Coded Into the DNA

by metukika

The Midoriya's and the Bakugou's were made to envy each other. No matter who or why, it seems like the other family's grass is always greener.

Inko & Mitsuki

Inko is freezing.

She brought a jacket but of course her legs are still half bare, the breeze outside awakening goosebumps. It would make sense if she actually entered the hall instead of waiting outside in the cold but she just doesn't have the guts to face all the other students in their dresses and suits and makeup. So instead she's here, waiting for her friend on a bench outside at prom night.

Her mother helped and prepared her exactly for this moment. Inko didn't know what to feel about this night. She wanted to be noticed by her peers, she wanted boys to look at her and she wanted be the center of people's attention— even if it was for just five seconds only.

But when's the last time she wore a dress? She knows all the girls have been practically competing on who's going to have the lowest cut and the highest heels. She knows because she's been invited to go shopping with them all by the only girl in class she could consider her friend. The only one who feels like smiling at her and doesn't look at her funny when she walks out in the middle of class because she has to cry. The only one who follows her to hand her extra tissues and ask if she's fine.

They went from store to store with Inko declining every dress her friend thought would look good on her until they got to the last shop and she realized that if she doesn't pick something, she'll come without a dress and that, on top of not having a date, will surely make her the laughing stock of the event. So she picked one that she hoped none of the other girls will complain looks too flashy or too alike their own attire and called it a day.

She remembered a few days ago, sitting on her bed before she was about to go take a shower, gazing at her phone that kept slipping back into sleep mode from lack of usage. She remembers letting it turn off before turning it back on instead of simply tapping it before it shut off in fear the she would accidentally tap on the contact that was open on her screen. She was considering asking her one friend to show her… how to shave her legs, for prom.

But she didn't know if that was weird? She assumed that all the other girls would shave, and she didn't want to ask, either. And asking her mother any of these questions would surely be more embarrassing than outright asking her to shave Inko's legs for her. So that's what she did.

She asked her mom to shave her legs and put on her makeup— and truly, Inko loves her mother with all of her heart and all, but makeup was not her specialty. She wasn't bad at it or anything, she just… wasn't a woman who wore makeup, but she did her best— and Inko appreciates that— and she had to ask her to zip up her light green dress that reached her knees and drive her to prom.

And here she is.

She sighs, picking at her jacket's buttons. She thought it would be nice, to try, but she's not sure if the shame of going in where everyone could see her would be worse or lesser than the shame of just calling her mom and crying in her room for the rest of the night.

Before she could make a decision though, in the distance a shiny car strolls into the otherwise empty parking lot. Inko smiles softly as her friend steps out of the car, her father lending her a hand when expensive shoe after expensive shoe land on the concreate ground. She always had to come fashionably late.

You would expect such a perfect girl to be accompanied by an equally attractive guy, but no. She remembers sitting next to her friend in the popular girl's lunch table— she only was saved a seat there because the most popular girl in school insisted they save her a spot, she knows none of the others had any interest in her— in the weeks leading up to prom, and boy by boy would come with a sign and a cheesy pickup line that was more obnoxious than the one before to ask one of the girls to be their date.

Half of the boys were there solely for Inko's best friend, and one by one Inko had to watch her shamelessly turn them down while Inko got no offers at all.

After the fourth rejection, she remembers walking to class with her friend. "Can you believe that he used the same shitty sign he used when he asked Machida last week? Everyone here is just so fucking fake, I swear…" She then sharply turned to smile at Inko. "You get it, right? Why do we need boys anyway? We're like seventeen, nothing is gonna last anyways, so what's the point?"

Inko chuckled and nodded. "You're really lucky though, Mitsuki. A lot of boys are interested in you."

She shrugged, pouting at the room as they walked in, "Yeah but there's no chemistry whatsoever. They just like me for my looks."

Inko lowered her head, doing her best to not break her smile. If boys thought she was pretty, would they ask her out?

"I don't wanna go with a shitty date." Mitsuki sighed, dropping into her seat before dropping her head onto her hands, manicured nails glistering in the light. Inko usually ends up biting her own. "How come you've not been asked out? Hauh, I guess I really am the only one in this school with any taste!" she laughed joyfully, looking at Inko for a reaction.

She could only nod and chuckle again.

She wants to go with a date… Or maybe she just wants someone to want to be her date. Anyone.

But then Mitsuki declared, "Who needs boys. Let's go alone to retaliate! Let's just have fun without worrying what our 'dates' are thinking of us." The fist bump and blinding grin she offered Inko made it impossible for her to decline. So she just smiled back and placed her fist next to hers. Mitsuki cheered and Inko thought that maybe it won't be so bad, even without a boy that will lean against her shoulder and call her beautiful. She'll be fine. Just her and her best friend that is drastically out of her league.

But that doesn't mean she didn't put thought into her looks before coming here. Every evening, she would come out of the shower and watch her reflection. Every time she would ask herself if she was gaining weight and extra chins. Her body weighing scale would say no, but her eyes say otherwise.

And seeing Mitsuki strut towards her with her latex deep red dress and black high heels as if she was born with them, a glistering grin applied to her face only confirms Inko's hypothesize about herself. She can already see the announcement for the winner of Prom Queen. Can a queen be crowned without a king? If there is even a sliver of a chance the answer is yes, then Mitsuki will undoubtedly be walking out of this room with a crown over her head. Her beautiful blonde hair basically foreshadowing themselves being reflected in gold.

Mitsuki stops in front of Inko with an elegant twirl, her black leather chain purse thumping against her hip. Inko stands up and claps for her friend, beaming at the future star of the event. "Thank you, thank you." Mitsuki bows jokingly before standing up and eyeing her friend. Inko clutches her fists.

"Inko! Oh my god, you look amazing in that dress! I mean, I know I already saw you in it— but I so told you it would suit you!"

"Hey Mitsuki. Thanks." Inko says timidly as Mitsuki loops her hands around the greenette's arm. "You look fantastic!"

"Thank you. Now, come on! What are you doing outside? It's fucking freezing out here! And I can't see how your makeup looks here in the dark. I can see you've put on some…!"

Inko nearly trips on their way inside. Not because of the girl clinging to her, but due the nerves suffocating her slowly with every elegant step from the blonde, every clank against the floor from high heels, every meter closer to the chatter coming from inside, the cheesy songs played overly loudly. The doorway slowly looks less and less like an actual doorway, but a square of light— of noise away from the cold and dark and safe outside.

They step into the corridor, the double doors closing with a bang that makes the teenager flinch. And before the pair can make their way through the corridor and towards the final doors awaiting them like a finale boss, Mitsuki stops Inko in her tracks and steps before her, intense red eyes scanning her features and making her face heat subtly while they still have a good amount of light. Will Mitsuki notice her flushing?

Finally, Mitsuki grins again, her lip-gloss easier to trace in the light. "Inko! You look so cute! Did your mom put your makeup on? I knew that woman had it in her!" She laughs, throwing her head back as she clutches Inko's arm a little bit tighter.

While the pleasant compliment has her blushing even harder, Inko can't help but compare her outfit to Mitsuki's now that she can see it clearer. It's bold and short and tight and just the right amount of simple, the leather jacket giving it class; with a shiny neckless that draws the eyes to her chest. Mitsuki doesn't look 'cute'. She looks hot, and attractive. She looks like a grown woman, while Inko looks like a girl going out to a theme park with her family.

She doesn't want to look cute.

But it would be insanely mean to say that. Mitsuki, the most wonderful girl in the grade just went with her to prom to show her support and all Inko can think about is how when they enter and everyone's eyes will naturally be drawn to the blonde, Inko will look even more comparably average next to her perfect form.

Inko doesn't deserve Mitsuki, and Mitsuki doesn't deserve such an awful friend.

Inko walks into the main room with Mitsuki closely beside her, and she can't help but envy her best friend.

---

Hisashi & Katsuki

"Katsuki," Mitsuki hisses as the group arrive at the clearing. Alas, the little troublemaker has already started to jump and cartwheel onto the grass patches. And of course, anywhere the little blond went, Izuku followed closely behind.

Hisashi chuckles as he helps his wife set up the picnic blanket under the shade of a nearby tree. "He seems energetic."

"When isn't he?" Mitsuki sighs as she stretches her hands over head. She drops her arms and smiles at Hisashi. "It's only gotten worse ever since he got that quirk of his. You should see how many times he forgot the simple rule of not setting explosions inside the house."

"Oh yeah, he does have a quirk now, doesn't he?" Hisashi smiles warmly down at the ground, kicking the corners of the blanket into place. It's been a few months since he's been in Japan, with him now working overseas and all. But now, he has a couple weeks break back home before he has to leave again, and the two families took this as the perfect time for group outings. "There's a lot that I missed these last couple months."

At the corner of his vision, Hisashi spots Inko wincing for a split second, pausing at organizing the food over the blanket before continuing without a word, a newly obtained slightly somber look covering her lovely face. Hisashi's face falls as he remembers the call he got from his wife only a few weeks ago.

His and Inko's time zones barely coordinated, so a phone call from his wife was something rare and wonderful that usually consisted of one of them being half asleep and assuring the other that it's okay and that there was no need to apologize for the ill-timed call. This time though, it was different. When Hisashi picked up the phone from his bedside table in the middle of the night, reading his wife's name with the bright letters that shone through the small and dark room, piercing his eyes and giving him an instant headache, he quickly accepted the call and placed the phone near his ear so the brightness that assaulted his mind would be no more.

Instead of a "Sorry I called you when you were sleeping," or even a "Hey sleepyhead," he only heard uneven breathing from the other side. He quickly took the phone away from his ear and squinted at the name onscreen, double-checking that it was really his wife that was calling before placing it back, rubbing his eyes.

"Inko? Is everything okay?"

There was a sniff and a whimper which immediately woke Hisashi's mind fully, making him stand up from his bed with alarm bells ringing in his head. "Inko? Inko, are you okay? What happened?"

There was a whimper, like the caller wanted to speak but couldn't quite muster the energy to. Hisashi found an awfully concerned frown growing on his lips as his brows furrowed. "…Izuku?" Is there a way his son had learned how to speak to him without his mother's help?

"N-no." Inko replied quietly. "I'm sorry for waking you up, dear." Her voice was wobbly as if she had been crying and it was so, so wrong. Years of being married to the woman had taught him how to easily identify the different kinds of tears and sobbing the woman had to offer, and Hisashi recognized these whimpers as ones of melancholy, ones that don't deserve a place being produced by the love of his life.

He hurriedly shook his head before realizing that she couldn't see it, "No, no, it's okay. What's wrong, sweetheart? Is there someone I need to set fire to?"

"No," Inko giggled wetly for a half second before it disappeared. Hisashi waited patiently as he sensed his wife trying to find the words for whatever she was feeling shortly before he heard a weak inhale, "It's… Izuku."

Hisashi's heart sank. He slowly lowered himself back onto the bed as he carded a hand through his dark curls. "I-Izuku…? Is he okay?"

"He… You were supposed to get an email about it by now, but I know that you were either b-busy or asleep already… Uhm…" There was a pause as Hisashi held his breath, unconsciously clutching at his thigh tightly and fearing for the worse. "Izuku, he's uh… he's quirkless." The last word was whispered so quietly Hisashi had to rack his brain for a few seconds to really register what she said— though that might just be from whatever sleepiness had still clung to his head.

"Quirkless…?"

There was a pause, as if Inko was nodding before she remembered he can't see her. "Yeah. We went to a quirk doctor and he s-said that he has that extra pinky toe joint, meaning he has no quirk."

Hisashi's shoulders dropped as he sighed, the relief flooding in with the promise that his wonderful son hadn't gotten hurt badly like he had feared previously, before he tenses. Quirkless… Quirkless…

Izuku's quirkless. Hisashi hasn't seen Izuku face to face in a while, but every chance they got to talk over the phone, the father would fondly listen to his son ramble on about heroes and his dreams of becoming one for the future. He would talk and talk about the different kinds of moves he could perfect if he was to inherit one of his parents' quirks. He would theorize of ways the two quirks could combine, proudly showing Hisashi drawings he made of potential hero suits he might have— blatantly looking like little copies of All Might's outfits with some fire designs pasted onto it, making it look like a combination of the two top heroes' outfits.

But no, he's quirkless. He has no power to fight evil with, so his dreams being ruined are added to whatever discrimination the small fanboy might experience. Hisashi slumped over with another sigh, his head resting heavily on one palm over his lap as the other loosely held the phone in place while his wife mourned their child's fantastical visions' death.

"He was so broken!" Inko cried openly, "He didn't even cry immediately— he was in some sort of shocked state! And now he's acting all distant… I don't know what to do!"

"I need to pee." Izuku says as he pulls on Hisashi's cargo shorts, effectively waking the man out of his daydream. He smiles down at his son, who is shyly looking up at him, the other hand that isn't pulling at his father placed over the boy's mouth innocently. While Izuku has no problem speaking to him over the laptop, he always seems bashful while coming face to face with him.

"Alright, just don't go too far."

Izuku immediately perks up, any trace of nervousness gone as he accepts the challenge of being alone in the dangerous wilderness as he nods earnestly with the most adorable sincere and serious look on his face before scurrying off across to the corner of the field and into the trees.

Hisashi sits down next his wife who is still pulling out plates and cups out of different bags, curling an arm around her shoulders as his eyes drift to Masaru who is setting up a grill at the center of the clearing, Katsuki standing next to him— most likely excited at the prospect of making food out of fire and meat.

After a few minutes wherein Izuku returns safely, currently sitting in his mother's lap while the two ladies chat with Hisashi calmly watching the smoke of the grill rise and disappear in mesmerizing curls and curves, Katsuki starts stomping back to the main group, apparently quickly getting bored of not being allowed near the fire.

Mitsuki notices him and gestures for him to sit on her own lap, mimicking the other pair, which Katsuki completely ignores before his eyes settle on Hisashi. If talking to Izuku face to face is rare for the man, then speaking with Katsuki is on another, different level. Sure, he made faces at the boy when he used to work still in Japan— but that was when the younger was still a baby, and Hisashi doubts Katsuki remembers any of that.

"So, Katsuki. You have a quirk, huh? Izuku tells me all about it!"

The aforementioned boy blushes from his place on his mother's lap but doesn't show any other form of embarrassment by eagerly confirming his father's words, "Yeah! Kacchan's quirk is super strong!" He flails his arms in a big and eager motion that Hisashi recognizes from the other times when in their conversations over video call Izuku would describe his friend's ability.

He sends a raised eyebrow over to Katsuki, who is now smirking proudly with a confident stance, fists over his hips, "Yuh uh! I'm gonna be the number one hero! Everyone will know of my quirk!" he exclaims.

"Well? I haven't seen it yet. Why don't you show me?"

Mitsuki scoffs. "Are you trying to start a fire? I came here so I wouldn't have to hear all of his obnoxious explosions."

"It's an open space here," He grins at the young boy gently, "Just make sure you're not aiming at anything."

Katsuki simply pokes out his tongue. "I know! Mom doesn't let me make big explosions at home but now I can! Just watch!"

He hops to a more open area. Hisashi looks on curiously while Katsuki raises his arms, the blonde mother sighing while Izuku is bouncing with excitement at his own mother's lap. From Katsuki's palm an explosion the size of your average yoga ball erupts, bright and loud and sudden.

Immediately, Katsuki, Mitsuki, Inko and Izuku start laughing at the high-pitched yelp Masaru— who hasn't heard the previous conversation and wasn't expecting the loud noise— squawks out. Hisashi, though, is stuck with his jaw open and hands gripping his knees, very much shocked.

While the blast wasn't all that big by itself, for such a young boy Katsuki's age to create it out of seemingly thin air, it was certainly bigger than what the man had expected. He thought he would witness something not unlike a sparkler out of his small, fresh hands, not this.

Truly, Katsuki would grow up to have a powerful, heroic quirk. Hisashi's not sure how the boy would handle it— or being a hero in general— hearing all the rebellious acts the young blond had partaken from his son— but the truth of the matter is that if Katsuki would really find it in himself the motivation to be a hero, he would undoubtedly go far.

Hisashi's eyes unconsciously drifter towards his own son, happily chewing on vegetables from Inko's lap, the latter stroking the former's unruly hair. Will he ever find the right motivation to peruse a demanding and stressful career such as a hero when he is left quirkless? Even if he tries, Hisashi doubts he'll actually succeed.

Ever since the diagnoses, Izuku has been speaking less and less of his own future as a hero— now mostly focusing on All Might and Katsuki— mentioning less often about what quirk he might possibly get… Hisashi wants his wonderful son to accomplish his dreams, really— but he just can't fathom the idea of a quirkless hero, beating powerful villains with nothing but weapons and fists. He can't imagine his little Izuku, the small angel that he is, battered and bruised from lack of natural protection, kicking villains' bloody faces vigorously and urgently, doing his best to prove that he, too, can be a hero.

If only Izuku would have inherited his quirk, or even Inko's, or any of the combinations the young boy formulated in his theories, then he would still have the extra bounce in his voice when they spoke over the phone. Would still tell him about all the new moves he watched heroes perform and wanted to try and learn to do himself. Would still talk about how he and Katsuki both would be the best hero duo.

Hisashi looks back towards the field, the smell of smoke and meat more prominent, as Katsuki is trying to insist that their grill needs more help lighting up— preferably using his quirk— while Masaru tries to gently yet cautiously shoo him away. If only Izuku had gotten a quirk like his…

As Hisashi sighs and lowers his chin onto his hands, eyes glued to Katsuki running around trying to prove himself useful, the man can't help but envy the seemingly innocent and stubborn boy.

---

Katsuki & Izuku

Usually when people say they want to be a 'star', they usually mean some sort of music icon— 'a pop star' perhaps, or 'a rock star'.

But Katsuki likes to take it a little bit more literally— well, not entirely.

Something bigger than the word, where everything revolves around you and all praise you. Katsuki's biggest idol, his biggest inspiration, is All Might. So bright and strong. They all depend on him every day and day and know to look forward to him and his shining, unwavering smile every time he's not captured on camera or bystanders' awed gazes as they watch All Might take out villains.

When Katsuki binges All Might clips compilations on YouTube with Izuku on his side, moving slowly closer and closer to the television screen to look closer and deeper, he gets into it, like he's there, watching All Might from the sidelines. Izuku's mumbling and the rest of his living room fades out, and the screen's brightens against the dark room is the only thing he can coherently sense. Not even— because he's so mesmerized, it's as if All Might himself is the one emitting the light with his heroism and beaming grin and the sense of security Katsuki can feel even through the television.

Like the sun.

And Katsuki wants nothing more than to be a star. Bigger then the sun itself. Brighter, stronger, hotter, higher. Higher than All Might.

He wants people to look in wonder, see him and think of him every day of their life. Everyone loves the sun, but no one would dream of flying towards it, shoot straight through it. Only the most foolish— really, braindead— villains would even think of challenging All Might.

And while Katsuki doesn't plan on putting All Might to an all-time end, he wants— almost desperately— to show that he can. To be so intimidating and big that people would fear him more than All Might himself. Untouchable, like the stars. All by himself, he'll fly up and shoot through the air, boost through space with absolutely no help or assistance. He wants absolutely all the credit he deserves. There are countless stars you can see far from the earth, at night. But Katsuki will be there always, day and night, bright and blinding to the point you couldn't even find the actual sun itself.

Okay maybe that's a little excessive, but Katsuki's aiming to be the biggest and brightest star is all, and nothing's going to stop him from reaching his goal.

He actually got his quirk not that long ago! And he knew the moment those little bright, warm and flashy sparks popped in his hands that first time, that Katsuki will train and work to better them to be naturally bigger, brighter and hotter, to quickly and swiftly take down any smelly villain that dares challenge him and show them what real pain is like.

Right now, he's merely nothing but a small moon— maybe a planet— he is only in elementary school, after all, but he knows that out of anyone in the area, he has the greatest likelihood of making it big. Why else would everyone revolve around him already? Tell him he's the best, with the best quirk? He already has caught the attention of the people who aren't blind to light.

But lately, little Katsuki has been sensing a problem.

He's used to the bright presence All Might carries around with him, action figures to news coverage to selfies he takes with his fans when they flock him after he beats up a villain— but lately, Katsuki had been getting unnecessary headaches and desire to put on sunglasses more than usual. When he falls into the stream that one day, he understands,

"Are you okay?" Izuku asks, reaching a hand, "It would have been really bad if you hit your head, Kacchan!"

Izuku was standing against the sun, blocking it and casting a shadow over Katsuki, but it feels somehow like he was shining, rising in the morning and glistening with his bright green eyes that feel as if they're digging their way through Katsuki and warming his heart.

It was a feeling stronger than watching All Might.

It shined and hugged Katsuki right to his core, telling him that while All Might will always win against any villain, Izuku would win against anything that will try to harm Katsuki. While All Might's catchphrase was "I am here!", Izuku will actually be there every time, reaching out a hand like a ray of light— even if all that happened was something insignificant like Katsuki slipping and falling.

It felt awful.

Izuku isn't All Might, at all. He's a loser, quirkless crybaby with nothing coming his way.

But he felt more like a star than any time Katsuki looked himself in the mirror to wash his hands before dinner. But Katsuki was the smartest kid, with the most talent, the most stubborn with the most dedication and the strongest quirk! Not Izuku!

Everything made sense in a way Katsuki couldn't comprehend. He felt confused by the way everything clicked together naturally. He hated it.

Was no one else seeing this?

So he pushed and shouted and whined and did his best to keep Izuku away. He wanted to dim that light shining from him so badly. He wanted his explosions to be the only light source in the small classroom.

"Kacchan stop!" Deku cries, standing in front of a girl who had called Katsuki 'mean', which he replied with taunts and stepping forward with explosions in his hands. Heroes aren't mean! He wasn't even being all that mean. He just told her that, honestly, her quirk is good for nothing. If you can't handle such a simple truth— how do you expect to handle anything in your life?

Deku was quick to glide in, stepping between them with a fearful yet determined frown. Katsuki scoffs. All Might wouldn't frown like that.

But the look in Deku's eyes almost makes up for it, so he scowls.

How dare he look down on Katsuki over and over again? Just because he jumps into every minuscule brawl, he thinks he'll be a better hero than Katsuki? He doesn't even have a quirk! "Get out of the way, Deku. If you know what's good for you!"

"N-no!"

"Aww, look at him cry again!" One of his lackeys laughed behind him, but Katsuki ignored them.

"Stop trying to play hero. Just do what you do best and cower!" Katsuki spits, smirking at Deku's slight shaking.

"No, Kacchan! H-Heroes don't hurt others…!"

Katsuki's hand crackles. He's going to be the best fucking hero— the brightest fucking star, and there's nothing anyone can do to change it! It doesn't matter if that girl is looking at Deku as if he hung the starts for her, Katsuki is going to be the hottest of them all.

"You asked for it then!" Katsuki exclaims before pouncing, his groupies following suit.

Deep in his chest, in an area Katsuki wouldn't even admit to himself while alone, he knows this isn't what heroes do. If Deku is like a small All Might, then what does it make Katsuki? But Deku isn't all that perfect— not only does he not have a heroic quirk— or one at all, for that matter— but he also seems to enjoy looking down at the mess that is Katsuki. At least he's not so high and mighty that he would reach a hand to help people out of a river like he's saving a life. Just because you care about the little details doesn't mean you're better than everyone else!

Still, while Katsuki beats the ever-loving hell out of Deku, and would never even recognize this fact, he can't help but envy his useless, quirkless classmate.

---

Mitsuki & Izuku

"You didn't need to come all the way here, you know." Inko insists as she opens the door to her apartment, needing to place a bag of groceries on the floor to do so effectively. Mitsuki just shakes her head.

"Don't worry. I'm just here to drop you off. I'm sure that with Hisashi gone, you're missing a gentleman in your life." She winks playfully. "And besides, I haven't seen that rascal Izuku in a while now. You know, I didn't think he had it in him!"

That's right. The day before both their sons' UA acceptance letters came in, showing that they both made it in successfully. Mitsuki had no doubt in her mind that Katsuki would pass the exams, but she still wanted to show him her pride in him, in the form of his favorite meal. What she was surprised by, though, is that little Izuku entered and passed as well. Apparently he had manifested a quirk at the exact right time, or so Inko had recalled Izuku telling her.

And so both mothers decided to go shopping this afternoon to buy all the right items for their children's favorite foods, as a way to celebrate. Inko even suggested that both families eat together, but Mitsuki knows that would put the meal awkwardness into next gear— and none of them need that.

"It shocked me too." Inko admits as she picks up her second grocery bag before pushing the door open with her hip.

Mitsuki replies as both women take off their respective shoes. "And he got all rescue points, you said?" She follows her friend to the kitchen, placing her own bags on the table for a moment to stretch her arms. "That's the opposite of what the brat got, from what I read of the school's email. That jerk obviously didn't let me read his acceptance letter."

As she talks, her hands stretched in a cross formation behind her head, Mitsuki spots little green bean Izuku from the corner of her eye, sitting on the living room sofa seemingly listening to music from his headphones as he lifts weights. He's still so scrawny, but the blonde could detect some muscle on whatever was exposed of his arms.

She smiles widely at the sight of the boy, hands back on her hips as she calls loudly enough for him to hear her over his music, "Oi, how are you doing, stinker?"

The boy curiously takes off his headphones as he tilts his head before blushing and rushing to stand. "Oh-oh! Aunty Mitsuki! S-sorry, I didn't see your there."

She steps forward and slaps his shoulder, cackling, "How do you expect to be a hero if you can't even spot your old woman." Izuku instantly flushes even harder, making Mitsuki feel her heart soften. Not wanting to scare the rascal off, she grabs his shoulder gently, coercing him to look up at her. "Proud of ya, kid. Good work out there."

Mitsuki always thought that blushing was a myth that writers created to be able to express their characters' emotions quickly without needing any good writing, but clearly, the way the boy has at this point become as red as a tomato is living proof that that hypothesis is untrue.

Izuku flails his hands nervously, shaking his head profusely. "No, no, it was nothing!"

Mitsuki is so used to teenagers being bratty, cocky assholes— and that includes her own son— that whenever she talks to the green haired little man, she's instantly overcome with fondness and probably all those hormones that make a mother want to protect her child.

She wishes sometimes that Katsuki would be a little more humble. He's always going around acting as if his success so far has been due to his own achievements without any outside help whatsoever. She knows that the school likes to kiss his ass because they know damn well that he will grow up to be a great pro hero, but she wishes they would criticize him more. But every time, they just tell her that he's a little good behaving angel in all their classes. She doesn't try to hide her doubt about it.

Mitsuki knows that she also spoils him too, a bit, but it's her duty as a parent. When the little bastard was just a wee lad, he loved to mess with his quirk in places where he wasn't meant to use it— which if you didn't know, is everywhere— saying that he has to train his quirk to be a great hero. Not wanting to get them in legal trouble and looking like a damn fool, having a boy who doesn't even know how to use his own quirk right in the forcible future, she hired him a trainer with a somewhat similar quirk to her son to teach him some moves and let him crash at their training grounds that with a few legal documents would allow for Katsuki to use his quirk legally in. And to, y'know. Watch that he's not blowing himself up or whatever.

Mitsuki would never admit it to anyone, but of course she would sometimes feel worried about her son's choice of future career. Being a hero is a dangerous role to have in their society, and she would rather Katsuki would be experienced in keeping himself safe before he enters any risky situations.

But she doesn't need to tell him that. As much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. They both suck at expressing emotions. She doesn't let herself show her son how much she's proud and worried about him— for whatever reason she's too old to sit and try to psychoanalyze herself for, but luckily she knows Katsuki is as versed as her. And without him needing to tell or show it, he understands how she feels because he can relate. That's why Mitsuki knows that brat loves her and appreciates her all the same.

So it's all okay.

Mitsuki huffs, petting Izuku's shoulder before taking a step back, "Well, that nothing nearly gave your mother a heart attack."

The boy pouts, furrowing his brows as the blonde takes a step to the side to let Izuku frown at his mother who turns around from placing various items from the bags into the fridge. Inko smiles bashfully,

"I might as well get used to it, since you're planning on becoming a full time hero and all."

"Mom…" Izuku scratches his cheek as he passes Mitsuki and drags his feet towards the other woman. "I'll be fine. I bet it's not going to be all that interesting…"

"I know." Inko says lovingly, placing a hand over her son's cheek. Izuku pouts, shoulder slumping as his mother's thumb strokes over his freckles. "It's just a mother's job to be worried."

"Thanks, but I'll be alright. I promise." They smile softly at one another and Mitsuki can't help but mimic that easy expression from the sidelines, understanding clearly the secret meaning and conversation behind their words.

I love you, son.

I love you too, mom.

There are many ways to say "I love you," and Mitsuki is not surprised in the slightest to learn that the Midoriya's' way of showing it is by expression of excessive care and concern for the other. Mitsuki would likely die before showing concern towards anyone in front of them.

"Welp." Mitsuki loudly claps her hands, ruining the sweet moment between mother and son and jolting the pair from their tender embrace. She would feel bad about it, but she kind of has to make dinner right now. "It was fun catching up, but I have to bounce." She strolls towards the kitchen, picking up her bags before turning to wave at the greenheads, "Take care of your mother, will you?"

"I'll be quite alright." Inko says respectfully at the exact same time Izuku replies with "Of course!"

"Alright? Alright. Bye bye, you too." And with that, she walks to the entrance, puts on her shoes and walks out, making her way to her own house at long last.

She lets her smile slowly melt from her face as she watches the clouds idle by while she walks. She loves the Midoriya's, but they can be very sappy sometimes. Masaru is a big help at making her feel things, but Inko and Izuku give her the same feeling she gets whenever she's hit with a nostalgia attack, remembering all the stupid things she and the other bitches in school did to pass the weekends, acting like shitty adults when they were just shitty teenagers. It always washes her with a bittersweet feeling. Izuku is an angel, but Katsuki is her little wine project, that takes time until it really shines through, until it starts to learn.

One day he'll be out there, exploding stuff as a pro, and some real hero with a real good quirk and an honest heart will really humble him. And then he'll be his real self. The boy she loves so much— without the being a total jackass part.

But deep down, she knows he cares even now. He just has different ways of showing love.

Cradling one bag against her chest, Mitsuki finally opens her house's front door. She switches to wearing slippers and walks towards the kitchen, very much like her routine at the Midoriya household. "I'm home!" Of course, no one answers. She knows that her husband is still at work and that Katsuki is either out with his friends at wherever or in his room studying, but it never hurts to announce her presence. And besides, she's in a good mood.

Even with that, there is no reason to check on her son so instead she immediately starts on turning on the radio and starts cooking. It's a little earlier than she is used to, but since she is making a bigger meal for a special occasion, then she might as well. Not like she has anything better to do.

The thing about cooking is that at any given moment it feels as if you're either doing at least three different things at the same time or that you're waiting aimlessly for the food to heat. Mitsuki would much rather get herself occupied because otherwise she feels that anytime she's not doing something, she's just wasting her time instead. But she has literally nothing to do. And the minutes between waiting for the food to get done isn't long enough to safely start some new project concerning a new hobby.

So she just takes a seat at the kitchen table and places her head on her arms, draping her upper half on the table. It's not good manners but the spicy smells coming off her cooking and all the turning around to get ingredients and check pots had made her a little dizzy. So she has no other option but to think, fantasize.

She thinks back to her short visit at her friend's apartment, when the other two were embracing. When's the last time she hugged Katsuki? She remembers being his age and realizing that she herself wasn't hugging her brother, compared to the amount of affection siblings seemed to show towards each other in fictional media. But she didn't think about it too much at the time. She's sure she loves her brother and she knows that actual siblings aren't all that affectionate in real life. That's just weird.

It's also the same excuse she figured out when she stopped hugging her friends as much. And when she forgot for the first time the last time she embraced her parents. But having a husband and a small child brought back that old desire. Katsuki was always loud, but nothing would fill her heart more than when he was just a toddler, falling asleep on his mother. Even if it was quite annoying, not being able to move much.

But it's okay now, Mitsuki convinces herself as she lifts her head, placing it atop of her fist instead. Physical touch is just not her way to show affection— even if it's nice sometimes. And it didn't take her long to figure out that words of affirmation are not her cup of tea either. She shakes her head and huffs. That's right— she shows affection with acts of service. That's why she's such a good mother and wife— why she isn't bothered when she does extra tasks around the house, even if no one asked.

She does complain about it sure, but that's because it's an instinct. If she doesn't do something to undo her actions of affection, her family might honest to god think she cares. And well, she knows they know still— she wants them to. But if she makes it too clear, then she would be giving up to her emotions. And those aren't the most important thing in her life. It's important to be able to control them, and not let them take over what you really consider important— your dreams and work and family. It took a little time for Masaru to understand when they started dating, but Katsuki is already a master at it, she's sure. Because they are the same. Katsuki would say negative things, but he wouldn't mean them.

He appreciates her, because he appreciates the things she does for him, even if he doesn't say so. You don't have to say you love someone, to tell them you love them.

So why does this train of thought keep coming up?

It doesn't matter, she decides as she pushes her chair back harshly and stands up, more determined than ever. She whips the kitchen towel so it lands on her shoulder and she relieves some stress from her arms before whirling around towards the counter just in time for the stove clock to start beeping, cluing her that she needs to start on the next part of the food. She jabs her finger at the button that stops the god awful noise and continues working.

She's got feelings she's trying to convey through spicy, fancy food tonight. Her son got first place in the practical entrance exams for UA motherfucking High and he deserves a goddamn treat, even if he's an ass.

But more importantly, she can now stop thinking.

Luckily, Masaru arrives a few minutes before Mitsuki has to set the table for the meal so he does it instead of her, letting her call their child to dinner. As she walks confidently to her son's room, she can feel a soft buzzing in her body, a little nervous for the encounter. She doesn't get excited by much these days— mostly things concerning fashion and opportunities at her job, but she wouldn't say that she's ever anxious about talking to Katsuki, mostly because it always ends the same way. Yelling.

Still, she licks her lips in preparation as she knocks harshly on his door. It's his night, and what other reason would she make such a big meal if it wasn't to show support and see his face light up like every other time he wins.

She doesn't get a response, which is somewhat expected, so she barges in. "Brat, dinner's ready!"

Katsuki is sitting on his bed, one hand working on a dumbbell while the other is holding a school book of some sorts. The bastard doesn't give his mother even glance, instead seemingly staying absorbed by the reading and the headphones he has plugged into his phone. Mitsuki huffs at the similarities to the other boy earlier before quickly wiping away her grin.

"Katsuki!" She bangs her fist loudly enough against the doorframe for her son to jolt a little, to get the attention. Seriously, if he decides to dedicate his life to speaking in exclamation marks, then he might as well listen to other people when they speak. It's only fair. "Did you hear what I said?!"

Katsuki finally turns to her— not even pausing his music— and sends her a withering glare that Mitsuki is so used to that she wouldn't even consider it a glower. That's just how he looks like most of the time these days. As if out of spite.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but he just scoffs, turning back to his book. "After I finish this chapter."

Mitsuki rolls her eyes. She shifts, placing her hands on her hips and sighs. "Come on. I made your favorite, extra spicy— for not dying at the exams and finally paying off all those lessons I paid for. Would have been embarrassing if you flopped in front of all those people."

I love you, son, and I'm proud.

"I didn't fucking need those stupid lessons! And I said I'll be there after this chapter!"

Mitsuki purses her lips, tapping her foot impatiently. "You can finish it later, Katsuki. I'll kill you if you let the food get cold before you even taste it."

"It's only one page left, hag! Leave me alone already!" Without looking, he tosses a pillow at her mindlessly which she easily catches and chucks right back, feeling irritation bug at her temples and hitting him while he isn't looking, causing him to drop the damn book. He turns towards her again with a real glare this time and a gnarly snarl she just rolls her eyes at. "What the fuck!?" he yaps.

"What did you expect?! For me to place it neatly on your bed? Fluff it up for you? Maybe so you can complain that you don't even want to sleep?"

"I said I'll be there, you fucking dumbass!" He stands up abruptly, tossing his dumbbell onto his bed.

"Goodie. Let's go." she huffs.

"I said after the chapter, fucking hag! God fucking damn it!"

Mitsuki blinks. Before she feels anger flair up her body. Everything feels hot and her nails dig into her palms from how tightly she's clutching her fists. "For fuck's sake, Katsuki. Why do we have to have this conversation every goddamn time?! When it's time to eat we eat, and when it's not, we don't! It's not that fucking complicated!" It always ends with shouting. But she thought it would be different today…

Why does he refuse her offers so casually, so adamantly? Does he not appreciate her cooking? She didn't fucking cook for him a whole special meal just so he can turn it down so easily— turn down the message she's hidden in it.

I love you, son.

So why can't he just accept it? Does he not care? Does it mean nothing to him? Does he not want it? Or does he not understand as much as she though he did? Does he not love her back? Why doesn't he say it— show it— hint it back?

The realization that she doesn't know, that she's more clueless than she thought, brings a wave of intense fear and guilt that she just doesn't know how to handle at this moment, in this state— not right now. "Just come eat already, you fucking spoiled brat!" she shouts to drown the thoughts, to drown her insecurities and to try to get him to understand.

Just come eat what I made for you. I'd do anything for you, even if you didn't ask, so show me you care.

"Why?! You obviously don't actually want me there because you assholes clearly fucking hate me!"

Mitsuki freezes, mouth hanging open.

Hate him?

"Get out of my room!" he screams before picking up a metallic water bottle and chucking it at her.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" She slams the door shut before it strikes her, the bottle banging against the door and falling to the floor in a loud clank instead. She hears a colorful string of curse words ring out from inside the room but no matter how much her body is urging her to yell and bang on the door— to let all her frustrations out— her mind is stuck in a confused sort of loop she can't even start to comprehend.

Only when a warm arm grabs her shoulder gently does all the raging thoughts stop. She looks down at the floor. The house now too quiet. Her hands are shaking and she feels tears threatening to spill out of her eyes but she quickly wipes them away. Masaru doesn't say a word as she turns around slowly and drapes herself against him. She nuzzles into his shoulder, only to wipe away the tears that are gathering up again in her eyes. The assholes.

…Why can't they communicate like a normal family?

She realizes that there is no running away from the endless array of questions her mind has dedicated to force-feeding her, so she lets herself sob, a little. It's okay, because her husband is holding her, whispering her reassurances in her ear. Maybe he wonders the same things as her.

While her head is spinning, images and memories and theories running through her mind wildly, she remembers the Midoriya's, and how they could just understand each other without needing to say anything.

Why can't she just speak the things she wants to convey, with words? How much does Katsuki think she loves him? Does he know it's with her whole heart?

How much does he love her back?

She doesn't fight the way she feels her face scrunch up— surly all blotchy and red and ugly as all hell. She just wishes that Katsuki wouldn't take this as the perfect opportunity to leave his room and see Mitsuki like this.

The thought of not wanting him to see her actually feel makes her just feel even worse.

And while Mitsuki cries and cries against her husband, she can't help but envy the sweet little green haired boy, and how he can just understand his mother so well, with no words needed.

---

Inko & Masaru

"No matter for how long I look, it just doesn't become any more interesting." Inko drawls, looking at the screen in the upper corner of the room.

Masaru glances at the bar's small television, showcasing some sort of sport. Football? Netball? She doesn't remember the names, but it's another game where you chase the ball, and score. It's not even a quirked game, just old fashioned use your limbs type, but by the way a large group of people situated at the corner of the bar is screaming and cheering every time someone does anything will have you thinking you are watching an epic fight between heroes and villains.

Masaru gazes back at Inko, cheek resting on his fist and lips pursed. "Cheers to that." And they drink.

They were just here as a hangout. Mitsuki was working late today apparently and Katsuki was whoever knows where so Masaru called, asking if she wanted to get a drink— like the good ol' days. Izuku was at a friend's house and Hisashi was… yeah. So she said why not— it's been a while since she had a one on one conversation with the man.

They didn't plan on drinking much, but Inko kept the mindset of 'what could go wrong with one more drink' and Masaru went along with it and now they're at some small yet loud bar, acting as if they're young again.

Or maybe not.

Are they too old to care for sports?

It's okay. As long as they're having a nice time. Masaru can actually be quite entertaining with his stories about his family. He usually just stands and watches from the sidelines as his wife and son go from acting like a royal family at a ball to a cluster of antsy dogs at the park. And it's fun to ignore the guilt of laughing at Inko's best friend and their child because, well, Masaru is making fun of them too.

Sometimes she wonders how he handles them. It seems like he had actually given up on trying eons ago.

And after every story, Inko tells one of her own. Her own little wacky family. But after every retelling she would order another drink.

And that's because in every memory she shares about her most loved ones there is one thing in common:

Izuku and Hisashi don't appear in the same tale.

Hisashi sneezes and accidentally burns down a curtain with his quirk? Izuku wasn't born yet.

Izuku gets lost at a theme park because he followed a worker dressed up as All Might? Hisashi was abroad.

Hisashi rants about pizza toppings for twenty minutes straight? Izuku wasn't in the call.

Izuku rants about his new classmates' quirks for two hours straight? Hisashi's not at home.

Hisashi attempts to cook a fish with his quirk while out on a fishing trip? Pre Izuku.

Izuku nearly breaks the dining table because he flinched when a bird hit their window midflight? No Hisashi.

"One time, we bought Katsuki a basketball and a little net for him to play with but he immediately tried to use his quirk on it— to see if it would shoot farther, I guess?— but y'know, he just blew the thing up."

Inko giggles. "Perhaps you should have bought a sturdier ball?"

"Ah yes," Masaru raises a brow, "Nothing better than breaking all the neighbors' windows so your child can have a more jolly experience playing ball."

"Huh. I bet it was a difficult task to find a satisfying toy for him."

The man chuckled quietly. "When he was a toddler, for a bizarre amount of time Mitsuki tried finding him a toy eye-catching and 'cool' enough to make him shut up. She nearly fainted when she figured that giving him a Rubik's Cube was enough for a couple months."

And that's another drink for Inko.

"Or showing him that spin-off cartoon show with All Might as the main character. Never even met the man but you don't understand how many times he saved our lives." He laughs.

Inko nods, grinning. "Right. All Might had done a better job than me of preventing Izuku from crying! His own mother." She takes a sip. "And now that he's teaching at UA, they actually get to meet each other. Izuku is somehow still so ecstatic about that prospect. It's as if All Might's his dad at this point."

Masaru laughs, and Inko does too. But wow, this feels awful. She takes another sip before prying a pretzel out of the bowl at the center of their small round table, nibbling on it before speaking again and taking Masaru's seemingly tipsy mind away from the boring sport still playing on the television.

"So… How often does Mitsuki come late anyway? You could have called me sooner if it's really that often." Yeah. This is fun. Masaru is Inko's friend and they can bond about being lone—

A-alone. At the time.

Masaru just shakes his head lazily, though. "No, it's not often. Usually I'm the one arriving last. But you could call Mitsuki to hang out. Girls' night… What do girls do on girls' night anyways?"

She feels her heart sink, a bit. But she bites her lips in an effort to not say anything stupid. Maybe alcohol makes her less emotional. "Uh, put makeup. And talk about cute boys." She shrugs. "Obviously. So you like. Don't get lonely when you're at work and she's at home, sometimes? That would be… awful." Is it bad that she hopes he's at least a little sad? Just so she can relate to him, somewhat?

Is that really all too awful of her? Come on you guys. But he's the last person she's going to admit to that she hopes he's lonely.

Masaru idly swirls what's left of his drink in his glass, taking a moment to process the question. "Do I get…? Oh, I love my job." He voices factually, casually while unaware of the woman's subtle selfish state of mind. "And we work at the same company…" Oh right. "We eat lunch together, most days." He stares at the ceiling.

"Hmm. Wish I could relate." Wow. So she did not mean to say that at all. Real dick move, mouth, Inko inwardly scolds. But it seems that Masaru hasn't picked up the sarcasm, eyes slowly dragging their gaze towards the television screen one again.

Thank god, because her brain to mouth filter had been evaporated somewhere between the second drink to whatever number this one is, and Inko thinks she would actually cry if he confronted her. Just like it seems the man's tact meter had ran out. Damn. Okay, brain. Shut up.

She guiltily pouts at her friend as his flushed-from-alcohol cheeks becoming even redder for some reason. Inko's brows knit as he blurts, "I'm gonna marry that woman one day."

"Mitsuki?"

"Ah-huh…"

"…You already are, no?"

"Oh, yeah." He turns to her, blinking. "Yeah— No, I know… You know what I meant. I think… I'm drunk."

"I think you just miss your wife." She giggles hollowly. Her appetite is gone. She wants to sleep now, thanks. "In any case, it's getting quite late. Perhaps we should wrap it up for tonight?"

"Yeah…" He hops off his stool— Inko doing the same— before looking at her, with something akin to concern in his eyes, making the woman kind of want to hurl all of her previous drinks onto the table. "This was nice. We should do it again."

Inko nods honestly, doing her best to ignore the ugly feeling swirling and twirling in her gut. "Yes."

Masaru nods back. They stare at each other for a few awkward seconds, the group in the corner booing at something on the television's screen in the meantime. "Uh. Inko, do you miss—?"

"I-I have to go pee!" she squeaks.

"O-oh? Well… I'll pay then."

She nods feverishly. "Thank you! I'll pay you back when we're in the cab— oh and you should call a cab, please."

"Of course!"

"Thank you." She spins around and promptly beelines towards the women's bathroom. That was a close call, she sighs as she does her business. She doesn't want to talk about personal things with someone who wouldn't understand.

The only people who could ever understand her exact feelings are her family. But Inko doesn't want to burden Izuku with her own troubles when she could barely handle his own— she has to be a strong mother for him! And she has the feeling anyways that, at least recently, Izuku doesn't mind Hisashi's absence as much as her, maybe because he barely knows him—

Maybe he does consider All Might his father—

No, no. That would be absurd.

But in any case, if she tells Hisashi how she's feeling— more than a 'I miss you lots' and 'wish I could kiss you right now' when they talk over the phone— if she was to really cry and blabber about how lonely she's been feeling, how she doesn't have anyone to talk to, barely. How she's been feeling un-whole with missing desires she craves nearly every day— Hisashi would drop everything to come back home. He might even quit his job for her, and that would be catastrophic. His job and the money he sends the two are extremely helpful, and he absolutely adores his job.

She just can't tell him she wants him back.

More than she already tells him already, that is.

Still, while Inko washes her hands in cold cold water that makes her fingers nub, she can't help but envy her friend, and how he isn't upset in the slightest when being absent from his spouse.

---

Hisashi & Masaru

"And then he broke his finger!"

"Mom—"

"And then he broke his fingers again!"

"Mom, it's—"

"And he broke his legs?"

"It's— It's your turn, mom—"

"And he didn't even tell me himself!"

"Izuku, are you trying to give your parents a heart attack?"

"I-I'm sorry, but—"

"And then Katsuki got kidnapped!"

"Oi!" Katsuki bangs his fist on the table, rattling the pieces of the board game they're all playing and making the stack of cards slump. "I wasn't kidnapped! I was just leading the pros to their hiding spot! They found all those braindead birdie zombies with my help!"

Izuku fidgets. "Actually, it was Yaoyarozu's—"

Katsuki slaps his palm against the table, glaring daggers at Hisashi's son and making him shut up.

Mitsuki nudges her piece back to its place. "He says that a lot."

"You have a death wish, hag?!"

"Oh bump your butt right back off, you baffling belligerent bitter bossy brat!"

"Har har, highly hilarious— however, who have you hackled and hollered hard to rehearse humorous harsh honesties at and has been handy enough to reply accordingly to your fucking gibberish but your honest, heroic and honorable heir who has not been hijacked by half-baked henchmen, you hellish hopeless horrid hot-headed hag!"

What the hell is going on.

Apparently a lot had happened since the last time Hisashi had visited. Izuku had manifested a quirk, gotten into UA, broke several bones… Well, of course Hisashi heard about them all immediately after they had happened, from his loving wife Inko,

But, about this new word game, he had not.

Hisashi clears his throat before the two blonds can continue their, albeit entertaining, argument, "Come on, guys. Can't we communicate and come up… uh… as a cool. Couple of. Comrades—"

"Honey, it's okay—"

"Was this rehearsed—?"

"Honey, it's fine—"

"Well, it's my turn now!" Izuku blurts, quickly leaning over and picking up the dice, Hisashi watches his dorkiness with a smile. His son's arms are certainly more muscular now and… scarred. His body looks almost completely different.

Inko had told him long ago that the UA students had moved into dorms at the school, so the calls and photos the mother had made and invited both males into had been fewer and fewer. Hisashi likes to think that Izuku had just been busy, but he has to admit that it feels as if he's been more distant than ever.

He knows he doesn't really have place to complain about his family being remote when he's constantly out of the house for months on end, but it's not like he doesn't miss his family! He thinks about them every day. And he wishes to be a better father, but when Izuku just informs that he's too busy to talk over the phone nowadays and blows him off— admittedly politely and gently— it's a little difficult.

And now every question is answered with a shy smile accompanied by short and awkward answers. To be fair, that's how it was like when he was just a tiny child, too. But it's just. Different, now.

Teenagers are just like that, though.

He thinks. He has no idea what the deal with the Bakugou's is at this point.

It's Hisashi's turn on the game, he rolls the dice and pushes his little character as the others are talking about some festival that is coming up shortly that UA is arranging. He's zoned out a little, but one glance at Izuku and the father can tell that he isn't really paying attention either. But he isn't mumbling profusely or fondly looking at the others— just staring blankly at the colorful board, the sizzling of the pancakes Masaru is making in the kitchen a room behind him being the perfect sound to accompany the hollow look of the green haired boy. It doesn't sit right in the man's gut.

"So, Izuku!" Hisashi snaps his son's trance, fortunately the light coming back to his green eyes as he blinks at him.

"Yes, dad!"

"You said you mad new friends, right? Think you will ever introduce me to them?"

"Oh! Uh… sure!"

Good… He guesses…

"I heard you fought All Might! I bet that was quite conflicting to you, huh?"

Izuku chuckles awkwardly, "Yeah… Well, I knew it was just practice… And Kacchan helped a lot with the whole… fighting him."

Hisashi smiles as he listens to his son, though he has to admit it's a little forced. He waits for Izuku to continue, but apparently that was the end of the sentence. And by the way his eyes are boring into Inko's movements, picking up and counting cards of the game, it seems it's the end of this conversation as well.

Hisashi doesn't stop his grin from evaporating as he stares onto the squares on the board. Maybe Izuku is just tired. They are playing a board game with the Bakugou's, after all. Maybe— Hisashi clears his throat, preparing to start another ice breaker that he doesn't even know how to end— but he's getting pretty desperate right now— before Izuku beats him to it, telling him,

"Dad, it's your turn."

Oh. That's all he has to say.

Hisashi wordlessly rolls the dice, picks up the card and sighs. "Welp. I've died." He pushes his character a few steps before going this way and that, placing all his cards in the center before taking his piece off of the board and stands up. "I'll check on Masaru. Whoever gets my money— buy something worthy, will you?" He nods at the group while Inko boos at the game for killing her husband first.

"What's taking so long." He grunts when he reaches the kitchen, leaning on the countertop and watching Masaru check to see if the small pancakes on the pan are ready to be flipped.

"Sorry. I'm just used to doing them bigger."

They stare in silence at the pan before Hisashi decides to take one of the small already made and cooling pancakes to chew on, ignoring the other man's pout. "So is yours like that, too?"

Masaru raises and eyebrow. "What?"

"Yours." He gestures while chewing at the dining table, "The kid." He shrugs. "Is he all ooh I hate my dad ughh…"

Masaure stares at him with large eyes before snorting, coving his mouth with a hand. "Hasashi, haha! Well. It's Katsuki, so yes!" But he turns to smile softly at the pancakes, working to finally flip the three that are on the pan. "But I know he doesn't mean it. He might think he does, but he doesn't." He shakes his head.

Hisashi tilts his head, smirking. "Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

He doesn't look at him, simply hums and stares at the pan. "He used to be worse. I know for sure that Mitsuki loves him, because she tells me, and she mostly just tells him goodnight and makes him his favorite food to show her love. And Katsuki is just like that too.

"He doesn't say 'I love you', but he doesn't need to." He turns to grin at the other man, "UA really put an impression on him. His kidnapping too, I guess…" He grimaces, averting his gaze. "Maybe he had some life realizations recently. But in the end, he's just a teenager, so of course he will be all angsty."

Hisashi silently nods as he finishes his small pancake. He doesn't fully understand this whole arrangement the Bakugou's have going on, but he guesses he doesn't really need to. "Welp. I can't say I can relate, but thanks anyways,"

"Of course!"

"I'll bring these to the rest of the worriers," Hisashi says as he picks up the plate with ready pancakes, gesturing to the players around the table.

"Hm, fine. Just bring the plate soon."

A few steps and Hisashi places down the pancakes much to the glee of the cheering audience. Which consists of:

· Mitsuki

"Ladies, ladies, please! There's enough for everyone!" All but Katsuki giggle, and Hisashi takes this as the perfect moment to look at his own son and whisper, "I love you," and wink.

Izuku's eyebrows furrow and his smile becomes strained. "I love you too, dad." he murmurs back. And it sounds true, but not enough. Hisashi can only stare, confused on what that observation might mean as the green haired boy looks away to roll his dice. Katsuki whines that there is nothing to put on the small desserts and that makes the father snap out of it.

He just smiles as the talking of the dining room all blends into a blur of voices and complaints and trash talk over the game. Izuku is somewhere there, discussing the rules with Inko when Hisashi takes the plate of pancakes and walks away from the swirled up noise into the quiet kitchen, returning it to Masaru.

The other father says something to him as he flips hot and fresh pancakes onto the plate with the rest, but Hisashi doesn't hear it as he mindlessly rummages through the fridge for butter and jam and maple, if they have any— and whatever else one might want to put on their pancake— for the hungry players fighting for their lives out there on the board.

He never wants to demand anything from Izuku. Hisashi would do anything for his family. If one of them ever even said that they need him to quit his job for their sake, he would do it in a heartbeat. But Inko insists that he doesn't and Izuku barely seems worried. Hisashi knows it probably sucks ass to have a parent that is not present for most of their child's life, but he hoped he would be better than those fathers that just leave and never come back. He visits them every chance he has— which albeit isn't a lot, but he knows that. He tries to shower his son with love when he can, and he doesn't expect much in return, even if it stings, a little.

But what does it mean?

Not enough.

Izuku doesn't owe him anything. Since Hisashi had done nothing for him. All he could do is wish him his best with his new quirk and love him forever and ever and after the world collapses or blows up or gets set on fire by aliens or whatever. Is that not enough, to be loved? Izuku said he loved him, of course he would, and of course he does. The man believes him. But Hisashi feels like he doesn't love him enough. Is that selfish? But he feels like he deserves it…

"Oi, Flamethrower!"

Hisashi snaps out of his daze and whirls around to raise his eyebrows at Katsuki who has his legs rested on the table— MItsuki trying to slap them off, "Yes, Grenade?"

"Bring hot sauce too." And like he said nothing of significance, the blond returns to argue with his mother.

Hisashi shifts to stare with a look that hopefully conveys the amount of horror he is experiencing at Masaru but the other man just grins bashfully as if this is an everyday occurrence. "That's for me."

What is wrong with these people.

While giving the nastiest stink eye to the other fellow, Hisashi does as told. Katsuki, even though he surely thinks it's disgusting as well, asked for hot sauce for their pancakes for his father. Which, asking something for someone else isn't a lot by society standards, but for it to come off from Bakugou Katsuki? That is a lot of love radiating in one room. Hisashi might just gag— but that's probably from the atrocious food combination if anything.

How can people tell each other they love one another so much by just a simple action? How can someone feel like the words that are clearly spoken to them only represent half the truth?

How does Hisashi tell Izuku he wants more without being selfish?

So, while Hisashi places down all the toppings onto the table without hopefully spilling or dropping anything, he can't help but envy the other father, his understanding of what the actions of his family truly mean, even with all of his sinful eating habits.