Sasaki Aiko loved Wednesday mornings. Sunlight was softer. Birds' chirps were brighter. Soap was bubblier. Rice was stickier. Best of all–her father wasn't wearing his suit.

For as long as she could remember, her father had worked long days, odd hours, and weekends. Neither earthquake nor traffic jam nor deluge of tears could stop him from jumping into action whenever the agency called. But he invariably took off every Wednesday morning to spend time with her.

They left the house just as the sun peaked over the rooftop. Instead of turning right towards daycare, they veered left towards the neighborhood park. The playground was untouched, still covered in morning dew.

"Daddy, daddy, let's start over there," Aiko commanded, pulling him towards the slide. "Watch me do it all by myself!"

"Go Aiko!" her father cheered as she climbed the ladder. At the top, she adjusted her skirt and held her arms up in a V-shape before pushing off.

"Sasaki Aiko slides into victory with perfect form," he roared into an imaginary microphone. "And what's this? She's set a new world record for fastest slide."

He kept rooting as she went up and down again and again. Shouting her name in the empty playground, her father looked a bit ridiculous, especially with his disheveled hair, baggy shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. Not that she would tell him that–she liked him best this way.

"I'm done!" Aiko proclaimed, descending one last time.

"What's our next stop, Captain Aiko?" her father asked as he scooped her up into his arms.

"Daddy!" she shrieked, wrapping her arms around his neck. Looking over his shoulder, she found their next target. "The swings!"

Their morning continued at a comfortable pace. Her father pushed her on the swingset so high she thought she could fly. He spun the merry-go-round so fast she saw stars. He lifted her so she could reach monkey bars and pretend to be an acrobat. He chased her around the playground until they were both out of breath.

By the time mothers were rolling into the park with toddlers in hand and babies in strollers, they had retreated to the sandbox.

Aiko held her breath as her father raised the castle mold. It was their third try to build a palace–previous attempts had crumbled immediately. Just as he slowly eased the mold off, his phone rang at the worst possible moment. He immediately dropped the pail and reached into his pocket.

Glancing at the caller ID, his brow furrowed. "Aiko, I've got to take this call. Can you wait here and play by yourself for a moment?" he asked while already walking towards a park bench.

Aiko was left staring at the unfinished sandcastle.

She flopped onto her belly with a huff and propped up her chin. Aiko began tracing swirls and hearts into the sand, keeping her gaze downwards. Without her father by her side, the sun was harsher, and she now had a full view of the playground. And the mothers had a full view of her.

Aiko hated the staring. Little beady eyes followed them everywhere. At the supermarket. The daycare drop-off. But worse than the stares were the whispers.

Where's her mother?

What's a man doing here on a weekday?

Does he even have a job?

Shouldn't she be in school?

That man's such a slob. And do you see what the daughter is wearing?

Aiko bit her lip when she heard that last snip. Something started bubbling in her stomach.

That tutu–and striped tights. And those mismatched pigtail braids. Look, even her face is dirty. What a disaster.

Well, that's what happens when the mom is out of the picture.

Aiko sat up and clenched her fists. It felt like the spicy sauce from dinner last night was crawling up her throat.

He clearly doesn't know how to take care of a little girl.

Honestly, someone should report him for child neglect.

I wouldn't be surprised if they already have. He looks like a common criminal!

That last comment flipped a switch in Aiko. Her father wasn't a criminal–he was the one who caught the bad guys. Her legs moved on their own, and she was suddenly standing in front of the bench full of mothers, glaring up at them.

"That's a lie," Aiko declared.

"Sorry, honey, I'm not sure what you mean."

"What you just said about Daddy."

"We didn't say anything, dear," another mother added, waving her hand dismissively. "Why don't you go back to the sandbox?"

"You're a liar," Aiko repeated. "I heard you, you were talking about us and my tutu and my hair—"

"Really, honey," the first mother interjected. "I think you just misheard—"

"You said my daddy was a criminal. That's a lie," Aiko paused before adding, "He's a hero."

"Well, now you're the one making things up, dear. There's no way your bum of a father is a hero."

"Stop lying! He is a hero. His name is—"

A warm hand plopped down on her head. "That's enough, Aiko."

She turned to look up at her father as he lowered his head.

"I apologize for my daughter's behavior. We'll be taking our leave now."

Aiko's cheeks burned as he grabbed her hand and towed her away from the playground. She felt a few tears slide down her cheeks. Then the sniffles started. When they reached the edge of the park, her father crouched down to look her directly in the eyes.

"Aiko, what did you say to those women?"

"They said I was dirty, and called you a criminal, but I told them that was a lie," Aiko responded between hiccups. "But they didn't listen to me. They weren't being very nice."

"You're right, it wasn't nice to say that."

"Why is everyone so mean?" Aiko asked as more tears rolled down her face. "It's not fair. You're a hero, they shouldn't talk about you like that."

"They shouldn't talk about anyone like that–that's what bullies do," her father replied. "I'm proud of you for standing up to them and defending me. But in the future, I want you to remember that bullies like that aren't worth your time or your tears."

He wiped her wet cheeks with the edge of his shirt. "Now, remind me, what are you supposed to do when you're angry or upset?"

Aiko mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"Smile. I'm supposed to smile," she sighed. "But I don't feel like smiling right now."

"Well, we can't have that. A world without Aiko's smile is not a world I want to be in."

Aiko should have known what was coming next. Her father always did this to cheer her up. He grinned mischievously before launching one of his infamous tickle attacks.

"No, Daddy! Stop it!" she cried. "It's not going to work this time. I won't smile. I swear."

"I don't think you'll have a choice," he laughed.

No matter how much Aiko didn't want to smile, she couldn't help as her cheeks tugged at the corners of her lips. Ten seconds of tickling later, Aiko erupted into a fit of giggles.

"There's my favorite smile," her father gleamed. "Now, how about we go get some ice cream before I drop you off?"

"But I haven't even had lunch yet?"

"Are you saying you don't want to eat ice cream?"

"No, I do!" Aiko blurted. "I can have two scoops?"

"You can have as many as you want."

"Three scoops?"

"Sure."

"Four scoops?"

"Yes, Aiko. As much as you want."

"Five?"

Her father glanced down at her. "Don't push it."

Aiko had been the cool kid at daycare ever since the world's greatest hero had dropped by her third birthday party to pick up her father for a mission. And if anyone questioned that story, she had the limited edition All Might knapsack and lunchbox to back it up.

But that changed once Haruto-kun turned four. He was the first one in their class to get his quirk: stretchy arms. Standing up straight and touching the floor with his hands made him the coolest kid in class—no, the entire neighborhood. And it was all Aiko could talk about when her elderly neighbor picked her up from daycare that afternoon.

"Tanaka-san, guess what, guess what! Haruto-kun got his quirk, and his arms, his arms went all the way to the ground," Aiko was tripping over her own words. "And then his arms wouldn't go back to normal, and they were all droopy and long, and then–"

"Aiko-chan, slow down," the old lady interrupted. "My quirk saves me money on hearing aids, but I still can't understand anything when you talk that quickly."

"Sorry, Tanaka-san," Aiko muttered.

"Start from the beginning, please."

"This boy in my class got his quirk today. And he's the first. His arms are stretchy. And it was awesome!" Aiko let her arms sag and dragged them across the ground in a demonstration.

"Oh my, how exciting," Tanaka-san mused. "I only vaguely recall what it was like when everyone around me started getting their quirks, but I do remember just how magical it was."

"Haruto just turned four, but I'm already four and one-quarter and nothing's happened yet."

"Well, Aiko-chan, it isn't a race, sometimes it just takes a bit of time."

"I don't like waiting," Aiko pouted.

"Maybe your quirk is so amazing it's just taking a bit longer to appear."

Aiko pondered that for a moment. "Do you really think I'm going to get a cool quirk…a hero's quirk?"

"I have no doubt your quirk will be just right for you," Tanaka-san replied.

"Do you think I'll be able to fly?"

"Maybe."

"Or shoot lasers from my fingers?"

"It's possible."

"Or sneak around like a ninja?"

This back-and-forth continued the whole walk back to Tanaka-san's house. When they entered the courtyard, Aiko was knocked over by a furry ball of energy.

"Koda!" Tanaka-san chided, glaring down at the Shiba Inu.

"Come on inside, Aiko-chan. What would you like us to make for a snack today?"

"Onigiri!"

As Tanaka-san began pulling out the rice, nori, and umeboshi, Aiko scratched Koda behind his ears and rubbed his belly. He returned the favor with a few slobbery kisses.

"Go wash your wash hands before we start."

After returning from the bathroom, Aiko climbed onto a chair at the kitchen table where Tanaka-san had laid out an onigiri-making assembly line. First, Tanaka-san would fill a ball of rice with umeboshi, and then Aiko was in charge of molding it into a triangle and wrapping it with the nori.

Whenever the old lady wasn't looking, Aiko would slip her hands under the table so Koda could lick the sticky grains off her fingers. When the rice finally ran out, they had twelve lumpy onigiri ready to eat.

Once her belly was full, Aiko started to feel drowsy, and Tanaka-san noticed that her eyelids were beginning to close. "Why don't you go take a nap on the couch?"

"Okay," Aiko yawned.

Koda followed her into the living room and hopped on the cushion beside her. Aiko laid her head on his back. He was soft and warm–the perfect pillow.

When her father arrived hours later, they were still curled up together. Koda's paw resting on Aiko's cheek, and her hand entwined with his tail.

Walking Aiko to daycare was supposed to be the simplest part of Sasaki Mirai's morning.

He had already done the hard part: her breakfast was cooked, teeth brushed, hair braided, uniform ironed, bento packed—yes, the apple slices were cut into bunny shapes per Aiko's request—and last night's renrakucho (communication journal) entry was complete. His reward was the peaceful trip from their house to the daycare four blocks away.

After turning the corner at the end of their street, Aiko grabbed his hand with her chubby fingers.

"Daddy, Daddy, where do the koi go in the winter?" she asked, tugging him towards the drainage canal on the other side of the road.

"They swim to a warmer place."

"But what if they can't get there? What if the canal is blocked?"

Mirai looked down at Aiko who was now peering over the canal's edge to wave at the black and white koi fish below.

"I don't know, Aiko. Why don't I find out and tell you later?"

Satisfied with his answer, Aiko pulled on his suit sleeve. "Come on, Daddy. I don't want to be late."

"Lead the way," he chuckled, slipping his hand into her tiny one. She was the reason their commute always took longer than expected, but he never minded.

They continued down the road, stopping to greet the cat that always slept in front of the convenience store, a pair of pigeons perched on the wall, and a tiny lizard lying in the middle of the sidewalk.

Approaching the daycare, they had to pause at the crosswalk. This intersection was the busiest in their neighborhood and, Mirai sighed, it had one of the slowest stoplights in the city.

Aiko's eyes lit up. Across the street stood their elderly neighbor and her dog. "Good morning, Tanaka-san. Hi Koda!" she shouted over the bustle of the traffic.

"Hello, Aiko-chan, and Sir," the old lady replied, tightening her grip on the leash as Koda jerked forward and yapped at Aiko excitedly.

Mirai watched the pair warily. Tanaka-san was too frail for a dog that strong–he wasn't fooled by the petite size and cute face, he knew Koda was a menace.

Glancing at his watch and then again at the stoplight, it would be another minute or two before it turned green again. Mirai pulled out his phone to check for messages from the agency.

[New] All Might - Damage Costs to Esuha City

[New] Reminder: Local Intelligence Sharing Initiative - Next Friday

[New] Quarterly Police Report on Yakuza Activity

[New] Team-Up Request from Best Jeanist's Agency

[New] License Renewal Notification - Hero Public Safety Commission

His forehead creased–what a laundry list. He kept scrolling.

[New] Team-Up Request from Fourth Kind's Agency

[New] Confidential - AFO

[New] Interview Request from Good Morning Japan

[New] Police Tip on Case #237

He heard a bark.

Tanaka-san screamed, "KODA!"

Then the screech of a car slamming on the brakes.

Mirai hadn't noticed Aiko's fingers had slipped from his hand.

Walking to daycare with her father was the best part of Aiko's day. It was the only time during the week–other than Wednesday morning–when she had him all to herself.

It's why she stopped to look at the koi and say hi to the cat and wave at the pigeons and move the tiny green lizard from the pavement to the grass so he didn't get squished.

Why she insisted on being the leader—so she could set the pace. Because the slower they walked, the longer she got to hold his hand.

Her father was her favorite person in the entire world. But Koda was her favorite animal. So seeing the dog across the street with Tanaka-san was the perfect end to her morning walk. She couldn't wait to scratch his ears and get a big kiss when the light turned green.

But then Koda barked loudly, and he jerked towards the curb.

Aiko watched as the old lady lost her grip on the leash.

Koda barrelled into the street. Tanaka-san shouted his name. A car slammed on the brakes.

She watched as Koda was hit by a small blue pickup truck.

A crunch, a raspy whine, and then a soft whimper.

Koda didn't move. All Aiko could see was a bloody lump in the street.

That was the first time she saw a friend die.

Tears building up, throat closing up—Aiko closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she saw Koda standing next to Tanaka-san again–his tongue out and eyes glancing eagerly in her direction. She looked up at her father buried deep in his phone. To the right, she saw the blue pickup truck coming down the road.

It was like the scene had been reset.

Then she heard Koda's loud bark. And she knew–just knew–that he was about to dart into the road. Again.

But this time, Aiko knew she could save him. She could be a hero.

She dropped her father's hand and sprinted towards Koda with outstretched arms.

Tanaka-san yelled Koda's name.

Koda jumped into Aiko's little arms. She hugged him close to her chest.

The blue pickup truck came hurtling towards them.

Seeing his daughter run into oncoming traffic to save their neighbor's pesky dog was not how Mirai thought his morning would go.

If he was any other parent, he might have had a heart attack. If he was any other person, he might have hesitated before running in front of a moving car. But he was Sir Nighteye, and he was trained for moments like these.

Dropping his phone.

Sprinting into the road.

Sweeping Aiko (and Koda) up with one long arm.

Jumping out of the path of the truck.

These actions were second nature. But he still held his breath until he knew she was safe.

The next few moments were a blur. Aiko clung to her father, legs trembling, breath shorts, head spinning. Her father handed Koda off to Tanaka-san, saying something she couldn't hear. Her ears were filled with cotton.

"Aiko, Aiko, are you alright?" her father squeezed her arm. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded, head burrowed into his shoulder. He gently her down on the sidewalk, kneeling so he could look her right in the eye.

"Why–" he choked. "Why, Aiko, why did you do that? You know you're not supposed to run into the street like that. You know it's dangerous."

"I didn't want Koda to die," she whispered. "I wanted to save him."

Her father crushed her into a hug. "What would have happened if I wasn't here to save you?"

"I wanted to be like you, Daddy…a hero," Aiko mumbled. "And isn't it okay if a hero gets hurt when saving someone?"

Her father's shoulders tensed.

"I know I'm not supposed to go into the road," she added. "But I saw something bad happen, and then it happened again, so I tried to stop it.

"What do you mean it happened again?"

"Koda got hit by the car, but then he was back on the sidewalk again."

Aiko saw recognition flash across her father's face. Then he narrowed his eyes just like he does at the grocery store when deciding between two different ramen brands. Then something extraordinary happened: He whipped out his phone and called the agency to cancel the rest of his schedule.

"Come on, Aiko," he grabbed her hand. "We're skipping daycare today."

"I get to spend the whole day with you?"

"Yes."

"But it's not even Wednesday."

"I'm well aware."

Best. Day. Ever.