Kuri finally dropped the bombshell in the middle of lunch. The explosion tore her family apart as easily as the words came out of her mouth. She had long feared giving life to the truth, but with inexplicable confidence, in the quietness of everyone else chewing, Kuri spit out the declaration she knew would blow up in her face.

"I want to quit hero work."

The house went deathly silent. Kuri couldn't pull her eyes away from her plate. She didn't want to look at the other faces around the dining table—especially not directly ahead, at her mom. Kuri closed her eyes and held her breath like a prayer, bracing herself for impact.

"Well, that came out of nowhere," her dad chuckled, confused. His lightheartedness startled Kuri more than yelling would have. Kuri looked up from her plate with a furrowed brow and saw her mom eating as if nothing had happened. They didn't understand.

Katsuki, seated beside her, nudged her with his knee to get her attention, and she glanced at him. His wide eyes and concerned expression told Kuri that her timing caught him off guard. He leaned in closer to her.

"Kuri, now…?" he asked, uncertain.

"We're leaving in a few days," Kuri whispered, strangely sure of herself. "I had to say it at some point."

Katsuki shot a glance at Kuri's unsuspecting family, then released half of a sigh and gave her a supportive look.

"You have the floor," Katsuki said. "If you need help, just give me a cue."

Kuri smiled faintly, his kindness melting her heart.

"You being here is enough."

"Why're you two acting so serious?" Mayu cut in with his monotone voice.

Kuri tore her eyes from Katsuki and looked straight at her nonchalant mom.

"Because that wasn't a joke," Kuri said, the weight of the world in her words. She held her mother's quickly darkening stare and swallowed hard. "I don't want to be a hero."

The air in the room became as thick and horrible as sludge, impermeable and suffocating. It held Kuri's head in place as she contested her mom with only her eyes, and time squeezed by slowly. The weight of Kuri's perceived betrayal hung over the table like brewing storm clouds.

"Kuri," her mother addressed her solemnly. "Tell me this is a joke, and you aren't actually this foolish."

At that word, the implication that Kuri was young and dumb, she suddenly felt very small, and her eyes fell weakly back to her unfinished plate.

"I'm not a fool," Kuri whispered to herself. "I have felt this way for years."

Kuri hoped her family might feel some semblance of guilt for never noticing how much she hated heroism. For letting her suffer for years.

If they did feel remorse, they didn't say so, because the room stayed relatively silent for another minute. The only sounds were the ticking wall clock and Mayu's unbothered chewing. Kuri heard two cars pass by outside before anyone spoke again.

"Honey, I thought you knew we expected you to take over our agency at some point," her dad said slowly.

"Why can't you just hand it off to your best employee?" Kuri asked quickly, glancing at her parents with an increment of gathered resolve. She had this rebuttal prepared long ago.

"We know that you would be better than anyone else," her mom said, so sure of her statement that she still had a calm voice despite the slight twitch of her eye. "You've done everything to prepare."

Kuri shook her head and looked down at her plate again. Her parents really didn't get it. Their training had done nothing but ruin her! How could she get through to them?

"I can't…" Kuri said, squeezing her eyes shut. Being the face of a hero agency sounded like a nightmare. Every word from her ignorant parents threw Kuri into greater and greater desperation. She couldn't bear to keep being a hero. Her parents were sending her to her personal hell without realizing it. Kuri needed to escape. Even if she had to kick and scream her way out.

"Don't say that, honey, you're great—"

"No, I'm done!" Kuri shouted. The sheer power of her voice pushed the thick atmosphere out of the room, turning it into an absolutely silent vacuum. "I hate getting hurt, and I hate training so much I'd rather die!"

Kuri's screams were so raw that her voice cracked on the last word of her sentence, and an echoing ringing ran through the house like tinnitus. No one dared speak in such a tense moment, and Kuri's feelings had boiled to the surface again, so she let it all out.

"Ever since I got kidnapped, I can't do anything!" Kuri cried, curling in on herself as her tears welled. She hugged her arms around her waist like she'd been stabbed, and the pain was unbearable. "I'm a big mess, and I keep having nightmares, and everything just feels wrong!"

Sobs tore through her body like they'd waited years for release. Her dad scrambled out of his seat next to her mom and was by Kuri's side with a hug before her tears could get very far.

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay," he said, patting her back softly. Kuri didn't move to return his hug, keeping her arms wrapped around herself, but she felt another hand touch hers. The warm, rough palm was familiar and gentle as it caressed the back of her hand, but she couldn't bear to look at Katsuki. His concerned gaze would make her crumble completely until she was an unrecognizable pile of pitiful dust.

"I just want to have a normal, happy life and regular job," Kuri said between heaving breaths. "I don't want to see people get hurt or die…"

Her dad hummed in approval and kept comforting her with his embrace. Kuri let some of her tears soak into his shirt.

"We'll see if you can take a break," he said. "Maybe you can come back to your old high school—"

"No!" Kuri exclaimed, squirming against her dad and cutting off his sentence. He let go of her and gave her a confused look. "I wanna stay at UA but not be a hero afterward. I want to go to college!"

"College?!" her mother suddenly interjected with such shock that Kuri automatically knew she would shoot down the idea. "And waste all that time and money? Kuri, let's be realistic."

"What's unrealistic about college?" Kuri asked, immediately defensive, even though her stuffy nose now made her words sound stupid. Her mom clocked her attitude and gave her a stern look.

"Taiga, get her some tissues, would you?" her mom asked her dad without taking her eyes off Kuri. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair with perfect posture, as if she had something to prove. Kuri did the same, correcting her slouched posture.

Her dad looked between the two of them before quickly obliging to the request for tissues and coming back with them in a flash, along with a glass of water that he handed to Kuri.

She took both offerings, first using the tissues to wipe the sticky tears off her face, then to blow her nose. She sipped some of her water while her mother began to speak.

"You're only sixteen right now, so let's not make rash decisions like changing career paths when you're about to graduate," her mom said. "I understand hero work still seems scary, but it'll feel manageable once you're an adult."

Kuri eyed her with disbelief and set her glass on the table.

"You think I'll magically stop being traumatized in two years?" Kuri asked sarcastically.

"You suggest we wait indefinitely?" her mom raised an eyebrow.

Kuri resisted an eye roll at her mom's closed-mindedness to other options and placed her hands flat on the dining table.

"I want to go to therapy," Kuri said confidently. Finally, she felt brave enough to advocate for her well-being. She was glad Katsuki had pushed her to make the request.

"Alright, we'll get you a therapist," her mom said easily, shrugging a single shoulder.

Kuri opened her mouth to speak again, only to realize her mom hadn't protested. She had prepared for a fight over this, so the immediate guarantee to mental health care caught her off guard.

Kuri sat back in her chair, suspicious that her mom could have an ulterior motive.

"And then what?" Kuri asked. "You're gonna cross your fingers that it 'fixes' me, and I like hero stuff?"

"Aren't your mental problems the only issue here?"

"No! Weren't you listening? I've hated hero stuff for years," Kuri exclaimed, gesturing emphatically to get the idea through her parents' skulls. "Just because I'm strong like you two doesn't mean I automatically like running around beating people up all the time. I want a chance to figure out my future on my own."

Kuri paused, her hand placed dramatically on her chest, and glanced at Katsuki, who looked hopelessly confused from all the fast-paced English. She could see the gears turning in his brain as he processed the conversation up until then. His mouth was slightly parted, and he sucked in a small breath before giving Kuri a hesitant thumbs up. Kuri grinned at his little way of cheering her on and didn't take her eyes off him when she uttered a sentiment she'd been mulling over for weeks.

"I want to move to Japan."

Even in English, those words immediately clicked for Katsuki, and a small smile stretched across his lips. Kuri couldn't contain her smile because Katsuki looked so excited, but their moment was rudely interrupted by her dad's heavy, dumbfounded exhale, which commanded Kuri's attention.

"What do you plan to do instead of becoming a hero?" Kuri's mom asked frustratedly. You've prepared your whole life for this, and you're throwing it away?"

"I'm still figuring out what I want to do," Kuri said. "No one ever let me imagine anything else before."

Awkward silence flooded the room because, this time, her parents did realize the blame fell on them. Her mom closed her eyes and sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. Her dad glanced at his wife, then cleared his throat.

"I have no doubt you can do whatever you put your mind to, but are you sure you want to move so far away?" he asked.

"I already live in Japan, don't I?"

"But you don't even have a job in mind," her dad said worriedly. "How can we trust you'll be safe without the guarantee of a stable career?"

"Hero work in California isn't the solution either," Kuri countered, crossing her arms. "Actually, I'm probably more likely to die."

"You're strong, Kuri," her dad said. "That wouldn't happen."

Kuri hated that word. What did "strong" even mean in this context? Because her physical capabilities sure didn't stop her from having PTSD. Her brain would kill her sooner than a villain if she stayed in hero work.

"Maybe I'd just be absent from my family's lives," Kuri said, eying her mom, whose visible exasperation grew by the minute. "Heroes never take breaks, right?"

Her mom had told her that often during training. That mantra was no surprise coming from a woman who worked overtime every week. Her mom's dark brown eyes became dark, seething pits of fury.

"I don't like what you're insinuating, Kuri," she said, her icy tone sending a chill down Kuri's spine. Despite her mother's fearsome glare, Kuri straightened.

"I think I'm allowed to criticize the people who didn't properly care for me."

That tipped her mom over the edge. She bolted up from her chair and slammed her hands against the table so hard it shook, and everyone around the table flinched in surprise.

"We did everything possible for you to succeed, and you're saying we don't care?!" her mother yelled. She didn't hold back her voice, even with a guest present. Kuri cowered when faced with the monster she foolishly provoked, and she sat in fearful silence as she dumbly scrambled to think of a reply. Luckily, her brother still had his senses about him.

Mayu frictionlessly slid out of his seat at the end of the table and was by Katsuki's side in an instant, tugging him by the arm.

"Hey, bro, let's dip," Mayu said, his voice betraying absolutely no fear.

"But, Kuri…" Katsuki said helplessly, not yet rising from his chair. Kuri couldn't move her head to the side and was stuck holding aggressive eye contact with her mom, but she could tell Katsuki was looking at her.

Almost imperceptibly, Kuri moved her fingers to wave Katsuki away. He was just her boyfriend. It'd be better for Mayu to take him away while she fought the battle of a lifetime. He shouldn't have to witness their brokenness.

Obeying Kuri's signal, Katsuki begrudgingly hurried away with Mayu.

"Bye, we're going for a walk!" the boy announced dryly before shutting the door with a flourish and plunging Kuri into unrestrained panic.

She couldn't believe her mom had shouted in front of Katsuki, but the real despair hit her when her boyfriend was gone, and her mother leaned in closer across the table to whisper.

"You'd really rather move across the country for some boy you've known for... what? Two years?"

Kuri clenched her fists tightly, hoping it would combat the stinging starting up around her eyes. She might be able to handle them scolding her, but if they criticized her boyfriend, she'd shatter.

"Don't talk badly about Katsuki," she said fiercely.

Just asserting herself over that brought tears to Kuri's eyes. She didn't even want to think about them saying mean things about Katsuki. Just the idea of them hurting the person she loved most conjured unbearable pain in Kuri's heart.

"I'm sorry, Kuri," her dad said, apologizing on behalf of her mom. "He's a nice boy, but—"

"I don't want to be lonely anymore," Kuri said, failing to keep her voice steady as it cracked into a sob. She closed her eyes and heaved a breath. "All you do is work me to death with classes and leave me and Mayu by ourselves. I barely remember having fun as a family. You even made me go run on vacation!"

Kuri's own sentence sent her into a spiral over her childhood memories. Dark rooms and long, lonely afternoons. Waiting at the kitchen table with homework and a stomach pitifully growling like a neglected dog. Jogging alone on the beach before she was allowed to build sandcastles, hot sand scalding the bottoms of her feet. Walking Mayu home after his first day of fifth grade, not knowing how to answer when he asked, "Why can't Mama drive us anymore?"

Countless tears rolled down her cheeks, but Kuri didn't bother to wipe them when she knew there were more to come.

"Katsuki's made me feel less alone," Kuri muttered. "I want to stay with him and my friends."

Kuri placed her palms against the table and pushed herself out of her spot. Her parents didn't say a word as she turned away from the table.

"If you really wanted what was best for me, you wouldn't have forced me to be a hero," Kuri said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. "You would have spent time with me."

No one bothered to pick up the fight when Kuri walked back upstairs.


The midday California sun beat down on Katsuki's face like a burning accusation. Every cell in his body begged to go back to the house, to stay by Kuri's side and help her face her family, but he knew it was pointless. He was like a stupid fucking rock, silently sitting beside her and trying to parse through the fragments of the argument he was quick enough to pick up. Plus, Katsuki knew he, an unrelated guest, wasn't exactly welcome to listen in on a family argument.

Mayu must have understood all that—or felt awkward himself—so he'd made quick work of getting them out of the way. Kuri and her parents needed space to sort things out on their own.

But Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was abandoning Kuri in her most vulnerable time. His gait remained stiff as Mayu led them down the street, off to who-knows-where, wearing his sneakers improperly due to their hasty exit. He should've just grabbed sandals like Mayu…

Speaking of the kid, he was impressively unconcerned, walking with his hands in his hoodie pockets and whistling a tune Katsuki wasn't familiar with.

"Where are we going?" Katsuki asked gruffly, frustrated with his incapability to tackle the situation they'd ditched.

"I don't know, just somewhere less awkward," the boy answered without turning around.

"Then, stop for a second. I need to tie my shoes."

Katsuki crouched down to fix his footwear, and Mayu stopped and stood next to him. He leaned against the fence of the house they were passing.

"I wasn't expecting something like this to happen today," Mayu said, his voice betraying none of his supposed surprise. "Why talk about quitting heroics while we're trying to eat lunch?"

"Kuri's kept this secret for a long time," Katsuki said as he dusted off his hands and stood. "She's always wanted to say something, but I guess she didn't get all the words until now."

Mayu eyed him cryptically, the way fourteen-year-olds often do, and scrunched his lips to the side.

"Why is this any of your business?" Mayu asked. "I feel like you know too much, even if you're her boyfriend or whatever."

"It's literally my business because I'm her boyfriend," Katsuki said, trying not to show the thinness of his patience even though his hand itched to massage the bridge of his nose. He was already on edge imagining all the horrible things Kuri's parents could be telling her. "However their conversation goes will determine if we can stay together."

"So, in the end, it's about your love life?" Mayu asked, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

Katsuki wanted to tear his hair out because of Mayu's inane questions. He wondered how Kuri had put up with him for most of her life.

"It's more than that! It's my future—" Katsuki cut himself off as a realization struck him: the trajectory of his entire life hinged on Kuri's persuasiveness and her parents' whims. "Shit…"

Katsuki pivoted to look behind them, where the gray sidewalk stretched back lightyears and Kuri's mint-green house was just a speck on the horizon.

"What's up?" Mayu asked. "Sensing a supervillain?"

"I need to go back," Katsuki said, taking one step away before the boy immediately pounced to block his path.

"Whoa, man!" Mayu exclaimed, holding up his skinny arms to stop him. Katsuki paused, though he could have easily pushed past him, and looked up at Mayu. He hated that the kid had a few centimeters on him. "This is a family issue; you're not gonna help."

"I might become Kuri's family," Katsuki said. He threw the "might" in there even though he was more confident than that.

"But you aren't yet," Mayu said. "They might feel too awkward to say everything they want to if you're there."

Katsuki's eyebrows drew together as he considered Mayu's input. He bit his tongue to stop himself from swearing in front of the kid again.

"Fine," Katsuki huffed, and Mayu let down his guard. "Lead the way."

Mayu eyed him carefully, unsure whether to take Katsuki at his word, but ultimately started walking again with his back to Katsuki.

As the two continued on their undetermined path, Mayu leading the way and Katsuki staring at the boy's shaggy hair, he thought to at least inform Kuri why they left in a hurry. He pulled out his phone—thankfully, he hadn't ditched it in their scramble out of the house—and his thumbs moved like lightning over the keyboard.

"Mayu dragged me out to give you privacy. Tell me when to come back."

"So, Kuri never wanted to be a hero?" Mayu asked suddenly, and Katsuki stashed his phone. Mayu actually sounded interested in something other than games for once.

"Yeah," Katsuki replied hesitantly, walking a little faster to be beside the boy instead of behind him. "She never told you?"

Mayu hummed in thought and stared into space before shrugging.

"Probably not," he said.

"Were you surprised?" Katsuki asked. Nothing seemed to faze him, so Katsuki wondered if Kuri's grand reveal had confounded Mayu. After all, she spent over a decade dedicating her life to heroism, so wouldn't her complete rejection of it catch him off guard? She sure had confused Katsuki by telling him the first day they met.

Mayu gave the question a bit of thought before answering.

"I could always tell," he said. Katsuki wondered what Mayu witnessed. The gloomy faces Kuri made when she thought no one was looking. The times she cried and thought no one heard. "What's she gonna do now? As a job, I mean."

"I don't know," Katsuki said, looking across the street at the unending line of colorful houses. He felt trapped in a loop, walking to infinity away from Kuri. Katsuki wondered what it was like on her end. Was she still caught in the back-and-forth of their argument? "She's figuring it out. And your parents might stop her."

"What'll you do if she can't quit?" Mayu asked, perhaps annoyingly playing devil's advocate or genuinely prompting Katsuki to consider his actions in the worst-case scenario. Based on Mayu's tendencies, Katsuki assumed it was the former, but he answered seriously anyway.

"I'd be apprehensive about moving here. Kuri is more Japanese than I am American," Katsuki said, chuckling lightly. He really couldn't see himself assimilating in the United States. "We would probably be long-distance until she saved up enough money to move on her own. Your parents may try, but they can't hold Kuri back forever. She's her own person."

"You sure like my sister, huh?" Mayu said.

"She's the best," Katsuki grinned despite his reddening cheeks.

Mayu scoffed lightheartedly and kicked a pebble in his path.

"They sent Kuri away, but my parents still don't wanna lose her," Mayu said. "Even if she stops doing hero stuff, they'll still want her here."

"What about you?" Katsuki asked. "What do you want for her?"

"That's not my business," Mayu shrugged. "If she wants to stay in Japan, that's fine with me. I've survived without her, and she finds ways to bother me anyway."

Katsuki recalled the times Kuri complained that Mayu never texted her back, and he realized he hadn't checked his phone for any replies since texting Kuri. He stopped in his tracks and whipped his phone out of his shorts pocket, dread sinking in when he saw he had a message from Kuri—delivered two minutes ago. Mayu noticed Katsuki wasn't walking and peered at Katsuki's phone while he opened the message.

"Speak of the devil," Mayu muttered.

Katsuki's heart rate spiked as he read her text.

"Please come back."

The words were simple, yet Katsuki could feel her desperation behind them. She was trying to sound calm over the phone, but he knew there was pain hidden in each stroke of the letters. Katsuki needed to be by her side.

"Mayu, we gotta run," Katsuki commanded, throwing his phone into his pocket and turning back toward Kuri's house.

"No way, bro, I'm wearing flip-flops," Mayu protested, standing firmly in place. Katsuki looked back at the stubborn kid and huffed.

"Fine, I'll carry you," Katsuki crouched low to the ground so Mayu could hop on his back.

"That's an even worse idea."

"Hurry up, I can't leave you alone on the streets!" Katsuki exclaimed impatiently. Getting to Kuri as soon as possible was important, but he couldn't abandon her baby brother in the process.

"It's noon, and we're in the suburbs," Mayu deadpanned.

"Just get on," Katsuki said, remaining crouched as he pleaded. "Kuri needs us back."

Mayu hesitated for a moment, and Katsuki tapped his foot anxiously.

"Alright," Mayu said, finally caving and stepping closer to Katsuki. "But first, let's make it fair. Rock paper scissors, whoever loses carries the other."

"We don't have time for that. Come on—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll hop on," Mayu laughed and mounted Katsuki for the piggyback. "This is stupid, though."

Katsuki ignored Mayu's remarks and took off like the stakes of being a second too late would cost his life. Luckily, Mayu was pretty light, but sweat still beaded on Katsuki's brow as he raced back to the house. Mayu laughed at Katsuki the whole way back.

Once they finally reached the driveway, Katsuki released Mayu and sprinted up the steps to the front door, finally free of all that extra weight, and jammed the doorbell. He leaned against the door while he caught his breath, and Mayu continued chuckling to himself as he walked up the stairs.

"Thanks for the lift, man," Mayu said. "I won't mind you as my brother-in-law."

Katsuki raised his eyebrows at the comment but didn't have time to process it before he heard someone approaching the door. He straightened himself before it opened to reveal Kuri's dad.

"Don't just run off randomly, Mayu," his father scolded him.

"Were we supposed to sit there awkwardly?"

His dad sighed and let Mayu and Katsuki into the house.

Katsuki glanced at the empty dining table and registered that Kuri's dad was in the middle of cleaning up after their disastrous lunch.

"We'll talk more about the issue when everyone has cooled down," the man said before returning to the kitchen. He glanced at Katsuki. "I'm sorry you had to see us fight."

"It's alright," Katsuki said. "Is Kuri in her room?"

"Yes, I think she wanted to be alone," he said. "I'm sure you'd be welcome to go up, though."

Katsuki didn't need more of a cue to run upstairs. He was knocking on Kuri's door before Mayu even got all the way up the steps.

"Kuri, I'm back," Katsuki said softly. He heard her getting out of bed and shuffling to the door while Mayu passed behind him and returned to his room.

The door opened a crack, and Katsuki saw one hazel eye peer up at him before Kuri pulled it open further and grabbed Katsuki's wrist. But she didn't pull him closer; they stood in the doorway while her eyes stayed downcast, and Katsuki gulped back his guilt.

"You took a while," Kuri said, squeezing his arm lightly. Her tone wasn't accusatory, but she didn't hide her disappointment well. With Kuri's head hanging heavily, Katsuki noticed her hair mussed from lying in bed.

Katsuki stretched out a hand to smooth the wayward strands, and Kuri leaned into the touch. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind them before wrapping Kuri in a hug. She silently placed her shaking hands on his back and buried her face in his shirt. Katsuki felt a tear soak through and moisten his skin, and that mild sensation caused a stinging in his eyes. He hugged her tighter.

"I won't leave again."