “Oh my god.”
“Fafa!” Rei squealed, clinging to his hoodie.
“You’re my favorite,” Keigo whispered into her hair. “Don’t tell your sisters.”
Touya snorted. “She already told the whole house.”
By the time Shinsou and Denki stopped by for lunch, the girls were loudly yelling their chosen titles.
“Dada!” Ren pointed at Touya.
“Fafa!” Rei clung to Keigo’s leg.
“Dada!” Rue shouted from the floor.
“What the hell is a fafa?” Denki asked, halfway through his sandwich.
“Me,” Keigo said proudly, cheeks pink.
“That’s so cute I might explode,” Shinsou muttered, tossing a toy back to Rue.
“It’s like living in a cartoon,” Touya added, placing baby snacks on the table. “Except the cartoon poops and cries at 3 a.m.”
“I’m gonna teach them to say ‘Uncle Toshi,’” Denki declared.
“Please don’t,” Keigo sighed. “Not before they can say ‘please’ or ‘juice’ or something useful.”
But that night, right before bedtime, all three girls climbed into Keigo’s lap (or attempted to—only Ren made it halfway) and in their jumbled little voices said:
“Fafa.”
It echoed softly in the dim nursery light.
Keigo choked on a breath. “That’s it. I’m crying forever.”
Touya sat beside them and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you, Fafa.”
Keigo smiled through the tears. “Love you too, Dada.”
...
The triplets had finally, finally fallen asleep.
Ren was sprawled across Keigo’s chest like a tiny, satisfied dragon; Rue curled up against Touya’s side with a fist tangled in his shirt, and Rei had flopped over a plush bee pillow between them on the couch. The living room lights were dim, save for the soft golden glow from a lamp in the corner. Outside, rain tapped gently against the windows, steady and soothing.
Touya sat quietly for a while, just looking at them—his whole world in one sleepy, chaotic bundle.
Keigo shifted, blinking up at him. “You good?” he murmured, voice raspy from exhaustion and warmth.
“Yeah,” Touya said, barely audible.
Keigo tilted his head. “You’re doing that thing again. The broody one. Are you okay?”
Touya didn’t answer right away. He was too busy staring at the baby nestled against Keigo’s chest. Her feathers shimmered faintly under the lamplight.
“I’ve never had anything like this,” Touya said at last. “Not really. Not like this.”
Keigo softened, brushing his hand gently over Rue’s fluffy blond hair. “You have it now.”
Touya reached under the couch cushion and pulled something out—a small, velvet box. Keigo blinked, his eyes going wide.
“…Touya?”
“I was going to wait,” Touya muttered, his ears flushed pink. “I thought I’d plan something more dramatic. Flowers. Fireworks. Something cheesy.”
Keigo smiled, dazed. “Cheesy sounds good.”
“But we’re here. They’re asleep. It’s just us. And I’ve never felt more… sure.”
He opened the box. The ring was simple, silver, with three tiny gems set into it—blue, red, and white. One for each of their daughters.
Keigo’s breath hitched.
“I want this forever,” Touya said, meeting his eyes. “You. Them. This life. It’s chaotic and exhausting and loud, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Keigo’s eyes brimmed with tears as he nodded. “Yes. God, yes.”
Touya slipped the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly.
Keigo leaned up to kiss him, gentle but trembling with emotion. “You didn’t even get down on one knee.”
“I’m holding Rue,” Touya whispered, chuckling. “You want me to drop her?”
“No,” Keigo laughed. “But I might drop dead.”
“You better not. We’ve got a wedding to plan.”
From the floor, Rei let out a tiny snore, and Ren kicked softly in her sleep.
Keigo smiled through tears, brushing his thumb over the ring. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Touya pulled him close, and they sat like that—wrapped up in love, their babies dreaming around them, the rain still whispering against the glass.

Chapter Text

The engagement party was held in the backyard of Touya and Keigo’s home, strung with soft lanterns, fairy lights, and framed with blooming summer flowers. Everyone had come—Class 1-A, the Todoroki family, the League, Rumi, Aizawa, Hizashi, and even a few lowkey pro heroes Keigo had worked with over the years.
The triplets were the first ones to steal the show.
Each baby was dressed in the delicate white dresses Rei had given them at the baby shower, hand-embroidered with love. Rue wore the cherry blossom one, the pale pink thread dancing across the hem as she toddled unsteadily across the grass. Ren was in the golden sun-embroidered dress, her wild red hair bouncing as she clung to Keigo’s leg. And little Rei, ever the quietest, sat in her snowflake-embroidered dress in Rumi’s lap, clutching a bee-shaped rattle and staring up at the lights.
“They look like tiny princesses,” Mina gushed, snapping ten pictures on her phone.
“They look like chaos,” Bakugou muttered, snatching a sippy cup before Rue could hurl it off the table.
Keigo was radiant. He wore a sleek black dress that hugged his form and made his golden eyes pop like embers. He rarely wore dresses—mostly because people still assumed “dress” meant “woman,” and that was never who he was. But tonight, surrounded by the people who saw him as himself, he felt free enough to wear what made him feel beautiful.
Touya hadn’t stopped looking at him since he stepped outside.
“You’re staring,” Keigo whispered, cheeks flushed as he adjusted one of Rue’s hair clips.
“Yeah,” Touya said, unapologetic. “You look like a star.”
Keigo smirked. “Well, I am marrying a fire hazard.”
“Damn right you are.”
The announcement came naturally—after a toast, after dinner, after the triplets had started getting sleepy and everyone had that full, fizzy feeling of celebration in the air.
Keigo stood beside Touya under the soft glow of the fairy lights and held up his left hand, where a ring now glittered.
“So,” he said, grinning, “We have one more piece of news.”
Jiro gasped. Mina screamed. Denki immediately dropped his plate of cake.
“We’re engaged,” Keigo said, laughing as the backyard exploded with cheers.
Rumi whooped loudest of all. Rei clapped, tears in her eyes. Natsuo gave Touya a proud nod. Tenko looked confused for half a second before smiling softly and leaning into Natsuo’s side.
Even Enji smiled—awkward and restrained, but genuine.
“Finally,” Fuyumi said, wiping her eyes and laughing.
Momo held out a bottle of sparkling cider. “To the grooms-to-be!”
Everyone raised their glasses. The triplets, all cradled by someone or another, looked blissfully unaware.
As the crowd celebrated, Touya leaned down to kiss the side of Keigo’s head.
“Still sure?” he murmured.
Keigo tilted his face up. “Sure as hell.”
The triplets stirred, soft and sleepy between the celebration, and Keigo picked up Rei, who was blinking blearily at the lights. Touya picked up Rue. Ren sat curled in Mina’s lap, already nodding off.
It was chaotic and sweet and loud and beautiful—and for the first time in either of their lives, Touya and Keigo looked around and saw nothing but love.
...
As the sun began to dip low and the celebration eased into a soft lull, most guests lingered in clusters—chatting, laughing, helping themselves to leftovers and cooing over whichever triplet was in their arms at the time.
Before Rumi could sneak out with Fuyumi (who looked adorably lovestruck as she offered to walk her to her bike), Keigo tugged her gently aside into the hallway just inside the house. Rumi raised a brow but followed.
“You good, Birdie?” she asked, playful as ever.
Keigo took a breath, fingers nervously toying with the ends of his hair. “Yeah—well, yes. I just… I wanted to ask you something.”
Rumi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Shoot.”
“I want you to be my maid of honor,” Keigo said, eyes soft and vulnerable.
Rumi blinked. Then barked a laugh. “Maid of honor? Me?”
Keigo laughed too, a little sheepish. “Yeah. Well. ‘Maid’ might not be the right word, but I mean—stand up there with me. Wear something badass. Make sure I don’t trip walking down the aisle.”
Rumi’s grin widened. “Hell yeah. I’m honored, dude. Try and stop me.”
Keigo breathed a sigh of relief, pulling her into a hug. “Thanks, Rumi. For everything.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” she muttered, voice thick. “But… anytime, Birdie. You got me.”
...
Outside, Touya stood near the gate with Himiko, who had just finished hugging Mina goodbye. He tapped her shoulder, and she turned, bright-eyed.
“Hey, you got a sec?” he asked.
“For you? Always.”
They stepped a few feet away from the others, where the night was a little quieter. Touya shifted his weight, hands in his pockets, eyes darting to the side.
“I was wondering… would you be my best woman?”
Himiko’s mouth fell open. “Wait—really?”
“Yeah,” Touya said, a little shy now. “You’re family. And… I want you by my side. But I also know you’re busy with school and everything. So, if it’s too much, I get it.”
Himiko didn’t even hesitate. “I’m sure. I mean, I can always get help with school—and the wedding? Are you kidding? I’m gonna help plan the hell out of it.”
Touya huffed a laugh, relief and affection written across his face. “Thank you, Himi.”
She beamed. “I already have outfit ideas.”
“I figured.”
They both laughed, and Touya pulled her into a quick, tight hug.
“You’ve come a long way,” he said softly.
“So have you.”
When they pulled apart, Himiko looked at him with genuine warmth. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding, Touya. And I’m really, really happy for you.”
“Me too.”
They rejoined the others with quiet smiles, each holding a new, deeper role in the love story they'd all helped build.
...
After all the hugs, leftover cake wrangling, and cooing over the triplets in their embroidered white dresses, the party finally began to wind down. Most of the guests had left, or were gathering their things. The evening air was cooler now, filled with the gentle chirp of crickets and the rustle of tree leaves.
Outside, under the soft porch light, Rumi walked beside Fuyumi, hands stuffed into the pockets of her bomber jacket, her other arm lightly bumping against Fuyumi’s as they strolled toward Rumi’s bike.
“I had a good time,” Rumi said. “Like, surprisingly good. Kid chaos and all.”
Fuyumi smiled, clutching her cardigan closer. “They really are beautiful girls. You’re going to be such a good aunt.”
“I better be. One of them’s named after me, remember?” Rumi grinned.
“You haven’t stopped bringing that up all night.”
“Damn right. I’m immortalized in baby form. I earned bragging rights.”
They laughed softly, falling into a warm silence. Just before they reached the bike, Rumi stopped, rocking slightly on her heels. “Hey. So. I’ve been thinking.”
Fuyumi turned toward her, brows raised in curiosity. “About?”
“…Us.” Rumi scratched the back of her neck, ears twitching slightly. “I mean, we’ve been doing this for a while now. Hanging out. Dating. You’ve been staying over a lot. Which I love. Obviously.”
Fuyumi’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Yeah?”
Rumi took a breath. “So I was thinking maybe… you move in. Like, officially.”
Fuyumi blinked. “You want me to live with you?”
“I mean, if you want to. No pressure,” Rumi said quickly. “I just—like waking up with you. And eating toast with you. And hearing you snore just a little—”
“I do not snore.”
“You do. It's cute.”
Fuyumi laughed, heart fluttering. “I’d love to move in.”
Rumi’s ears perked. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, really.” Fuyumi stepped closer, sliding her arms around Rumi’s waist. “I like waking up with you, too.”
Rumi grinned, pulled her in tight, and kissed her softly under the porch light. “Hell yeah. Roommates with benefits.”
“Rumi!”
“I’m kidding. Kind of.”
They laughed again, leaning against each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it was.

Chapter Text

The boutique was sunlit and quiet, tucked on a side street in the heart of Musutafu, the kind of place that smelled faintly of lavender and lace. The mirrored walls made the room look endless, and rows of dresses glimmered in soft hues—white, blush, sage, pearl.

Keigo stood near the front, arms crossed over his belly, which had finally gone down enough that he could stand for more than five minutes without needing to sit. The triplets were at home with Touya and Shinsou today, and for once, the quiet felt nice.

Rumi, Fuyumi, and Tokoyami flanked him like a mismatched but devoted guard squad.

“Okay,” Keigo said, clapping his hands once. “Here’s the plan. We’re picking my dress first. Then the triplets’. Then yours.”

“Efficient,” Tokoyami said solemnly. “Like a battle strategy.”

Fuyumi smiled. “You nervous?”

“About looking hot?” Keigo winked. “Never.”

Rumi elbowed him gently. “Let’s find you something worthy of the drama you bring to every room.”

Keigo rolled his eyes fondly and turned toward the attendant, who greeted him with a polite bow and led them to a private fitting area. Dresses were selected, filtered, and rejected quickly.

Too sparkly. Too much tulle. Not enough structure. Definitely not red enough.

But when Keigo stepped out in that dress—deep red bodice, structured and sculpted like it had been made just for him, fading into a white skirt with scattered rose and leaf appliqués curling down to the hem—everything fell still.

Rumi was the first to speak. “Oh… shit.”

Keigo looked up, startled. “Too much?”

“Kei,” Fuyumi whispered, blinking fast. “You look like a rose blooming through snow.”

Tokoyami nodded with solemn reverence. “It suits you. Bold. Beautiful. A statement.”

Keigo blinked at himself in the mirror, stunned silent for a moment. His arms brushed over the bodice, fingertips grazing the red fabric where it met the white. He exhaled softly.

“This is the one.”

Rumi let out a quiet whistle. “Dabi’s gonna cry.”

Keigo smirked. “I hope so.”

...

Keigo’s Dress ^^^^

...

Next were the triplets’ dresses. Three tiny matching gowns with soft, puffy tulle skirts and flower lace trimming the hem. The white bodices were covered in 3D blossoms so delicate they looked like they’d float away.

Each had a different ribbon sash tied around the waist.

“Rei gets the white,” Keigo said, smoothing the ribbon with practiced fingers. “Ren’s got the dark blue”

“And Rue?” Fuyumi asked, holding up the red sash.

“Rue’s a little rebel,” Rumi said proudly. “She’s already trying to crawl/walk faster than the others.”

“She tried to bite the baby monitor this morning,” Keigo added.

Fuyumi laughed. “Definitely yours, then.”

“They are supposed to match their wings,” Keigo explained.

...

The triplets’ dresses ^^^^  *see the white ribbon around the dress... that's the thing that changes colors for the other two girls* Rei’s stays white to match her wings, Ren’s is dark blue to match her wings, and Rue gets red to match her wings.

...

Last were the bridesmaids.

Rumi’s sage green dress was bold but graceful—ruched sweetheart neckline, supportive wide straps, and a gathered center seam that gave way to a full, elegant skirt. She looked… unusually bashful when she put it on.

“You okay?” Keigo asked.

Rumi shrugged. “Just don’t usually wear things like this. But I like it.”

“You look amazing,” Fuyumi said, fiddling with the tie straps of her own gown. Her version was soft and romantic, with thin shoulder ties and airy layers of sage chiffon.

“You both look gorgeous,” Keigo said, hands on his hips. “I’m not gonna be the only one turning heads.”

Tokoyami emerged last, adjusting the lapel of his sage green suit. The white shirt underneath was crisp, the tie neatly knotted, and the color made his feathers look richer somehow—like they belonged there.

“You sure you’re good with matching the bridesmaids?” Keigo asked gently.

Tokoyami gave a rare, small smile. “I asked to.”

That earned a warm chorus of awws and a small fist bump from Rumi.

Keigo sat down at last, letting himself breathe. The dresses were picked. The pieces were falling into place.

He was going to marry Touya.

And it was going to be perfect.

...

Rumi’s Dress ^^^^

Fuyumi’s Dress ^^^^

Tokoyami’s Suit ^^^^ Pretend it is the same color as the dresses

...

The next day, Touya found himself standing in front of a full-length mirror at a formalwear boutique, hands shoved in his pockets while Himiko spun in slow circles nearby.

“Are you sure this doesn’t scream ‘funeral’?” she asked, tugging gently at the skirt of her long black dress.

Touya glanced at her reflection. “It screams ‘elegant’ and ‘slightly dangerous.’ Which is exactly what I was going for.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “You just want me to match your vibes.”

“Damn right,” Touya muttered.

Her dress was perfect—floor-length with an A-line silhouette, a soft sweetheart neckline, and thin spaghetti straps. It was simple, but not plain. It made her look older, in the best way, without trying to turn her into something she wasn’t.

...

Himiko’s Dress ^^^^

...

“Do I still get to carry a knife?” she asked casually.

“No,” Touya said automatically. “This is a wedding, not a blood ritual.”

Himiko pouted but accepted it.

Natsuo and Tenko stepped out of the fitting rooms next, both tugging at the sleeves of their tuxes in varying degrees of discomfort.

“Why do these always feel like I’m about to be arrested at a very fancy dinner?” Natsuo asked, turning to face the mirror. He looked good in black—clean, classic, tall and confident in the way Touya had always quietly admired.

“You look fine,” Touya said. “Both of you do.”

Tenko blinked at himself, clearly surprised. “...This is weird.”

“You mean the tux?” Natsuo asked.

“No. The mirror. Me. Not looking like a threat.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt. “It’s just… weird.”

Himiko crossed the room and poked Tenko’s arm gently. “You clean up nice, Ten. I’m proud of you.”

He flushed, ducking his head. “Thanks.”

Natsuo grinned and stepped closer, brushing some lint from Tenko’s shoulder. “I’m gonna need a photo of this moment. You in a tux? Historical.”

“Please don’t—” Tenko tried, but Natsuo already had his phone out.

Touya shook his head, quietly amused. They were chaos, but they were his chaos.

He turned back toward the mirror and adjusted his own collar.

His tux was sharp white with a fitted jacket, crisp shirt, and a deep red tie that matched Keigo’s wedding dress perfectly. The red stood out starkly against his pale skin and white hair, but it felt right. Symbolic, even.

Like fire and snow. Like scars and healing.

“You look good, Dabi,” Natsuo said, coming up beside him in the mirror.

Touya glanced at him. “Don’t call me that today.”

Natsuo nodded. “You got it. Touya.”

Tenko came up on the other side and stood silently for a second. “You look like someone who’s getting everything he thought he’d never have.”

Touya blinked slowly. “I am.”

Himiko slipped her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Keigo’s gonna melt when he sees you.”

“He better,” Touya said gruffly, but his smile was soft.

They left the boutique together, dressed in black and white, red tie glowing like a flame between them all.

The wedding was coming.

And for once in Touya’s life, it wasn’t the end of something.

It was the beginning.

Chapter Text

The morning was quiet. Soft sunlight filtered through the windows of the house that had become more than just a home—it was a safe place, a healing place. The triplets babbled softly in their shared playpen, already dressed in their wedding finery. Their tiny white dresses shimmered with tulle and delicate floral lace, ribbon sashes tied snug around each waist to match their wings—white for Rei, dark blue for Ren, and red for Rue.
Keigo stood in the mirror, brushing his hands down the bodice of his wedding dress. The red top clung perfectly to his frame, the gathered white skirt blooming below like a rose in full bloom. Red and white appliqué flowers curled across the fabric like something out of a dream. He didn’t wear a veil—he didn’t want to be hidden—but a single red clip pinned back his hair, letting his gold eyes shine.
“You look like a star,” Rumi said from behind, straightening her sage green bridesmaid dress.
Keigo smirked at her reflection. “I am the starring role today.”
Rumi snorted and bumped their shoulders. “Damn right you are.”
...
The ceremony was held in a sun-dappled garden on U.A.'s campus, with permission from Principal Nezu—who attended with a camera and a teary smile. Rows of white chairs curved around a flower-lined archway. The theme was soft but bright: white, green, gold, and warm shades of red.
Class 1-A sat together near the front, buzzing with excitement. The Todorokis filled another row—Rei already dabbing her eyes before the ceremony even began, Enji unusually quiet. The League, each in carefully chosen formalwear, stood off to one side, looking strangely nervous but deeply proud. Aizawa and Hizashi sat in the middle with Eri between them, her dress sparkly and her excitement barely contained.
...
Tokoyami, wearing his sage green suit, walked solemnly down the aisle. Fuyumi followed, looking radiant in her dress, her hand brushing Rumi’s as she passed. Rumi winked at Keigo before turning her focus to the front.
Then came the triplets.
Each was carried by one of the groomsmen—Tenko with Rei, Natsuo with Ren, and Himiko with Rue. They cooed and babbled as flower petals fell gently around them, tiny fists reaching for the light. The crowd melted into soft laughter and quiet awe.
And then Keigo stepped forward.
Gasps filled the air. All eyes turned to him, and Keigo held his head high, dress flowing behind him like a wave of roses. His eyes met Touya’s at the altar—and everything else faded.
...
Touya wore a crisp white tux with a red tie. His hands were slightly shaking as Keigo joined him, and his breath caught in his throat.
“You look like a dream,” he whispered.
Keigo smiled. “I’m real. And I’m yours.”
Aizawa, who had agreed to officiate, stood beneath the arch with a surprisingly gentle expression.
“Marriage,” he began, “isn’t just about vows or rings. It’s about choosing each other over and over. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.”
He looked between the two men. “You’ve both been through fire. You’ve both rebuilt yourselves from ash. And still—you choose love. That makes this more than a wedding. It makes it a triumph.”
...
Touya spoke first.
“I never thought I’d get to do this,” he said, voice low but steady. “I never thought I’d live long enough to love someone who saw me—who wanted me. But you did. You held out your hand and you waited. You loved me even when I couldn’t love myself. I’m still learning how to be soft. Still learning how to deserve this. But I want to try every day, with you.”
Keigo’s eyes shimmered.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been trained to be silent. Trained to be small. But with you, I got to be loud. Messy. Alive. You make me brave, Touya. You make me feel safe. I don’t know what the future holds—our girls are going to make sure it’s chaotic—but I know this: I will always come home to you.”
They exchanged rings—silver bands carved with small flames and feathers—and when Aizawa said, “You may kiss,” they didn’t hesitate.
The crowd cheered. Someone cried (probably Denki). The triplets clapped—or maybe just slapped their own legs excitedly.
...
The rest of the day was soft chaos. Laughter echoed under fairy lights. Shouto gave a small speech that ended with, “I’m glad you’re happy,” and nothing more. Rumi made everyone laugh with stories of Keigo’s bridal meltdowns. Rei and Enji danced once, slow and awkward, but together. Eri gave the triplets a tea party set. And Himiko caught the bouquet—then claimed she’d fought off Spinner for it.
Natsuo and Tenko shared a slow dance that neither of them acknowledged was a slow dance. No one brought it up.
Later, Touya and Keigo swayed together to a slow song, the triplets snoozing nearby in their prams.
“You’re my husband,” Keigo murmured.
Touya kissed his forehead. “And you’re mine.”
...
The house was silent when they got home.
No baby monitors buzzing. No soft wailing. No teething toys underfoot. Just quiet. Golden lamplight filled the living room like a sigh of relief.
Touya unlocked the door and held it open for Keigo, who stepped inside barefoot, still glowing from the reception. He’d taken off his heels hours ago. His hair was loosely pinned back. The red bodice of his wedding dress had begun to crease slightly from the long day, but it made him no less breathtaking.
“No crying,” Keigo said softly, turning to Touya as the door clicked shut behind them. “No spit-up. No lullabies. Is this what freedom tastes like?”
Touya chuckled. “I think it tastes like quiet.”
Keigo reached out and tugged his red tie loose, fingers brushing against Touya’s throat. “Hi, husband.”
Touya’s breath caught. “Hi.”
They stared at each other for a beat too long, both still reeling from what had just happened—vows and rings, dancing and kisses, laughter and tears. All of it real.
“You hungry?” Touya asked. “Want tea? Leftover cake?”
Keigo shook his head slowly. “I want you.”
The words weren’t demanding. They weren’t heavy. They just were. Soft and sincere.
Touya’s expression crumpled into something tender, reverent. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay.”
Keigo moved first, pulling Touya into a slow kiss, arms winding around his neck. Touya’s hands settled on Keigo’s waist—then his back—then his face, like he couldn’t decide where to hold him, only that he had to touch. He kissed Keigo like he was something precious, something rare.
Their lips parted and Keigo whispered, “Take this off me?”
Touya nodded and stepped behind him, carefully unzipping the dress. The red bodice loosened under his fingers, sliding down to reveal soft, familiar skin. He pressed a kiss to Keigo’s shoulder, then another to the back of his neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
Keigo turned to face him, letting the dress fall the rest of the way. He wasn’t shy—never had been with Touya. Not anymore. He stepped forward, tugging at Touya’s jacket, then his shirt, until they were both stripped down to nothing but warmth and breath.
They moved toward the bedroom like gravity was pulling them there.
There was no rush. No frantic urgency. Just slow touches and quiet promises. Touya traced his fingers down Keigo’s sides like he was memorizing every inch all over again. Keigo pulled Touya into bed and kissed him like he was still choosing him, still saying “yes” even after the ceremony was done.
And Touya loved him like he had nothing to prove. Like he’d already won the only battle that mattered.
“I still can’t believe I got you to marry me,” Keigo whispered sometime later, voice husky and sleepy against his chest.
“I’m the one who proposed,” Touya murmured.
“Exactly,” Keigo said, a grin curling against his skin. “And I said yes.”
Touya ran his fingers through Keigo’s hair, heart so full it ached. “I’ll keep saying yes.”
They lay tangled together beneath the sheets, warm and spent, Keigo’s leg thrown over Touya’s hip, his fingers drawing lazy circles over Touya’s chest. The silence wasn’t empty—it was rich with peace. They hadn’t had a night this quiet in six months. Maybe longer.
They’d be exhausted tomorrow. The girls would come back in the afternoon. There would be diapers and bottles and baby giggles and chaos.
But tonight? Tonight was theirs.
Keigo sighed against his skin. “I like being your husband.”
Touya kissed the top of his head. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

Chapter Text

A year and a half later.
The house was alive with laughter and the soft hum of celebration. Pastel yellow balloons floated near the ceiling, honeycomb-patterned streamers twisted gracefully around the doorway, and a low table was set up with tiny chairs just the right size for three energetic toddlers. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with the faint sweetness of birthday cake, filling every corner of the cozy living room.
Touya darted between the living room and kitchen, his smile bright but tired as he juggled a tray of cupcakes, a diaper bag, and a fluttering Ren, whose tiny wings flickered a gentle blue glow every time she got excited.
Keigo was perched in the corner on the honeycomb rocking chair, cradling Rue, whose fiery red feathers glimmered softly as she gurgled happily. Rei sat nestled against his chest, icy little wings fluttering with each deep breath, already trying to reach for the colorful balloons dancing overhead.
“Two already,” Keigo murmured, brushing a soft kiss across Rei’s snowy hair.
Touya came back, carefully placing the cupcakes on the table. “They’re growing too fast. I swear, it was just yesterday we were swaddling these tiny miracles.”
Ren wriggled free from Touya’s grasp, toddling toward the others with surprising speed. The group of close friends and family—Rumi, Fuyumi, Natsuo, Tenko, Hizashi, Eri, and a handful of Class 1-A alumni—smiled fondly at the joyful chaos.
Rumi, holding a small gift wrapped in pastel paper, crouched down to greet the girls. “Happy birthday, my fierce little firecrackers,” she said, tickling Rue’s tummy.
“Ren’s blue flames are getting stronger,” Tenko said, watching the eldest carefully. “I bet she’ll be lighting up the room in no time.”
“And Rei’s ice is so delicate already,” Fuyumi added, adjusting the white-blue ribbon sash around her daughter’s dress. “Like little snowflakes dancing in the sun.”
Natsuo smiled as he lifted a small spark of flame in his palm, showing it to the triplets with a wink. “And Rue’s red fire might just be the fiercest of them all.”
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, the party wound down. The triplets napped peacefully, tucked into their cribs with soft bumblebee blankets, the soft glow of their feathers dimmed in sleep.
Touya and Keigo sat together on the couch, fingers intertwined, watching the quiet house.
“Things have changed so much,” Touya said quietly. “Your back at work.”
Keigo nodded. “Rumi and Fuyumi moved into that bigger place—perfect for when the girls want to visit and have room to run wild.”
“And Tenko’s off to college, living with Natsuo now,” Touya added. “I never thought I’d see those two dating. Guess people really do change.”
Keigo laughed softly. “I’m still the one chasing after them all, and you? You’re full-time stay-at-home dad extraordinaire.”
Touya smiled, brushing his thumb across Keigo’s hand. “It’s the hardest and best job I’ve ever had.”
They shared a quiet moment, the hum of the house settling around them like a warm blanket.
“Class 1-A is finishing their last year at UA,” Keigo said, “with pro hero internships coming up. The world keeps moving forward.”
Touya squeezed his hand. “But we’ve built something here—something steady, something real.”
Keigo leaned his head against Touya’s shoulder. “And no matter what changes, this is home.”
The soft evening light washed over them as they sat together, the gentle beat of their daughters’ breathing filling the room with a peaceful rhythm.
Outside, the first stars twinkled, silent witnesses to a family that had weathered storms and found its calm.
...
Many years later
...
The sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the U.A. training grounds, casting golden light over a group of small figures tentatively stepping onto the grass. Three little girls, each carrying a backpack almost as big as themselves, looked around wide-eyed — their first day at the school that had been a home to their family for years.
Ren, with a fiery spark in her eyes, clutched her sister Rei’s hand, who smiled gently, her icy blue gaze calm and steady. Rue bounced on her toes, eager and bright, her gaze flickering toward the other students gathered nearby.
From a distance, Touya and Keigo stood side by side, watching with a mix of pride and nostalgia. Touya’s white hair caught the sunlight as he smiled, his gaze warm and full of love.
“They’re ready,” Keigo whispered, his hand resting gently on Touya’s arm.
Touya nodded. “Just like we knew they would be.”
Nearby, some of Class 1-A — older now, more confident — greeted the Todoroki triplets with friendly waves and teasing smiles.
“I bet they’ll be the strongest in their class,” Momo said, elbowing Shouto lightly.
Bakugou rolled his eyes but smirked. “Hah, yeah. They’ve got big shoes to fill.”
Touya caught Keigo’s eye and squeezed his hand. “Here’s to the next generation.”
Keigo grinned. “And to all the stories still to come.”
As the triplets took their first steps into their new world, surrounded by friends, family, and the promise of the future, Touya and Keigo knew one thing for certain:
No matter what happened, they were home.

THE END