[IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE LAST CHAPTER (THE AUTHOR'S NOTE) PLEASE GO BACK AND READ THAT BEFORE PROCEEDING!]

"What're you doing here?"

"Ah come on Sho, don't tell me you're not happy to see us!"

Though his face gave nothing away, to say that Aizawa Shouta was surprised would've been an understatement. After all, if there's one place you can expect to be alone it's a cemetery.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Nemuri grinned. "We came to visit obviously." Next to her, Kiyo waved her right hand excitedly, her left hand caught in Hizashi's grasp. "Hi Zaza!"

There was nothing suspicious about Nemuri and Hizashi coming to visit Oboro's grave together. But all three of them meeting up like this felt like more than simple coincidence. He got the distinct feeling he was being ambushed.

Shouta could see that the trio had likely been at the grave for a while before he'd arrived. Oboro's gravestone had been cleared of the fallen orange leaves that littered others nearby. Incense sticks had been lit and were now a little under half way burned. He was just close enough to catch their sweet, earthy scent. A colorful crayon drawing, that could only have been drawn by Kiyo, had also been laid against the carved stone as an offering.

Before he could respond, Nemuri had come up and caught him in a tight hug. Surprised, the dark-haired boy returned the gesture without thinking. In an instant his mind was off and running with all the things that could be wrong.

Nemuri pulled away, adjusting her glasses with Hizashi right behind her. "Let's talk."

An ambush was starting to sound more and more likely. He briefly considered running away before deciding against it. "Sure," he said plainly.

"Kiyo," Nemuri called, turning toward the toddler. "Mama and your uncles are gonna talk for a little while." She pointed to a bench a few feet away. "We'll be right here okay?"

Kiyo nodded eagerly, looking like a little marshmallow in the puffy coat she had on. "I stay with Uncle O!"

Like all their names, "Oboro" had been too difficult for Kiyo to say properly. Aizawa remembered how the other boy had tried to get the toddler to say "Uncle Cloud"instead. What had come out had sounded more like "Uncle Cow". Oboro had thought it was hilarious.

They sat down on the bench in silence for a few minutes, Nemuri watching fondly as Kiyo babbled animatedly to Oboro's grave, pointing out things in the picture she'd drawn for him as though he were right in front of her.

But he's not here. He's not anywhere. He's gone…

"You know most people would think that's pretty morbid," Aizawa drawled. "A toddler holding conversations in a cemetery like that."

"Fuck other people." Nemuri replied smiling. "She likes talking to him, bringing him things. I think it's sweet."

Indeed, Kiyo did make a point of talking to Oboro when they visited. It would've been pretty hypocritical of her to deny the existence of things like a soul, or the idea that one could still be around after death. She had no way of knowing if her Uncle Oboro had moved on the way she had. But on the off chance his spirit was still here she knew treating him the way she always had would make him happy. Nemuri didn't know all this of course, but she still encouraged her; pleased that her child seemed to be handling the concept of death so well.

"What did you want to talk about?" Asked Aizawa, cutting to the chase as always. The two friends looked at each other briefly before apparently deciding who should go first.

"I know you talked to principal Nezu." Nemuri said plainly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The boy replied, not missing a beat.

She nudged his shoulder playfully. "Come on. You call me, I tell you I'm not coming to class, and the next day the Principal calls to schedule a meeting with me as soon as possible…"

"That's certainly quite a coincidence." Aizawa said, still not willing to give himself up.

The girl laughed. "Oh it's one hell of a coincidence alright!" She kissed the boy on the cheek, enjoying the embarrassed flush that colored his pale face. "Thank you."

"Whatever." Aizawa mumbled, pulling up his scarf so it'd cover more of his burning face. "What'd Nezu say anyway?"

In an instant Nemuri was off and running, explaining all about the ridiculous deal Nezu had offered her, her eyes sparkling.

"—I mean he offered me a house, who does that?! No one that's who! He already sent the information for an apartment he thinks I'd like—it's barely been a few days!"

Aizawa nodded along, not that the girl noticed.

"He wanted to know if I found it 'suitable' or if I 'preferred something else'. I didn't even know what to say at first. I mean it's not like I'm about to be picky right? But dude!—" She threw her hands up in excitement. "He sent pictures and it's the nicest shit I've ever seen, like seriously!"

"I didn't know shit could be nice." The boy quipped blandly. The blonde on his right laughed.

Nemuri continued, evidently not having heard him in her excitement. "It's like, solidly middle-class, practically the lap of luxury compared to anything I could ever get and way nicer. There's this little playground nearby too and!—well anyway, of course I said yes!"

Aizawa's lip curled upward. "That's great. I'm happy for you."

Nemuri smiled brilliantly. Throwing her arm around her friend's shoulder, she pulled him closer in a kind of side-hug. "Yup! And now it's time I returned the favor!"

The black haired boy rubbed his tired eyes absentmindedly. "What're you talking about? I didn't do anything."

"Look, if you hadn't spilled the beans to Principal Nezu there's no way I would've said anything. That's a fact. If it wasn't for you I'd be fucked right now."

Aizawa didn't respond. This was true of course. It was plain that his friend was drowning, there was no way he was just gonna sit back and watch that happen. Especially not after…

"Fact is Sho, I owe you," his friend continued. "I owe you a lot. You and Principal Nezu, but I've already worked out how to pay him back. That just leaves you."

The dark haired boy let out a long suffering sigh. "It's like I said, you don't owe me anything. I don't want anything from you." Moreover, what kind of friend expected to be rewarded for being a decent person?

Nemuri thumped him on the back bracingly. "Don't give me that! You know how I am Sho, I pay people back. It's just how I am." Suddenly, her smiling face turns far more serious, her voice losing its joking quality. "Besides. It's not about what you want, it's about what you need."

"And what exactly do I need?" Aizawa challenges acidly. He can see where this is headed now as he's desperate to stop it in his tracks. But Nemuri had always been like a force of nature, unstoppable and unyielding. She doesn't so much as flinch at the sudden harshness in his tone.

"I can think of a few things."

"Oh really!" Aizawa shoots back. He's not yelling, but he's close. He doesn't bother checking his volume. That was the nice thing about cemeteries, you can yell and scream and cry and there's no one around to hear you. Usually anyway.

Nemuri doesn't yell back at him. Instead she takes hold of his hand and squeezes it, Hizashi holding the other. He wanted to pull away. To reject them so they would stop. He wanted to be mad at them for doing this. But despite his best effort Aizawa couldn't bring himself to.

His friends' hands are warm, or maybe his are just cold. That's probably it.

He'd never been one for things like holding hands or physical affection. His friends were the exact opposite. Hugs, hand holding, throwing their arms across each other's shoulders. They liked to have each other close.

He'd always been a loner, the kind to keep people at arms length; but they pulled him in anyway. At first it was annoying. But now it was nice to know he had people who thought he was worth holding on to, though he'd never admit it.

"Cold hands, warm heart, huh Aizawa!"

Nemuri's voice is gentle."Friends help friends Sho, you proved that and I've been a pretty shitty friend to you—to both of you— lately. I've been so caught up in my own stuff I didn't even notice—," her voice breaks. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I'm here now okay?"

Aizawa's mouth moves on its own. An automatic response. "I'm fine." Deny, deny, deny.

Nemuri smiles a sad smile. "No Sho," Hizashi said, his own voice cracking "you're really not."

Suddenly he's aware of the wet feeling across his cheeks. Was it raining? No such luck, the sky was clear. He was crying. When had that happened? Why was it happening?

He had no reason to cry. Nothing had happened.

He wasn't the one who'd been crushed under a thousand pounds of rubble, he wasn't the one whose parents had had to bury their only child.

He wasn't the one who was dead.

He was still alive and Oboro wasn't.

He was fine, he had no right to cry.

"You're thinner," Hizashi says. "I hardly see you eat at school."

He was fine

"And don't think I haven't noticed all those extra bags under your eyes, so I know you're not sleeping."

He was fine

"You come to school and it's…it's like you're just—I don't know, like you're just…going through the motions ya know? Like you're just…"

Dead. He felt dead inside. Hollow. Painfully empty.

"I—" He couldn't get his mouth to work. The smart part of his brain screamed at him to deny everything. But it wouldn't come out. "I-I'm—!" I'm fine I'm fine' say it! He was standing up now. When had he done that?

"You're not fine, okay. Don't even try that with me!" Hizashi yells, shooting up from the bench too along with Nemuri. All three of them are crying now and it makes the dark-haired boy feel guilty.

Hizashi took off his glasses to wipe his eyes, "I'm sad too man…it-it's okay that you're…that you're not fine…."

Seeing his friend who normally wouldn't shut up at a loss for words was jarring. "I-I'm sorry." He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to make things right.

"You don't have to be sorry." Nemuri said insistently. "You just need a little help. A therapist—"

"I don't need help!" Aizawa snapped.

"Yes you do." The girl asserted. "You helped me when I needed it, even though I didn't ask for it, even though I insisted that I was fine. I wasn't fine and you saw that! You really expect me not to do the same for you?"

"This isn't the same!" He snapped. "I can handle it on my own. I don't need-I don't want—!"

"How? How is this different?" Nemuri challenged, and Aizawa's mouth felt suddenly dry.

"It's 'cause you're ashamed right?" Hizashi had hit the nail on the head of course. "Ya know for someone who's all about logic you're being pretty illogical right now man, you know that?"

Nemuri nodded in agreement. "Are you saying that I should be ashamed for what you had to do for me? That I should be ashamed that I couldn't handle my business on my own?"

"Of course not!"

"Then logically you shouldn't feel ashamed either! Whatever's going on with you, however you're feeling—it's too much to deal with on your own. You might feel like that makes you weak but it doesn't. You showed me that!"

Struck dumb, Aizawa said nothing. "I still talk to that therapist Principal Nezu set us up with once a week." Hizashi added softly. "Does that make me weak? Should I feel ashamed?"

"N-no." he admitted. Of course his friend wasn't weak. But still…

"You know what else is illogical? Double-standards. Don't do that to yourself man, it's not fair."

Any other time Aizawa would've conceded defeat. But seeing a therapist? Opening up to a complete stranger, being asked to relive and dissect every painful thought that crossed his mind these days? It was just too much. That was why he'd stopped seeing them in the first place.

Besides, why should he have a chance to feel better when Oboro didn't? That wasn't fair. He didn't deserve to feel better! He—

"We've already lost one friend, we can't handle losing another."

With those words something broke inside him. Tears are falling so hard and fast he can't see. There's a tightness in his chest but he refuses to cry out, instead he gasps for air. Deep, shaking gasps, like he was just seconds away from drowning.

His friends surround him, holding him close, like a lifeline. They whisper that everything will be alright. He doesn't believe that anything could ever be alright again. But for now he could try anyway. If not for his sake then for theirs.

Kiyo deliberately doesn't say much on the way back from the cemetery out of respect. She wasn't eavesdropping but she knew exactly what her mother and uncles were talking about a few feet away from her. Her mother and Uncle Mic had planned their little intervention in advance and Kiyo had of course been there for the meeting.

Kiyo was once again reminded of how helpless and unaware being so young made her. She had no idea just how hard Uncle Aizawa was taking Oboro's death. Spending most of her time at the care home and away from the outside world she'd had no idea Uncle Aizawa was so seriously depressed until she'd heard her mother and Uncle Mic discussing it together a few days ago.

Though she wanted to help, there was nothing Kiyo could do. She couldn't even comfort her uncle properly given how poor her speech was at the moment. And even if she could talk, what would she say? What could she say? After all, things like survivor's guilt and depression were best left to professionals, weren't they?

So Kiyo did the only thing she could do, she stayed out of the way while her mother and Uncle did their best to convince their friend he needed to accept help before things got bad.

She hoped the little intervention was enough to push her Uncle Aizawa in the right direction. It did seem to have a positive effect at the very least. Before Kiyo and her mother had left, the three friends had sat together, shoulder to shoulder, chatting and joking together like they had in days passed.

Kiyo kept quiet on the bullet train back home, anticipating that her mother's mood might be a little somber and introspective considering what had just happened. She contented herself by playing with her mother's hands as she sat on her lap.

It's when the automated voice announces that they're pulling into an unfamiliar station that Kiyo realizes they should've made it home by now.

"Go?" Kiyo asked as her mom strapped her in her stroller.

"Yeah," she says cheerfully, "time to go."

"Where go?" Kiyo asked again.

"Oh!" Her mother replied smiling, "It's a surprise."

A surprise?

As the pair made their way out of the train and down the street. Kiyo tried to think of what the surprise could be. She was pretty sure it wasn't her birthday. Her birthday was near the end of March if she remembered correctly, so that couldn't be it. She tried looking around for some sort of clue. A sign or a banner of some sort advertising a nearby festival or something.

The sun had come out with a vengeance now and the little girl had long since forgone her jacket. People filled the streets, some walking along at a leisurely pace, others hurrying along on their day. The amount of big colorful signs and Hero propaganda told Kiyo she was probably closer to the cradle of Hero's that was U.A than she was to home, which was grey and grimy by comparison. But considering the fact that Kiyo only ever really went to those two places that didn't really help the mystery much.

Kiyo supposed they could've been headed to U.A. But if that were the case, that didn't explain why they'd gotten off at a different stop. She began turning her head side to side wildly, trying to spy something that would give away the surprise. This made her mother laugh. "Almost there." She said.

They continued to walk and they soon reached a tall archway. The archway had big bold writing that Kiyo couldn't read, but considering the number and variety of brightly colored shops around she figured it was some sort of shopping district.

Shopping? That was the surprise? It felt a little anticlimactic but shopping could be fun.

When Kiyo saw which shop she was steering them towards she perked right up. "ICE CREAM!"

Her mother laughed at her outburst. "Ice cream!"

Kiyo continued a much more subdued chant of "ice cream!" as they worked their way to the front of the line—other patrons cooing and smiling to themselves over her little display.

The cashier at the front is perfectly cheery, her personality matching the bubblegum pink uniform she had on. She greets them with an exaggerated smile before asking what they'd like. Kiyo, who knows her mother will choose for her because she's too young for the more adventurous flavors, peruses the shop's display case with wide eyes.

Lemon coconut, Matcha, Coffee, Black Sesame, Ramune, Milk, Cookies and Cream, Red Bean, Mango Sorbet…

If it were up to her Kiyo would've gotten every flavor on the world's tallest ice cream cone. Kiyo couldn't wait till she was older and she could eat whatever crazy combinations she wanted.

Instead of the world's tallest ice cream cone her mother bought her a kid's scoop of vanilla in a cup, with a scoop of strawberry for herself. Kiyo thanked the bubblegum cashier profusely without prompting, and this again made the people around her stifle their laughter.

The pair made their way out of the shop to sit at one of the tables out front, Kiyo practically vibrating in anticipation. Tiny spoon in hand, and sweet heaven before her, she dug-in with a fury. Hand-eye coordination, much like walking and talking, was a skill she had yet to completely master, so the act of eating was much slower and messier than Kiyo would've liked. It did nothing to stifle her enjoyment however. She was enjoying herself so much in fact, that it took her awhile to notice she was being a huge ice cream hog.

Wrenching her gaze away from her sugary treat for the first time, Kiyo realized her mother had been recording her the entire time. It would be an embarrassing childhood memory to look back on in a few years, but for now the girl simply smiled at the camera. "Mama!"

"Is it good Kiyo-chan?" her mother asked, her voice teasing.

"Ya." Kiyo filled up her spoon with a glob for strawberry before presenting it to her mother. "Mama eat!"

Smiling, her mother turned off her phone, leaned forward and ate off the spoon. "Thank you Kiyo-chan."

Kiyo filled the spoon up again. "More?"

They continued on like this, Kiyo insisting on 'helping' her mom eat, while she herself spoon-fed Kiyo, wiping her messy face off with a napkin every so often.

This was nice, Kiyo thought. Spending time together like this.

Her mother was so busy they hardly ever got to just sit and be together. Not that Kiyo would ever complain, considering she knew exactly why her mother wasn't around much. But lately it felt like they barely ever saw each other. Kiyo wouldn't say she felt neglected, but the constant separation was hard. She spent nearly 24 hours a day with the carers at Kenbo, and while they took care of her physical needs well enough, they did little else.

Things were easier when she had Riku to be with, but ever since her accident the boy had entered into a kind of self-imposed seclusion. Kiyo knew he blamed himself for what had happened. According to Riku, he was the one who'd been watching her, he should've known not to leave her alone like that, he shouldn't have run off. Her near-drowning was nobody's fault but his.

This wasn't true of course, and plenty of people tried to get him to believe otherwise and ease his guilt. But it wasn't working. Maybe if Kiyo hadn't looked so utterly broken right after, Riku wouldn't have felt so terrible. But Kiyo had been, in a word, broken. Those first days following her little mishap in the pond were not fun to say the least.

Toddler stamina reserves are beyond minuscule compared to a full-grown adult's or even a teenager's, so there wasn't much Recovery Girl could do for her. Kiyo'd had to heal the old fashion way and it was awful! While she hadn't actually broken any bones, it'd certainly felt and looked like she had. Her entire body was a macabre mosaic of black and blue. Kiyo was pretty sure she'd cried more in those first few days than she had in the entirety of her short life. Even breathing hurt and it was often her mother would have to use her quirk just so Kiyo could rest.

In a cruel twist of fate, her accident had resulted in her mother spending more time with her than she had in months. She'd taken nearly two whole weeks off school to nurse her back to health. Needless to say, these weren't the sort of circumstances Kiyo wanted to spend time with her mom.

Her poor mother had looked so devastated the entire time. Kiyo was sure that the look on her mother's face would haunt her for the rest of her life.

And as if that wasn't enough, Kiyo still had no idea how exactly she'd managed to save herself from a watery grave. Getting her quirk early would've made all this anguish she'd put everybody through at least a little worthwhile, but apparently that was just too much to ask of the universe.

Ten seconds of observation is nothing to base a hypothesis on, but from the looks of things now, Kiyo didn't think her powers were anything like her mother's gas quirk. She'd have to wait a few years to see a more full fledged version of her abilities, but for now her theory was that she took after her father in the quirk department.

Her father. Yet another of the many things that had come up in her life recently…

I wonder what kind of ice cream he'd get if he were here?

Hopefully chocolate. That way he could round things out.

Was he flamboyant and cheerful like Mom, or more of a serious, dependable-type?

Kiyo would've been fine with either really.

Was he good with kids, or was he hopeless like Uncle Aizawa?

Was he really a good person? Or was her mother just leaving things out when she spoke about him?

Kiyo believed her mother when she spoke so fondly of the one she loved. But she supposed she wouldn't really know for sure until she met the guy herself.

When he met her for the first time, would he like what he saw?

So many questions, so few answers…

Kiyo liked what she saw. When her mother had shown her a picture of her dad that night she liked what she saw. The picture was of the two of them arms wrapped around each other, smiling for the camera.

Her mom was already considered tall at 5'9, but her dad had several inches on her in the photo. That meant he was tall too, especially by Japanese standards. Big and tall might've been a way to describe him actually. Aside from being at least 6ft he had very broad shoulders, with thick arms and large hands. He might've looked intimidating if it weren't for the incredibly kind smile he wore.

Grey eyes, with dark hair, easily mistaken for black, but on closer inspection not entirely correct. Dark hair with a blue hue. Midnight blue; not unlike the color Kiyo saw when she looked in the mirror these days.

Hair like hers, a kind smile, and brown skin. It could've been described as an attractive golden ochre sort of color, or a warm bronze—like hers.

Despite the years and changes since the addition of quirks, Japan was still, by and large, a monoethnic country. Unless it was some unnatural color as a result of quirks, Kiyo didn't think she could remember meeting someone with skin remotely close to hers. It honestly made her feel a little out of place sometimes. With her own mother being as pale as she was, Kiyo always knew she had to have gotten her skin tone from somewhere.

So yeah, Kiyo liked what she saw when she looked at her father. She just hoped he returned the sentiment. Back when she'd assumed her dad was a deadbeat barely deserving of the designation of sperm donor she couldn't care less what he thought of her. But now things were different…

Oh god, I'm barely a toddler and I'm already developing daddy issues!

Choosing to focus on happier, far less emotionally complicated subjects, Kiyo finished off the last of her vanilla ice cream. It really was unseasonably warm out today; like Mother Nature had forgotten summer had already come and gone. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the atmosphere was peaceful. The weather had been grey and overcast when they'd been at the cemetery, but it'd now morphed into a quintessential 'great day'. The change was so stark it almost felt like a sign. Kiyo hoped it was a sign that things were going to get better for her little family, Uncle Aizawa in particular. After all, the universe did owe her big time for almost killing her.

"All done?" Her mother asked.

"All done." Kiyo repeated, allowing her face and hands to be cleaned up. "Mama all done?"

"All done, little blueberry!" the teenager chirped before scooping her up to strap her in her stroller.

"Home?" The toddler asked.

"Not yet," she replied happily. "There's still more Surprise left."

More Surprise? Kiyo thought. Well that's certainly…surprising

It couldn't possibly be more ice cream, and if it wasn't ice cream than what was it?

As the pair strolled down the street Kiyo was surprised at how well her mother seemed to know her way. She was making turns and crossing streets all while not looking the least bit unsure. She'd probably been to this part of town before, and Kiyo was again reminded of how small her worldview was.

They were making they're way out of the shopping district, to a more residential area. There were more trees, and fallen leaves in front of family homes with residents saying hello to people as they passed—kids running around in groups while they played. They passed by a grocery store where an old man was selling balloons for 50¢ each. It felt juvenile but Kiyo knew she had to have one as soon as she saw them. Her mom was more than happy to oblige.

She was still working on her colors, so when the old man kindly asked which she wanted she'd had to point to the right one. It was annoying, but her new balloon perked her right up. She waved the thing around like a maniac, banging it on things as she passed and squealing in delight. The butcher's shop a few doors down was giving out free samples of sausages that had been cut into little octopus shapes. The classy ladies that they were, Kiyo and her mom ended up taking far more than the intended one-per-person.

With a start, Kiyo realized this was probably her first in-depth look at what a nice neighborhood looked like. Considering the area around Kenbo was all she knew it was easy to forget that it fit most people's definition of living in the ghetto. Drunk people stumbling outside the facility gates at all hours, ramshackle buildings, the occasional used needle on the sidewalk, more liquor stores and fast food places than grocery stores—the exact opposite of where she was now.

The number of kids around seemed to be getting denser as they went along. At first Kiyo figured it was probably due to the number of enormous apartment buildings nearby.

"We're here!" Her mother announced.

Turned out that 'here' was a large park. Unlike the play-equipment at Kenbo. This stuff was clearly well maintained. None of the structures here had been vandalised or had so much as a speck of rust. None of the swing sets were broken and hanging. Some of the swings were even the basket kind for babies to sit in. The sand in the sandbox even looked clean somehow!

"Play?" Kiyo asked, stunned.

"Yeah." Her mother replied brightly. "What's the matter little blueberry? You tired?"

You didn't need to ask her twice. There was no way she was gonna miss out on a chance to play on the good stuff. She squirmed wildly, impatient to get out of her seat.

"Alright, alright I'm going." Her mom joked before carefully unbuckling the toddler. Once her coveted balloon was safely tied to the stroller Kiyo was off and running, practically dragging her mother along by the hand.

"Careful! Careful you'll fall." Nemuri warned.

This did little to slow Kiyo down as she very nearly tripped over her own feet to get to the baby swing.

"Guess you wanna get on this one first huh." her mother joked again. Kiyo nodded fervently before raising her arms to be picked up. Once in the basket Kiyo was ready and raring to go. She'd never been on a swing. Since all the other kids at Kenbo were older, they didn't have the kind a toddler could use.

"Okay." Her mom said enthusiastically. "You ready?" Kiyo waved her arms in excitement to show that, yes she was indeed ready. Nemuri pushed —well not really pushed more like nudged—the swing and Kiyo instantly loved it.

It was ridiculous that such a small push could make her smile and laugh so much, but it did. Kiyo blamed her young body for how exhilarating it felt. Her enthusiasm made her mother laugh and smile too. "You like that Kiyo-chan?" she pushed a little hard and the toddler squealed. "Look at mama's blueberry! You're going so high, look at you, you're flying!"

Kiyo could've spent all day on that swing. But figured it was best to broaden her horizons. Despite her best efforts Kiyo couldn't work up the nerve to go down the slide by herself so her mama had to go down with her the first few times. After the third time she wasn't scared anymore but pretended like she was so her mom had an excuse to get on too. Kiyo got the feeling her mother was enjoying herself just as much as she was.

To her surprise her mother had apparently packed them a bento box for them to share without Kiyo noticing. Her mother didn't make it herself, the way lots of people expected mothers to do. Strictly speaking her mother couldn't make her own food since only kitchen staff were allowed to set foot in Kenbo's kitchen. But regardless of the fact they were eating store-bought bento, Kiyo could still pick up on love and care in the food, owing to the fact that her mom had clearly splurged on a more premium selection than what would've been available near home.

Furikake seasoned rice with a pickled plum in the center. Pickled vegetables, tamagoyaki, tempura, gyūtan, and finally unagi. It was a small portion—three thin slices covered in a sweet tangy sauce—but it was there. Kiyo loved unagi. It was probably her favorite food. Apparently most kids her age thought eel was gross, but she couldn't imagine why. It was like an explosion of flavor in her mouth, better than ice cream, better than anything.

"'Nagi 'nagi!" Kiyo yelled in excitement as she sat down on the blanket they'd laid out in the grass..

"Rice first." Her mother prompted, before handing Kiyo a pair of her training chopsticks.

The toddler groaned internally. About a month ago, Kiyo was considered old enough to start learning to use chopsticks. The whole process was a pain, worse than figuring out a spoon or fork. She was always dropping things or losing her grip halfway to her mouth. The first week was so bad she refused the chopsticks altogether and went back to eating with her hands. She knew learning to use chopsticks was essential. But not being able to eat comfortably in the meantime was frustrating.

Kiyo shook her head stubbornly, pushing the chopsticks away. "No."

"Please Kiyo-chan." Her mom wheedled.

Again she shook her head and her mother continued. "Please! You don't wanna hurt poor Usa-chan's feelings do you?" She was referring to the little cartoon bunny that made up the top of the chopsticks.

Kiyo did nothing but glare. Considering her age this had the effect of being adorable rather than intimidating.

"Usa-chan wants to eat with you. You'll hurt his feelings if you don't eat with him." Nemuri cajoled, putting on an exaggerated pout.

"…"

'Fine! Only for you Usa-chan!' Kiyo took that training chopsticks begrudgingly while her mother cheered and clapped in encouragement. The rice was easiest to eat since it all stuck together in clumps. It was slow going, but her mother cheering her on in between bites of her own made it worthwhile. The beef was next easiest since it was cut in big pieces, but it still fell halfway to her mouth several times. The only reason Kiyo didn't rage-quit was out of respect for Usa-chan.

Seeing her slow brewing frustration, her mother took pity on her and said that was enough practice for today. Was it embarrassing having to be fed by her mother when she could've theoretically toughed it out? Yes. But when it came to food Kiyo had no shame!

"Nagi 'nagi!" the toddler chanted.

"Uh-uh," her mother chided. "Veggies first." She picked a carrot with her chopsticks. "Say ah."

'Oh come on!' With a pout, Kiyo ate the unwelcome vegetables…then a bit of egg, a little more rice and a little more beef, before her mother finally gave her what she wanted.

"Don't look at me like that." Her mother said, smirking to herself. "If I don't save the best for last, that's all you'd eat."

Very true. Still shady, but true. But Kiyo had no time to be salty as the coveted unagi melted in her mouth. Then another and another, before it was all gone far too soon for her liking.

Once the remains of lunch were safely tucked away and washed down with some juice. Kiyo was prompted to stay seated on the blanket to play with her mom's phone. She was pretty sure her mother was distracting her for a couple minutes to make sure she wouldn't throw up if she went back to playing right after eating. Kiyo didn't complain. The weather was perfect for selfies. She took several shaky, unfocused pictures that mother swore were gorgeous. Her mother on the other hand took several pictures that Kiyo was more than happy to pose for.

Once the apparent barf-window had closed, the toddler was eager to get back to playing. Before she could decide where to go next however, she was promptly beaned in the head by an oversized ball. The resulting sound sparked flashbacks of dodgeball that Kiyo did not have as she fell in the grass.

"Kiyo!"

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! Is she alright?!"

Other than a few blades of grass stuck in her hair, Kiyo was indeed alright. It honestly hadn't even hurt. But there was no convincing the poor frazzled mom whose son had apparently kicked the ball in the first place. She was like a bird, fluttering all over the place, fretting and apologizing. Her son—who looked about the same age as Kiyo, in a little All Might shirt—was equally horrified. He kept saying how he was "sowwy" over and over and rubbing Kiyo's forehead in a soothing manner.

"Really it's alright," her mother said lamely, hands held up in a placating gesture. "It was an accident. Right Kiyo?"

Kiyo nodded. "Acc'dent. S'okay, acc'dent." She patted the head of the poor teary-eyed little boy in front of her in a show of comfort. "No cry. S'okay." The curly haired boy sniffled a little before giving her a hesitant smile.

"Your son's got some kick." Her mom said. "How old is he?"

The older woman laughed. "Oh that kick was a bit of a fluke actually, normally he completely misses when he tries to hit the ball; Izuku," the lady prompted. "can you tell this nice young lady how old you are?"

The little boy looked at Nemuri shyly before holding up two fingers. "You're two?" She questioned, kindly. "What a coincidence, Kiyo's almost the same age. Isn't that nice? Say hello Kiyo."

"Hello!" She added a tiny bow for good measure.

"Oh how cute." The woman cooed. "Your little sister is so well-mannered."

Nemuri grinned brilliantly. "Kiyo's my daughter actually— and thank you!"

This mistake happened often. Most people assumed Nemuri was Kiyo's elder sister or even her babysitter, rather than her mom. The teenager always made a point of correcting people when this happened. Afterwards, sometimes nothing happened. Sometimes people were completely scandalized. Sometimes they felt the need to lecture and disparage her. Still, she never once let people believe she was anything other than her child's mother. She refused to be ashamed

Being a young, typical housewife, the woman in front of her looked like the disparaging type. But to Nemuri's surprise that wasn't what happened. The woman blanched and sputtered before apologizing—again, profusely—for making assumptions, clearly aghast at her unintentional social faux pas.

The mother daughter-duo decided at once that they liked this woman. And as for her son, there was no mistaking that they were related. Though the boy sported freckles and curly hair, they looked exactly alike otherwise. Same face, same eyes, same green hair color. It was uncanny.

Kiyo liked the boy's hair in particular because it reminded her of a stock of broccoli. It made her smile. She picked up the ball that lay near her feet. "Play?"

The boy—Izuku—didn't seem to know what to do, turning towards his mother for guidance.

"Go on Izuku," the green-haired woman encouraged. "We'll be right here."

Izuku still didn't seem to know what to do next, too shy to make the first move. Taking charge, Kiyo took him by the hand and walked a few paces away, in case of stray balls.

Now, despite being the one to initiate play. Kiyo didn't actually know what to do. The only reason she'd asked Izuku to play was to make him feel better about hitting her, not necessarily because she was trying to be social. All the kids she'd ever hung out with were several years older, able to communicate and contribute to conversations easily. She had no idea how to act around someone her own age. But when in doubt, fake it till you make it, as they say.

Acting on a confidence she did not feel, Kiyo led Izuku in a rousing game of roll-ball-back-and-forth. This seemed to be a smart move because Izuku was enjoying himself, smiling and clapping. Admittedly Kiyo was having fun too. Turns out it's fun to have a playmate the same size as you.

They tried kicking the ball around but it turned out Izuku's mom was right, the little guy was very uncoordinated and often missed the ball all together or ended up falling over in the act of kicking. He didn't mind in the slightest though. He always got up with a smile on his face, eager to try again.

When Kiyo commented on Izuku's shirt—a simple uttering of 'All Might' while pointing—the kid went off. Babbling excitedly with words Kiyo didn't always understand. But she understood perfectly when Izuku did a little pose, smiled wide and exclaimed "I here!"

Sensing some common ground, Kiyo quickly waddled over to her stroller and plucked her plush toy from its basket. "All Might!" She repeated, presenting the item to the green-haired boy.

Izuku yelled in excitement at the sight of the toy, waving his arms around with a happy energy. He quickly ran to his mother, who handed him his own All Might plush without a word—already anticipating her son's needs.

"All Might!" Izuku parroted gleefully, proudly showing Kiyo his own toy.

All Mights in hand, they had a very good time flying them around together, shouting "I here" while posing together, and keeping the sandbox safe from villains together.

Kiyo was having so much fun with this socialization thing, she was genuinely sad when Izuku mom's said they had to go.

"It was lovely meeting you," the green-haired woman said to Nemuri. "I was worried Izuku wouldn't have very much fun today because the little boy he usually spends time with is home sick, so I'm glad we ran into you. Even if it was under such odd circumstances." She finished sheepishly.

Nemuri laughed. "Yeah, same here. I'm glad they had fun. Kiyo doesn't really get a chance to socialize with kids her age much so it's nice to see that they got along."

"Oh! Well Izuku and I are here pretty often if Kiyo ever wants to stop by and play." the older woman said amicably. "We live in the apartments just over there." She pointed to the tall building in the distance.

Nemuri thanked the woman for her offer before turning to her daughter. "Kiyo-chan say goodbye to your friend."

'Friend? Already? Wow, that was fast. "Bye-bye!"

The little boy hugged her tight before leaving, "Bye-bye Ko-chan!" Kiyo was so surprised she didn't even bother correcting how he said her name.

Friend. Had she really just made a friend? All on her own?—not like how she and Riku had come together, where he'd felt the need to look after her.

Kiyo felt she liked that idea. For some reason she couldn't quite figure out, she was sure Izuku would be an excellent friend to have.

Yeah! Izuku, her first friend. That sounded nice.

"You have fun today?" Her mother asked her. They were on the swings now. The regular swings. Her mother had her on her lap with her arms wrapped tightly around her as they swayed slightly in place.

"Yeah!" Kiyo answered at once. Today had been a pretty excellent day really. Uncle Aizawa looked to be on the road to feeling better, she had ice cream and unagi. She'd gotten on the swing for the first time, she'd made a friend and she'd gotten to spend all day with her mama.

Thanks universe! I guess we're even now.

"Did you like it here at the park? Her mother questioned again, "did you like playing with Izuku-kun?"

Kiyo answered again in the affirmative and her mother asked another question. "What if you got to come here and play all the time? Would you like that?"

Kiyo was confused. She couldn't see where her mom was going with this. This neighborhood was nice, the park was nice and Izuku was nice, but there was no way they could come 'all the time'

When Kiyo didn't answer, her mother kept going. She seemed to be talking more to herself than to Kiyo now. Her face had taken on a sort of wistful expression and her eyes quickly became glossy behind her glasses.

"Coming here together, that would be nice right? You'd like it if mama had more time for you like this?"

Oh.

Kiyo understood now. This was that introspection she'd been expecting earlier. Heavy things like death, made people really critical about themselves, the lives they lead etcetera. They nitpick everything they feel they've done wrong in the face of something so somber and final. That was what was happening here.

The toddler didn't know what to do. Comfort her mother? Or allow her to vent out her feelings? Which was the right choice?

"Mama…mama is sorry she hasn't been there for you. But that's all gonna change now. I promise."

Sometimes the best action to take is inaction. So Kiyo sat there silently, letting her mother hold her close as she listened to her words.

"We're gonna live in a great place together. Right here in those buildings. It's safe here and I'll be able to spend so much more time with. We won't have to worry about things like having enough money to get by or getting kicked out to live in a place with perves and druggies or-or…!"

Her mother broke off suddenly, before taking a deep breath in through her nose. Kiyo's mind was racing meanwhile.

They would live here? In this place, in an apartment like her new friend lived in? An apartment in a decent neighborhood near the cradle of heroes. In an apartment building that probably cost more money than they had ever had in their life? How?!

She'd always known she'd have to leave Kenbo eventually, but now that it seemed more imminent she didn't know what to think. She'd be leaving everything she'd ever known for something new, something better. But it felt impossible to actually say good-bye…

Oh god, she'd have to leave Riku too wouldn't she, she'd have to say good-bye to her protector, her big brother, and leave him behind. That would be hard to do at the best of times, but now that the boy had estranged himself from her in his guilt… she couldn't leave things as they were. She had to find a way to fix things, and soon.

"I'm gonna be a good mom to you Kiyo-chan," Nemuri promised to herself. "I'm going to be better than my mom was. I'll take care of you and make a good life for us as a hero. I swear!"