Chapter Twenty

Approximately two years after the death of his mother, Denki Kaminari was released from prison.

A large guard whose body appeared to be entirely made of wood, complete with a long mane consisting entirely of trefoil leaves and a thin mustache of rigid bark, had come to get him from his cell earlier that morning. They'd walked through the narrow, white-bricked halls of the complex in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, the overhead lights dying everything in a grotesque urine yellow color, before Denki had been left in a cold, empty room devoid of any decoration aside from a small, hard chair and a scuffed metal table, both of which had been bolted to the ground.

And then, he had been given paperwork. A lot of paperwork.

Finally, after being given a set of ill-fitting street clothes that he was allowed to change into - a pair of cheap jeans and a thin white T-shirt without any brands or markings, he surrendered his prison garb and, without any sort of fanfare, was given permission to leave.

If he had had it his way, he would have been in for longer.

After waking in the hospital and hearing the news from Jirou, Denki had basically lost the will to go on.

His mother was dead. His sister was still missing in action though he was fairly convinced he'd lost her, too. His father had been arrested as well. The majority of the PLF members were expected to receive life-sentences as a result of all that they had done to aid Shigaraki in his nation-wide war. And even though he'd done his best, even though he'd changed sides and had risked his life to help the Heroes and police put an end to the conflict… Well, he'd have to have been incredibly naive to think that he was going to get out of it scot-free.

His friends had initially rallied to his side. It had surprised him, honestly, how vehement they were, insisting that they'd testify on his behalf at his trial, that they'd speak out for him, that they'd do whatever they could to get him acquitted.

He was touched. He was. It meant a lot that they were willing to risk their newly-won popularity and public images by supporting the man the news had begun calling 'The UA Traitor'. His friends were better people than he had the right to know.

But the problem was, that's not what Denki wanted.

The time from hospitalization to trial was relatively short, all things considered. He'd been allowed a couple of weeks to recover, but once he had, he'd been escorted away from the hospital in handcuffs and towards a prison cell where he would await his trial.

Due to the large number of criminals who had been apprehended in that final battle, it had taken some time, but before too long, only a few months thanks in part due to his being a higher-profile case than a majority of the PLF members, the date of his trial came.

And to the frustration of his friends who had turned up in support, to the horror of his lawyer, one of the best in the industry, hired by Yaoyorozu, Denki chose to throw the entire case they'd meticulously built on his behalf straight out the window.

He looked the judge dead in the eye, acknowledged his guilt, and asked to receive the maximum penalty she could give him.

The onlookers were confused. His friends agast. The prosecutor delighted.

Denki felt nothing. Nothing at all.

He had lost everything. After the things he'd done, he didn't deserve the second-chance his friends were trying to give him. He'd apologize to them later for the time and money he'd allowed them to waste on his behalf, but… This, this was what he deserved. To be locked away in prison, where he could rot in a hole, alone, where no one could see.

Someplace where he wouldn't have to face the world again. A world without the family he'd failed to save. A world in which he could never be a Hero like his friends. A world that he no longer wanted anything to do with.

The judge was an older woman who honestly looked like she probably should have retired several decades before. She was wrinkly and shriveled, grey hair tied back in a tight bun, with a protuberant nose that supported a pair of tiny though surprisingly thick spectacles. The loose skin that dangled under her neck quivered with every breath her tiny frame took, like the wattle of a turkey.

But the look in her eyes as she gazed down at Denki from her seat of power seemed to pierce right through him. Her stare was clear and cold and calculating. And she appeared to size him up in an instant.

"I recognize that look in your eyes, young man," she said, voice surprisingly sonorous for a woman of her advanced age. "I've had countless villains brought before my courtroom in my many years, and I've learned to recognize the difference between those who are penitent, those who are proud, and those who are pawns. But you, young man… You are none of these things. You are afraid."

Denki stared, not understanding.

"I have already familiarized myself with your case," she continued, clasping her knobbly fingers together and observing him through her beady glasses. "And I'm afraid I am not going to dismiss you in favor of defaulting to the highest penalty, even if that would free up my morning schedule, whatever you may wish. I am here to see that justice is served, and to that end, I am going to hear this case out till the end."

And they did. Denki remained quiet for the most part, with the exception of when he was called to the stand. They questioned many people, from his friends and the faculty of UA to others from the PLF who'd been arrested.

It was a long trial, longer than he wanted. Hearing his crimes recounted only made the pain of his loss and the guilt of his mistakes even worse. And though his friends did their best to speak in his defense, though they tried valiantly to extol his virtues and the many things he'd done to help bring the war to a close… in his heart, it didn't matter.

He knew what he was, what he'd done. All he wanted now was to stop delaying the inevitable.

Seeing Jirou on stage had been the hardest, however. The passion in her voice as she tried to defend him, her recounting their reunion on the hill, the warnings he'd passed them, his final efforts, his decision to blow the dam…

But he couldn't see it that way. To him, her testimony merely damned him further.

He had killed his own mother. He should have died there with her.

Getting to keep living, even locked away forever in a prison cell, was more than he deserved.

Why couldn't his friends see that? Why were they even trying?

Finally, after a couple of hours of legal jargon and the repeated recounting of the worst events in Denki's life, all of which floated by in front of his listless eyes like a dull, torpid dream, the judge announced her decision.

"You have my sympathies for your loss," she began, and in truth, she really did sound sympathetic. "I cannot imagine the pain or suffering that you are going through right now. But I'm afraid that, if you were hoping that I would consign you to a life of imprisonment, you are sorely mistaken."

Denki blinked, and for the first time that morning, for the first time in months, since the day he'd awoken in that hospital bed, an emotion echoed throughout his body.

Fear.

"I will not allow you to hide away forever in a prison cell simply because you wish to run away from your problems," the elderly woman continued, and there was a sharp crack of condemnation in her tone. "I don't believe in waste. I am certain that you believe it would be much easier for you to be hidden away somewhere where you wouldn't have to deal with your problems anymore, but I do not agree. You are of no benefit to anyone, least of all yourself or the society that you have wronged, while locked away.

"Thus, it is my ruling that you shall have a punishment that fits your crimes, as well as the price you have already paid in trying to correct them. I sentence you, Denki Kaminari, to two years in a state penitentiary, with the possibility of early release for good behavior. But even more, I sentence you to having to return to the world you are trying to run from."

Denki swallowed, feeling a confusing mixture of fear, despair, and gratitude swirling around inside of him. This… was not what he wanted, but…

The elderly woman could apparently read his expressions as clearly as a book.

"People and stories like to pretend like the sum of a person can be defined by a singular act, a singular moment, but that is romantic drivel. Not only is it untrue, it is also unfair. People are too complex to be so easily defined. You are young still, with a long life ahead of you. You've made mistakes, yes, terrible ones - but you've also done your best to correct them, and, even if you haven't always succeeded, you have good friends who want to help you.

"The storms of your life have not yet finished beating upon you, Denki Kaminari… but if you take what you've learned from the storms that have passed, you can prepare yourself for the ones that are to come. Learn from your mistakes, take ownership of your short-comings, but do not let them define you… and the day will come when you can hold your head up proudly again."

Denki would repeat the woman's words in his head many times over the next year. He rejected them at first as naive platitudes from someone who could never understand his situation or the things he'd been through. But as time passed, isolated in his prison cell, away from even other prisoners on account of the fact that many wanted him dead for betraying the League and Shigaraki, he found himself returning to them again and again.

He had thought that he'd been ready to give up on life, but the deeper he fell into his depression, the more his nightmares of his mother's final moments haunted him, the more he found himself subconsciously reaching for any source of hope or light that could lift him from his despair.

Visits were not allowed, so during his incarceration, the only contact he had with the outside world and his friends were through letters or gifts that they'd occasionally send him. He'd get care packages on occasion; mochi from Uraraka, sweets from Sato, a blanket from Asui, books from Yaoyorozu, porn mags from Mineta. Everyone wrote him letters, albeit at different frequencies. Some, like Mina or Kirishima, wrote him at least once a month, keeping him up to date on their lives and the goings-on in the world, telling him how much they missed him. Others, like Todoroki or Bakugou, he was lucky to hear from once in a blue moon.

Jirou wrote to him every week. Her letters were simple, full of her signature dry humor and affectionate insults. They never discussed what happened. The letters were superficial - friendly and a welcome distraction from his darker thoughts, and he would reread them constantly over the intervening months, but they never spoke about what had happened on the night of the attack, about his mother, or his confession to Jirou over the headset moments before the dam blew.

Perhaps she was being kind, not wanting to be yet another reminder of his failures. Perhaps she hadn't heard him; it had been loud, the frequency busy… Perhaps she didn't know.

In a way, he almost hoped she didn't. After all, what right did he have to love someone like her anyway? She was better off without him.

That didn't stop him from responding to her every letter, or the letters from his other friends. Though he told himself he deserved to rot alone, he greedily awaited their letters like a dehydrated man in a desert. They sustained him, kept him going. They were all he had.

And then, a year and three months later… he was released. Early, on good behavior. He tried to view that as a good thing - a positive sign. But it was true that he'd considered attacking a guard or pretending to escape on more than one occasion just to get his sentence extended. He hadn't gone through with it. He was afraid of how his friends would react.

Regardless, he was out now, and it was time. Time for him to fulfill the second half of his sentence. Facing the world again.

He pushed open the double-doors, exiting the prison for the first and final time, and found himself once more outside in the warm spring sunshine.

For a moment, he simply stood still, feeling the warmth of the sun slowly soak into his body.

The sky was… so blue. Had it always been that way?

The air… The sensation of the breeze tickling the hairs on his arms… Had it always felt so wonderful?

There he was. Alone. Unemployed. Homeless. Without a single yen to his name.

Did he have the right to feel like this again? Warm? Free?

He jumped when the sound of a car horn loudly interrupted his thoughts.

There was an old grey minivan in the parking lot nearby with its engine running. When he didn't recognize the vehicle right away, his thoughts turned to PLF survivors and the potential that he was already being targeted, and he began to panic.

Then the driver-side window rolled down and he found himself staring at Jirou.

"Hey," she greeted in her familiar deadpan. "Get in the car, loser."

Numb from surprise, Denki didn't even realize he'd obeyed her until he was already buckling his seatbelt.

Feeling awkward and completely unsure about what was going on, he hazarded a nervous glance in her direction like he was an awkward middle-schooler again only to find her watching him, biting her lip and trying not to laugh.

"...What?" he asked, suddenly defensive.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, throwing the car into reverse and backing up. "It's just… you look like such a dork."

He grunted, not sure if it was still ok for him to banter with her like they used to. He felt so out of sorts, like this was a dream, like it wasn't really happening. That he could be in such a normal situation with Jirou again, after all that had happened… it felt wrong. It felt impossible.

"Who's car is this?" he said instead, vying for a more normal conversational topic. The vinyl seats were uncomfortably hot from being exposed to direct sunlight for too long.

"My dad's," she answered as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the long, narrow road that would eventually lead them to the highway.

"Oh," he said simply, then, after an awkward pause, "That makes sense. I didn't exactly peg you as a minivan type of person."

She snorted.

"What, but my dad does?"

He opened his mouth, looking for a response and finding nothing. Talking didn't use to be this hard. Finally, he breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah, ok… You got me there."

And then… there was silence again.

The radio was on, the volume turned down low so you could barely hear the soft rock buzzing through the speakers. The music was nearly drowned out by the drone of the air conditioner, pleasantly cool in the otherwise humid vehicle. The green, hilly terrain outside whizzed by at a high speed as Jirou swept him away from the prison and off towards his uncertain future.

Finally, when the silence became too uncomfortable, he spoke again.

"So… where are we going?"

What he really wanted to say was 'There's nowhere for me to go', but that sounded too pathetic and he didn't want to dump any more of his problems on her. He'd promised to face the world again. He'd figure things out eventually. Hopefully.

Jirou gave a nonchalant shrug, her eyes fixated on the road ahead of her.

"Back to reality, I guess. Fair warning - the others are throwing together a surprise party for you later this evening. They won't all be there - some of them have to work tonight - but it's gonna be a lot of people. That might be a bit of a shell-shock for you after being locked up for so long, but… well, I don't think we could stop them if we tried. Brace yourself."

Denki was staring, but he couldn't help it. They were… throwing him a party? For him? Why? He didn't… They didn't need to…

And Jirou, the off-hand, casual way she referenced his time in prison, like it was nothing. Didn't she care? How could she treat him like everything was normal, after all that had gone down?

He'd been quiet for too long. She shot him a curiously glance and caught him staring.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

She reached up to feel around her cheeks and chin with her hand, suddenly looking anxious.

"N-no, no," he replied quickly, turning away to gaze out the window. "You're perfect. I just… I'm a little surprised, that's all. You act like I was just… gone away on a trip for a bit. But… I'm not… I don't deserve..."

He couldn't finish the thought. His depression, the constant reminders of what he did, his mother, his betrayal… It loomed behind him like the moon, inescapable, casting twisted shadows on everything around him. He could pretend, for a little while, like things were going to be ok again, but… Well, they weren't. How could his friends throw him a party like everything was back to normal? Like he actually belonged with them, when they all knew he didn't?

"Deserve…" she muttered to herself, looking cross, and Denki, thinking he'd misheard her, looked back in her direction.

"What?"

"What you think you deserve doesn't matter," she said, gripping the steering wheel tightly in her hands and scowling at the road. "Our friends are throwing you a party because they missed you, idiot. There doesn't have to be a deeper meaning than that."

But Denki shook his head, unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to understand.

"I get that, Jirou, but… It's just… We all know what I did. I'd rather not pretend like I can just be forgiven when we all know-"

But he was cut off by a loud, "It's not about that!"

He stared, mouth slightly agape, as Jirou struggled to get a hold of herself.

"You just… You keep talking about what you deserve like you can make up for what happened by completing a bunch of arbitrary tasks and marking out check-boxes, but…! That's not how this works, Denki! Our friends are throwing you a party because they miss you and they want you back in their lives! That's it! You don't have to do anything else, just… be their friend again!"

But that sounded too simplistic, too naive. You couldn't just 'be friends' again. How could they ever trust him? How could he ever look at them without being swallowed by shame?

"But… why?" he asked, aware that Jirou was already upset and that making her even angrier was only going to end poorly for him, but he couldn't help it. He had to know. How? How could they bring themselves to be willing to forgive him when he couldn't even forgive himself?

"Because!" she said loudly, not quite yelling but almost. "Because we - they - I mean, I…!"

And all of a sudden, her frustration with his pessimism melted into surprise embarrassment. Pink burned its way across her cheeks like sunburn and she sat up stiffly in her seat, casting him several quick, accusatory glares out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, after a moment of tense silence, she said, her voice soft and vulnerable, "...You never gave me a chance to respond to you. That night, when you went to the dam… I thought I lost you. I thought those were going to be the last words I ever heard you say and you didn't even do me the decency of letting me answer."

Denki felt his throat go dry. This… was not where he'd expected this conversation to go.

She wasn't looking at him. Which was a good thing, because she was driving and he didn't want to crash. But he kept his eyes on her anyway, on the rosy stains on her cheeks and the way her earphone jacks seemed to wriggle anxiously through the air as she struggled to put her words together.

After another lengthy pause, she shot him another quick, nervous glance and mumbled, "I… I l-love you, too… You idiot… We all do. N-not necessarily in the same way, but… Ugh, whatever! The point is, don't talk about not deserving us, because it makes it sound like you don't want us around.

"Us wanting you back in our lives, it's… It's just something we want. Yeah, the decisions you made to try to fix your mistakes played a big part in winning us back, but… It's not really about that. We forgave you because we wanted to. We're giving you a second chance because we wanted to. It's… It's not about what you deserve. We just love you."

And for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

She loved him. His friends loved him. Even now, even after everything.

Denki wasn't worth loving. Not after what he'd done.

And they knew that. And they loved him anyway. She loved him anyway.

He had to turn away so that she wouldn't notice the tears that had suddenly flooded his eyes.

They drove along in silence for a while, both too emotional and, honestly, too embarrassed to move the conversation along any further until they managed to collect themselves.

Finally, as they neared the city, Denki spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice unusually raspy, and Kyouka shot him a look that was equal parts concerned and threatening, as if daring him to turn her confession down. "I just… It's hard to accept that that could be possible, after all this time. But… I promise, I… I'll do my best. I'll work hard, I'll start over again and…"

He wasn't sure what he was trying to promise here. He wanted to get to the point where he could believe it, that he could feel like he was worthy of her, of them. He just didn't know that that day would ever come.

But Kyouka smiled, seeming to understand, and, hesitantly, she extended one of her jacks, wrapping it gently around his wrist.

"It's ok," she said, muted voice barely audible over the hum of the engine and the buzz of the radio. "We have all the time in the world."

He smiled. They had the rest of their lives, didn't they? He'd lost so much over the course of the last few years, but… Finally, things were looking up for him. Maybe it was ok to feel hopeful.

Denki gave his head a quick shake, eager to abandon their serious conversation and move on to something lighter, something more… Denki and Kyouka.

"Well, first things first," he said, vying for a more jolly tone, desperate to recapture the old him. "I've got to find a place to live, first, cause… I'm totally homeless. Also a job. Also, pants that fit."

"O-oh," Kyouka said, suddenly retracting her jack and once again looking embarrassed and uncertain. "Well. I can't help you with the last two, but… I mean… M-momo and I, we were living together, but, um… She recently moved out, so… I have a… spare bedroom. Y'know. I-if you… If you want…"

She wasn't looking at him. Again, this was good because she was driving, but this time she had her face turned away so he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks. A pointless effort, because he could see the red climbing up her neck, making her ears glow like cherries.

Denki could only stare, disbelieving, at the impossibly adorable woman sitting next to him.

Slowly, a spark of the old Denki began to glow deep inside.

"Wow," he said after a moment, affecting a flat tone to hide the excitement and nervousness that were still bouncing around inside of him, "you work way too fast."

"What?" she asked, whipping her head around.

"You just told me you loved me," he said, deadpan for all that those words thrilled him beyond belief, "not even three minutes ago, and you're already trying to proposition me? Girl, you need to slow down a bit. You're never gonna catch any fish with that aggressive approach-"

Kyouka, who'd been getting redder and redder with every word, finally snapped.

"Fine then!" she shouted, beside herself. "Do whatever you want! Go beg Bakugou to let you room with him! See if I care!"

"Kacchan?! He'd kill me within a week!"

"Good! Maybe he'd let me help!"

"What?! What happened to you being in love with me?!"

"S-shut up! I definitely don't love you anymore!"

"But that's not what you-! Keep your eyes on the road!"

The rest of the ride back to the real world was filled with shouts and jokes, playful insults and infectious laughter and everything that was Denki and Kyouka. And while he knew he wasn't magically fixed, knew that he'd be fighting his guilt and depression and the ghosts of his past for as long as he lived… Well, as long as she was there, he had a feeling it was going to be ok.

Whatever storms lay in wait in his future, he could weather them all so long as he was with her. Her, and their friends. His family.

He didn't know if everything was going to be ok in the end. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like the possibility was not only there, it was strong. There was something for him to look forward to, now. A reason to keep fighting, to push through every new day.

And he couldn't wait to see what the future would bring.

The clouds overhead were thick and dark, rumbling with the threatening promise of a storm still to come. Small raindrops were already cascading down in ones and twos, not yet a full rain shower, but even still, they worsened the chill that already permeated the air, carried on a bitter breeze that sliced through his too-thin shirt like icy needles. It was early still for it to be as cold as it was, but there were musings on the news about a cold front passing through the country, bringing with it the possibility of an out-of-season snowfall.

Denki's kids had been excited at the possibility of a snowball fight over the weekend, but Denki had been quick to try and caution them towards the distinct possibility that it may not snow at all. He hated it when they got their hopes up only for something to come along and crush their fragile little dreams, but… well, weathermen were notoriously unreliable.

Hugging his arms to his midriff in a vain attempt to retain his body heat and regretting not putting on a coat that morning, Denki hurried forward up the set of cement steps that led to the visitor entrance of the Hosu Women's Correctional Precinct. This was the first time in about a decade that he'd been to a prison. This was also the first time he'd been to one as a visitor and not an inmate.

It had been about two months since the events of his tumultuous summer had come to a resounding close with the abduction of his children, his confrontation with his father, and the full-on battle with the remnants of the PLF.

The aftermath had been a blur. No major injuries had been sustained by any of the Pros who had arrived to help out, and while the structural integrity of the building had been called into question, the warehouse had managed to contain the bulk of the fighting and there hadn't been any lasting damage to the neighborhood.

The villains were carted away by the police shortly after the fighting had ceased. Some went to hospitals to get checked out, but most wound up delivered straight to holding cells.

This included his father and sister. Renjirou had still been unconscious when he'd been loaded into the back of a police van, the battery packs he'd strapped to his torso stripped away, but Emiko had been fully alert.

He'd kept his eyes on her as she was helped into a van, not bothering to resist. She looked defeated, like not even she could believe what she'd done there at the end. He recognized the hollowness in her eyes, the listlessness of her movements. She'd lost everything today, due to her own actions - both starting and ending the conflict. He'd been there before.

But there hadn't been time to think about his sister then. Aika and Rai were safe. Traumatized, certainly, but safe. Alive. Back with their family, where they belonged.

They were taken to the hospital to be checked out but hadn't stayed for long. Denki, Kyouka, and Rai had little more than a few scratches. Aika had sustained some damage to her inner ears thanks to her little brother's Quirk, but after a few tests, it was determined that it wouldn't be permanent. She would heal on her own after a few days. What they needed now was rest.

Gizmo had offered to take over paperwork duty for Kyouka after he checked on Tomahawk's condition, and the agency decided to give her the rest of the day off in light of what had happened. And so, after leaving the hospital, the exhausted family of four returned home.

Entering their apartment together after all that had happened had been a surreal experience.

They took showers and changed out of their dusty clothes. Ordered takeout because both parents were too tired to cook. And, for the most part, passed the evening in a state of awkward, reserved quiet.

It wasn't that Denki didn't want to talk to his kids about what had happened, he just… didn't know how to start. So much about being a parent was guesswork.

Was it too soon? Should he give them space in the familiar safety of their home to calm down before bringing it up again and asking them to relieve the memory of their abduction? Approaching it now, so soon after they'd finally returned to normalcy, seemed cruel and insensitive.

At the same time, however, Denki wasn't a complete idiot. He could learn from his mistakes. And not telling Aika the truth about his past when he'd had the chance had wound up being a considerable one.

And so, after they'd eaten, he and Kyouka pulled Aika into the living room and sat her down so that Denki could finally come clean. He'd debated over whether to include Rai in this conversation or not - he was only four, after all, could he really be expected to understand? - but it wound up not mattering, as he'd passed out almost as soon as dinner had ended and Kyouka had tucked him into bed not long after.

He would need to keep an eye on his son in the future, just to make sure he was ok. Rai was exceptionally good at forgetting things, like the fire from a couple of weeks ago. With any luck, he'd treat this whole ordeal like a bad dream and move on. Still, kids could hold on to memories for the longest time, and Denki didn't want this trauma to come back to haunt him in the future.

Aika wasn't like that, however. She was smart. She retained things and she held grudges. And after the way the truth about her grandparents had been revealed to her… Well, there was no getting around this anymore.

The conversation had been every bit as difficult as he'd expected.

He went through it all slowly, step by step, though he tried to simplify it as best he could so that she would understand. She was still young, after all. Some of it would be hard for her to fully grasp. He could answer more questions as she got older if she had them. What mattered most was that he was honest with her about what he'd done, why he'd done it, and what the consequences had ultimately been - for him, and for the people he loved.

He wasn't sure how he'd expected her to react. Angry? Frightened? Upset? After all, the story of his past, of what had happened to his family, was a difficult one to tell and an even harder one to digest - especially for a young child just learning it for the first time. He assumed he'd see confusion, fear, maybe even mistrust in her eyes. There was a very real part of him that thought that she'd never look at him the same way again.

However, by the time he got to the end of the story, Aika barely seemed to react at all. She wasn't indifferent, but her expression… it was closed, hard to read. What was she thinking? Had he ruined the image she had of him? Had he destroyed their relationship forever?

He asked if she was ok, and she'd said yes… and then, after an awkward glance shared with Kyouka, he gave Aika a tentative hug (which she returned without hesitation, which seemed like a good sign), before leaving the room, hoping Kyouka would maybe be better able to help Aika sort through her feelings.

He stayed in his room for a couple of minutes, anxious and fidgety, before deciding to go hide in his makeshift office instead where he could pretend like he was working on his computer.

As he passed through the hallway, he could just barely hear quiet words drifting from out of the living room.

"...worry. You're safe now, and your dad is still your dad, I promise-"

"It's not that," Aika mumbled, and Denki could hear emotion choking her voice. "I-it's just, I think… losing your mom… would be really hard…"

Denki swallowed thickly, leaning his arm against the outer wall of the hallway, telling himself he shouldn't eavesdrop yet unable to pull himself away.

"...yeah," he heard his wife reply, her voice unusually low. "Yeah, it… It really would be, wouldn't it?"

There was the soft rustle of tiny footsteps on the carpet, followed by the sound of what he assumed was Aika embracing her mother.

"I love you, mom," she squeaked, crying into Kyouka's arms.

"I love you too, sweetie," Kyouka whispered back.

Denki pushed himself away from the wall, retreating into the office as quietly as he could. He caught a brief glimpse of both of his girls as he passed, arms and jacks wrapped around each other.

They would be ok, he decided. Aika may need time to come to terms with his past, but if there was a silver lining to any of this, it was that her relationship with her mother seemed to be repaired. And that, at least, was something to smile about.

Something to smile about...

The prison seemed like a nicer place than the one Denki had been interred in. It actually looked clean, for one thing. Maybe female prisons were just nicer? Like women's restrooms. Was that sexist? It seemed like it. Denki was almost offended.

The process of actually getting back to the visitation room was a laborious one. Even though he'd scheduled this ahead of time, he still had to show multiple proofs of ID, his Quirk registration, fill out forms stating his relationship with the prisoner, have his clothing inspected, empty his pockets, take off his shoes… It was obnoxious.

Then again, the criminal he'd come to see was an ex-PLF terrorist who had broken another man out of prison not too long ago. He supposed regulations like these existed for a reason.

When he'd finally been allowed to enter into the visitation room, he couldn't help but take a moment to marvel.

It looked just like it did on TV! The small desk with the telephone, the large pane of glass separating either half of the room… He was expecting something boring, like just a table with two chairs and a security guard. Well, there was still a security guard, but… still. Exciting.

Then again, Denki produced electricity, and his sister could absorb it. They probably wanted to keep the two physically separated, just in case. That made sense.

After a few minutes of waiting, a door on the other side of the glass opened and in entered Emiko, led by a rotund security guard in green fatigues who looked like a bi-pedal armadillo.

Emi stumbled toward the chair with a glare on her face. She looked… well, it could have been worse. She was paler than before, and thinner, and in her grey, ill-fitting one-piece prison outfit, she gave off the appearance of a child in a particularly uncomfortable onesie. Her hair was down, not being allowed hairbands to keep it tied up in her normal twin buns, which, unfortunately, thanks to the static she tended to gather, left her hair in frizzled disarray.

She pulled her seat out, her wrists awkwardly handcuffed together, and plopped herself down rudely onto her chair.

Denki took up his phone, holding it expectantly to his ear. When Emi didn't move, he made an exaggerated gesture with it and she rolled her eyes.

Finally, she took her phone off of the hook, bringing it up to her ear and pinning it in place with her shoulder so she didn't have to hold both hands up to her cheek.

"What do you want, Denki?" she asked, her tone flat and uninviting.

Denki smiled reflexively. "What? A guy can't come and pay a visit to his baby sister?"

She scowled, a vein in her temple beginning to throb.

"We have nothing more to say to each other-"

"I disagree," he cut in, shuffling around somewhat so he was leaning farther forward in his seat. He held his sister's gaze for a moment, making sure he had her attention, remembering the last time their eyes had met when their deranged father held his granddaughter's life in his hands.

"This is going to sound odd," he began, "coming from the father of the children you kidnapped, but…"

Emi kept her face still, not reacting to the reminder of her crime, yet he noticed the way her fingers tightened into fists on the desk.

"...thank you. For saving Aika."

There was quiet for a moment as the two estranged siblings simply stared at one another.

Then Emi shook her head, lowering her gaze.

"Don't thank me for that," she muttered, addressing the desk. "I… It was my fault they were put into that situation in the first place, I…"

"That's true," Denki conceded, and Emi shot him a brief glare. "But you still saved her in the end. I know how hard that must have been for you."

And he did know, better than most.

Emi's betrayal of their father there in the end had been scarily similar to Denki's betrayal of their mother a decade past. Granted, their father still lived, there hadn't been an entire war on the line… there were countless differences that added up to the two situations being completely different. But Emi had still betrayed her parent in order to do what was right, in a vain attempt to correct a terrible mistake she had made. Maybe he and his sister had more in common than he thought.

Emi had been quiet for a while, gazing down at her hands which lay despondently on the desktop. Her fingers tightened, the knuckles popping like the crackle of electricity.

"I think," she began, her voice sounding hoarse, "that I… maybe understand, a little, about what happened with mom."

Denki blinked, completely taken aback. He had not expected to hear that. Not now, or ever.

"I still don't forgive you," she clarified hastily, shooting him a death glare that lost most of its effect with her being handcuffed and behind a sheet of bulletproof glass, "but… I guess I can… understand… what might have driven you to that point."

Maybe she did. Again, their situations hadn't been completely similar, but…

"I have something for you," he said, deciding to change the subject. He hadn't come here to talk about mom. He didn't come here to fight.

Instead, he drew out of his pocket two pieces of paper, pressing them up against the glass so she could see them. They'd been cleared by the security guards earlier. One sported a crude crayon drawing of Denki's living room, with a gaggle of stick figures sitting on what might have been a couch, playing what he could only assume were video games. The other was a letter addressed to Emi.

His sister stared at the papers. For a moment, she didn't say a word.

Then, in a small voice that barely registered through the phone, she asked, "...why?"

"It was their decision, not mine," he replied, lowering the papers so he could see her clearly again. He laid them down on the desk, watching as Emi scooted forward so she could continue examining them. "I don't think Rai completely understands what happened, or that you were involved in it. When he heard me talking to Kyouka about coming to see you, he asked if he could come too, and, when I told him no, he decided to draw you a picture and asked me to bring it to you instead."

Denki wasn't mistaken. There were actual tears in Emiko's eyes as she stared down at Rai's drawing, guilt and shame showing through more clearly on her face than his son's drawings did on the page.

"Aika was more reserved," he continued, glancing down at his daughter's letter. It was short, barely covering half of the paper. But included in the body of the text was a thank you for saving her and an invitation to her next birthday party. "She does remember, and to be honest, I think she's a little scared of you. But it seems like, now that she knows she has an aunt and what happened between us, she wants to give you another chance."

Emi shook her head slowly, still staring down at the papers.

"But… Why? I don't… I don't deserve…"

"You're right," he cut in, his voice low. "You don't deserve it. After everything you put them through, either directly or through your association with the PLF, you should never get to see my children ever again."

Emi flinched, leaning back, turning her face away. From the tense way her shoulders were set, the glower on her face… it was obvious that this is what she thought he'd come to see her for. To berate her for what she'd done. To attack her on behalf of his children and their safety.

And if Kyouka was here, that's probably what would have wound up happening, regardless of his intentions. But she wasn't here, by design. And he hadn't come here to fight.

"...However," he continued, softening his voice, "someone told me once that forgiveness and second-chances aren't just about being deserving. Sometimes, people just love you, and they're willing to take that risk for you."

Slowly, Emi turned her head, staring at Denki with confused, emotional eyes.

"What are you…?"

"My kids apparently want to give you a second chance, Emi," he said, giving her a slow smile. "They're young, they're naive. They still don't understand just how horrible the world can be, and they're better for it. And I think… I just might be willing to give you a second chance, too."

True, it seemed stupid. He'd given her a chance before, and she'd betrayed him in the worst way possible. Yet… Denki had been in her position before. He'd betrayed the people he'd loved, made terrible mistakes… and Kyouka and his friends had forgiven him. They'd given him a second chance, even when he didn't deserve it. Where would he have been right now if not for them?

And, honestly, part of him wondered if that abandonment and isolation, the same that he'd been saved from, is what led to their father's distortion. The Renjirou who had tried to kill Aika was not the same man that Denki had known ten years ago. If he hadn't been left alone, if someone had reached out a hand to him… could Renjirou have been saved?

He didn't know. Perhaps he'd never know. But what Denki did know was that, after the mercy and forgiveness that his friends had selflessly offered him, he had absolutely no right to refuse to offer it to another.

That was what Heroes did, after all. And in that way, at least, he could still try to live up to that dream he'd lost long ago.

Emi was staring at him like he had grown an extra head. After a moment, she scoffed and shook her head, looking away again.

"It doesn't matter," she said bitterly. "Even if that were true… I'm going away for life, Denki. I'm a renegade PLF member who broke a man out of prison and kidnapped children. Second-chances don't mean much when you're going to be locked away forever."

"Maybe," he conceded. "Or maybe not. I have a friend - a lawyer, who I've asked to represent you. He was raised in the PLF, too, so he knows what you went through. Besides, you were a minor during the war with Shigaraki. A brainwashed teen, raised by a cult? People can be more sympathetic than you realize. At worst, we're looking at kidnapping and breaking a villain out of jail - but the former you actively worked to undo, and it was technically you who apprehended dad, so… We might be able to help reduce your sentence by a bit."

She'd jerked her head back to him when he said the word 'breaking' and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder towards the guard who was monitoring them.

She licked her lips, suddenly unsure.

"This is… off-topic," she began, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, "but… do you know… what happened to Yuu?"

Off-topic? Hardly. Then again, her hesitation made sense. It wasn't common knowledge yet that he'd helped her break their father out of prison.

The boy, who'd been taken into custody along with Emi and the others, had been a handful. Bakugou had had the pleasure of sitting in on his interrogation. He'd been very open about his role in the breakout, desperate to take the blame to lessen Emi's charges. His heart was in the right place, and even crass, narcissistic Bakugou could tell that much. It helped that Aika had already explained how she and Rai had made it out and that the boy had tried to protect them. After giving him some time to calm down, Detective Nakamura was able to cut him a deal.

"He's fine," Denki confirmed, watching the way his little sister's shoulders sagged with relief. "We got him checked out at the hospital; no major injuries. He was determined to testify on your behalf-"

"You can't let him!" Emi cut in hurriedly, but Denki waved his hand consolingly.

"Relax," he said, skirting around the issue as delicately as he could. The boy's Quirk was too dangerous to be made public, even if he could only use it once a year, and if he testified, he'd only incriminate himself and wind up in some kind of juvenile detention hall. Best to keep it a secret for now. "We talked him out of it. He's an orphan, so they were going to put him into the system, but I felt like he'd been through enough, so… I'm his legal guardian now."

The look of shock on Emi's face was nearly comical.

"Yeah, don't read too much into that," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "The kid doesn't like me, like at all. I offered him our spare room, but… Well, anyway. We got him enrolled at a nearby high school, so he can come and visit you. We even got him his own little apartment. So long as me or one of my friends checks up on him every now and then, the police say he's fine to start his life over again. He… hasn't been accused of any actual crimes."

Again, skirting the truth. They knew he was involved in the breakout, but he hadn't participated in any of the other criminal activity, and he'd tried to help Aika and Rai. He was just a kid. It wasn't his fault that he'd wound up being raised by a group of MLA escapees. And since he couldn't use his Quirk again anyway for another year, he had been labeled not a threat. He hadn't really calmed down until Denki had spoken to him about his intentions to help reduce Emi's sentence.

"He'll probably be by to visit before too long; I asked him to let me visit you first so I could explain. Regardless, he'll be here when you get out - which, hopefully, will be sooner than you think. And I'm not saying you're going to get out of jail time, Emi, but… I am saying that, when you do get out, you don't have to be alone anymore. Unless that's what you want."

He'd talked this over with Kyouka quite a bit before he'd come to visit Emi. His wife wasn't too happy about it, but she had eventually agreed once he'd explained his point of view. He didn't know if the day would ever come that she'd ever fully trust or accept Emiko, but… well, she was his sister, his family. He had to try.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, meeting his gaze again. Her eyes were heavy with tears and grief, but there was no hint of madness there.

He hesitated, letting the events of the summer flash by in his mind's eye like a terrible montage of fear and frustration and grief.

"Because," he replied softly, staring at his little sister through saddened eyes, "when I found out you were still alive, when you came to see me in that alleyway… For a moment, it was like I had a part of my family back again. I knew it was too good to be true, but… I thought I had lost you, and then you were back, right there in front of me. We've spent so long apart, wronging each other, making mistakes… but it doesn't have to be that way forever. I know that… you have a lot of perfectly valid reasons to hate me. Honestly, after everything that went down, a part of me hates you too. But..."

He sighed, shaking his head and feeling a rueful smirk take over his face.

"At the end of the day, you're my little sister. And damn it… I still love you. You can keep hating me forever if you want. Never talk to me again once you get out of prison. Whatever makes you happy. But if you want it… part of your family is still here, Emi. You don't have to be alone anymore."

Emi didn't respond right away, and to be fair, he hadn't expected her to. She likely had a lot to think about. She was still mired in the guilt over betraying her father, in kidnapping her niece and nephew, in all that had happened between them. And even still, he knew that a part of her resented him, would always resent him, for taking her mother away from her. Honestly, he still resented himself.

But one day, she would come to her own conclusions. And if, on that distant day, she decided she wanted a brother again… he would be there.

The guard behind him cleared her throat, prompting Denki to turn around. She gestured to the watch on her wrist, and he grimaced.

Out of time already? Well, they do like to keep these visits pretty short…

"Looks like that's it, sis. I'll tell Yuu to come and see you whenever he has time. Let him know if you need anything from me, alright?"

Because honestly, he was beginning to doubt that he'd be hearing from her of her own volition any time soon.

He made as if to stand and stopped with a jolt when her hands struck the desk in front of her.

"Wait!" she shouted, and Denki winced as the shout transferred directly from the receiver to his eardrum.

"What?"

She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth like she wasn't sure how to form words anymore.

"Can I… Is it ok if… I send a letter to respond to Aika and Rai?"

Denki smiled.

"Sure. I think they'd love that. I'll leave these with the guard so they can give them to you later."

He scooped up the papers, rising to his feet and moving to set the phone back on its hook.

"Thank you, Denki," his sister mouthed through the glass, a small, familiar, lopsided smile growing on her face.

Denki smiled back, waving farewell, before turning and heading out the door.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure how this was going to turn out. Emiko's problems with him weren't going to disappear overnight. Still, he was going to stick to his word about helping to reduce her sentence if he could. The way that she had betrayed their father there in the end, the way she reacted to the picture and the letter… she wasn't a threat to his family anymore. Part of him wondered if she really ever had been, outside of her connection to her father and the MLA.

Emiko had lost most of her life thanks to the MLA. And part of that was Denki's fault, albeit indirectly. Still, what kind of big brother would he be if he didn't try to help her get back on her feet?

As he exited the prison, heading back down those cement steps, he noticed that in the time that he'd been in the prison, the clouds overhead had broken, letting out thin, weak rays of golden sunlight. They weren't strong enough yet to lift that early autumn chill he'd complained about before, but… now that the storm had passed, it wouldn't take long. It never did.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and grimaced. He was late for his meeting with Tomahawk. After everything that had gone down, after thinking about all that had happened to him and his father and ruminating on how he'd lost his other job, Denki had come to a decision.

He wanted to work with a program, or maybe start one of his own, to help ex-convicts get back on their feet. Putting your life back together was hard, but for someone who'd been labeled as a villain, it was almost impossible - which meant that they were basically forced to return to a life of villainy just to get by.

Denki had been in that situation and had only been saved because others had reached out to help him. Maybe Denki couldn't be a Hero like he'd always wanted, but maybe he could help in another way. Helping his sister was just the start. And inviting Tomahawk into his plans had been a no-brainer, given her influence as a Pro and her family history.

Plus, inviting her over to dinner to talk about it had been hilarious. He had pretended like it was a thank-you for her help with rescuing their kids, but her nervousness around his wife continued to be a treat every time he saw it. Still. He was going to miss their meet-up if he didn't hurry.

And so he set off down the street, back towards the train station that would see him eventually back to where he belonged. Together with Kyouka in the home they had built, with the children that he loved and the friends who supported him.

He had weathered the storm and this… This is what came after.

That light on the horizon. The promise of brighter days yet to come.

He couldn't wait.

Aaaaand we're done!

Thanks so much for sticking it out until the end! This was my first MHA story and I hope you found it as enjoyable to read as I did to write!

I don't have any immediate plans for any more MHA stories right now, but I am interested in writing a TodoMomo piece one of these days, and as Jirou/Kaminari is my favorite pairing, I'll probably come back to this as well.

A big thanks to everyone who left comments throughout the story! Your support was tremendously appreciated!

Until next time, Keep it Zesty!

ZC